, wait for it... HEART BREAKERS! [Episode 14 - Don't be so Cold Hearted]

[The Warden]

Simple: Do they think my opinion matters?

 

I'm a showman at heart, I always love flair and drama more than anything. Though it seems right now that you're doing what you're accusing me of. I make a grandioise show during the reading just to keep the person reading this review interested till the end. Sarcastic little quips makea de world go rownd.

 

But, seems you didn't look beyond your own pettiness to see I do take the time to hunker down. I make a bunch of sarcastic comments sure, but sarcarsm does not review make. I analyze a little and give a more professional opinion in my analysis, and, I don't think people would argue with the point I made. Compared to other creepypasta Hide & Seek simply doesn't compare, if at all it could be called creepypasta.

 

I explained succintly why I felt it didn't work that way, and, seems you didn't notice that I have already reviewed another prior work of his. So, by the looks of it, you haven't even read any of my prior reviews before you went on a rant. Which is why you're making such pointed jabs at me with marshmallow sticks.

 

Will I stop? No. Will people be entertained by me crucifying other people, or at times, ACTUALLY congratulating them on something impressive? Yes. That's the whole thing to this show. If you didn't notice, I didn't make up the name HEART BREAKERS! by mere chance.

[Thar]

Yeah, DA, the "between-the-line" comments aren't the actual review. The multicolored paragraphs below the fic is.

 

Heck, I don't even know why I'm being eaten up by it right now. Might just be late-night caffeinated bipolarity. Though, I'm less affected by the sarcastic bashing of how things are being described and more affected by the stripping of obvious minor errors that just keep popping up.

[The Warden]

It's why you need a proof reader. Every single one of my reviews is always proof read so I don't seem too heavy handed or to cut out uninteresting jokes and comments.

[Toffee.]

Was reading through Episode 12.
"Why do I get the feeling that she is currently covered in blood after murdering her friends and family, and is currently suffering some unusual sick fantasy to alleviate the guilt and/or boredom."
It's funny, because almost every creepypasta is like this.
And as far as girls and warewolves go, I'm surprised you didn't make a Twilight joke. Although, that was probably expected, but commenting that she is a closet furry made me LOL.
I also found it amusing how you riddled it with sexual innuendo, which easily brakes the tension of the overall story.

[Thar]

Was reading through Episode 12.
"Why do I get the feeling that she is currently covered in blood after murdering her friends and family, and is currently suffering some unusual sick fantasy to alleviate the guilt and/or boredom."

 

Now that I think about it... that would've worked out SO much better. The plague thing was literally last minute.

[The Warden]

In retrospect, a Twilight joke would've been brill. Something like:

 

Look sweetie, you don't want to be a werewolf, trust me. It starts out all cool, but then you get an unrequited love on this guy who's as dull as dishwater, and then you fight with this vampire chick for the guys affections that sparks a species war. And even in the end you still lose him to the other girl and just end up starting a creepy romance with their just born son. So in the end it's just not worth it. You should become a she-hulk, it's an untapped market for men who like their women big.

[The Warden]

[spoiler=Episode 13: Double Impact!]
Fine evening to you readers, it’s Broke. N here with another split review. You guys have been very quiet recently, and it’s made me feel all alone and gloomy. Well, now the sun has come and I now have two relatively short fics to review this time. First I will be heading up DL’s little piece known as The Prank. Then, I’ll be following up like cream on a sundae with newkama R.Surraco with his apparently very violent fic with a Japanese name so bad I can’t even dignify myself enough to write it out.

[spoiler=Episode 13.1: The Overly Elaborate and Mean Spirited Act that is Designed to Make Another Look Quite Foolish]
I’ll be honest, I don’t remember much of what DL used to do, besides make sexual innuendo. No wait, he just made sexual comments. I think that’s right. Or maybe I’m thinking of Cherry. Eh, dun matter really; it’s his talent I’m reviewing not his lewd acts.

Leaves blew wildly with the strong wind, serving to ease the sun’s unforgiving heat.

Leave the sun alone. Why do people think he’s always so unforgiving? He gives us light and by extension heat. Isn’t that enough evidence to prove he’s a good guy? Leave the sun alone! HE’S A HUMAN!

Most citizens of the small town were inside their homes, bathing in their air conditioners and cooling fans. However, despite the less than adequate conditions for being outside, there was still a small group of three teens.

If there were three teens out in such unforgiving heat, then they must be *puts on shades* pretty cool. YEEEEAAAHHHHH!!!!

Silently, they sat on a park bench. They looked no older than fifteen, but in a moment, one of them put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it, softly inhaling and blowing out a gentle cloud of smoke.

*Loud inhale* Smoking, at fifteen? That is most unacceptable young man. Your parents would flip their wigs if they saw such ungroovy behaviour.

He had shaggy brown hair that almost covered his hazel eyes, and wore blue jeans with holes on the knees. He also had an olive-colored hooded sweatshirt on. He was the first to break the silence.

When a character looks like that, the idea of him smoking loses its edge just a bit.

“So,” he began. “Who’s gonna go in first?”

Ah… no, no comment. I’ll be mature about this.

A girl that sat next to him, on the left side of the bench, turned to look at him. She tilted her head slightly, causing her blond hair to fall in front of her face, which she quickly swept away with her slender fingers.

You forgot to add her two inch press-on nails covered in glitter studs and pair of short shorts with the word juicy on the butt in that description.

“What are you talking about Jack?” she asked, leaning her head on the shoulder of the guy next to her. “And come on, I told you not to light those disgusting things near me.”
Jack chuckled, ignoring her complaint, and looked at the other guy in the group, who looked back at him and smiled, his thin lips curved slightly upward, then parting as he began to laugh as well. The girl looked to Jack, and then to the other boy, and got up. She glared at the other boy, her blue eyes forcing a piercing gaze upon him. His laughter died down a bit.

Blue eyes, like limpid tears? You know it’s a spot of luck you made her blonde otherwise I would have had way too many jokes to make in regards to this character if she had black hair.

“What’s so funny? What’s this delinquent’s plan now, Chris?”

In my mind’s eye you look like a transvestite, the word ‘delinquent’ is pretty unjustified; stupid man lady.

Chris shook his head, causing his dark, smooth hair to cover one of his emerald green eyes, then slid his hands into his pockets. He looked down at his t-shirt, which today happened to be a black t-shirt with a picture of a pale, screaming girl, with wide eyes. Underneath, it said “Death to All”. Perhaps from some underground rock band or another.

If this guy was trying any harder, you could stick coal up his ass and he would s**t out a diamond a few minutes later.

“See this shirt, Laura?” Chris asked, stretching it a bit.
“I’d rather not,” she replied, looking away from the ugly thing.
Not seeming to notice her comment, Chris continued. “We’re going to put a pillow inside this thing, and get it on Mrs. Shelly’s bed. Then, when she wakes up, she’ll get a nasty scare.

Ummm, what? Your grand plan is to fill an incredibly ugly T-shirt with a pillow then put it by some old lady’s bed to scare her? As plans go that is one step below wearing a sheet and moaning softly. As any kind of plan goes that is really weak.

“So you seriously have nothing better to do than bully old ladies?” Laura asked, with a sigh.
“Hey, it’s not bullying,” replied Jack. “I bet she’ll look back in the future and laugh about it.”
“I bet if she wakes up to that sort of scare, she won’t be having much of a future, but…”

These guys are fifteen, and this is their idea of a joke? Umm, DL, would you mind telling me what time period this fic is set in?

Laura began, then decided to drop the topic. She knew it was useless to try and get these two out of an idea. Especially if it was a prank. And of course, she was going to go along with them. She always did, for some reason that escaped her understanding.

It somewhat escapes mine too honestly. This is the sort of thing eight year olds do. At your age you should be mugging the old bint.

Laura rubbed her temples gently with her fingers. “Well, I guess someone has to be there ready to call an ambulance.”

I think you highly underestimate the capabilities of old ladies kids. They are more well ‘ard than you think they are.

“That’s the spirit,” Jack commented, and got up, dragging her by the arm. Chris followed along silently, smiling at Laura’s small protests at being dragged. Soon, however, they were at the lady’s house. Laura then raised an eyebrow.
“So how are we going to get in without her noticing?” Laura asked.

Isn’t that something you should typically ask BEFORE going along with their asinine plan?

Jack smiled and pulled a lock pick out of his pocket. He casually made his way to the house and in a matter of seconds, the door slid open.

I can hear a lock open from my room with the door closed. Just saying, you are really underestimating the biddy’s hearing.

Silently, he crept in. The lights in the house were turned off, but a faint sound from the air conditioner echoed from the floor above. From outside, one could see the house’s wide garden, filled with vivid-looking flowers and light green grass, always with a few drops of dew in the mornings. The house itself stood tall, at two stories. It was painted a pale peach color, with white outlines where the doors and windows were. It even had an attic. Obviously a wealthy person’s home. And not only that, a wealthy old lady’s home. An old lady who Jack bet would be their perfect target for his prank.

Why did you choose to describe the house after they broke in? Seems like a bit of a delayed reaction and in all honesty, the delayed timing makes this feel like nothing more than filler.

But I don’t think you quite grasp the mentality of a fifteen year old. You put emphasis on wealth not once, but twice. Any fifteen year old with a bad streak would be looting this house, not pulling a dumb prank.

“So who’s gonna do it?” Laura asked. “I sure won’t, and you can’t make me.”
Jack snickered. “Don’t get your panties in a knot. I’ll set it up, you just sit nice and tight. Chris, you place the video tape on her desk drawer. I want to be able to relive this glorious life-changing moment.”

Actually, here’s another question that’s been bugging me. What time is it? If anything I would guess that it’s anywhere from early noon to late afternoon, as those times are when heat is usually greatest. So, if by this assumption, how would they know her sleeping habits? It seems pretty suss that they know what times this lady goes to sleep.

Chris grinned, and grabbed the edges of his shirt, sliding it off. The motion showed off his abdomen, which, while it was not toned or muscled, had a lean, composed feel to it. After taking it all off, he looked a bit at the shirt, before tossing it to Laura. She caught it with her face, and snarled at Chris as she slid it down, rolling it into a ball and throwing it back to him. He caught it with one hand and then made a basketball toss to Jack, who caught it and began chuckling but soon silenced himself as he remembered the elderly person sleeping upstairs. Then again, this was the same elderly person that had slept through a building being demolished right next to her house.

How old is this lady? Five hundred? But, ugh, you’re doing it like so many other people do. You build up unimportant details whilst neglecting the important ones. If she can barely hear then she’s round about eighty or more. By this time the old cow should be in a home if she’s near deaf.

Jack began climbing the stairs quite swiftly, while still holding the camera steadily. Chris went next, and Laura followed along, grasping Chris’ hand tightly.

Oh Fred, I’m so scared. Don’t worry Daphne, I’ll keep you safe. And once this case is all over; we’ll go out for sundaes whilst talking about how great it is to be just friends.

After they reached the second floor, Jack signaled to the right-most door on the white, carpeted corridor. Jack walked along slowly, before he noticed neither of them was following him. A few yards behind him, at the edge of the staircase, Chris took off his shirt.

Does this Chris always feel compulsed to remove his shirt for no readily apparent reason? Oh wait, it was already off wasn’t it? Since you made no indications during the quick trip up the stairs that Jack gave Chris back his shirt, did you?

He smirked, and began showing off his muscles, that had an interesting light shining on them due to the overall darkness of the house, except for a few small glass openings near the ceiling. Laura giggled, and hugged him. Their lips met for a split second, causing Jack to grimace almost unnoticeably.
“Get a room, you two!” he whispered. “Come on, the old lady’s gonna wake up soon, at this rate.”

How do you whisper whilst using speech that requires the need of an exclamation mark?

But at least I know that the time period is relatively nowish; since nowadays it is really sexy to break into the houses of old ladies to make out. Just like how sexy it is to make out in cemeteries and museum cupboards.

As he mentioned this, Laura kissed Chris again, as if to test Jack’s patience. He frowned more visibly, and walked quickly towards them. After he approached them, there was a still moment. Out of nowhere, Chris' arms moved forward, as Laura fell back onto the stairway by a sudden force.

Use the force LukeJack.

Her body tumbled down the steps in large thuds and several cracks. Her skull smashed against the wall, as blood began to drip from several places, dirtying the wooden steps. Her half-closed eyes revealed lifeless pupils within, along with arms limply hanging by her side. There she was, sitting almost as if she were a doll; that is, if most dolls were bloody and had limbs sticking out in weird angles.

Hmmm, let me confer with physics for a moment. If rag doll physics are a thing, then she must’ve ricocheted off the banister in order to impact the wall, as she would’ve just flopped up and down. Unless it was a rounded staircase; a random detail that you left out. But then again, important details don’t mean much to you do they?

Arm outstretched, Jack gazed with wide eyes, upon the scene. His body trembled slightly and he quickly turned to Chris, whose hair was partly covering his face. Jack’s heart began pumping faster, and quickly dashed away, and into the old lady’s room. As he slammed the door shut, Mrs. Shelly finally woke up, with a startle.

Just saying right now, doors slamming AREN’T as loud as buildings exploding ten feet away.

“You’re the Butlers’ son!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
He covered her mouth and got his face close to hers.
“Don’t make noise…” Jack whispered faintly. “Or he’ll hear you.”
The old lady jerked a bit, but Jack held on a bit tighter.

I now officially ship Mrs. ShellyxJack.

He looked straight into her eyes, his heart racing. He turned towards the door, growing wider as a dull pounding could be heard on the aged wood. The doorknob began shaking; steadily, at first, then more and more violently. Jack looked back at Mrs. Shelly. Her eyes had slowly begun rolling to the back of her head, which flopped motionless onto the bed. Assuming she had passed out from the stress, he quickly scuttled off the bed.

Yes, stress. Not the fact you just asphyxiated her whilst trying to keep her quiet.

His eyes darted around furiously, before they focused on a wooden door. He dashed for it, and managed to open it and slam it behind him. As he locked the door and sat down with his back to it, he heard the bedroom door slam open; then, footsteps. A low gasp, and more footsteps could be heard, but Jack ignored them and began searching around the large, tan-colored bathroom. The bathroom had a bathtub with a golden faucet, and next to it sat a small table with shampoos and conditioners. There were also a pair of scissors and nail clippers on another side of the table, on top of a small pink cloth. Jack ran over to it, and grabbed the scissors.

Why would you keep scissors in the bathroom? Did she cut out food coupons whilst taking a grunt?

“Jack!” a familiar voice shouted.
A drop of sweat slid down Jack’s cheek. He gulped, and held the scissors tighter, hands shaking. He knew he couldn’t let Daniel catch him.
“Jack, I know you’re in there!” Daniel yelled again. “Come out the easy way, man!”

And now we have Daniel. Hello Daniel. Sighe, climax, I’ll just stay quiet for this.

Jack’s breathing was shaky and deep, and his hands’ shaking lessened. He closed his eyes, and didn’t utter a single noise. His eyes darted open again as a loud knocking echoed on the door, sending shivers down his back. He quickly spun around and backed away from it, scissors pointed at the door, but shaking more than they were before. After a few moments, the knocking ceased. Strong slamming followed, causing the door to shake. Finally, the door gave in and a baseball bat’s upper part crashed into it, causing a hole to open. Wooden splinters fell to the floor and dust dispersed itself through the air. As it settled, a piercing emerald-green eye stared straight at Jack. He began audibly gasping, as more and more sweat began dripping down his cheeks, and he darted inside the bathtub.

“Oh God, oh God, I…” he began muttering, his breathing rate rapidly increasing. He hid behind the bath curtain, closing it completely, and sat silently inside the bathtub with his chin resting on his knees. He hugged his knees tightly with one hand, as the other held the scissors slightly downwards. A forearm slid in through the hole the baseball bat left, carefully moving around, feeling the surface of the door. It finally grasped the doorknob and turned it. The door slowly slid open, as Jack saw the figure slowly approaching.

“Where are you, Jack? Come out and I won’t have to hurt you…”
Jack’s breathing became heavier and heavier, almost coming out in gasps. He noticed this, and shut his own mouth with one hand, as hard as possible. His body was shaking so violently, the scissors were clacking on the side of the bathtub. He moved them away, staring at them intently. His heartbeats were so furiously loud he was sure Daniel could hear them. A moment later, Daniel slid the curtain open. As he did so, he jumped back, eyes wide. In the bathtub lay Jack, blood sliding down from his neck violently. A pair of scissors was embedded into the side of his neck, and his mouth was slightly agape. His eyes blankly stared at the ceiling, as the blood soon mixed with the tiny water puddles in the bathtub, washing down the drain.

In the next hour, the old lady’s house had been surrounded by cars with flashing red and blue sirens. In the next few days, every newspaper in town had been reporting on the events of the teenage boy, Jack Butler, who, under heavy influence of drugs, had assassinated his friend, Laura Ashworth, and soon after committed suicide by stabbing himself on the neck with a pair of scissors.

Drugs, right. No I’m sorry, that is an incredibly s**tty plot twist.

Also it’s not assassination, it’s just flat out murder. Assassinations are subtle kills, which in no ways involves shoving someone down stairs whilst under a drug induced hallucination.

[hr]

Okay, time to analyze. This is obviously meant to be some kind of horror story, but, it falls short really. As plot twists go, blaming it on the drugs makes this feel like one of those bad 90s Drug PSAs, you know, like the one with the chick going crazy and smashing the kitchen with a frying pan. That’s what the fic feels like. I’ll be honest, adding “Don’t do drugs kids” at the end would have made this ham salad complete.

Like a certain weaboo fic I reviewed some time ago, you too have a habit of focusing on details that are by and large irrelevant, either by explaining something pointless or simply building on something that was already explained. You didn’t give us a time of day, which breaks realism in terms of old lady sleep habits, plus, the idea that fifteen year olds consider pranking an old lady a good investment of their time means they really need to readjust their goals in life.

I’m going to keep this one short. I will loosely consider the fact that he smoked the drugs at the start of the fic to be incredibly subtle as a Chekhov’s whatever; but I do also know most smoking narcotics either need to be really strong, or the guy needs to be depressed before they start seeing things with marijuana. Anything else and it breaks the realism as to how a fifteen year old would have the monetary means to get his hands on such vile s**t. You could have at least described how it was an oddly shaped cigarette, like, say it was a bit wider than usual or something.

Honestly I’m not fond at all of fics like this. They’re easy to read into and much of the time the payoff is pretty weak at best. Like how Thar’s fic where the friends and family were dead, this suffered the same pitiful last hurrah. The twist has to be some kind of clever and subtle turn of events that you don’t expect. The fact that Jack just went and outright killed her then ran away like that, well, with the ending, it’s just a drug PSA, that’s it. I think you should extend it out a bit; it’s way too short for a one shot and there is so little detail put into it.

Also, the change from Chris to Daniel was something covered by Fuse, and it really is bad that you failed to notice you renamed a character for the last quarter. Actually, I have one more thing to say here: What I felt hurt this fic the most was that it really wasn’t expanded on. If there was a word limit for the contest I’d understand that; if not, then you were just being lazy.

See, a good horror or mystery needs a build up yes, but it also needs misdirection. Your reader shouldn’t be able to figure out what is happening except with maybe a few subtle hints here and there. The sheer fact that Jack went and just axed Laura with no build up was pretty weak. And the parts following it was just as weak, especially the blaming of the drugs. In my honest opinion here, there needs to be a lot of filling in the gaps. There could’ve been some back story about how maybe her house was pretty shady, and that maybe Shelly’s husband had been killed under mysterious circumstances. From there, you could have expanded upon the drug induced hallucination by making it seem like the house killed Laura and that Shelly killed Not!Daniel before leading up to the depressing climax of the suicide. Then, the drug thing would have been more of a surprise due to the red herring of the supposed rumours surrounding Shelly and the hallucination. As I said, there is so much more that could have been expanded on to make the drug thing a real twist.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Episode 13.2: Ridiculously Over-The-Top Name that Basically Explains the Story]
Before any says anything; yes I am perfectly aware of how old this is. But since Rinne is okay with it, I may as well toss in my two cents on a string. No way am I giving some bum two cents. Hell, Australia doesn’t even have a cent below five, and I still wouldn’t waste five cents on a bum. In any case, I thought I may as well toss in my ‘professional’ opinion about this… fic. God help me.

Episode 00(prologue): 2 tales & 1 ghost (二階建てと幽霊/Nikaidate to yuurei)

*Is wearing full riot gear and shakily raises a riot shield*

Tokyo, Japan. Land of the new and the ancient. Place of many stories... like this one.

No, really? I thought this was an overly long poem about pottery.

Mitsuru Kanna is 15 years old, short, left-handed, kinda fugly... and he hates you.

Good to know, I hate him already.

He despises you. Simply he can't even breathe the same air than you. Don't blame yourself; you have done nothing to deserve it. It's just him, unable to feel anything else for you than hate. His family's respectful and united, but he doesn't care. His life in the school is relatively quiet, but he doesn't care. He just hates people. No by fear, he just can't stand the life of those around him. He can taste your joy, your courage, your sadness... all that's disgusting for him. Except fear and death, of course. He loves them. It tastes like apples for him and he loves apples. But he won't kill you... yet.

Jesus kid, rear up on the hate would ya? I think Hitler would call you extreme. Seriously, what has to go through such a diseased little mind to make them end up like this. Was his mother a jackal or something? Was he birthed on the sixth day of the sixth month of the sixth year? It really is fascinating to know how someone ends up like such a little hellspawn when their name ISN’T Sora.

P.S. He has the strangest priorities.

He doesn't think about it since he met Aoshi Minamino, the "Minaminator". A simple kendoist that saw how Mitsuru killed a warthog by slamming it with a bike and decided he was going to be his best (and only) friend.

Reminds me of how I became friends with this kid because he ran up a wall, slam dunked to beat the Harlem Globetrotters then went on to save Narnia. I guess I just have high standards when it comes to making friends.

Aoshi thinks "Zai-chan", although violent, is a good pal. Mitsuru is convinced he fell in love with Aoshi, but tries to not show it. He thinks the whole thing's stupid, and tastes like rancid candies. Well, he thinks that's not so much of a bad taste, anyway...

What the hell is up with this guy and talking about tastes? It’s really bizarre; did he get cooking lessons from Hannibal Lector? That would make for an interesting show though. *Sucks in air* “Welcome everyone, to cooking with Hannibal. Today we are going to be preparing Liver with fava beans and a nice chianti. Afterward, I’ll be showing you how to make a delicious ice cream cake in the shape of a human brain.”

Mitsuru is the typical Japanese student: painstaking, focused and looking forward a career according to his skills.

It might be hard to find a job when the only skill on your CV is: Hates all life on this planet. (Also likes apples; they are delicious.)

He's smart, but tries to not show off. The only thing he could hate more than other people's feelings is fame. He thinks fame's stupid and senseless.

I think his entire existence is stupid and senseless, but I don’t go berating him for existing.

His plans are get into college, get his title and get out.

Title of what? Biggest prick in the universe? Mr. December Jerk? I honestly don’t know how or why I should feel invested in this guy. There’s villains, anti-heroes, heroes… and this guy. (That’s my character archetype preference list FYI.)

Everything else is secondary and useless. His father wants him to learn the kendo style his family had been using for ages, but he doesn't care a s***. He knows how to fence and developed his own style, "Reverse Air Fencing”, which confuses other sword users by swinging in the opposite way. He thinks being left-handed actually made him better.

What other way can you honestly swing? There is only from the left, from the right, up, down, diagonally or a middle thrust. Or does he swing along the lesser known Q-axis? Though do enlighten me as to how someone who is clearly up his arse managed to create a completely unique style of fencing at age fifteen.

Aoshi, by the other hand, just wants to be popular.

I want to call bingo right now, but my sheet burnt up due to me stamping it so damn fast.

That's why he's in the school's kendo team.

Kendo, it gets you da b***hez.

For that and because "Granny" had been getting some discipline on him. Sure, no discipline will make him less ”ladies' flop", but he's fine as long as he keep trying to beat Asunaga... yeah, Asunaga. Hiroshi Asunaga, kendo team captain and one of the smartest guys in Odaiba High School, probably just behind Mitsuru. Aoshi just thinks on beat him and take his place as the most popular guy in the school.

I think Aoshi’s rather irrational hatred of this Asunaga is causing him to distort his own speech. What the hell did this kid do to earn such rage? Did he run over Aoshi’s teddy bear with his big wheel? I know how it is to be hateful, but Jesus h Christ you have to be pretty messed up to be so irrationally so.

Changing subjects, let’s see the recently opened Coliseum of Heroes on Sumida Park.

Oh, okay. We’re going from popularity leeching to some random colosseum. I guess that makes sense(?)

Every hero of the country has a statue surrounding the small lake in the park: Saigô Takamori, the last samurai and the leader of the Satsuma Rebellion; Tateki Tani, the first general that opposed resistance to said rebellion; Tokugawa Ieyasu, the first leader of the legendary Tokugawa Clan; even MC Perry, the gaijin general that opened Japan to the world. Everybody had a place in there. One of them had a very special place, however. In the little island, in the middle of the lake, surrounded by the other statues, is the bust of that gaijin that gave his life for his beliefs.

What the immaculate hell does this have to do with anything? Though it is rather polite to address the man who played such an important role by using his initials in such a way that he sounds like a rapper.

The last battle of the Satsuma Rebellion, where Takamori and his troops, supported by the power of the Tenkinum metal, had a great advantage. Tenkinum is the hardest metal in the world and the biggest deposit was found in Satsuma, the land under Takamori's command.

Oh yeah, I remember reading about Tenkinum in my year 12 chemistry class. It’s in the periodic table right after Poppycockium and Bullshitium.

However, the Japanese Imperial Army had a backup. A great, mighty backup. Captain Andrew Johannes Saratoga. A simple captain, just about 30 years old. He fought some battles and he wasn't the ultimate warrior, but was one of the most determined.

Well, being determined is very important in Japan. I’m sure as a child he was so determined to fly that he leapt off a balcony and fought rabid dogs with his bare hands; then he went to train with King Kai to learn the Kaioken and Spirit Bomb before facing down Mister Rogers in an Ultimate Showdown. The reason I happen to speaking like this is that being determined does not make you capable or successful. You do in fact need talent to succeed in anything.

A simple man with the wish that all the countries could finally shake their hands in peace. A simple man... except for his "Hidden Blade". A very big blade.

He only brings it out during either alone time, or when he’s with his wife or that cute private he’d been eying all day.

The Saratoga Claymore, forged by a Scottish blacksmith several years before Saratoga even had age to be recruited.

*Eye twitch* Okay, that’s a big insult to Scotland. A freaking claymore DOES NOT get a Japanese name, especially when it was named after the ponce who used it even though it was forged twenty fecking years before he got his grubby hands on it.

Forged from a meteor that, according to several scientists, could have been the origin of the Tenkinum. This metal, called Albareulium is virtually indestructible once it's solidified.

I recall reading about that too. It was discovered before Poppycockium, but only after scientists discovered Stupidium and Plotconvenium. And I dare say this fic has a boatload of the former lining its pages.

This metal forms the sword. A very rare sword, because it possesses a raw energy nothing can match. This energy not only allows it to change from a small baton to a large 5 ft claymore, but also grants its user incredible powers. However, it only responds to one person. Saratoga.

Wow, it is incredibly convenient that the blade only works for the person it was named after. I doubt even the best minds could have seen that coming.

Saratoga was destined to have that sword and he knew the moment to use it had come. He also knew that would also be his last day. Takamori and Saratoga both armed with their swords. Takamori with his Teimeiken saber, capable to slash air with a simple swipe.

A samurai, the last samurai, used a saber over a katana or something along those lines? No wonder the title became moot if any tit with a sword could be called a samurai.

Saratoga and his namesake claymore, capable of absorb any kind of energy. Both warriors fight... without stop... without rest... without mercy... Finally, Takamori manages to stab his rival with his saber... only to get beheaded by the claymore. With his last breath, Saratoga entrusts the claymore to his friend, Japanese Imperial Army Field Marshal Prince Aritomo Yamagata, and asks him to take care of it, as another warrior will take his place in the future.

So, no one thought to step in, at all? Not even to maybe get a cheap kill steal on Takamori? And joy to the world that another little bastard gets to use a sword that for no readily apparent reason chooses its wielder. Why are space metals always so damn particular?

Over a century passed and nobody knows the actual whereabouts of the Saratoga Claymore... or rather nobody wants to tell. Deep in the Coliseum of Heroes, in a hidden cave, lays a golden equestrian statue of Capt. Saratoga. Next to it, there's a stone with a legend in Latin. TOLERANTIA ET SOCIETATEM SUNT PONTES QUOD CONIUNGERE MUNDI. "Tolerance and fellowship are the bridges that bind the world together" A motto legendarily attributed to Capt. Saratoga, but it also is engraved on his claymore. Inside the stone, something is pulsing.

I feel sorry for this guy, honestly, I do. The simple fact that his legacy is going to be stained by blood because of the little s**tstain who’s going to inherit it. Tolerance and fellowship don’t exactly ring in the heart of someone who feels naught but hatred.

The scene is observed by a spirit. A ghost wearing clothes from the army. A post-Civil War, U.S. Army Captain uniform, more precisely. The captain looks about 30 and has a big stain in the chest of his uniform, like if it were blood.

He must’ve died from embarrassment after he spilt some raspberry jam on his uniform.

He looks the rock closely... then smiles and looks at the ceiling of the cave. "Finally", he thinks, "the final battle is coming closer..." Fog gathers around him and he can see in it images of a young boy, kind of small in height. In the kid's hand he can see a sword... a big sword... his claymore. The ghost captain smirks. "Yes...", he looks at the ceiling again, then he murmurs, "Saratoga no ... jikan da..."

Sorry to say friendo, but you DON’T want what is about to happen. Just saying, a thousand years of darkness is preferred to this gob stain getting his grubby little hands on any kind of power.

[hr]

Seems there is a second chapter, much more recent in fact. Well, I suppose I can make a then and now comparison.

Mitsuru opens his eyes after the blinding flash. He finds himself in a field, while still grasping the weird looking baton he got from that rock.

Much later than the original Prologue it seems, since Misturu never got the baton at the end of it.

It seems to be morning, but the dust barely allows him to see the sun. "Okay... What's this crap?", says Mitsuru, before noticing an arrow directed to his head.

Here’s a little piece of advice. If you are referring to characters in the third person, you HAVE to be using past tense, except during certain bits of speech. This isn’t being particular, it’s fact. Present tense speech only exists in First or Second person speech, but NEVER in Third person unless a character is speaking.

He dodges it, but it feels unusual. "Damn, I never felt it coming. It was like a-." He gets cut short by a cannon ball that flies right into his face. The ball passes through his face without harming him.

Damn it.

Something dawns him immediately. "This is an illusion... or maybe something else." Mitsuru then follows the sound of swords clashing in the distance, with the baton still firmly held by his hand.

Maybe by me wishing real hard he’ll gain a physical presence so that he might get skewered violently.

There, Mitsuru finds out a scene that not he had read several times, but he's seeing it right now in live, or something like that: A blond American man, clad in an old army uniform from the 19th century and wielding a broadsword as long as Mitsuru is tall, facing a Japanese man clad in a metallic and heavy-looking samurai armor and wielding a saber that seems to have several holes in the blade. Both people seem battle worn, specially the American. The samurai slashes with his sword, sending a gust of air to the American, who just slashes it with his broadsword and dissipates it.

So, the great hero Saratoga is an American. Mind explaining to me the logic as to how someone who is quite clearly tagged as an American has a Japanese last name when as far as I know Japan is still cut off from the rest of the world?

"Well, Takamori... it seems we're ready the grand finale.", says the American, panting hard.
The samurai, Takamori, nods in reply. "Today is the day where one of us shall rise... and one shall fall." states, pointing his sword at his opponent. "And I don't intend on leave the mortal plane without a fight with all my spirit, Saratoga-san."

*Shudders* Oh, hearing the use of the Japanese pronouns always makes my skin crawl, even if it is thematically accurate.

Mitsuru shakes himself from his thoughts and looks around, finding other people fighting around and he gets an idea... "I can't believe I'm here... The scene of Takamori's demise..." thinks out lout, then looks at the American soldier. "Which means the pretty boy over there is Captain Andrew Saratoga and that giant ass sword is the Saratoga Claymore... Neat scene.

I thought he hated existence itself, so how the hell could he even like someone when he hates for no adequately explored reason?

The American, Saratoga, smiles. "That...", he replies gripping his sword tight, "... is just what I expect you do here, Takamori." He then swaps his sword to the left hand and grabbing his sword in a back handed style, which shocks Mitsuru greatly.
"G-G-Gyakufuu Kenpou?" mutters Mitsuru, barely able to contain the shock. "But... how?..."

M-M-My style, but how? It’s not as if he doesn’t already have fifty or so years on me to develop his own fighting style or anything.

Suddenly, a lightning falls nearby, obscuring the view of both fighters. When the view clears, he finds an image that makes him sweat cold. Saratoga was replaced by Mitsuru, who wears his uniform in a battle worn fashion as well as Saratoga's broadsword, while Takamori was replaced by another person in the uniform of the Odaiba Highschool, wielding Takamori's Boufuurinken. One he recognizes immediately.

For a minute there I misread that and imagined Takamori in a school girl’s outfit. Not as dramatic, but definitely more funny. (Pretty sad when my imagination is beating out the original work.)

"Asunaga?" states the young time-shifter, while two ghostly images form behind him, shocking him: One is Capt. Saratoga and the other one is Saigou Takamori. The ghosts are looking how the Mitsuru of the vision and the Claymore glow in a furious red while Asunaga and his sword glow in a cold blue.

Now young Skywalker, you will die.

"The time has come, envoy of Saratoga, for us to settle this old grudge between our factions.

Oh yeah, the grudge between factions that has clearly been referenced prior to this shocking battle.

Are you ready to meet Enma-sama..." states Asunaga, pointing at his opponent with the sword. "... Zaichan?"
The real Mitsuru blinks at this. "Why's this nobody using that sword AND the nickname Aoshi gave me?"

Nobody? He exceeds your existence on every level. Hell, I’m pretty sure you ARE a Nobody since you’re that transparent.

"After you, m0thef*(!<er!" replies the illusion's Mitsuru, heading straight to clash with the incoming Asunaga. "Kousoku Banshi!" Both swords clash with a loud dust storm covering everything.

Ugh, bloody dust storms. They always ruin the good bits.

When it dies down, Mitsuru finds himself back in the cave, near Saratoga's equestrian statue. However, there were a couple of differences: First, the wall at the end was broke down, revealing another tunnel; second was the baton in Mitsuru's hands, which gained a familiar looking. It was now a 5 ft. long broadsword. The Flor-de-lis opened in half and became the guard, while the shaft itself extended to a foot long grip. From between the halves of the Flor-de-lis, a large and dark metallic straight blade was seen, engraved with the Latin words "TOLERANTIA ET SOCIETATEM SUNT PONTES QUOD CONIUNGERE MUNDI".

He immediately recognized it... "S-S-Sara... Saratoga Claymore?"

How the immaculate hell can this little weakling even HOLD a five foot claymore? That thing goes up to my fecking chest in height.

[hr]

Well, time to analyse. First of all, HA! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! HA! HA HA! HA HA HA HA HA! My god is this terrible, like terrible terrible. Like, so bad it can’t even be salvaged terrible. I don’t think I can honestly find anything worth being invested in. Wanna know why? I’ll tell you.

Firstly, your fic, even for a Prologue, it had zero pacing. It was flying around like a child who just downed two litres of red cordial. He was also given an infinite supply of bubble wrap, since it was just annoying as well. Each individual plot point got no investment from me. I couldn’t even give a single rat’s ass for any part of your story. I’m sorry, but it’s true. I could not even find one single thing to even give the slightest damn for. Why you ask? Allow me to elucidate.

Your characters. How the hell are we supposed to invest in someone like Mitsuru? Oh, he hates everything. Well, what else is he? An obnoxious smarty pants who thinks he’s hot s**t. Anything else? Ummm, he thinks your joy and love and sadness taste terrible. Except your pain and death, which tastes like apples, which he likes. … Um? I’m sorry, I’m supposed to be invested in someone I would ignore with every bit of my power if he were real. And not just that, we have to put up with him for the entire duration of the fic? Yes? That’s just terrible. If his parents even knew of the coming of this little piss stain I imagine they would have gone in for the abortion lickety split. And just so you know, this isn’t a villain archetype, or even an ultimate evil. Not even close. You can invest in a villain; there is NOTHING you can invest in this guy. As far as I am concerned, he was dead on arrival and just continues to stink up the place.

Then we have his ‘friend’, who is pretty much just like him, except without the weird taste fetish. His entire point of existing is to beat out a guy who clearly earned his position of adoration; purely for the selfish goal of being popular without even earning it. And before you say anything, yes, there are positions of popularity that people DO in fact earn through hard work. He’s also nothing worth investing in. And here’s the first problem: If you can’t invest in the protagonists, you can’t even enjoy reading the fic when you’re stuck with the newest anti-christ and a vain shallow twit.

Your back story had semblance of research that I double checked as well. Well, vaguely, since I succinctly doubt that there were swords made from star metal in the far off realms of reality. Hell, the random jump to the ‘Coliseum’ was completely random and so ADD riddled I honestly didn’t know what to think of it. If anything, this doesn’t even feel like a Prologue. It reads like the blurb some people post in the original thread as an eye catcher before the actual story posts. Though I doubt it’s eyes you’ll be catching with this. I couldn’t feel invested with a back story that was just plain ridiculous and an insult to the Scottish.

Then there’s the next issue, you fail to maintain tense. I thank god I can mentally swap tenses when reading so I knew what the hell you were actually writing. You’re either in the future, present or past tense bub. You can’t randomly change it. Especially when you’re using present tense to describe something that’s happening in the fecking past. No really, you didn’t even find something wrong with a past element being described like it was currently happening; like, at all? It breaks flow to randomly change tense, especially when the tense you swapped to doesn’t even fit there.

Thing got even sadder when I read that next chapter. Seriously, what’s the time difference between those two works? Cause, if you ask me, the time isn’t long enough. I find it almost sad that you called this a re-write of old works. Frankly they should’ve stayed buried; for the sanity of us all. There is no reason for the reader to be invested unless they are as hate filled and soulless as Mitsuru. Which isn’t going to happen since your target audience has been dead for half a century. Honestly, I don’t think I need to prescribe changes, since I don’t feel you have the required skill and experience to even repair this. My only advice, find a writing partner with skill and experience. Maybe then you can piggyback off their fame like Aoshi.

I know I’m being unnecessarily cruel and mean spirited, but I’m not some yes man. I say what I feel needs to be said to you. I felt no investment in your fic, and most people probably won’t either. Find someone more skilled to leech fame off of until you gain actual skill and experience.[/spoiler]

Well there you go, that was my Double Impact. I’m Broke. N, and I need a cold shower and a make-out session in some old lady’s house. Better go inflate my girlfriend.[/spoiler]

[Northern Sage]

They could be nail scissors. …Really big nail scissors probably.

And suddenly I am reminded of that book J.K. Rowling wrote, except even less subtle and with Marty Stu traits.

Hey, at least we're not getting dozens of Another Time anymore.

[The Warden]

I've completely forgotten what Another Time is; probably a repressed memory.

Though, I sincerely doubt granny's bunions are THAT big

[Northern Sage]

I've completely forgotten what Another Time is; probably a repressed memory.

Though, I sincerely doubt granny's bunions are THAT big

http://forum.yugiohcardmaker.net/topic/303114-another-time/

That infamous ZEXAL badfic. (Admittedly, it was called Guardian Ark, I just refer to it as Another Time for some reason.

[R.Surraco]

Well, I get you disliked it and I must say it's not really my best job. Also, you mentioned 2 chapters, which is fine and all... but that's not even close to the truth. The prologue is... well, kinda old and so. Also, I suffered of HDFS (Hard Disk Failure Syndrome), which killed my hard drive without warning.
 
Anyways, I honestly loved your critic (I'm LOLing so hard of it) and, honestly, I got the desired effect: seriously, do you think I would make a character like HIM to be liked? Not at all! The guy's technically the Biggest Bad, who just got somehow convinced to act with the good guys to kill some villains. Hell, the good guys even have a contingency plan for him... that includes red candles, roses a bed and Aoshi... yeah, it's not the best plan, but it has to work. You might want an explanation of everything, I guess, so I'll grab your comment and comment over it because, well... I have nothing else to do today...
 
[spoiler=Episode 13.2: Ridiculously Over-The-Top Name that Basically Explains the Story... Part 2: Well, 10k very much.]
Before any says anything; yes I am perfectly aware of how old this is. But since Rinne is okay with it, I may as well toss in my two cents on a string. No way am I giving some bum two cents. Hell, Australia doesn’t even have a cent below five, and I still wouldn’t waste five cents on a bum. In any case, I thought I may as well toss in my ‘professional’ opinion about this… fic. God help me.
 
(No god will save you from this, dude)
 
Episode 00(prologue): 2 tales & 1 ghost (二階建てと幽霊/Nikaidate to yuurei)

*Is wearing full riot gear and shakily raises a riot shield*

 

(Meh, you need a tank for this one. It's an Obvious Beta and a deliberately chopped chapter to just showcase a vision. It's gonna be messy)

 
Tokyo, Japan. Land of the new and the ancient. Place of many stories... like this one.

No, really? I thought this was an overly long poem about pottery.

 

(I tried, but the image of Patrick Swayze on Ghost caused me a kind of amnesia and... what were we talking about?)

 
Mitsuru Kanna is 15 years old, short, left-handed, kinda fugly... and he hates you.

Good to know, I hate him already.

 

(Good to know, i was gonna call Arkham on you if you actually liked him)

He despises you. Simply he can't even breathe the same air than you. Don't blame yourself; you have done nothing to deserve it. It's just him, unable to feel anything else for you than hate. His family's respectful and united, but he doesn't care. His life in the school is relatively quiet, but he doesn't care. He just hates people. No by fear, he just can't stand the life of those around him. He can taste your joy, your courage, your sadness... all that's disgusting for him. Except fear and death, of course. He loves them. It tastes like apples for him and he loves apples. But he won't kill you... yet.

Jesus kid, rear up on the hate would ya? I think Hitler would call you extreme. Seriously, what has to go through such a diseased little mind to make them end up like this. Was his mother a jackal or something? Was he birthed on the sixth day of the sixth month of the sixth year? It really is fascinating to know how someone ends up like such a little hellspawn when their name ISN’T Sora.

 

(Because he actually made that way since birth. Having lots of demonic aura makes you a bit of an asshole, you know?)

P.S. He has the strangest priorities.

 

(P.S.S. IKR)

He doesn't think about it since he met Aoshi Minamino, the "Minaminator". A simple kendoist that saw how Mitsuru killed a warthog by slamming it with a bike and decided he was going to be his best (and only) friend.

Reminds me of how I became friends with this kid because he ran up a wall, slam dunked to beat the Harlem Globetrotters then went on to save Narnia. I guess I just have high standards when it comes to making friends.

 

(Well, Aoshi is kinda a cloud-cuckoolander. Also, he thought being the best looking of the pair would make him a chick magnet... it didn't)

Aoshi thinks "Zai-chan", although violent, is a good pal. Mitsuru is convinced he fell in love with Aoshi, but tries to not show it. He thinks the whole thing's stupid, and tastes like rancid candies. Well, he thinks that's not so much of a bad taste, anyway...

What the hell is up with this guy and talking about tastes? It’s really bizarre; did he get cooking lessons from Hannibal Lector? That would make for an interesting show though. *Sucks in air* “Welcome everyone, to cooking with Hannibal. Today we are going to be preparing Liver with fava beans and a nice chianti. Afterward, I’ll be showing you how to make a delicious ice cream cake in the shape of a human brain.”

 

(His case is actually a bit more strange: Sinesthesia and Ideasthasia. He tastes colors and even feelings. It's a real thing, look it up.)

Mitsuru is the typical Japanese student: painstaking, focused and looking forward a career according to his skills.

It might be hard to find a job when the only skill on your CV is: Hates all life on this planet. (Also likes apples; they are delicious.)

 

(He wanna be a coroner: he deals just fine with death people)

He's smart, but tries to not show off. The only thing he could hate more than other people's feelings is fame. He thinks fame's stupid and senseless.

I think his entire existence is stupid and senseless, but I don’t go berating him for existing.

 

(Meh, just let him be. No, seriously, let him be. He might eat you... in a roast.)

His plans are get into college, get his title and get out.

Title of what? Biggest prick in the universe? Mr. December Jerk? I honestly don’t know how or why I should feel invested in this guy. There’s villains, anti-heroes, heroes… and this guy. (That’s my character archetype preference list FYI.)

 

(Meh, this was just a warm up. It's hard to make a massive jerk with no good qualities AND make him the star of the story.)

Everything else is secondary and useless. His father wants him to learn the kendo style his family had been using for ages, but he doesn't care a s***. He knows how to fence and developed his own style, "Reverse Air Fencing”, which confuses other sword users by swinging in the opposite way. He thinks being left-handed actually made him better.

What other way can you honestly swing? There is only from the left, from the right, up, down, diagonally or a middle thrust. Or does he swing along the lesser known Q-axis? Though do enlighten me as to how someone who is clearly up his arse managed to create a completely unique style of fencing at age fifteen.

 

(He started when he found out he couldn't use his father's style to kill... around the age of 7 or so. His style is just a lefty pirate-style fencing with a backhand grip. It's a cheat for kendoists, but bring Zorro and the guy's soup)

Aoshi, by the other hand, just wants to be popular.

I want to call bingo right now, but my sheet burnt up due to me stamping it so damn fast.

 

(Yeah, of course)

That's why he's in the school's kendo team.

Kendo, it gets you da b***hez.

 

(That's his belief, actually: he wants money and b***hez)

For that and because "Granny" had been getting some discipline on him. Sure, no discipline will make him less ”ladies' flop", but he's fine as long as he keep trying to beat Asunaga... yeah, Asunaga. Hiroshi Asunaga, kendo team captain and one of the smartest guys in Odaiba High School, probably just behind Mitsuru. Aoshi just thinks on beat him and take his place as the most popular guy in the school.

I think Aoshi’s rather irrational hatred of this Asunaga is causing him to distort his own speech. What the hell did this kid do to earn such rage? Did he run over Aoshi’s teddy bear with his big wheel? I know how it is to be hateful, but Jesus h Christ you have to be pretty messed up to be so irrationally so.

 

(You're kinda confused there and I have to fix it: Hiroshi is the most popular guy, Aoshi wants to actually be more popular than him. He wants to "beat" him in the sense he wants to be better than him, just that)

Changing subjects, let’s see the recently opened Coliseum of Heroes on Sumida Park.

Oh, okay. We’re going from popularity leeching to some random colosseum. I guess that makes sense(?)

 

(Not so random: The first episode will end there. In fact, the second "chapter" I made is just the end of the first Chapter, which even has a different name that makes no sense to the plot... except for a simple joke scene. I purposely omitted the most of the build up just to showcase that part)

Every hero of the country has a statue surrounding the small lake in the park: Saigô Takamori, the last samurai and the leader of the Satsuma Rebellion; Tateki Tani, the first general that opposed resistance to said rebellion; Tokugawa Ieyasu, the first leader of the legendary Tokugawa Clan; even M.C. Perry, the gaijin general that opened Japan to the world. Everybody had a place in there. One of them had a very special place, however. In the little island, in the middle of the lake, surrounded by the other statues, is the bust of that gaijin that gave his life for his beliefs.

What the immaculate hell does this have to do with anything? Though it is rather polite to address the man who played such an important role by using his initials in such a way that he sounds like a rapper.

 

(Sorry, but I ignored M.C. Perry's full name, yet I knew the initials. Also, the guy was called Matthew Perry, better play with the safe)

The last battle of the Satsuma Rebellion, where Takamori and his troops, supported by the power of the Tenkinum metal, had a great advantage. Tenkinum is the hardest metal in the world and the biggest deposit was found in Satsuma, the land under Takamori's command.

Oh yeah, I remember reading about Tenkinum in my year 12 chemistry class. It’s in the periodic table right after Poppycockium and Bullshitium.

 

(I'm still trying to synthesize the latter, but so far I only got copies of Twilight)

However, the Japanese Imperial Army had a backup. A great, mighty backup. Captain Andrew Johannes Saratoga. A simple captain, just about 30 years old. He fought some battles and he wasn't the ultimate warrior, but was one of the most determined.

Well, being determined is very important in Japan. I’m sure as a child he was so determined to fly that he leapt off a balcony and fought rabid dogs with his bare hands; then he went to train with King Kai to learn the Kaioken and Spirit Bomb before facing down Mister Rogers in an Ultimate Showdown. The reason I happen to speaking like this is that being determined does not make you capable or successful. You do in fact need talent to succeed in anything.

 

(He had talent, as he was a good body-to-body fighter and good on horse-back. He was just not THE best.)

A simple man with the wish that all the countries could finally shake their hands in peace. A simple man... except for his "Hidden Blade". A very big blade.

He only brings it out during either alone time, or when he’s with his wife or that cute private he’d been eying all day.

 

(Now I can't unsee it...)

The Saratoga Claymore, forged by a Scottish blacksmith several years before Saratoga even had age to be recruited.

*Eye twitch* Okay, that’s a big insult to Scotland. A freaking claymore DOES NOT get a Japanese name, especially when it was named after the ponce who used it even though it was forged twenty fecking years before he got his grubby hands on it.

 

(Saratoga's not a Japanese name. Look on Wikipedia, it's your best friend. Also, Saratoga named it after himself, it had no name before it got to him, just a note saying "For U.S. Army Captain Saratoga". Weird thing is Andrew Saratoga was the first guy with that name and rank.)

Forged from a meteor that, according to several scientists, could have been the origin of the Tenkinum. This metal, called Albareulium is virtually indestructible once it's solidified.

I recall reading about that too. It was discovered before Poppycockium, but only after scientists discovered Stupidium and Plotconvenium. And I dare say this fic has a boatload of the former lining its pages.

 

(Actually, it's lined with the latter. I know, you can confuse about them)

This metal forms the sword. A very rare sword, because it possesses a raw energy nothing can match. This energy not only allows it to change from a small baton to a large 5 ft claymore, but also grants its user incredible powers. However, it only responds to one person. Saratoga.

Wow, it is incredibly convenient that the blade only works for the person it was named after. I doubt even the best minds could have seen that coming.

 

(Saratoga named it because it was for him, not otherwise. I probably had to mention it before.)

Saratoga was destined to have that sword and he knew the moment to use it had come. He also knew that would also be his last day. Takamori and Saratoga both armed with their swords. Takamori with his Teimeiken saber Boufuurinken, capable to slash air with a simple swipe.

A samurai, the last samurai, used a saber over a katana or something along those lines? No wonder the title became moot if any tit with a sword could be called a samurai.

 

(That's actually my fault: The Boufuurinken -Recently renamed, too lazy to edit the proper chapter- is actually a katana, just larger than usual and filled of holes.)

Saratoga and his namesake claymore, capable of absorb any kind of energy. Both warriors fight... without stop... without rest... without mercy... Finally, Takamori manages to stab his rival with his saber... only to get beheaded by the claymore. With his last breath, Saratoga entrusts the claymore to his friend, Japanese Imperial Army Field Marshal Prince Aritomo Yamagata, and asks him to take care of it, as another warrior will take his place in the future.

So, no one thought to step in, at all? Not even to maybe get a cheap kill steal on Takamori? And joy to the world that another little bastard gets to use a sword that for no readily apparent reason chooses its wielder. Why are space metals always so damn particular?

 

(Actually, everybody else was to busy trying to not die. It was the last battle between the Satsuma Clan and the first Japanese Imperial Army. Everybody was taking and doing shots around.)

Over a century passed and nobody knows the actual whereabouts of the Saratoga Claymore... or rather nobody wants to tell. Deep in the Coliseum of Heroes, in a hidden cave, lays a golden equestrian statue of Capt. Saratoga. Next to it, there's a stone with a legend in Latin. TOLERANTIA ET SOCIETATEM SUNT PONTES QUOD CONIUNGERE MUNDI. "Tolerance and fellowship are the bridges that bind the world together" A motto legendarily attributed to Capt. Saratoga, but it also is engraved on his claymore. Inside the stone, something is pulsing.

I feel sorry for this guy, honestly, I do. The simple fact that his legacy is going to be stained by blood because of the little s**tstain who’s going to inherit it. Tolerance and fellowship don’t exactly ring in the heart of someone who feels naught but hatred.

 

(It's okay, that's what Saratoga wanted... I mean it. And that's something that's pointed even in-story, to which Mitsuru claims he has no f**king idea of how to get rid of those words.)

The scene is observed by a spirit. A ghost wearing clothes from the army. A post-Civil War, U.S. Army Captain uniform, more precisely. The captain looks about 30 and has a big stain in the chest of his uniform, like if it were blood.

He must’ve died from embarrassment after he spilt some raspberry jam on his uniform.

 

(He got stabbed there, but yeah, I still wondered why I made him keep that stain. It will be removed from the finished work, I promise.)

He looks the rock closely... then smiles and looks at the ceiling of the cave. "Finally", he thinks, "the final battle is coming closer..." Fog gathers around him and he can see in it images of a young boy, kind of small in height. In the kid's hand he can see a sword... a big sword... his claymore. The ghost captain smirks. "Yes...", he looks at the ceiling again, then he murmurs, "Saratoga no ... jikan da..."

Sorry to say friendo, but you DON’T want what is about to happen. Just saying, a thousand years of darkness is preferred to this gob stain getting his grubby little hands on any kind of power.

 

(He's well aware of the risks. In fact, he planned it all. Mitsuru's hatred? He falling in love with Aoshi? All according to the plan)

[hr]

Seems there is a second chapter, much more recent in fact. Well, I suppose I can make a then and now comparison.

 

(I suppose you want me to bring my bulletproof vest, but I'm not afraid. Shoot it now!)

Mitsuru opens his eyes after the blinding flash. He finds himself in a field, while still grasping the weird looking baton he got from that rock.

Much later than the original Prologue it seems, since Misturu never got the baton at the end of it.

 

(As mentioned before, this is the end of the first chapter while the previous chapter is just an outdated prologue that was not meant to add anything to the story, just spoilers. Before this, which will be shown in the finished episode, Mitsuru left two helpless girls on their own, introduced Aoshi to his family, after years of trying to not do it, went to the Coliseum from the prologue, ate a ninja -I mean LITERALLY ate him- and then fell into a secret cave and got the baton. This is after he did the last part.)

It seems to be morning, but the dust barely allows him to see the sun. "Okay... What's this crap?", says Mitsuru, before noticing an arrow directed to his head.

Here’s a little piece of advice. If you are referring to characters in the third person, you HAVE to be using past tense, except during certain bits of speech. This isn’t being particular, it’s fact. Present tense speech only exists in First or Second person speech, but NEVER in Third person unless a character is speaking.

 

(Yeah, sorry about that. My honest fail)

He dodges it, but it feels unusual. "Damn, I never felt it coming. It was like a-." He gets cut short by a cannon ball that flies right into his face. The ball passes through his face without harming him.

Damn it.

 

(Sorry to disappoint you, but he's not gonna die today.)

Something dawns him immediately. "This is an illusion... or maybe something else." Mitsuru then follows the sound of swords clashing in the distance, with the baton still firmly held by his hand.

Maybe by me wishing real hard he’ll gain a physical presence so that he might get skewered violently.

 

(Cross your fingers. All of them.)

There, Mitsuru finds out a scene that not he had read several times, but he's seeing it right now in live, or something like that: A blond American man, clad in an old army uniform from the 19th century and wielding a broadsword as long as Mitsuru is tall, facing a Japanese man clad in a metallic and heavy-looking samurai armor and wielding a saber that seems to have several holes in the blade. Both people seem battle worn, specially the American. The samurai slashes with his sword, sending a gust of air to the American, who just slashes it with his broadsword and dissipates it.

So, the great hero Saratoga is an American. Mind explaining to me the logic as to how someone who is quite clearly tagged as an American has a Japanese last name when as far as I know Japan is still cut off from the rest of the world?

 

(As mentioned before, Saratoga's not a Japanese name. In fact, the name's part of American Revolutionary War as seen here)

"Well, Takamori... it seems we're ready the grand finale.", says the American, panting hard.
The samurai, Takamori, nods in reply. "Today is the day where one of us shall rise... and one shall fall." states, pointing his sword at his opponent. "And I don't intend on leave the mortal plane without a fight with all my spirit, Saratoga-san."

*Shudders* Oh, hearing the use of the Japanese pronouns always makes my skin crawl, even if it is thematically accurate.

 

(Reason: they're speaking in Japanese, just that Saratoga is not accustomed to honorifics so he doesn't use them. I had to make the distinction. Mitsuru doesn't use them either because he's a jerk)

Mitsuru shakes himself from his thoughts and looks around, finding other people fighting around and he gets an idea... "I can't believe I'm here... The scene of Takamori's demise..." thinks out lout, then looks at the American soldier. "Which means the pretty boy over there is Captain Andrew Saratoga and that giant ass sword is the Saratoga Claymore... Neat scene.

I thought he hated existence itself, so how the hell could he even like someone when he hates for no adequately explored reason?

 

(He doesn't like the guy, he uses "pretty boy" as an insult. Also, he likes the scene, which he knows it ends up with both guys dead. Why else do you think he liked it, anyways?)

The American, Saratoga, smiles. "That...", he replies gripping his sword tight, "... is just what I expect you do here, Takamori." He then swaps his sword to the left hand and grabbing his sword in a back handed style, which shocks Mitsuru greatly.
"G-G-Gyakufuu Kenpou?" mutters Mitsuru, barely able to contain the shock. "But... how?..."

M-M-My style, but how? It’s not as if he doesn’t already have fifty or so years on me to develop his own fighting style or anything.

 

(Actually, this is just part of the vision: Saratoga is becoming Mitsuru. As a side note, Saratoga's style is just normal pirate fencing a la Zorro, so there you go)

Suddenly, a lightning falls nearby, obscuring the view of both fighters. When the view clears, he finds an image that makes him sweat cold. Saratoga was replaced by Mitsuru, who wears his uniform in a battle worn fashion as well as Saratoga's broadsword, while Takamori was replaced by another person in the uniform of the Odaiba Highschool, wielding Takamori's Boufuurinken. One he recognizes immediately.

For a minute there I misread that and imagined Takamori in a school girl’s outfit. Not as dramatic, but definitely more funny. (Pretty sad when my imagination is beating out the original work.)

 

(I know Takamori's real face and now I can't unsee that either. Thanks for the nightmares, dude...)

"Asunaga?" states the young time-shifter, while two ghostly images form behind him, shocking him: One is Capt. Saratoga and the other one is Saigou Takamori. The ghosts are looking how the Mitsuru of the vision and the Claymore glow in a furious red while Asunaga and his sword glow in a cold blue.

Now young Skywalker, you will die.

 

(Meh, I'm seeing them more as Vader vs. Obi-Wan, but whatever...)

"The time has come, envoy of Saratoga, for us to settle this old grudge between our factions.

Oh yeah, the grudge between factions that has clearly been referenced prior to this shocking battle.

 

(Actually, this is a vision of the future, specifically from the last episode: Asunaga will get to fight with the Satsuma Clan, which is the clan Mitsuru's bent on destroying. Those are the factions in battle: Satsuma clan vs. Japanese Army -Yes, Mitsuru works with them-, Round 2)

Are you ready to meet Enma-sama..." states Asunaga, pointing at his opponent with the sword. "... Zaichan?"
The real Mitsuru blinks at this. "Why's this nobody using that sword AND the nickname Aoshi gave me?"

Nobody? He exceeds your existence on every level. Hell, I’m pretty sure you ARE a Nobody since you’re that transparent.

 

(As I said, he's a JERKASS)

"After you, m0thef*(!<er!" replies the illusion's Mitsuru, heading straight to clash with the incoming Asunaga. "Kousoku Banshi!" Both swords clash with a loud dust storm covering everything.

Ugh, bloody dust storms. They always ruin the good bits.

 

(Spoiler: when it settles down on the actual battle, both guys are seen coughing after aspiring too much dust and getting it in their eyes, just to ask for paintball masks for the fight. Anticlimactic as shit)

When it dies down, Mitsuru finds himself back in the cave, near Saratoga's equestrian statue. However, there were a couple of differences: First, the wall at the end was broke down, revealing another tunnel; second was the baton in Mitsuru's hands, which gained a familiar looking. It was now a 5 ft. long broadsword. The Flor-de-lis opened in half and became the guard, while the shaft itself extended to a foot long grip. From between the halves of the Flor-de-lis, a large and dark metallic straight blade was seen, engraved with the Latin words "TOLERANTIA ET SOCIETATEM SUNT PONTES QUOD CONIUNGERE MUNDI".

He immediately recognized it... "S-S-Sara... Saratoga Claymore?"

How the immaculate hell can this little weakling even HOLD a five foot claymore? That thing goes up to my fecking chest in height.

 

(Whoever wields becomes faster than a speeding bullet, stronger than a locomotive, capable of jumping over a skyscraper in a single bound and all without having to wear the underwear over the pants. Side effect: those good of heart will die, faster the longer they handle it. That's why it ended up on Mitsuru, as a matter of fact.)

[hr]

Well, time to analyse. First of all, HA! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! HA! HA HA! HA HA HA HA HA! My god is this terrible, like terrible terrible. Like, so bad it can’t even be salvaged terrible. I don’t think I can honestly find anything worth being invested in. Wanna know why? I’ll tell you.

 

(Go ahead, I asked for it in first place)

Firstly, your fic, even for a Prologue, it had zero pacing. It was flying around like a child who just downed two litres of red cordial. He was also given an infinite supply of bubble wrap, since it was just annoying as well. Each individual plot point got no investment from me. I couldn’t even give a single rat’s ass for any part of your story. I’m sorry, but it’s true. I could not even find one single thing to even give the slightest damn for. Why you ask? Allow me to elucidate.

 

(I'm waiting...)

Your characters. How the hell are we supposed to invest in someone like Mitsuru? Oh, he hates everything.

 

(Meh, I'm just creating the worst possible person. I had to start somewhere)

 

Well, what else is he? An obnoxious smarty pants who thinks he’s hot s**t.

 

(You're being to light on him... I'm calling Arkham right now)

 

Anything else? Ummm, he thinks your joy and love and sadness taste terrible. Except your pain and death, which tastes like apples, which he likes. … Um?

 

(Do you really think I want you to LIKE him? What kind of person do you think I am? Seriously, tell me, because I'm clueless here...)

 

I’m sorry, I’m supposed to be invested in someone I would ignore with every bit of my power if he were real.

 

(Actually no. I expected other characters to be more attractive than him. That's why he's a jerk.)

 

And not just that, we have to put up with him for the entire duration of the fic? Yes?

 

(No, not at all. His last scene will happen mid-point in the story)

 

That’s just terrible. If his parents even knew of the coming of this little piss stain I imagine they would have gone in for the abortion lickety split. And just so you know, this isn’t a villain archetype, or even an ultimate evil. Not even close. You can invest in a villain; there is NOTHING you can invest in this guy. As far as I am concerned, he was dead on arrival and just continues to stink up the place.

 

(Meh, it was a bad plan... not from me, but from who made him in-story. I know the next sword wielder will fix it.)

Then we have his ‘friend’, who is pretty much just like him, except without the weird taste fetish. His entire point of existing is to beat out a guy who clearly earned his position of adoration; purely for the selfish goal of being popular without even earning it.

 

(As I mentioned before, you just got wrong the "beat" part: he wants to be better than him by his hard work. You know, like Ash on Gary. "Beat" as in "defeat", "surpass". Not "beat" in Mitsuru's style. Seriously, do you think I like them?)

 

And before you say anything, yes, there are positions of popularity that people DO in fact earn through hard work. He’s also nothing worth investing in. And here’s the first problem: If you can’t invest in the protagonists, you can’t even enjoy reading the fic when you’re stuck with the newest anti-christ and a vain shallow twit.

 

(I'll ignore the last part on the fact you think I dig characters like Mitsuru, which means you're totally insane, given Aoshi's not like that at all. Also, he's not a "he", but more on that later)

Your back story had semblance of research that I double checked as well. Well, vaguely, since I succinctly doubt that there were swords made from star metal in the far off realms of reality.

 

(They are supposed to be like that. Why do you think I made them with those names? Pure cliche)

 

Hell, the random jump to the ‘Coliseum’ was completely random and so ADD riddled I honestly didn’t know what to think of it. If anything, this doesn’t even feel like a Prologue. It reads like the blurb some people post in the original thread as an eye catcher before the actual story posts.

 

(I won't discuss that part. even I thought it was poorly made, but I just made it to spoil as much as I could from episode 1 without getting to the proper parts. Also, there was no action, it was pure narration. Just a test drive. And I crashed badly. I'll redo as soon as I stop scratching my ball)

 

Though I doubt it’s eyes you’ll be catching with this. I couldn’t feel invested with a back story that was just plain ridiculous and an insult to the Scottish.

 

(You are saying this because the sword has a name that is not Japanese AT ALL and that was not given by the maker... yup, you're just being lazy here)

Then there’s the next issue, you fail to maintain tense. I thank god I can mentally swap tenses when reading so I knew what the hell you were actually writing. You’re either in the future, present or past tense bub. You can’t randomly change it. Especially when you’re using present tense to describe something that’s happening in the fecking past. No really, you didn’t even find something wrong with a past element being described like it was currently happening; like, at all? It breaks flow to randomly change tense, especially when the tense you swapped to doesn’t even fit there.

 

(My complete fault: I used past when I made the Prologue because it's the real deal, but swapped to present on the Chapter 1's spoiler because of a I-have-no-f**king-idea got stuck on my mind while working the times. Also, I became an avid RPer between both parts, which means I got too accustomed to present tense. You forgot to mention how the first part abuses of passive tenses, which makes the flow slow. Phosphorus mentioned the latter before)

Thing got even sadder when I read that next chapter. Seriously, what’s the time difference between those two works? Cause, if you ask me, the time isn’t long enough. I find it almost sad that you called this a re-write of old works. Frankly they should’ve stayed buried; for the sanity of us all. There is no reason for the reader to be invested unless they are as hate filled and soulless as Mitsuru. Which isn’t going to happen since your target audience has been dead for half a century. Honestly, I don’t think I need to prescribe changes, since I don’t feel you have the required skill and experience to even repair this. My only advice, find a writing partner with skill and experience. Maybe then you can piggyback off their fame like Aoshi.

 

(Another insult about characters you didn't understand... Dude, you're getting old for this shit)

I know I’m being unnecessarily cruel and mean spirited, but I’m not some yes man. I say what I feel needs to be said to you. I felt no investment in your fic, and most people probably won’t either. Find someone more skilled to leech fame off of until you gain actual skill and experience.

 

(Definitively I feel it's a well made critic, after all, with all the fun you could put in (but seriously, why did you made me picture Takamori on a sailor fuku? That's beyond cruel and you know it). I know it's hard to write a good story when you have practically no time for writing how it's supposed (and you lose your hard drive with all the data you needed. That also kills moods), and it has several trick one will take a while to actually polish, which is why I asked about an opinion.)

 

(However, I must also be honest with you: You were very inaccurate about me and somethings of the story -just inaccurate, not mean-spirited or anything like that-, which means you're honest about your review, yet unwilling to read in detail the whole deal. Point cases below...)

 

(You wrote of Saratoga as a Japanese name. FAIL. Saratoga is an INDIAN name given to Mohawk Indians' hunting grounds in New York, is the name of the place where Americans began to won the Revolutionary War and it's also the name of several vessels of the U.S. Navy. The name was also used on Australia, but never on Japan. That shows you just focused on how it sounded and not on it's meaning. Half-assed effort)

 

(Aoshi wants to "beat" Hiroshi in the sense he wants to defeat him in the popularity race, not in the "beat him square in the guts with a knife" sense. That's why he became a kendoist. Otherwise, he would just sic Mitsuru on him and earn the prize. You forgot "beat" can be used on a non-literal sense? That shows, again, a lack on deep analysis on the actual wording. If you were to use "beat" in the same concept of "defeat" or "surpass" I would ask what you mean with "beat". Half-assed effort)

 

(You accurately described Mitsuru as a guy that's honestly less of a person and more of a pain in the ass, but you misunderstood ME when criticizing my character choice for protagonist. I dunno what kind of person do you think I am for having Mitsuru as the series' main character, but you're totally wrong. That shows, above all, an utter lack of either common sense in the fact you thought my intention was to make him a likeable character or a deep straight misunderstanding on my intention of creating an obvious jerkass, probably because you don't think I could knowingly create the worst possible kind of person. UTTER HALF-ASSED EFFORT)

 

(As a side note, this is the original draft of my characters: Mitsuru was the typical normal guy who got forced to be the wielder of the Saratoga despite he didn't want fame because he was unable to handle it. That was his whole motivation: wishing to be invisible, thrown to the spotlights. Aoshi was the comedic foil, whose only attack was a double flying kick that made no harm. Hiroshi was nothing more of a rival for Aoshi. I realized all that was too used and decided to say "F**k it, let's bring a murderous jerk as a main character and the rest will be seen later" Given the series actual tone (majorly senseless), the more exaggerated the better. Aoshi was toned down and made less ridiculous. Hiroshi will be more than just a rival for Aoshi first and Mitsuru latter, being probably the most important character of the story, Aoshi close second.)[/spoiler]

 

Well, I gave my two-cent on your two-cents, now it's your turn to swallow it all. Good luck.

 

[The Warden]

I'll be honest, I thought Saratoga was a write-in, he seemed that way in any case.

And see, what you're not getting at is that I don't think you're head over heels for Misturu, far from it; I'm just morally disgusted that you even think about classing him as an 'ultimate evil'; he's not, far from it. He's an angry little boy who seems to have been given everything but that's not even good enough. It's just tedious, annoying and childish.

[R.Surraco]

I'll be honest, I thought Saratoga was a write-in, he seemed that way in any case.

And see, what you're not getting at is that I don't think you're head over heels for Misturu, far from it; I'm just morally disgusted that you even think about classing him as an 'ultimate evil'; he's not, far from it. He's an angry little boy who seems to have been given everything but that's not even good enough. It's just tedious, annoying and childish.

 

Well, I guess I exaggerated a bit. Thing is the guy has a desire to kill every person in the planet and eat them, but the fact he was raised by a good family despite the fact he's practically a demon-possessed human is what keeps him on the edge. His hatred is not founded in his life, but it is before and beyond it. It will be explained in the story, but actually being a massive jerk will keep him alive from using the sword AND he was made like that specifically to wield the sword.

[The Warden]

Question: Why does the claymore need to find a new wielder?

[R.Surraco]

Question: Why does the claymore need to find a new wielder?

 

Because it's written in stone: The blacksmith that died making the claymore, apparently, could see the future, so he stated the claymore's wielder and the "master of the eastern wind" (Takamori first) will clash again when "the legendary blades get risen again by the chosen warriors". Saratoga choose Mitsuru because he could was made for the sword, while the Satsuma Clan's leader is who possess Buufuurinken, Takamori's katana. Guess who takes to face Mitsuru in the "final" duel.

[Mugendramon]

Err, answering a review's, well... reviews is a bit unsightly if I say so myself. Almost like you were trying to make witty rebuttals to completely dry jokes like it meant anything.

[The Warden]

So, since both combatants were groomed for the job, then isn't the whole thing just one big self-fulfilling prophecy?

[R.Surraco]

Yup, you can say that: The prophecy was known by Saratoga, so he got ready for it. Also, the Satsuma clan leader always gets the Buufuurinken, so their part was assured. While the Satsuma just went with the flow, Saratoga said "Hell, let's create the best user for the sword!" He made Mitsuru as he is: mean, hateful and cannibal.

[Catterjune]

Re: Surraco's review of his review -

Going back and forth between trying to correct misconceptions and trying to be dumb and make stupid unfunny jokes is a pretty terrible way to respond.

On a more general note, and applying to all writers:

You shouldn't have to resort to doing an interview to explain the story. The story should explain the story. Instead of saying "Oh that's because [explanation]" you should immediately go into story editing mode and fix up your story, or make a mental note of it to explain for later chapters if you can't do it right now without slowing the story to a crawl.

tl;dr - You probably spent more words trying to defend your story then you did actually writing it... which isn't good.

[The Warden]

I can't argue there, spot on Pika

[R.Surraco]

You're right, Pika, but I had to explain some points that, while clear on the plot, were misunderstood because of a too literal reading.

 

About the humor thing... I just couldn't help it, after I managed to stop rolling of laughter. It was just too damn comical! Broke, I'll return you the favor once if you stop by my card sets and give them your opinion.

[Catterjune]

You're right, Pika, but I had to explain some points that, while clear on the plot, were misunderstood because of a too literal reading.

You didn't have to explain anything, not here at least. If you found a lot of people were misunderstanding and reading words too literally, instead of going into a topic and saying "No no no! What I meant to say was-" what you should be doing is cracking open the document you saved it as (or just copypasta what you posted here) and see if you could change the wording or replace a word or add a sentence or two.


On a completely unrelated note, when reading over your story (Okay, I actually skimmed it) I didn't get the feeling that Sidekick-Chan wanted to physically assault Popular-Kun. And when I read Whats-His-Face's review of your story (okay, I actually skimmed it) I didn't get the feeling that he thought Sidekick-Chan wanted to physically assault Popular-Kun either. Then again I skimmed both and I really don't give a fuck either way.


tl;dr - For every writer:

When you get feedback that you disagree with, instead of saying: "No, you read it incorrectly." You should instead say: "I wrote it incorrectly." Bonus points if you actually then go back and revise it based on the feedback you got.

[DL]

[spoiler=Episode 13: Double Impact!]
Fine evening to you readers, it’s Broke. N here with another split review. You guys have been very quiet recently, and it’s made me feel all alone and gloomy. Well, now the sun has come and I now have two relatively short fics to review this time. First I will be heading up DL’s little piece known as The Prank. Then, I’ll be following up like cream on a sundae with newkama R.Surraco with his apparently very violent fic with a Japanese name so bad I can’t even dignify myself enough to write it out.

[spoiler=Episode 13.1: The Overly Elaborate and Mean Spirited Act that is Designed to Make Another Look Quite Foolish]
I’ll be honest, I don’t remember much of what DL used to do, besides make sexual innuendo. No wait, he just made sexual comments. I think that’s right. Or maybe I’m thinking of Cherry. Eh, dun matter really; it’s his talent I’m reviewing not his lewd acts.

Leaves blew wildly with the strong wind, serving to ease the sun’s unforgiving heat.

Leave the sun alone. Why do people think he’s always so unforgiving? He gives us light and by extension heat. Isn’t that enough evidence to prove he’s a good guy? Leave the sun alone! HE’S A HUMAN!

Most citizens of the small town were inside their homes, bathing in their air conditioners and cooling fans. However, despite the less than adequate conditions for being outside, there was still a small group of three teens.

If there were three teens out in such unforgiving heat, then they must be *puts on shades* pretty cool. YEEEEAAAHHHHH!!!!

Silently, they sat on a park bench. They looked no older than fifteen, but in a moment, one of them put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it, softly inhaling and blowing out a gentle cloud of smoke.

*Loud inhale* Smoking, at fifteen? That is most unacceptable young man. Your parents would flip their wigs if they saw such ungroovy behaviour.

He had shaggy brown hair that almost covered his hazel eyes, and wore blue jeans with holes on the knees. He also had an olive-colored hooded sweatshirt on. He was the first to break the silence.

When a character looks like that, the idea of him smoking loses its edge just a bit.

“So,” he began. “Who’s gonna go in first?”

Ah… no, no comment. I’ll be mature about this.

A girl that sat next to him, on the left side of the bench, turned to look at him. She tilted her head slightly, causing her blond hair to fall in front of her face, which she quickly swept away with her slender fingers.

You forgot to add her two inch press-on nails covered in glitter studs and pair of short shorts with the word juicy on the butt in that description.

“What are you talking about Jack?” she asked, leaning her head on the shoulder of the guy next to her. “And come on, I told you not to light those disgusting things near me.”
Jack chuckled, ignoring her complaint, and looked at the other guy in the group, who looked back at him and smiled, his thin lips curved slightly upward, then parting as he began to laugh as well. The girl looked to Jack, and then to the other boy, and got up. She glared at the other boy, her blue eyes forcing a piercing gaze upon him. His laughter died down a bit.

Blue eyes, like limpid tears? You know it’s a spot of luck you made her blonde otherwise I would have had way too many jokes to make in regards to this character if she had black hair.

“What’s so funny? What’s this delinquent’s plan now, Chris?”

In my mind’s eye you look like a transvestite, the word ‘delinquent’ is pretty unjustified; stupid man lady.

Chris shook his head, causing his dark, smooth hair to cover one of his emerald green eyes, then slid his hands into his pockets. He looked down at his t-shirt, which today happened to be a black t-shirt with a picture of a pale, screaming girl, with wide eyes. Underneath, it said “Death to All”. Perhaps from some underground rock band or another.

If this guy was trying any harder, you could stick coal up his ass and he would s**t out a diamond a few minutes later.

“See this shirt, Laura?” Chris asked, stretching it a bit.
“I’d rather not,” she replied, looking away from the ugly thing.
Not seeming to notice her comment, Chris continued. “We’re going to put a pillow inside this thing, and get it on Mrs. Shelly’s bed. Then, when she wakes up, she’ll get a nasty scare.

Ummm, what? Your grand plan is to fill an incredibly ugly T-shirt with a pillow then put it by some old lady’s bed to scare her? As plans go that is one step below wearing a sheet and moaning softly. As any kind of plan goes that is really weak.

“So you seriously have nothing better to do than bully old ladies?” Laura asked, with a sigh.
“Hey, it’s not bullying,” replied Jack. “I bet she’ll look back in the future and laugh about it.”
“I bet if she wakes up to that sort of scare, she won’t be having much of a future, but…”

These guys are fifteen, and this is their idea of a joke? Umm, DL, would you mind telling me what time period this fic is set in?

Laura began, then decided to drop the topic. She knew it was useless to try and get these two out of an idea. Especially if it was a prank. And of course, she was going to go along with them. She always did, for some reason that escaped her understanding.

It somewhat escapes mine too honestly. This is the sort of thing eight year olds do. At your age you should be mugging the old bint.

Laura rubbed her temples gently with her fingers. “Well, I guess someone has to be there ready to call an ambulance.”

I think you highly underestimate the capabilities of old ladies kids. They are more well ‘ard than you think they are.

“That’s the spirit,” Jack commented, and got up, dragging her by the arm. Chris followed along silently, smiling at Laura’s small protests at being dragged. Soon, however, they were at the lady’s house. Laura then raised an eyebrow.
“So how are we going to get in without her noticing?” Laura asked.

Isn’t that something you should typically ask BEFORE going along with their asinine plan?

Jack smiled and pulled a lock pick out of his pocket. He casually made his way to the house and in a matter of seconds, the door slid open.

I can hear a lock open from my room with the door closed. Just saying, you are really underestimating the biddy’s hearing.

Silently, he crept in. The lights in the house were turned off, but a faint sound from the air conditioner echoed from the floor above. From outside, one could see the house’s wide garden, filled with vivid-looking flowers and light green grass, always with a few drops of dew in the mornings. The house itself stood tall, at two stories. It was painted a pale peach color, with white outlines where the doors and windows were. It even had an attic. Obviously a wealthy person’s home. And not only that, a wealthy old lady’s home. An old lady who Jack bet would be their perfect target for his prank.

Why did you choose to describe the house after they broke in? Seems like a bit of a delayed reaction and in all honesty, the delayed timing makes this feel like nothing more than filler.

But I don’t think you quite grasp the mentality of a fifteen year old. You put emphasis on wealth not once, but twice. Any fifteen year old with a bad streak would be looting this house, not pulling a dumb prank.

“So who’s gonna do it?” Laura asked. “I sure won’t, and you can’t make me.”
Jack snickered. “Don’t get your panties in a knot. I’ll set it up, you just sit nice and tight. Chris, you place the video tape on her desk drawer. I want to be able to relive this glorious life-changing moment.”

Actually, here’s another question that’s been bugging me. What time is it? If anything I would guess that it’s anywhere from early noon to late afternoon, as those times are when heat is usually greatest. So, if by this assumption, how would they know her sleeping habits? It seems pretty suss that they know what times this lady goes to sleep.

Chris grinned, and grabbed the edges of his shirt, sliding it off. The motion showed off his abdomen, which, while it was not toned or muscled, had a lean, composed feel to it. After taking it all off, he looked a bit at the shirt, before tossing it to Laura. She caught it with her face, and snarled at Chris as she slid it down, rolling it into a ball and throwing it back to him. He caught it with one hand and then made a basketball toss to Jack, who caught it and began chuckling but soon silenced himself as he remembered the elderly person sleeping upstairs. Then again, this was the same elderly person that had slept through a building being demolished right next to her house.

How old is this lady? Five hundred? But, ugh, you’re doing it like so many other people do. You build up unimportant details whilst neglecting the important ones. If she can barely hear then she’s round about eighty or more. By this time the old cow should be in a home if she’s near deaf.

Jack began climbing the stairs quite swiftly, while still holding the camera steadily. Chris went next, and Laura followed along, grasping Chris’ hand tightly.

Oh Fred, I’m so scared. Don’t worry Daphne, I’ll keep you safe. And once this case is all over; we’ll go out for sundaes whilst talking about how great it is to be just friends.

After they reached the second floor, Jack signaled to the right-most door on the white, carpeted corridor. Jack walked along slowly, before he noticed neither of them was following him. A few yards behind him, at the edge of the staircase, Chris took off his shirt.

Does this Chris always feel compulsed to remove his shirt for no readily apparent reason? Oh wait, it was already off wasn’t it? Since you made no indications during the quick trip up the stairs that Jack gave Chris back his shirt, did you?

He smirked, and began showing off his muscles, that had an interesting light shining on them due to the overall darkness of the house, except for a few small glass openings near the ceiling. Laura giggled, and hugged him. Their lips met for a split second, causing Jack to grimace almost unnoticeably.
“Get a room, you two!” he whispered. “Come on, the old lady’s gonna wake up soon, at this rate.”

How do you whisper whilst using speech that requires the need of an exclamation mark?

But at least I know that the time period is relatively nowish; since nowadays it is really sexy to break into the houses of old ladies to make out. Just like how sexy it is to make out in cemeteries and museum cupboards.

As he mentioned this, Laura kissed Chris again, as if to test Jack’s patience. He frowned more visibly, and walked quickly towards them. After he approached them, there was a still moment. Out of nowhere, Chris' arms moved forward, as Laura fell back onto the stairway by a sudden force.

Use the force LukeJack.

Her body tumbled down the steps in large thuds and several cracks. Her skull smashed against the wall, as blood began to drip from several places, dirtying the wooden steps. Her half-closed eyes revealed lifeless pupils within, along with arms limply hanging by her side. There she was, sitting almost as if she were a doll; that is, if most dolls were bloody and had limbs sticking out in weird angles.

Hmmm, let me confer with physics for a moment. If rag doll physics are a thing, then she must’ve ricocheted off the banister in order to impact the wall, as she would’ve just flopped up and down. Unless it was a rounded staircase; a random detail that you left out. But then again, important details don’t mean much to you do they?

Arm outstretched, Jack gazed with wide eyes, upon the scene. His body trembled slightly and he quickly turned to Chris, whose hair was partly covering his face. Jack’s heart began pumping faster, and quickly dashed away, and into the old lady’s room. As he slammed the door shut, Mrs. Shelly finally woke up, with a startle.

Just saying right now, doors slamming AREN’T as loud as buildings exploding ten feet away.

“You’re the Butlers’ son!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
He covered her mouth and got his face close to hers.
“Don’t make noise…” Jack whispered faintly. “Or he’ll hear you.”
The old lady jerked a bit, but Jack held on a bit tighter.

I now officially ship Mrs. ShellyxJack.

He looked straight into her eyes, his heart racing. He turned towards the door, growing wider as a dull pounding could be heard on the aged wood. The doorknob began shaking; steadily, at first, then more and more violently. Jack looked back at Mrs. Shelly. Her eyes had slowly begun rolling to the back of her head, which flopped motionless onto the bed. Assuming she had passed out from the stress, he quickly scuttled off the bed.

Yes, stress. Not the fact you just asphyxiated her whilst trying to keep her quiet.

His eyes darted around furiously, before they focused on a wooden door. He dashed for it, and managed to open it and slam it behind him. As he locked the door and sat down with his back to it, he heard the bedroom door slam open; then, footsteps. A low gasp, and more footsteps could be heard, but Jack ignored them and began searching around the large, tan-colored bathroom. The bathroom had a bathtub with a golden faucet, and next to it sat a small table with shampoos and conditioners. There were also a pair of scissors and nail clippers on another side of the table, on top of a small pink cloth. Jack ran over to it, and grabbed the scissors.

Why would you keep scissors in the bathroom? Did she cut out food coupons whilst taking a grunt?

“Jack!” a familiar voice shouted.
A drop of sweat slid down Jack’s cheek. He gulped, and held the scissors tighter, hands shaking. He knew he couldn’t let Daniel catch him.
“Jack, I know you’re in there!” Daniel yelled again. “Come out the easy way, man!”

And now we have Daniel. Hello Daniel. Sighe, climax, I’ll just stay quiet for this.

Jack’s breathing was shaky and deep, and his hands’ shaking lessened. He closed his eyes, and didn’t utter a single noise. His eyes darted open again as a loud knocking echoed on the door, sending shivers down his back. He quickly spun around and backed away from it, scissors pointed at the door, but shaking more than they were before. After a few moments, the knocking ceased. Strong slamming followed, causing the door to shake. Finally, the door gave in and a baseball bat’s upper part crashed into it, causing a hole to open. Wooden splinters fell to the floor and dust dispersed itself through the air. As it settled, a piercing emerald-green eye stared straight at Jack. He began audibly gasping, as more and more sweat began dripping down his cheeks, and he darted inside the bathtub.

“Oh God, oh God, I…” he began muttering, his breathing rate rapidly increasing. He hid behind the bath curtain, closing it completely, and sat silently inside the bathtub with his chin resting on his knees. He hugged his knees tightly with one hand, as the other held the scissors slightly downwards. A forearm slid in through the hole the baseball bat left, carefully moving around, feeling the surface of the door. It finally grasped the doorknob and turned it. The door slowly slid open, as Jack saw the figure slowly approaching.

“Where are you, Jack? Come out and I won’t have to hurt you…”
Jack’s breathing became heavier and heavier, almost coming out in gasps. He noticed this, and shut his own mouth with one hand, as hard as possible. His body was shaking so violently, the scissors were clacking on the side of the bathtub. He moved them away, staring at them intently. His heartbeats were so furiously loud he was sure Daniel could hear them. A moment later, Daniel slid the curtain open. As he did so, he jumped back, eyes wide. In the bathtub lay Jack, blood sliding down from his neck violently. A pair of scissors was embedded into the side of his neck, and his mouth was slightly agape. His eyes blankly stared at the ceiling, as the blood soon mixed with the tiny water puddles in the bathtub, washing down the drain.

In the next hour, the old lady’s house had been surrounded by cars with flashing red and blue sirens. In the next few days, every newspaper in town had been reporting on the events of the teenage boy, Jack Butler, who, under heavy influence of drugs, had assassinated his friend, Laura Ashworth, and soon after committed suicide by stabbing himself on the neck with a pair of scissors.

Drugs, right. No I’m sorry, that is an incredibly s**tty plot twist.

Also it’s not assassination, it’s just flat out murder. Assassinations are subtle kills, which in no ways involves shoving someone down stairs whilst under a drug induced hallucination.

[hr]

Okay, time to analyze. This is obviously meant to be some kind of horror story, but, it falls short really. As plot twists go, blaming it on the drugs makes this feel like one of those bad 90s Drug PSAs, you know, like the one with the chick going crazy and smashing the kitchen with a frying pan. That’s what the fic feels like. I’ll be honest, adding “Don’t do drugs kids” at the end would have made this ham salad complete.

Like a certain weaboo fic I reviewed some time ago, you too have a habit of focusing on details that are by and large irrelevant, either by explaining something pointless or simply building on something that was already explained. You didn’t give us a time of day, which breaks realism in terms of old lady sleep habits, plus, the idea that fifteen year olds consider pranking an old lady a good investment of their time means they really need to readjust their goals in life.

I’m going to keep this one short. I will loosely consider the fact that he smoked the drugs at the start of the fic to be incredibly subtle as a Chekhov’s whatever; but I do also know most smoking narcotics either need to be really strong, or the guy needs to be depressed before they start seeing things with marijuana. Anything else and it breaks the realism as to how a fifteen year old would have the monetary means to get his hands on such vile s**t. You could have at least described how it was an oddly shaped cigarette, like, say it was a bit wider than usual or something.

Honestly I’m not fond at all of fics like this. They’re easy to read into and much of the time the payoff is pretty weak at best. Like how Thar’s fic where the friends and family were dead, this suffered the same pitiful last hurrah. The twist has to be some kind of clever and subtle turn of events that you don’t expect. The fact that Jack just went and outright killed her then ran away like that, well, with the ending, it’s just a drug PSA, that’s it. I think you should extend it out a bit; it’s way too short for a one shot and there is so little detail put into it.

Also, the change from Chris to Daniel was something covered by Fuse, and it really is bad that you failed to notice you renamed a character for the last quarter. Actually, I have one more thing to say here: What I felt hurt this fic the most was that it really wasn’t expanded on. If there was a word limit for the contest I’d understand that; if not, then you were just being lazy.

See, a good horror or mystery needs a build up yes, but it also needs misdirection. Your reader shouldn’t be able to figure out what is happening except with maybe a few subtle hints here and there. The sheer fact that Jack went and just axed Laura with no build up was pretty weak. And the parts following it was just as weak, especially the blaming of the drugs. In my honest opinion here, there needs to be a lot of filling in the gaps. There could’ve been some back story about how maybe her house was pretty shady, and that maybe Shelly’s husband had been killed under mysterious circumstances. From there, you could have expanded upon the drug induced hallucination by making it seem like the house killed Laura and that Shelly killed Not!Daniel before leading up to the depressing climax of the suicide. Then, the drug thing would have been more of a surprise due to the red herring of the supposed rumours surrounding Shelly and the hallucination. As I said, there is so much more that could have been expanded on to make the drug thing a real twist.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Episode 13.2: Ridiculously Over-The-Top Name that Basically Explains the Story]
Before any says anything; yes I am perfectly aware of how old this is. But since Rinne is okay with it, I may as well toss in my two cents on a string. No way am I giving some bum two cents. Hell, Australia doesn’t even have a cent below five, and I still wouldn’t waste five cents on a bum. In any case, I thought I may as well toss in my ‘professional’ opinion about this… fic. God help me.

Episode 00(prologue): 2 tales & 1 ghost (二階建てと幽霊/Nikaidate to yuurei)

*Is wearing full riot gear and shakily raises a riot shield*

Tokyo, Japan. Land of the new and the ancient. Place of many stories... like this one.

No, really? I thought this was an overly long poem about pottery.

Mitsuru Kanna is 15 years old, short, left-handed, kinda fugly... and he hates you.

Good to know, I hate him already.

He despises you. Simply he can't even breathe the same air than you. Don't blame yourself; you have done nothing to deserve it. It's just him, unable to feel anything else for you than hate. His family's respectful and united, but he doesn't care. His life in the school is relatively quiet, but he doesn't care. He just hates people. No by fear, he just can't stand the life of those around him. He can taste your joy, your courage, your sadness... all that's disgusting for him. Except fear and death, of course. He loves them. It tastes like apples for him and he loves apples. But he won't kill you... yet.

Jesus kid, rear up on the hate would ya? I think Hitler would call you extreme. Seriously, what has to go through such a diseased little mind to make them end up like this. Was his mother a jackal or something? Was he birthed on the sixth day of the sixth month of the sixth year? It really is fascinating to know how someone ends up like such a little hellspawn when their name ISN’T Sora.

P.S. He has the strangest priorities.

He doesn't think about it since he met Aoshi Minamino, the "Minaminator". A simple kendoist that saw how Mitsuru killed a warthog by slamming it with a bike and decided he was going to be his best (and only) friend.

Reminds me of how I became friends with this kid because he ran up a wall, slam dunked to beat the Harlem Globetrotters then went on to save Narnia. I guess I just have high standards when it comes to making friends.

Aoshi thinks "Zai-chan", although violent, is a good pal. Mitsuru is convinced he fell in love with Aoshi, but tries to not show it. He thinks the whole thing's stupid, and tastes like rancid candies. Well, he thinks that's not so much of a bad taste, anyway...

What the hell is up with this guy and talking about tastes? It’s really bizarre; did he get cooking lessons from Hannibal Lector? That would make for an interesting show though. *Sucks in air* “Welcome everyone, to cooking with Hannibal. Today we are going to be preparing Liver with fava beans and a nice chianti. Afterward, I’ll be showing you how to make a delicious ice cream cake in the shape of a human brain.”

Mitsuru is the typical Japanese student: painstaking, focused and looking forward a career according to his skills.

It might be hard to find a job when the only skill on your CV is: Hates all life on this planet. (Also likes apples; they are delicious.)

He's smart, but tries to not show off. The only thing he could hate more than other people's feelings is fame. He thinks fame's stupid and senseless.

I think his entire existence is stupid and senseless, but I don’t go berating him for existing.

His plans are get into college, get his title and get out.

Title of what? Biggest prick in the universe? Mr. December Jerk? I honestly don’t know how or why I should feel invested in this guy. There’s villains, anti-heroes, heroes… and this guy. (That’s my character archetype preference list FYI.)

Everything else is secondary and useless. His father wants him to learn the kendo style his family had been using for ages, but he doesn't care a s***. He knows how to fence and developed his own style, "Reverse Air Fencing”, which confuses other sword users by swinging in the opposite way. He thinks being left-handed actually made him better.

What other way can you honestly swing? There is only from the left, from the right, up, down, diagonally or a middle thrust. Or does he swing along the lesser known Q-axis? Though do enlighten me as to how someone who is clearly up his arse managed to create a completely unique style of fencing at age fifteen.

Aoshi, by the other hand, just wants to be popular.

I want to call bingo right now, but my sheet burnt up due to me stamping it so damn fast.

That's why he's in the school's kendo team.

Kendo, it gets you da b***hez.

For that and because "Granny" had been getting some discipline on him. Sure, no discipline will make him less ”ladies' flop", but he's fine as long as he keep trying to beat Asunaga... yeah, Asunaga. Hiroshi Asunaga, kendo team captain and one of the smartest guys in Odaiba High School, probably just behind Mitsuru. Aoshi just thinks on beat him and take his place as the most popular guy in the school.

I think Aoshi’s rather irrational hatred of this Asunaga is causing him to distort his own speech. What the hell did this kid do to earn such rage? Did he run over Aoshi’s teddy bear with his big wheel? I know how it is to be hateful, but Jesus h Christ you have to be pretty messed up to be so irrationally so.

Changing subjects, let’s see the recently opened Coliseum of Heroes on Sumida Park.

Oh, okay. We’re going from popularity leeching to some random colosseum. I guess that makes sense(?)

Every hero of the country has a statue surrounding the small lake in the park: Saigô Takamori, the last samurai and the leader of the Satsuma Rebellion; Tateki Tani, the first general that opposed resistance to said rebellion; Tokugawa Ieyasu, the first leader of the legendary Tokugawa Clan; even MC Perry, the gaijin general that opened Japan to the world. Everybody had a place in there. One of them had a very special place, however. In the little island, in the middle of the lake, surrounded by the other statues, is the bust of that gaijin that gave his life for his beliefs.

What the immaculate hell does this have to do with anything? Though it is rather polite to address the man who played such an important role by using his initials in such a way that he sounds like a rapper.

The last battle of the Satsuma Rebellion, where Takamori and his troops, supported by the power of the Tenkinum metal, had a great advantage. Tenkinum is the hardest metal in the world and the biggest deposit was found in Satsuma, the land under Takamori's command.

Oh yeah, I remember reading about Tenkinum in my year 12 chemistry class. It’s in the periodic table right after Poppycockium and Bullshitium.

However, the Japanese Imperial Army had a backup. A great, mighty backup. Captain Andrew Johannes Saratoga. A simple captain, just about 30 years old. He fought some battles and he wasn't the ultimate warrior, but was one of the most determined.

Well, being determined is very important in Japan. I’m sure as a child he was so determined to fly that he leapt off a balcony and fought rabid dogs with his bare hands; then he went to train with King Kai to learn the Kaioken and Spirit Bomb before facing down Mister Rogers in an Ultimate Showdown. The reason I happen to speaking like this is that being determined does not make you capable or successful. You do in fact need talent to succeed in anything.

A simple man with the wish that all the countries could finally shake their hands in peace. A simple man... except for his "Hidden Blade". A very big blade.

He only brings it out during either alone time, or when he’s with his wife or that cute private he’d been eying all day.

The Saratoga Claymore, forged by a Scottish blacksmith several years before Saratoga even had age to be recruited.

*Eye twitch* Okay, that’s a big insult to Scotland. A freaking claymore DOES NOT get a Japanese name, especially when it was named after the ponce who used it even though it was forged twenty fecking years before he got his grubby hands on it.

Forged from a meteor that, according to several scientists, could have been the origin of the Tenkinum. This metal, called Albareulium is virtually indestructible once it's solidified.

I recall reading about that too. It was discovered before Poppycockium, but only after scientists discovered Stupidium and Plotconvenium. And I dare say this fic has a boatload of the former lining its pages.

This metal forms the sword. A very rare sword, because it possesses a raw energy nothing can match. This energy not only allows it to change from a small baton to a large 5 ft claymore, but also grants its user incredible powers. However, it only responds to one person. Saratoga.

Wow, it is incredibly convenient that the blade only works for the person it was named after. I doubt even the best minds could have seen that coming.

Saratoga was destined to have that sword and he knew the moment to use it had come. He also knew that would also be his last day. Takamori and Saratoga both armed with their swords. Takamori with his Teimeiken saber, capable to slash air with a simple swipe.

A samurai, the last samurai, used a saber over a katana or something along those lines? No wonder the title became moot if any tit with a sword could be called a samurai.

Saratoga and his namesake claymore, capable of absorb any kind of energy. Both warriors fight... without stop... without rest... without mercy... Finally, Takamori manages to stab his rival with his saber... only to get beheaded by the claymore. With his last breath, Saratoga entrusts the claymore to his friend, Japanese Imperial Army Field Marshal Prince Aritomo Yamagata, and asks him to take care of it, as another warrior will take his place in the future.

So, no one thought to step in, at all? Not even to maybe get a cheap kill steal on Takamori? And joy to the world that another little bastard gets to use a sword that for no readily apparent reason chooses its wielder. Why are space metals always so damn particular?

Over a century passed and nobody knows the actual whereabouts of the Saratoga Claymore... or rather nobody wants to tell. Deep in the Coliseum of Heroes, in a hidden cave, lays a golden equestrian statue of Capt. Saratoga. Next to it, there's a stone with a legend in Latin. TOLERANTIA ET SOCIETATEM SUNT PONTES QUOD CONIUNGERE MUNDI. "Tolerance and fellowship are the bridges that bind the world together" A motto legendarily attributed to Capt. Saratoga, but it also is engraved on his claymore. Inside the stone, something is pulsing.

I feel sorry for this guy, honestly, I do. The simple fact that his legacy is going to be stained by blood because of the little s**tstain who’s going to inherit it. Tolerance and fellowship don’t exactly ring in the heart of someone who feels naught but hatred.

The scene is observed by a spirit. A ghost wearing clothes from the army. A post-Civil War, U.S. Army Captain uniform, more precisely. The captain looks about 30 and has a big stain in the chest of his uniform, like if it were blood.

He must’ve died from embarrassment after he spilt some raspberry jam on his uniform.

He looks the rock closely... then smiles and looks at the ceiling of the cave. "Finally", he thinks, "the final battle is coming closer..." Fog gathers around him and he can see in it images of a young boy, kind of small in height. In the kid's hand he can see a sword... a big sword... his claymore. The ghost captain smirks. "Yes...", he looks at the ceiling again, then he murmurs, "Saratoga no ... jikan da..."

Sorry to say friendo, but you DON’T want what is about to happen. Just saying, a thousand years of darkness is preferred to this gob stain getting his grubby little hands on any kind of power.

[hr]

Seems there is a second chapter, much more recent in fact. Well, I suppose I can make a then and now comparison.

Mitsuru opens his eyes after the blinding flash. He finds himself in a field, while still grasping the weird looking baton he got from that rock.

Much later than the original Prologue it seems, since Misturu never got the baton at the end of it.

It seems to be morning, but the dust barely allows him to see the sun. "Okay... What's this crap?", says Mitsuru, before noticing an arrow directed to his head.

Here’s a little piece of advice. If you are referring to characters in the third person, you HAVE to be using past tense, except during certain bits of speech. This isn’t being particular, it’s fact. Present tense speech only exists in First or Second person speech, but NEVER in Third person unless a character is speaking.

He dodges it, but it feels unusual. "Damn, I never felt it coming. It was like a-." He gets cut short by a cannon ball that flies right into his face. The ball passes through his face without harming him.

Damn it.

Something dawns him immediately. "This is an illusion... or maybe something else." Mitsuru then follows the sound of swords clashing in the distance, with the baton still firmly held by his hand.

Maybe by me wishing real hard he’ll gain a physical presence so that he might get skewered violently.

There, Mitsuru finds out a scene that not he had read several times, but he's seeing it right now in live, or something like that: A blond American man, clad in an old army uniform from the 19th century and wielding a broadsword as long as Mitsuru is tall, facing a Japanese man clad in a metallic and heavy-looking samurai armor and wielding a saber that seems to have several holes in the blade. Both people seem battle worn, specially the American. The samurai slashes with his sword, sending a gust of air to the American, who just slashes it with his broadsword and dissipates it.

So, the great hero Saratoga is an American. Mind explaining to me the logic as to how someone who is quite clearly tagged as an American has a Japanese last name when as far as I know Japan is still cut off from the rest of the world?

"Well, Takamori... it seems we're ready the grand finale.", says the American, panting hard.
The samurai, Takamori, nods in reply. "Today is the day where one of us shall rise... and one shall fall." states, pointing his sword at his opponent. "And I don't intend on leave the mortal plane without a fight with all my spirit, Saratoga-san."

*Shudders* Oh, hearing the use of the Japanese pronouns always makes my skin crawl, even if it is thematically accurate.

Mitsuru shakes himself from his thoughts and looks around, finding other people fighting around and he gets an idea... "I can't believe I'm here... The scene of Takamori's demise..." thinks out lout, then looks at the American soldier. "Which means the pretty boy over there is Captain Andrew Saratoga and that giant ass sword is the Saratoga Claymore... Neat scene.

I thought he hated existence itself, so how the hell could he even like someone when he hates for no adequately explored reason?

The American, Saratoga, smiles. "That...", he replies gripping his sword tight, "... is just what I expect you do here, Takamori." He then swaps his sword to the left hand and grabbing his sword in a back handed style, which shocks Mitsuru greatly.
"G-G-Gyakufuu Kenpou?" mutters Mitsuru, barely able to contain the shock. "But... how?..."

M-M-My style, but how? It’s not as if he doesn’t already have fifty or so years on me to develop his own fighting style or anything.

Suddenly, a lightning falls nearby, obscuring the view of both fighters. When the view clears, he finds an image that makes him sweat cold. Saratoga was replaced by Mitsuru, who wears his uniform in a battle worn fashion as well as Saratoga's broadsword, while Takamori was replaced by another person in the uniform of the Odaiba Highschool, wielding Takamori's Boufuurinken. One he recognizes immediately.

For a minute there I misread that and imagined Takamori in a school girl’s outfit. Not as dramatic, but definitely more funny. (Pretty sad when my imagination is beating out the original work.)

"Asunaga?" states the young time-shifter, while two ghostly images form behind him, shocking him: One is Capt. Saratoga and the other one is Saigou Takamori. The ghosts are looking how the Mitsuru of the vision and the Claymore glow in a furious red while Asunaga and his sword glow in a cold blue.

Now young Skywalker, you will die.

"The time has come, envoy of Saratoga, for us to settle this old grudge between our factions.

Oh yeah, the grudge between factions that has clearly been referenced prior to this shocking battle.

Are you ready to meet Enma-sama..." states Asunaga, pointing at his opponent with the sword. "... Zaichan?"
The real Mitsuru blinks at this. "Why's this nobody using that sword AND the nickname Aoshi gave me?"

Nobody? He exceeds your existence on every level. Hell, I’m pretty sure you ARE a Nobody since you’re that transparent.

"After you, m0thef*(!<er!" replies the illusion's Mitsuru, heading straight to clash with the incoming Asunaga. "Kousoku Banshi!" Both swords clash with a loud dust storm covering everything.

Ugh, bloody dust storms. They always ruin the good bits.

When it dies down, Mitsuru finds himself back in the cave, near Saratoga's equestrian statue. However, there were a couple of differences: First, the wall at the end was broke down, revealing another tunnel; second was the baton in Mitsuru's hands, which gained a familiar looking. It was now a 5 ft. long broadsword. The Flor-de-lis opened in half and became the guard, while the shaft itself extended to a foot long grip. From between the halves of the Flor-de-lis, a large and dark metallic straight blade was seen, engraved with the Latin words "TOLERANTIA ET SOCIETATEM SUNT PONTES QUOD CONIUNGERE MUNDI".

He immediately recognized it... "S-S-Sara... Saratoga Claymore?"

How the immaculate hell can this little weakling even HOLD a five foot claymore? That thing goes up to my fecking chest in height.

[hr]

Well, time to analyse. First of all, HA! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! HA! HA HA! HA HA HA HA HA! My god is this terrible, like terrible terrible. Like, so bad it can’t even be salvaged terrible. I don’t think I can honestly find anything worth being invested in. Wanna know why? I’ll tell you.

Firstly, your fic, even for a Prologue, it had zero pacing. It was flying around like a child who just downed two litres of red cordial. He was also given an infinite supply of bubble wrap, since it was just annoying as well. Each individual plot point got no investment from me. I couldn’t even give a single rat’s ass for any part of your story. I’m sorry, but it’s true. I could not even find one single thing to even give the slightest damn for. Why you ask? Allow me to elucidate.

Your characters. How the hell are we supposed to invest in someone like Mitsuru? Oh, he hates everything. Well, what else is he? An obnoxious smarty pants who thinks he’s hot s**t. Anything else? Ummm, he thinks your joy and love and sadness taste terrible. Except your pain and death, which tastes like apples, which he likes. … Um? I’m sorry, I’m supposed to be invested in someone I would ignore with every bit of my power if he were real. And not just that, we have to put up with him for the entire duration of the fic? Yes? That’s just terrible. If his parents even knew of the coming of this little piss stain I imagine they would have gone in for the abortion lickety split. And just so you know, this isn’t a villain archetype, or even an ultimate evil. Not even close. You can invest in a villain; there is NOTHING you can invest in this guy. As far as I am concerned, he was dead on arrival and just continues to stink up the place.

Then we have his ‘friend’, who is pretty much just like him, except without the weird taste fetish. His entire point of existing is to beat out a guy who clearly earned his position of adoration; purely for the selfish goal of being popular without even earning it. And before you say anything, yes, there are positions of popularity that people DO in fact earn through hard work. He’s also nothing worth investing in. And here’s the first problem: If you can’t invest in the protagonists, you can’t even enjoy reading the fic when you’re stuck with the newest anti-christ and a vain shallow twit.

Your back story had semblance of research that I double checked as well. Well, vaguely, since I succinctly doubt that there were swords made from star metal in the far off realms of reality. Hell, the random jump to the ‘Coliseum’ was completely random and so ADD riddled I honestly didn’t know what to think of it. If anything, this doesn’t even feel like a Prologue. It reads like the blurb some people post in the original thread as an eye catcher before the actual story posts. Though I doubt it’s eyes you’ll be catching with this. I couldn’t feel invested with a back story that was just plain ridiculous and an insult to the Scottish.

Then there’s the next issue, you fail to maintain tense. I thank god I can mentally swap tenses when reading so I knew what the hell you were actually writing. You’re either in the future, present or past tense bub. You can’t randomly change it. Especially when you’re using present tense to describe something that’s happening in the fecking past. No really, you didn’t even find something wrong with a past element being described like it was currently happening; like, at all? It breaks flow to randomly change tense, especially when the tense you swapped to doesn’t even fit there.

Thing got even sadder when I read that next chapter. Seriously, what’s the time difference between those two works? Cause, if you ask me, the time isn’t long enough. I find it almost sad that you called this a re-write of old works. Frankly they should’ve stayed buried; for the sanity of us all. There is no reason for the reader to be invested unless they are as hate filled and soulless as Mitsuru. Which isn’t going to happen since your target audience has been dead for half a century. Honestly, I don’t think I need to prescribe changes, since I don’t feel you have the required skill and experience to even repair this. My only advice, find a writing partner with skill and experience. Maybe then you can piggyback off their fame like Aoshi.

I know I’m being unnecessarily cruel and mean spirited, but I’m not some yes man. I say what I feel needs to be said to you. I felt no investment in your fic, and most people probably won’t either. Find someone more skilled to leech fame off of until you gain actual skill and experience.[/spoiler]

Well there you go, that was my Double Impact. I’m Broke. N, and I need a cold shower and a make-out session in some old lady’s house. Better go inflate my girlfriend.[/spoiler]

I would like to state something, albeit I will try to not sound like an ass

 

Im sorry

 

But it seems you really like trying to dig as deep as you can on certain parts that seem even remotely unstable, and make decent/meh jokes for the rest of the time to fill in the gap. 

 

I DO admit the shirt thing was an oversight.

I DO admit the Daniel thing was an oversight, I wanted to avoid the character being Daniel cuz I overuse that name but it KEPT COMING back, it was like destiny.

 

 

BTW, the contest had a 7-page limit. I was at page 7, sooo....

 

Oh and description is never a bad thing, unless its bad (I believe mine wasn't) or it describes something completely unecessary, like if we're going to a mountain in Brazil and I describe China. There are exceptions but considering my story was just developing, I don't think adding that description of the house (btw, description was too late? Really? come on now.) hurt the story.

Also I thought the reviewing fics trend died out a LONG time ago......O.o

 

Regardless....while the review was meh, I DO see where my story was flawed.

 

And though I had a time limit I wont deny those flaws, but you should really pick stories that are more.....uh....YCMish.

 

yknow

 

bad

 

 

I can click on a random one and get one funnier than mine.

[The Warden]

Yours was bad, hence why I reviewed. I figured there was a word count limit or something along those lines, it's why it was so hackneyed. But point still stands, you described the house after they went in it. Why? Why not describe it beforehand? Was there something else going that was so important that it stopped you from describing the house until after they went in; where, fyi, the camera perspective would be inside the house, not after.

 

Also, one last thing, you can NEVER go by your own opinion on what you yourself wrote. That's why I actually get my reviews looked over by someone else. Having someone else review it finds the faults you can't see yourself. So instead of thinking that your work is some kind of magnum opus, maybe you should take what Pika and I are saying, and you could perhaps conclude you're not absoolutely right.

 

It was pretty dreck, that's all honestly. It's major flaw was the page count; something like this needs more than just 7 pages, though you could have just reduced the text size, unless that was also in the rules.

[DL]

Yours was bad, hence why I reviewed. I figured there was a word count limit or something along those lines, it's why it was so hackneyed. But point still stands, you described the house after they went in it. Why? Why not describe it beforehand? Was there something else going that was so important that it stopped you from describing the house until after they went in; where, fyi, the camera perspective would be inside the house, not after.

 

Also, one last thing, you can NEVER go by your own opinion on what you yourself wrote. That's why I actually get my reviews looked over by someone else. Having someone else review it finds the faults you can't see yourself. So instead of thinking that your work is some kind of magnum opus, maybe you should take what Pika and I are saying, and you could perhaps conclude you're not absoolutely right.

 

It was pretty dreck, that's all honestly. It's major flaw was the page count; something like this needs more than just 7 pages, though you could have just reduced the text size, unless that was also in the rules.

It was also the rules

 

And I have said in multiple occasions I see the flaws, and I know it could have been a lot better

 

And if not I said it now

 

But I think overall, it wasn't bad.

 

Opinions differ though, so yeah. To each his own ;P

I also aint saying its amazing.