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Messages - Lady Festina

#16
Holy cow - this is a close run thing....
#17
Thanks for all your votes. I now declare voting closed....! Results thread coming soon :-)
#18
Quote from: hippynumber1 on 18 November, 2013, 01:46:47 PM
I was tempted to write a sonnet but here you go:

Anger filled my bones.
Follow the fucking format!
Most humbly sorry

Best I could do at short notice...

Good work - perhaps this comp's winner will choose poetic form as the theme for the next one :-)
#19
Quote from: Richmond Clements on 17 November, 2013, 08:46:16 PM
So it turns out I will not be able to attend.

NOOoooooo! Who's going to be in charge of Shouting and Belligerence? Who's going to wear the white suit? Who's going to dance with me?

Anyway, an update from Uncle Fester and I. We've both been a bit quiet on the ole Forum lately - sorry - pressures and deadlines, pressures and deadlines. The upshot of those, however, is that we'll have new comics for sale at the Disconnected Press table (New Dock Hall, left hand wall, table 7) including:

- Do Aliens Play Basketball? - written by me, this comic explores the mysteries of space and science and will make grown men cry. Good for fans of Prof Brian Cox. General lack of violence, although it does feature the end of the universe....

- Sentient Zombie Space Pigs. No description needed. Art by Uncle Fester. Words by me. Only costs £1. How could you resist! (Not technically new at TB, but worth mentioning because we love it!)

- Disconnected anthologies - still a few copies of 2 and lots of our new vol 3 for sale. Weird and wonderful stories set in small towns. Lush. Vol 3 features cover art by occasional Forumite Kev Levell.

It's also launch weekend for Pirates of the Lost World - technically available from the Markosia table, just along from us, this is Uncle Fester's second graphic novel and is neatly summed up thus: Pirates Versus Dinosaurs.

Come and find us - think of us as your second home after the Zarjaz table...

Lizzie
#20
Oh dear, oh dear, I turn my back for five minutes and all hell breaks loose....

Thanks to Alski for picking up on the Voting Thread. Business first, my votes are:

1. Almost Joyce's Wake by Skullmo - because it's what I wanted to write but didn't have time to do!
2. Forn Devil by Alski
3. Mrs Joyce's Boys by eamon1961

Well done all, despite being ignored by me and the meanie...

Back to Hippynumber1's comments - yes, technically it's a short story comp but, having won it with a poem in the past, I'd say that we're happy to experiment with form :-)

Lastly, closing date for voting: how about Thursday this week and we can hopefully get the results thread up and a new theme ready before heading off to ThoughtBubble?

Will chat to Bluemeanie about division of labour!
#21
OK, my interpretation....

You don't need to know anything other than what is shown on the panel. And you can use the panel as a Start, Middle or End of a story. Don't worry if you haven't got the prog, just look at the image and respond to it as a stand-alone thing.

Does that help?

If not, we can wait for bluemeanie to be back off his hols (Thursday) and clarify with him then, or ask him to choose something else!

Lady F
#22
General / JUMPING ON - The 33rd 2000AD Forum Story Comp
13 October, 2013, 12:41:41 PM
A different kind of challenge this time round, set by our last winner bluemeanie (who will also be taking over comp admin for a while - no, that wasn't his prize!).

The meanie said:

Thought it might be fun to see who can make the best story when you all have to start and end at roughly the same place. So this one will be about making the most of an assigned story situation. You know, like the real 2000AD writers do

2000AD Prog 1850. The jumping on prog. You all have a copy.

There's one panel "Joyce's knowledge of Mega-City One Law is poor but he displays considerable courage". This panel shows a snapshot of another call the three of them took. Tell the rest of that panel's story.

If you haven't got a copy, the panel is http://2000ad.files.wordpress.com/2013/10/joyce-panel.jpg

Equally, if you haven't got a copy, you absolutely need to get one. Right now. OK?

No more than 500 words; closing date: Sunday 10th November. That's four weeks away, but means we get a good shot at a Christmas comp too :-)
#23
Less than a week to go and can't wait to see / meet so many Boarders.

Come and find Uncle Fester and I in the Comics Clock Tower; we'll be at the Disconnected Press table and are happy to be the unofficial meeting point for all Forum folks. Make sure you also check out Crazy Fox Machine's table for Psychedelic Journal of Time Travel.

And if you want a sketch or two, please ask Uncle Fester (or Crazy Fox Machine). I can't sketch but I'll happily write you a story :-)
#24
Between the meanie and I, we're on the case for the next one.... Which means that he's sunning himself by a pool somewhere (a disturbing image, I'm sure you'll all agree).

New thread coming soon :-)
#25
Congrats to BlueMeanie for his 94th victory in the Story Comp.... (not that I'm bitter or anything....)

A signed copy of Trifecta is yours - I'll PM for details and the next theme.

Thanks to all who entered. You'll have figured from my crapness over the past few comps that I've got quite a lot on my plate at the mo (all good). If anyone would like to take over running of the story comp - even if only for a couple of editions - please let me know!
#26
Strontium Dog - Going Solo
By BlueMeanie

Alpha pressed his gun against the other mans chest, pushing him back into the seat he had just vacated

"Going somewhere Solo?"

"Yes Alpha as a matter of fact I was just going to see your boss. Tell Jabba that I've got his money"

Johnny lowered himself into the seat opposite, keeping the gun trained on the well renowned smuggler.

"It's too late. You should have paid him when you had the chance. Jabba's put a price on your head so large every bounty hunter in the galaxy will be looking for you"

"But this time I've got the money" Solo replied and Alpha repressed a slight smile as he saw the other man's quick glance over to the other side of the bar.

"I'm lucky I found you first" said Alpha. "And talking of luck, if you're expecting a lucky rescue from your co-pilot, think again"

Over the other end of the bar Wulf and Chewbacca stood toe to toe, each growling quietly and seemingly growing taller with each passing second.

"Look," Solo countered, his hand slowly reaching to unclasp his blaster, "even I get boarded sometimes. Do you think I had a choice?"

"Tell it to Jabba, he may only take your ship"

"Over my dead body" sneered Solo and quietly raised his gun under the table, apparently forgetting the fact Alpha could see right through it.

"Thats the idea" snapped Alpha and blew Solo's head all over the back of the booth.

There was a loud roar from the other side of the bar followed by the reassuring thud of Wulf's Happy Stick then Wulf was at his side.

"Ve best go before there's trouble" he said. "More trouble any-vay"

"No, it's fine," Alpha replied, "EVERYONE SAW, RIGHT? IT WAS SELF DEFENCE"

Wulf leaned in closer "But Johhny, you shot first"

"Trust me," he quietly replied, "by the time this gets reported Han will have shot first"

He looked back at what was left of the fallen smuggler

"Han always shoots first".
#27
Our Honourable Mention goes to DanDon'tDare.

And our winner is:
#28
In second place:

ERASER-DREDD
(Not a Short Film by David Lynch)
by hippynumber 1


Henry Spencer shuffled through the remains of the city.  Once proud blocks slumped heavily forward, tired, weary things, heavy with loss and regret.  All those lives.  All those deaths.  The heavy drone of insects hung in the air, an organic industry endlessly grinding on, its work never completed.  The sound of death.  The buzz of life.  He clamped his mouth tight shut against the clouds of flies. They bumped lazily against his lips as he shuffled forward, each footstep precise, tiny steps taking him ever onward.

Henry looked around curiously as he gingerly stepped over the bloated, oozing bodies in the foyer of Jack Nance Block.  The smell hit him like raw munce on a too hot day, a solid wall of foetid miasma, thick enough to chew.  He tried to disassociate what he was stepping over from the people whose lives had become this bloody swollen mess of chaos.

"I used to live here!  I was a Pencil Machine Operator!"

The bald, withered, wild old man with the cracked eyes sniggered and ran up the East stairwell.  His ragged clothes wafted behind him like a tattered cape.  Henry didn't want to think about what he had seen hanging from the man's mouth.

Taking the North stairwell Henry plodded reluctantly up to the thirtieth floor.  The Beautiful Girl Across the Hall smiled wanly at him.  Her sad face peered at him from behind the grime of what her life had become.

"I locked myself out of my apartment...and it's so late," she said.

Henry looked at his shoes, embarrassed that his life had changed so little.  He knocked on Mary's door.

"Hello Henry," said Mr. X.  "Come on in."

Henry walked into his girlfriend's parents' apartment and sat himself at the table.

Mrs. X stared at him from her corner.  Her crochet needles clicked furiously, the chitter of insect mandibles.  Mary touched his shoulder gently as their bandage swaddled child mewled pitifully from its place at the centre of the table.  Its beak-like mouth snapped sharply as it struggled against its bonds.  The carving knife glittered hopefully.

"We have chicken tonight," said Mr. X.  "It's man-made.  Little damn thing's smaller than my fist."

Henry picked up the carving knife.  The baby stopped crying.  The thin, wrinkled skin of its head shifted and moved like maggots writhed there.

"I just cut it like regular chicken?" asked Henry.

"Sure."

Mrs. X began to cry, a splintered sound, like fractured glass.  A tear ran down her cheek.  Her crochet needles clicked.  Henry glanced at Mary.  She nodded.  Henry leaned across the table, the knife angled at the precise angle needed for the first incision.

The door of the apartment splintered inwards.  Henry jumped back from the table as Judges stormed the apartment.  The baby began to cry, black milk oozing from its lipless mouth.

"Freeze!" snarled Dredd.  "You're under arrest."

"Being a mutant isn't a crime Judge," said Henry.

"No, but keeping a tiny mutant lounge singer prisoner behind your radiator is.  You're doing time Perv!"

"It's okay!" whispered the Pencil Machine Operator in Henry's ear.
#29
In third place:

The Evil Dredd
by eamonn1961

"Control to Anderson. Are you still on the clock?"

"Roger that, Control. I'm Psi ops duty officer for the night shift. What have you got?"

"Sounds like one right up your street. Citizen claiming that she has been molested by a tree and that she's now sitting on a cellar full of undead demons. Proceed to Sam Raimi block and the Country Cabin Club on the ninth level mall."

"Anderson responding. On my way."

"Here we go again," she thought, "another citizen with an overactive imagination and control sends a Psi Judge. We get all the nut jobs."

The Cabin Club was tricked out with plasti-pine and fake vines. It looked dark and all quiet inside.

Anderson tried a standard Psi sweep and ... Whoh! Red Alert!
Images of evil, death and corruption filled her mind.

"Control,  Anderson here in Raimi. This one might get nasty. You better send me a couple of helmets with high Psi resistance scores."

"Roger that, Anderson. Judges Tapert and Campbell will be with you in 10"

Not soon enough, thought Anderson as she kicked in the door and entered fast and low.

A woman's voice cackled with laughter "Welcome, pretty one. Welcome to the fun."

As Anderson's eyes accustomed to the light she saw a body on the floor. A colourful stick protruded from the dead woman's neck.

"Yes, we pencilled her out. You could say she died of lead poisoning", again the voice descended into hideous laughter.

Anderson could see a demonic face leering at her from a trapdoor in the floor.

"Who are you,creep?"

"That's not very nice, pretty one. Not that you're really as pretty as you make people believe. But you'll do. Let us out of here and we'll talk."

"Something tells me that would be a bad idea."

"Join us, Anderson. Better deadite than Dredd-ite."

"Think I'll pass on that" said the Psi Judge as she moved into position, "let me guess. It's the old haunted book and tape recorded incantation routine isn't it? Well, you know what ancient parchment and magnetic tape have in common? They both burn.

Incendiary!"

Back outside the Cabin the smoke started to clear as Anderson adjusted her self and checked for psychic residue. All clear. Undead creeps never learn.

She turned to the approaching Judges.

"You can take over here, Campbell. Secure the scene. Tech boys can ID the victim."

"Sure. What's inside?"

"Inside there?" Replied the Psi judge with a weary sigh, "just ash. Nothing but Ash."
#30
For the 32nd short story competition the brief was set by our last winner, Alski. Our theme: a 2000AD MOVIE MASH-UP. We wanted Monty Python's Life Of Halo Jones, Dreddy Potter, Die Hard in Downlode... Twothy characters meet Hollywood, Bollywood, Pinewood or Ed Wood. As ever, we demanded magic in no more than 500 words.

A strong selection this time round and some butt-clenchingly tense voting, I can tell you.

And so: in reverse order....