<I'm basing this as if it was the second year, and all the kids--plus a few other ones I might add--are back as well. I dunno if I'll make a big thing of it. Just gimme feedback, I quite like feedback.
The kids' cabin area in Whispering Rock was very, very rarely quiet. There was always at least one argument, or someone giggling at unfunny, inappropriate jokes.
Presently, it was morning, and the three lecturers, Coach Oleander and his two guests looked on disapprovingly as the kids ran around aimlessly, seemingly playing tag, or bulldog, or whatever was popular this year.
'So unruly,' said Oleander. He was wearing a rather fetching tank-top. His medals had been thrown in the waste bin, and his mind, as far as Sasha and Milla could tell, was not full of tanks and machine guns any more. There were still a few occasionally grenade caused explosions, but that was like any mind. He didn't even tell the kids that they were all going to die any more.
'It is good practice for them,' said Sasha, with his usual hand-on-chin expression. It always seemed to be glued there in times of thought.
'Eh?' asked Oleander.
'Well, they are training up their powers.'
'They are?'
'Yes, indeed. For example, look at Bobby Zilch. See that? He's holding up James "J.T" Hoofburger with an expert telekinesis PSI power. You can't tell me that isn't good for practice.'
'Shouldn't we be stopping that?' asked Milla.
'No,' said Sasha, 'if you look, Mr. Hoofburger's good friend Chops is about to send Bobby Zilch's pants on fire. That will teach him to use his powers in moderation, will it not?'
'I'm not standing for that,' said Oleander, breathing out. 'Bobby Zilch! What's that other one's name? Is it? Oh. Chops Sweetwind! Will you two calm down?! Yes, I'm fully aware he was picking on your friend! You were about to set his pants on flames!' Oleander subsided, apparently satisfied with his tirade. He then raised his eyebrow at another sight. 'And what the hell is he doing?' he asked, with bewilderment.
'Which one?' asked Shasta.
'That one, man,' said Oleander, pointing at one of the boys of the camp. He was sitting on one of the cabin steps with a girl, trying, with some success, to nibble on her neck.
'Oh, Nils Lutefisk, said Shasta, with a touch of disapproval. 'And I believe the girl he is with is...Phoebe Love. This must be his third this year.'
'Irresponsible,' said Oleander, 'I bet his parents let him watch R-Rated movies.'
'I think it's kind of cute, actually,' said Milla. The two men in the conversation snorted disapprovingly. 'What?' she asked, 'They're just growing up.'
Shasta and Oleander shrugged almost simultaneously. In truth, it was one of the perks of the job; disapproving. It was a time for complementation, of thinking that your childhood was a lot more social. Of course, mostly it wasn't. Because they were Psychonauts. Psychonauts didn't used to have social childhoods.
It was just good that they did now.
Hmmm...well, this is amusing. It did seem a bit OOC though...for Oleander it's understandable, but Sasha...eh, it just doesn't seem very him. It also feels as if you really should have introduced all the campers, not just...er, five of them. If you had that and a lot more discription you'd add some length to the chapter...which would be good. Discription is your friend.
With more discription, content, and a bit more work with the characters this could be interesting, though. I'd like to see more.
...More Raz would also be awesome, yeeeess...
Oh, that was real nice! Could have worked on some spelling and formatting though. Why dont yo post it up on Fanfiction.net?
Hmmm...well, this is amusing. It did seem a bit OOC though...for Oleander it's understandable, but Sasha...eh, it just doesn't seem very him. It also feels as if you really should have introduced all the campers, not just...er, five of them. If you had that and a lot more discription you'd add some length to the chapter...which would be good. Discription is your friend.
With more discription, content, and a bit more work with the characters this could be interesting, though. I'd like to see more.
...More Raz would also be awesome, yeeeess...I'm going to introduce all the characters in later chapters. I was a bit tired at the time, so I didn't write that much. I was trying to get Sasha as a calm person, and I thought calling the children by their full names and stuff would give him that.
<sorry about the double post, but I don't want to mix posts in with stories>
It was the first night of the camp;and procedures had been made to make sure the trees were completely unable to be climbed. It posed a health and safety risk, or so according to the inspectors that had been gathering in details about the site the week before the event started. And just to make doubly sure about it all, Razputin was sitting at the front, on a seat, not a log like the rest of the campers. The things that boy could do with wood were frightening.
'Alright,' said Oleander, 'settle down. Yes, that means you as well, Kitty. What? Your daddy can sue me all he wants. In fact, I can give him the names of a few lawyers he might find useful.
'Welcome,' continued Oleander, as the girl decided it was probably best to shut up, 'to the Psychonauts summer camp at Whispering Rock! Unfortunately, the projector is broken at the minute, due to a badly used telekinesis spell,' and with this he glanced unfavourably at Vernon Tripe, 'so we're just going to have to go without.' There was a slight change in the atmosphere, as if people had suddenly turned very, very pleased.
'The first order of business is the arrival of a new recr-- member to our ranks. If he could just come up on stage, and we'll welcome him with the traditional Psychonauts welcome. And no, Bobby, before you make the joke, it doesn't mean you give him a damn wedgy.'
Three kid, unknown to Raz, stepped up and trooped up to the stairs. He was dressed in a pin-striped suit, matching pants, and shoes shinier than Razputin's were scruffy. The newcomer held his head up high, walking quite proudly, apparently using his mental powers to hold a stuffed toy kitten suspended in mid air. He smiled unpleasantly at the assembled crowd, paying particular attention to Razputin himself.
'His name is Arnold, and he comes from Britain,' said Oleander.
'That's right!' said Arnold, his grin fading into a angry frown, 'and don't you foreign pigs dare treat me like an imbecile! I got level 5 for English in my SATS!'
Oleander grimaced. A sure sign he was wanting to shout, but had decided to hold it in because he was a "new man."
'We run a social camp ground here,' he explained, as nicely as he could, 'there is to be no bullying, or name-calling, or the suspect will be court mars-- told off.'
'Good,' said the child, apparently satisfied with this statement. 'Is this the end of the welcome, I wonder?'
'No,' said Sasha Nein, standing up. 'We will now welcome you, officially.'
'You're that superhero, aren't you?' said Arnold, unimpressed. 'I've read all the comics. Personally, I think you are a fake.'
'I know,' said Sasha, 'clairvoyance is a wonderful thing.'
'What?' Arnold asked, despite himself, 'I didn't feel a thing!'
'I know. I am an expert at this, aren't I?'
There were a few smirks from the kids, watching this spectacle with interest.
On the last row, Franke and Kitty were frantically whispering.
'I love his cat!' said Franke, enthusiastically.
'Oooh, he's British. He'll be a bad boy then,' said Kitty, dreamily, 'I like bad boys. They're exciting.'
'Wouldn't it be funny if it just burst to life and it suddenly went "meow?"'
'I'm sure he's got lots of ideas that I'd just love to hear.'
'I owned a cat once.'
'He's got a wicked smile too. I should introduce myself to him.'
'It was called Percy.'
'I could be the Flannel Femmel!'
'I was so sad when it got flushed down the toilet...'
'What?' asked Kitty, coming out of whatever world she was currently occupying.
'I was just talking about the cat I used to have.'
'Well don't. It's a silly story.'
Elsewhere, J.T and Chops were discussing the prospect of a new villain to contend with.
'There's a few kid on the block,' said J.T, radiating thoughtfulness.
'You reckon we should befriend him?' asked Chops.
'What?'
'Well, you know. I get picked on because I'm a Canadian, and well, he's British, and I thought we might... strike and alliance, give him a badge, that sort of thing.'
'I'm American!'
'You are?' asked Chops, 'I always thought you were Dutch!'
'What in tarnation gave you that idea?' asked J.T, offended. He had always found himself to be a credit to America, as a sheriff that wasn't on the edge, and someone who wasn't about to take a bribe. He had heard about bribes; he had even worn one, once.
'It's just your accent,' said Chops. 'I always got the idea that you were Dutch.'
'Well, I ain't,' said J.T defensively. 'I haven't even been to Dutch!'
'Oh.'
'Anyway, what's this about you wanting to form a Non-American alliance? That's grounds for...for...mootany.'
'Oh, nothing. It was just a joke.'
If you're tired, then you could always just save what you have written and add more onto the chapter, really...it seems your second chapter could really just be tagged onto the end of your first chapter and they could just be one chapter.
Right, anyway, this chapter was better. Sasha seemed a bit more IC and I'm amused by Oleander, looks like he's not quite as "fixed" as everyone thought. And of course, more introductions of the campers is always good, and your OC is...interesting, to say the least.
Your grammar could still use a bit of work, and your formatting is a bit wonky...also, you could still really use more detail. Even in a humor fic, adjectives are your friends. You know, tell us what the area looks like, what the temprature feels like, the sounds, the smells, etc, etc...yes, we already know from playing the game, but discribing your setting helps put the reader "there", persay. We don't need page after page of flowing discription, but even so, some would be good.
Hoping to see more~!
If you're tired, then you could always just save what you have written and add more onto the chapter, really...it seems your second chapter could really just be tagged onto the end of your first chapter and they could just be one chapter.Don't think of them as chapters. Think of them as updates. That's how I write my stuff; I've been known to write 50,000 words over a period of three months, an update a day. That's how I do things. I can never really be bothered to write loads at the same time. I'm a seasoned writer, I have loads of stuff I've written, I just like doing it in moderation. I also think that people like to read shorter bits of stuff, rather than big bits they probably wouldn't read anyway.
Your grammar could still use a bit of workAny particular points of this?
and your formatting is a bit wonky... Again, any particular points where it's wonky?
also, you could still really use more detail.I'm not a person who goes into much detail. I'm more Pratchett minded than anything else; letting the reader make up their own minds.
Even in a humor fic, adjectives are your friends.Yep, yep.
You know, tell us what the area looks like, what the temprature feels like, the sounds, the smells, etc, etc...yes, we already know from playing the game, but discribing your setting helps put the reader "there", persay. We don't need page after page of flowing discription, but even so, some would be good.Yeah, alright, it isn't really my thang, but I suppose I need to improve anyway.
Well, your grammar's better than most, there's just some spots here and there where there should be a period instead of a comma and vice versa, nothing too bad. Also, you really should use quotation marks...I know some books use 'these' instead, but those aren't really right..."these" are what you should be using. Or at least according to every english class I've taken you should...
The main issue with your formatting is just the spacing. Generally there should be spaces between paragraphs, otherwise the story comes out as a big, hulking block of text and it's a bit of a strain on the eyes. Nothing too bad, but it can get annoying to the reader.
And yes, it's good to let the readers make up their own minds, but it's still best to at least provide them with a good bit of discription to help form an image. *nodnod*
Admittedly there's not much to fix, it's just little things and the discription. Good luck with working on these, if you fixed this up abit this fic could prove to be pretty darn good.
<Criticism taken onboard. Let's see how this goes. I'm not changing the quotations, because you can do it either way, I don't think it matters any more (certainly I've never been pulled for it), but I'll space it out more--the main reason I didn't do this was because it was all set at the same location, and at the same time, but fair enough--and yeah, I'm going to add description.>
The trampoline, if it had any feelings, was probably feeling a bit used, at the present time. Coach Oleander had been amazed that not one of the inspectors had pointed out the obvious health and safety risk of a trampoline on the side of a building. It was probably just too obvious for them to actually see.
It was an old, tattered trampoline, which was strange because it had only been in use a few years, but it was probably explained by the fact that the kids using it would make anything look old and tattered within minutes; perhaps even seconds.
Presently, Chloe Barge was trying to get closer to space, via use of the death-trap. Her efforts had been thus far unsuccessful, but you were not an astronaut if you gave up after your first seventy-two goes. Even so, she was beginning to get a little irritated.
This irritation was slightly (read: incredibly) intensified by the fact that Elton Fir was sitting on a deck-chair (no one knew where he got these from. They just seemed to suddenly appear), trying to tell her about the wonders of the sea.
His sailor's hat was hanging down limply from his head, as he spoke in faraway tones. People tended to avoid him when he was in one of these moods, he tended to inform people when they bothered him that they were "scurvy dogs."
'What I wouldn't do now for a fishing rod and...some fish, to fish for...' he said, almost poetically.
What I wouldn't do now for an orbital bombardment, thought Chloe to herself. Or the Death Star, she added, smiling slightly.
'Did I ever sing you that song about the boat that you rowed?' asked Elton, with the certain, unshakable knowledge that she was paying her fullest attention. When there was no reply, he took his as a "yes" and started to sing.
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Meanwhile, away from all this horrid racket, in the main lodge, Phoebe Love and Quentin Hedgemouse were playing their usual instruments.
They still hadn't decided on a band name. But they were getting there, they would insist to anyone that was listening. They also had a new member. Nils had decided that he was an excellent guitarist, and while this was stretching the truth to cataclysmic proportions, Phoebe didn't have the heart to say no. Quention certainly did, but had been convinced by Phoebe (via some surprisingly hurtful foot stamping) that he would be a valuable addition to the band. If anything, he would make the other two look better.
He was also really quite enthusiastic about it. Apparently the bands he listened to were the sorts of bands that had "Parental Advisory" written on the front in very, very big letters. Quentin, scowling, had never heard of this band, but he didn't want to point it out, in case he didn't look cool.
He also didn't like the way that the other two would have breaks where they'd go into the kid's room and sit on the sofa. Making out. With tongues everything! And Nils had suggested that his scarf was "gay." It was a nice scarf, and there was nothing wrong with it.
-----------------
The forest was nice this time of year, Razputin had decided. Admittedly he hadn't seen it at any other time of year, and it might have been better in Autumn, but Raz was not a fussy person.
Since last year, there had been a small play park built in one of the forest's clearing, where brand new utilities of excitement made the kids lives a lot more exciting. It was also rarely overcrowded, considering lazier members of the camp couldn't be bothered to trek all the way out to the forest just to go down a slide.
So it was peaceful. At least it was when a child hadn't fallen off said slide, and had decided to inform the world of this via the medium of crying.
One of the things that Razputin didn't get was that he was always the one that was having to push the swing forward, while Lili was the one that would be sitting on it and telling him to go "faster." This is common is most ways of life. The man is always the one that has to go faster.
Dogan was sitting on base of the slide, while Elka was on the other swing, trying to tell people about all her personal problems, including Nils, who she was reportedly "so totally over" but still insisted on talking about him for the better half of the day. Razputin had considered telling her to shut up once or twice, but he feared her brain would explode.
'I mean, I can see he so totally wants me,' she said flatly, 'he's just going out with Phoebe to get back at me, it's so obvious. Who would be that sad?'
'Didn't you do that last year?' asked Lili, radiating innocence.
It appeared that Elka had not been programmed to hear things like this. 'But as I said, I don't really care about him. In fact, I'm happy for him really, if it's good for him, it's good for me.'
'Thanks the spirit, Elka,' said Razputin, heaving the seated Lili "higher".
'Hey, did anyone like the camp entertainment last night?' asked Dogan. He too wanted to get off the subject, but he was an expert liar (he was far too suspicious to suspect of anything) and he was far too innocent to harbour thoughts of shutting Elka up.
'Listening to Coach sing "War"?' asked Razputin, 'I think he's really going for it with this pacifist thing.'
'I didn't get any sleep last night,' said Elka, 'nope, not one bit. There was an awful draft in the cabin. Wasn't there, Lili?'
'I suppose so,' replied Lili.
'Oh,' said Razputin, as if a metaphorical light bulb had just turned on in his head, 'that was Ni-- like that last year. Yeah.'
'Was it?' asked Elka suspiciously, 'I can't remember.'
Hehe, much better. The mental image of Raz pushing Lili on the swings is adorable. X3 Also, interesting to see Nils is pulling an Elka now...
Do write more soon!
Kitty and Franke were not making friendship bracelets. Coach Oleander had commented on this to them, which was received with a scolding look, a series of cynical sighs, and an elaborate show of rolling eyes. When asked about their response, Kitty had said that, 'Friendship bracelets are so last year,' and that had been largely the end of it.
In fact, they were spending almost worrying amounts of time with the “new kid on the psychic block”, Arnold. Franke had taken to carrying his cat around with her, which was met by both appreciation and apprehension by the juvenile evil mastermind; it was nice that he didn't have to use his powers constantly, but Franke was not exactly devious material. She could hardly string a coherent sentences together.
He had been quite sharp with Bobby Zilch this morning, which had made him feel very good about himself. 'You better watch you back,' he said firmly. He had been quite satisfied with this, but less satisfied with the fact that seven seconds later, he was on the ground after Benny Fideleo had rather rudely knocked him down with a savage push. Arnold filed his punishment for later.
Or perhaps the barbarians could come in handy, he pondered, with a slight smile on his face, as Kitty fed him skittles while Franke stroked his cat. Yes, an alliance could be made, between the factions. And then Whispering Rock would truly be theirs for the taking. No one could be able to stop their onslaught. The tuck shop would be theirs!
'Not the yellow one, woman,' he sighed. This Kitty girl was quite a nice, amiable soul, as long as you didn't use big words. She still hadn't figured out that he didn't like the yellow skittles though. They made his tongue all yucky.
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Clem, Crystal, Maloof and Mikhail were watching a movie in the lodge on the newly installed DVD player. Long gone were the repetitive cowboy programs of TV, they could now watch proper, feature length movies, such as Shrek, Home Alone, and currently, Enemy at the Gates. Mikhail had explained to the group that it was an excellent movie, about the brilliant Soviet Russia during some war that happened years ago. It was really very good, he had claimed.
Maloof was trying to stay awake.
Clem and Crystal, who had the attention spans of people with very short attention spans, were looking on in confusion. They were normally glued to the screens, but this...this, well, the fighting wasn't even that good. They just shouted a lot and there was a lot of crying.
Mikhail himself was glued to the screen. Not literally, but it probably would have had the same effect. Thoughts zoomed through his mind, along the lines of “FOR THE MOTHERLAND!” and “FORWARD COMRADES!” He had the funny feeling that he ought to be holding a sickle in one hand, and a hammer in the other.
'There's no reason to be in here when it's such a wonderful day ou-.' said Coach Oleander as he marched into the room on his daily prowl. He stopped abruptly as he noticed the television. Eying it with some interest, he opened his mouth a couple of times, in order to say something, but only whimpers came out. The man appeared to put his hand to his chest, and it looked like he was about to say something along the lines of “Cause grievous bodily harm to the Central European people with no fathers!” But the annoying voices of Crystal and Clem wishing him a good morning awoke him to his totally pacifistic senses.
'What?' he barked, 'oh, right. Hello Clem, hello Crystal,' he said, still looking at the TV screen. He breathed outwardly. 'Come on kids, no time to be in here watching movies. You need to be out there! In the fresh air! Playing games!'
'Yay!' Clem and Crystal chorused, before running outside. Maloof followed glumly, while Mikhail stood reluctantly up, and on passing Oleander, muttered 'Fascist dog.'
'Shut up yer damn commie,' said Oleander, and then slapped his hand on his mouth. Those kinds of phrases were for uncivilized, stereotypical people. People who liked to shoot other people. Oleander knew himself he wasn't like that. Yeah.
--------------------------------------------
Boyd was “keeping the premises secure.” This involved walking around the camp-site in a big circle, this hand hands behind his back, whistling uplifting tunes, and grinning amiably to “little scamps.” Two little scamps were currently bothering him.
'Seen any outlaws there, sheriff?' asked one of them. Boyd had the vague idea that he was trying to be helpful. But the way he said that his partner was “riding shotgun” was enough to put anyone of thinking children were timid, nice souls.
'No no,' said Boyd, 'place has been very peaceful recently.'
'Are you sure there's been no bother?' asked Chops, radiating concern.
'Yes, yes, quite sure,' said Boyd, and then he appeared to grin horribly.
'Actually, there were two people I saw. They were causing quite a hassle.'
'It might be an inside job...' commented J.T.
'What?' asked Boyd, momentarily taken off-course.
'Well,' said J.T, taking his hat off. He played with the rim, as if using it to try and think, 'It could be a conspiracy.'
It was a testament to the work done by Razputin in Boyd's mind that the former milkman did not burst into slavering incoherency. He merely said, 'Yes, I think so too.'
'You do?' asked J.T.
'Yes, as a matter of fact I do,' said Boyd, getting back on the straight, 'These two people causing a stir, I think that they belong here.'
'I knew it!' said J.T happily, 'darn tooting, I knew it. I knew it, didn't I Chops?'
'You did, yeah,' said Chops, who was beginning to see the boulder edge towards the end of the tunnel. 'What did these miscreants look like, sheriff?'
Boyd put his head on one side in mock thought. 'One of them had a big afro, massive it was. You could probably hide a clock in it or something. The other wore a cowboy hat all the time. They were both very loud.'
J.T looked up, and down. Then his face burst into realization. He nudged his partner in crime-fighting urgently. 'Chops!' he said, aghast, 'someone's impersonating us!'
Squee, Boyd! Gotta love Boyd. Also gotta love how stupid Chops and JT are. I also must admit, I like Arthur, he's such a snotty little kid. XDD
Nice chapter...although you really should double space between all paragraphs, not just when you change scenes. ^^;; Otherwise the fic's still a bit hard on the eyes...yeah...