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Author Topic: 'At Home, He is a Commissar'- A Nihil Rifles tale  (Read 4495 times)

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Offline Onanon

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'At Home, He is a Commissar'- A Nihil Rifles tale
« on: June 18, 2007, 06:50:13 PM »
The Commissar stopped writing, put down his pen and ached. 50 signatures, his hands washed clean.

Death notes.

He sat back in his chair, letting exhaustion take him in to the leather folds. He huddled in his greatcoat, haunted by smiling, trusting, placid faces. Repeated conversations.  'Did I tell you about my mother, my family, my childhood?
All dead now, worthless, senseless things. Non-borns, the Anomiens called them. The Commissar thought on this; the manner of a clone's birth is unimportant to the natives, they live and then they die. Empty vessels break just as easily.
He reached out to his imported teak desk, took hold of a bottle and poured himself another glass of Amsec.

The Commissar was alone now, the only off-worlder in this senseless place. An alien among the alienated. He stood up and paced the four walls, his domed ceiling proof against the vacuum outside. Here in this pressurised capsule there was life, his life. The walls were reinforced against outside attack, against decay and corruption. Penumbral stains marked the walls as of late, some foretaste perhaps, some sigil. A pict-slate displayed the radiation forecast. Surviveable levels in a few hours.

The Eldar attack bit hard into the Commissarat-led squads, whether by design or by fortune. The design of the Xenos witches or of the enigmatic One, this great man, this Mono they all spoke of. The Commissar found himself attached to a large contingent of Non-born conscripts. They had names, he remembered.
They all had names.

One nominated himself as leader of Platoon 'Triumph'. He was voted in by the remaining 49. 'Mark', one of 5 in the platoon, looked to the hollow-eyed Commissar.

'I will lead us to victory.'
He turned to his 49 comrades.
'We fight for hope!'

The Commissar fitted a pair of dark glasses over his eyes. With his back turned he whispered:
'I have utmost faith that you will.'

The Commissar smiled and turned.

'You will make a fine leader.'

They were like children, infants.

They wept like children on first contact. Flak was insufficient against Shruiken, let alone the mind-agony the Eldar witches unleashed. They tenderly cradled the bodies of the fallen, weeping in the hope that bitter water would bring back the dead. The Commissar was almost moved. Almost.

He neckshotted the agreed leader and ordered an advance on where the coven held council. The Commissar would maintain order.
« Last Edit: July 8, 2008, 07:32:01 AM by No Love Lost »
I like what you're doing, but none the less... It's pretty freakin' messed up. Which is cool. Great ideas and concepts, but again, pretty freakin' messed up.
Lol.

Offline Onanon

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Re: 'At Home, He is a Commissar'- A Nihil Rifles tale
« Reply #1 on: June 18, 2007, 06:51:54 PM »
He felt presences as he charged, chainsword moaning in anticipation. A scratching at the edges. Of his psyche. Things seemed to bleach. Out. Slow. A sensation of being here

Then somewhere else.

And then,

Nowhere.

He repeats in his mind: 'The Emperor protects protects protects protects...' but the filth rises against it, some unbearable unbelievable understanding, like shards of pure glass truth filth slashing everything real to shreds. Repeats, gabbling now; 'Protects protects protects protects protects protects protects protects' red foaming brain worms devour, blood, sufferance, severed eyes, noses, lips, ears, bleeding down, bleeding for miles around, don't they know?! 'Protects protects protects protects protects protects' scratches, they look like hands, don't they? Little hands... SWEET TERRA BABIES HANDS!
He's here.

Sudden feet first ejection from the cnut of the Void, flat on his back, eyes locked on the terrible wheeling stars above. The silence was immense.

The Commissar found himself crying behind dark lenses, then laughing, then crying. He sat up on corroded volcanic rock and hugged his knees, glad for the comfort auto-contact brings. All the horrors he had known faded, all pain and suffering banished. He felt in the presence of a great ocean of peace, at last his being was filled with love and hope. He walked to the blasted copse and was filled with joy at the sight of 8 corpses, clad in ornate Rune armour. They bled from the eyes. A helmetless Warlock lay dessicated on the ground, frozen, twisted over bleak rock, forever in the grip of abject terror. He wept when he saw their Waystones stolen, a smile splitting his cracked lips. He knew he was in the presence of pure Void, absolute anti-soul.

He spun around, taking in the Culexus Temple, the fire, the smoke, the unending horror. He was lost in death, he ate it, he drank it, he grew strong on it. At last, he had found peace.


The Commissar drifted back from his reverie. The planet was evil, the people were evil, no, something beyond evil. He shuddered from the very seat of his soul, a newfound compassion and sensitivity being infected by the filth that stained his walls. The fluorescent lighting above him hummed oppressively.

The Commissar poured himself another glass of Amsec.

                                       +++++END PART ONE++++++
« Last Edit: June 19, 2007, 04:20:20 PM by No Love Lost »
I like what you're doing, but none the less... It's pretty freakin' messed up. Which is cool. Great ideas and concepts, but again, pretty freakin' messed up.
Lol.

Offline Lord Commissar Spiteful

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Re: 'At Home, He is a Commissar'- A Nihil Rifles tale
« Reply #2 on: June 19, 2007, 06:22:38 AM »
Cold. I really like. I'm just curious. Is this a flashback? he's sitting in the capsule remembering?

So far very good!
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Offline Onanon

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Re: 'At Home, He is a Commissar'- A Nihil Rifles tale
« Reply #3 on: June 19, 2007, 11:01:36 AM »
Edited in the second part of Act 1, Act 2 will be in another 2 parts.

Just as a point, it's meant to be a kind of radio play rather than a piece of reading. The words are meant to be read aloud, to be whispered to yourself alone, illuminated only the by the light of a computer screen. It just sounds better. I might eventually do a reading of it myself!

Quote
Cold. I really like. I'm just curious. Is this a flashback? he's sitting in the capsule remembering?
Are you imitating my style or are you ridiculously tired? :D
It's just a room, not some capsule.

The Commissar

I got the idea from the model, I wondered why he wore shades. What was he hiding from? Oh, and that's him at the end of all this.
« Last Edit: June 19, 2007, 11:10:18 AM by No Love Lost »
I like what you're doing, but none the less... It's pretty freakin' messed up. Which is cool. Great ideas and concepts, but again, pretty freakin' messed up.
Lol.

Offline Lord Commissar Spiteful

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Re: 'At Home, He is a Commissar'- A Nihil Rifles tale
« Reply #4 on: June 19, 2007, 11:41:39 AM »
Quote
Here in this pressurised capsule there was life, his life.
Ridiculously tired. A nice piece of work Talon :P I thought you were fighting with the eldar, and suddenly you're against them I musta lost you somewhere ;D

Back to business.

That last bit freaked me out. I mean was really, really disturbing. And I know disturbing.
I don't know what to say....
It was good.
 

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Offline Onanon

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Re: 'At Home, He is a Commissar'- A Nihil Rifles tale
« Reply #5 on: June 19, 2007, 04:41:15 PM »
Ridiculously tired. A nice piece of work Talon :P I thought you were fighting with the eldar, and suddenly you're against them I musta lost you somewhere ;D
Eh?

Sleep more, and try not to worry about this too much!

Quote
That last bit freaked me out. I mean was really, really disturbing. And I know disturbing.
I don't know what to say....
It was good.
Thanks. I have...*cough* experience in this sort of thing.
More tomorrow, if i get the time.
I like what you're doing, but none the less... It's pretty freakin' messed up. Which is cool. Great ideas and concepts, but again, pretty freakin' messed up.
Lol.

Offline Onanon

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Re: 'At Home, He is a Commissar'- A Nihil Rifles tale
« Reply #6 on: July 21, 2007, 08:21:13 AM »
+++++++++++++++++++++++

Staring at a ceiling for eternity, corrugated concrete the new deathscape. The bedroom the modern coffin. Metabolism slows to nothing, no release of energy from destruction.
Heart beats. Exhale.

Shadows that flicker on the edge of vision, fearing the real. Soft bed no comfort now, a padded box that reduces all sensation to nothing. Sleeping eternal.
Heart beats. Exhale.

Returning seemingly to nothing, black hive spikes that blossom across his ceiling, spiderlines in black ink connecting, erasing, destroying; endless distance, some impassive, impassible barrier between the individual and the world. 
Heart beats. Exhale.

The deathscape, in between nothing and everything. There was life here, he remembered. His life, his past, his future. Surfacing, the lone survivor from Innerspace.
Heart beats. Exhale.

The body brought him back.
Heart beats... and sharp, painful inhalation.
___________________ _______________


Paralysed.

The Commissar lay on his back.
Ventilation pulses, lights hum, heart beats.

Waking in spirit only from dreams filled with screaming static and white noise. Body rigid with tensions. Dreams that point nowhere, filled with senseless architecture and blankness.

He gritted his teeth and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The Commissar felt like vomiting, but was so empty he decided it would be a futile task. He steeled himself against a wash of nausea from standing up, and kicked an empty bottle across the room where it smashed, spraying crystal shards into his legs, harsh fluorescent lighting making lazy refractions throughout the room.

He was unsteady on his feet, and toppled to his knees when he tried to walk forward, a thousand shards of broken glass piercing his knees, eager roses bleeding into the floor. In anger, in pain or out of sheer machochistic joy, the Commissar scraped himself low against the jagged floor, taking handfulls of broken glass. He rocked back on his knees and squeezed. The pain brought him back, confirmed that he still suffered, that suffering confirmation of existence.

He stood.

Artificial light pierced his skull, hammering into his brain. His mouth was diseased and dry from recycled air and alcohol. He guided himself to the desk where the bottle lay. The Commissar almost knocked the glass over, he was so uncoordinated. He held steady, waiting for two false images to combine to the one reality and the spirit began to leave the vessel, as the glass filled and the Commissar drank deeply.

He was possessed by the need to make an exit of this place. He crawled to the bathroom, barely feeling the thorns of glass, and emptied himself of everything. He fell once more into poisoned sleep, hoping he would not dream.

++++++++++++++++++++++
« Last Edit: August 6, 2007, 12:27:38 PM by No Love Lost »
I like what you're doing, but none the less... It's pretty freakin' messed up. Which is cool. Great ideas and concepts, but again, pretty freakin' messed up.
Lol.

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Re: 'At Home, He is a Commissar'- A Nihil Rifles tale
« Reply #7 on: July 22, 2007, 09:38:31 AM »
 Yeh-huh, a good story, but im sorry if this is offensive or anything like that but i dont really understand it. But ignore me everyone else likes it ;)
My 40K Fluff

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Offline Onanon

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Re: 'At Home, He is a Commissar'- A Nihil Rifles tale
« Reply #8 on: July 22, 2007, 10:56:00 AM »
++++++++++++++++++++++++

The tiles were cold on his face. Back again.

He stood up. Better now.

'Terror's the certainty', the Commissar whispered to himself, 'Evil the putrid excess of self-conscious and self-justifying goodness'. He removed the glass from his hands with a tweezers and washed them in Amsec, watching red blood swirl down a white porcelain bowl. He bound his hands in bandages and resolved to escape the room that he had made his prison.

___________________ __________________

The Commissar poked his head out of the door. The quarters were empty, 200 people employed elsewhere. By design? The Anomiens were insubstantial and could seemingly dissapear at will. The pressure of unseen eyes weighed down on the Commissar as he walked up the corridor, up and out to the surface. Ventilation pulses, lights hum, heart beats. Anxiety crept into his mind, doubts a Commissar should not have. Fragments of unwarranted dreams surfaced, with accompanying text from the Uplifting Primer:

'...more likely to crack...feel unwell...visions...'

The Taint. Warp psychosis. Unsanctioned psyker.

Bile rose as he increased pace, taking steps two at a time, like a man starved of oxygen struggling towards light from dark depths, less control, more frantic now '...a grave risk to those around them...mindless killers'. He laughed as the images intensified, the same horrible screaming blankness. 'If you note any strange behaviour, inform your Commissar immediately.' The Commissar, the cold, unthinking, killing machine. That was someone else, not the man who tripped on a step, but continued scrambling to the surface, for release, to respire, to see something beyond grey concrete and antithesis.

The images changed quality.  An agri-world. Oceans of grass. A pale boy, son of a military man. Two soldier boys, who grew up together, mirror images of each other. Words he would never forget, promises that he broke, shattered into ten million pieces, that he smashed and threw up into the sky where they came to rest as stars. The Commissar broke through the final door at the top of the stairs, tears washing away blood.
He broke through to the balcony, out to the very edge and felt the embrace of cold, dead stars.

He had thrown it all away. There was nothing here. Endless brutal rock reflected who he had become and what he had lost. There was no life here. He broke down and hung from the rail, everything at last too much, 10 years of conditioning and atrocity washed away in bitter drops.

Footsteps.

The Commissar raised his head, breathing raggedly, his breath catching in his throat. Unshaven, in tears and bleeding, he was a mess.

Mono walked to the rail, clean and inhuman.

They stood.
'You're beginning to understand.'

He stared over the planets' surface, it's mysteries known only to him.
Mono, a name of monumental etched glass, clear, clean, brilliant.
Mono, the One, this great man.

How he hated him.

Before the Commissar could rail against the Commander, he was gone, leaving the Commissar bereft and standing on the edge. Everything fell inwards, despair filling the vacuum. Astropath contact with the outside was impossible, some quirk of the planet. He had been unconscious, slumped from excess and pain while the last shuttle for 3 months had left. There was no escape. Rage turned against the self, the Commissar fingering the trigger of his bolt pistol. He was filthy and corrupt. He would give himself absolution, self-administer the Emperor's Justice to one corrupted by the Ruinous Powers.

Another crate of Amsec waited in his quarters, and a suicide pact with himself.

++++++++++++++++++++++++
« Last Edit: July 8, 2008, 07:37:48 AM by No Love Lost »
I like what you're doing, but none the less... It's pretty freakin' messed up. Which is cool. Great ideas and concepts, but again, pretty freakin' messed up.
Lol.

Offline Lord Commissar Spiteful

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Re: 'At Home, He is a Commissar'- A Nihil Rifles tale
« Reply #9 on: July 22, 2007, 11:31:21 AM »
Very, very good!

As a little crit: the first part is meant to be disconcerting and stark, but i'd suggest filling the sentances in a little more. You get a nice effect, but it's a little too jarring and a bit confusing I think. Apart from that the story is great and I do happen to get it. (and I think it' bloddy beautiful).

Good going mate.
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Offline Onanon

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Re: 'At Home, He is a Commissar'- A Nihil Rifles tale
« Reply #10 on: July 22, 2007, 01:46:26 PM »
Quote
Staring at a ceiling for eternity, corrugated concrete the new deathscape. The bedroom the modern coffin. Metabolism slows to nothing, no release of energy from destruction.
Heart beats. Exhale.

Shadows that flicker on the edge of vision, fearing the real. Soft bed no comfort now, a padded box that reduces all sensation to nothing. Sleeping eternal.
Heart beats. Exhale.

Returning seemingly to nothing, black hive spikes that blossom across his ceiling, spiderlines in black ink connecting, erasing, destroying; endless distance, some impassive, impassible barrier between the individual and the world.
Heart beats. Exhale.

The deathscape, in between nothing and everything. There was life here, he remembered. His life, his past his future. Surfacing, the lone survivor from Innerspace.
Heart beats. Exhale.

The body brought him back.
Heart beats... and sharp, painful inhalation.
This bit is totally uneneccessary, needs a rewrite but I'm quite fond of it.

The whole thing needs a rewrite, but wonders of a living text is that I can refine it by hitting modifiy ;D. Agreed.

The final bit(whatcha' call it..denoument) is yet to be written, and I had to drop another bit because it wasn't working out. I've another good 12 stories yet to be written, and updates for the whole concept in the Projects board. I'm going to arrange it in cycles of 3 stories, with a few stand alones.

More later.
I like what you're doing, but none the less... It's pretty freakin' messed up. Which is cool. Great ideas and concepts, but again, pretty freakin' messed up.
Lol.

Offline Onanon

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Re: 'At Home, He is a Commissar'- A Nihil Rifles tale
« Reply #11 on: July 23, 2007, 10:51:31 AM »
+++++++++++++++++++++++

The door creaked open, the final cry for help. It fell on deaf ears, too numb to care. The Commissar stepped into the room, at the end of the death march. Calmer, colder now. So quickly beyond tears it astounded him. The room was dark, mausoleum still. He stood in the black pool, at the end of it all. He felt...at peace.

Suicide. He gnawed at his gums. The cause: suffering this condition. The expression: grief, disgust, hate, yearning, anguish, anxiety, horror. He was dissolving into nothing, the ego disintegrating. His mind was quiet.     
'Absolute Terror...' he chuckled to himself.

The Death note. The Commissar sat at the table. His hands ached, everything ached, psychic pain. He put down the Vox-recorder, composing himself. The Last Testament, perhaps. His living will. Gospel truth. The bottle was there when he reached for it, the divine numbing spirit, with the bolt pistol in easy reach. He set it to automatic. Mercy was a full magazine. He hit 'Record' and drew breath.

Wait.

Brown paper package lies on the table. Open it. Small, black rectangle. Vox-tape! From who?? Agitated, he scrambled to click it into place. He hit play and twitched in his chair, waiting for the tape to run.

Static. Then a hiss.

The empty noise subsided and he heard a throat being cleared.

++++++++++++++

'Hey Roy...

...It's been a while.'


___________________ ____

Empty agony replaced by a different pain.

He was alive. They were both alive. He played through it again in his head '...Armageddon War... Medusa V... attached to 40th Corps... doing well...decorated... gallantry.' The Commissars' stomach tightened; '...injured...return ed to service'. A jumble of names assaulted him, people he'd never know and couldn't care about. But still...

The Commissar would make a reply without filling in details, things better left unsaid. He clung to hope like a drowning man. He would survive 3 months, find an excuse to execute Mono (he remained a Commissar) and get off the planet. He took his head out of his hands, sat up and huddled in the leather chair. The Commissar poured himself another glass of Amsec, and wondered if he was going mad.

One final fragment of the tape surfaced, and the Commissar held it close for warmth in the Void:

'He said that he loved me'.

                  ++++++++END PART TWO+++++++++
« Last Edit: July 25, 2007, 06:35:15 AM by No Love Lost »
I like what you're doing, but none the less... It's pretty freakin' messed up. Which is cool. Great ideas and concepts, but again, pretty freakin' messed up.
Lol.

Offline Onanon

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Re: 'At Home, He is a Commissar'- A Nihil Rifles tale
« Reply #12 on: July 23, 2007, 12:27:47 PM »
 :'(

That's the end of 'At Home...', next in this cycle is 'As it Should Be', the one with Mono in it. After that is 'The Commissar is a Man of Action', setting up the conflict between Mono and the Commissar and the resolution of it. As an aside to the 'Colony' cycle (along with a series of comics/art things I'm yet to put up) is 'Paralysed', the ordinary human reaction this environment. It concerns a female vet sarge unable to get pregnant.

'Clean', and what I'm working on next, 'The Trooper', are part of the Anomie cycle, telling the history of a rebellion against the Adeptus Mechanicus and the Exterminatus-ing of Anomie. Might do some small character based stuff after that.

 Next I'll actually start the army, the only model I have is the Commissar. First on the 
list is 20 of those old Stormtroopers, followed by Hellhounds, sentinels, a vet squad and a Command squad. The Orteagans will have to proxy for conscripts. I've got the rules drafted up for most of the characters, which are probably better character summaries than I could write. Will post on Forge when I get some time to spare.

After that is another 3 cycles of stuff, all I can promise without giving too much away is blood. Lots of blood. :D

Quote
Yeh-huh, a good story, but im sorry if this is offensive or anything like that but i dont really understand it. But ignore me everyone else likes it
Try not to think too much about it when reading it, don't make sense of it, let the words go through your head. Enjoy the sound of the words. PM me if there's something you really want explained. That's all i can really do ;).

Check the Art forum for comic/art thing. :D
Thanks for all the feedback, the encouragement and criticism.
 ;D
« Last Edit: July 23, 2007, 01:13:07 PM by No Love Lost »
I like what you're doing, but none the less... It's pretty freakin' messed up. Which is cool. Great ideas and concepts, but again, pretty freakin' messed up.
Lol.

Offline Ukos Sa'cea Rienn

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Re: 'At Home, He is a Commissar'- A Nihil Rifles tale
« Reply #13 on: August 7, 2007, 06:40:58 PM »
Hm. I don't really know what to say...

This story had me in a kind of limbo of opinion. It was a powerful piece, no doubt, but it was also very confusing.

It jumped from scene to scene without a great deal of coherence in places.

Another problem for me was that it written in a unique/uncommon style, which resulted in many sentences being as short as possible, and therefore 'missing' plenty of words that I kept looking for in the sentences.

You definitely did get us to feel for your character though.

Due to your unique style, I can't really comment on anything else, because I'm not sure if any changes would be helpful or not, but there was one thing I noticed that struck me as odd.

During the "Heart beats. Exhale." part, he only breaths in after exhaling four times... But then again, It looks better with all exhalations.

I don't know. The story was very interesting and powerful but seemed quite choppy in places, and was also kind of confusing.

I'm sorry I can't really put forward anything more concrete.

Either way, congratulations, and good luck in the short story contest.

-Ukos
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Offline Onanon

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Re: 'At Home, He is a Commissar'- A Nihil Rifles tale
« Reply #14 on: August 8, 2007, 05:57:25 AM »
Hm. I don't really know what to say...

This story had me in a kind of limbo of opinion. It was a powerful piece, no doubt, but it was also very confusing.
I'll agree with you on that. It might take you a few readings to fully understand it, and it's a lot less straightforward than typical 40k fiction. What I'm trying to do with the 'Commissar' arc is to make a very different kind of science fiction, to try and get away from staright war-porn and do something a little more unique.

Quote
Another problem for me was that it written in a unique/uncommon style, which resulted in many sentences being as short as possible, and therefore 'missing' plenty of words that I kept looking for in the sentences.
:D I'll take the first part as a compliment. As a piece of writing it's closer to a prose/poetry hybrid, so well done reading something like that masquerading as fan-fiction!

Quote
You definitely did get us to feel for your character though.
Thanks, that's really comforting to hear. I'm working on making my characters more sympathetic, because otherwise a story has no point.

Quote
During the "Heart beats. Exhale." part, he only breaths in after exhaling four times... But then again, It looks better with all exhalations.
Wouldn't worry too much about that  ;). I accidentally broke into poetry there. I liked it so much I kept it.

Quote
I don't know. The story was very interesting and powerful but seemed quite choppy in places, and was also kind of confusing.
It's an insight into a state of mind, and that mind is in a particularly bad state. Bits of it are written from personal experience and self-confrontation, so the 'Commissar' stories are a bit harder to write than others.

Quote
I'm sorry I can't really put forward anything more concrete.
You have. And I'm very grateful!
I like what you're doing, but none the less... It's pretty freakin' messed up. Which is cool. Great ideas and concepts, but again, pretty freakin' messed up.
Lol.

Offline Lord Commissar Spiteful

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Re: 'At Home, He is a Commissar'- A Nihil Rifles tale
« Reply #15 on: August 11, 2007, 11:16:54 PM »
Okay, sexy ending.
A bit jarring the change in scene though.  I like the end, the straws of hope extended (and I suppose it fits with some fluff somewhere?) and I like the 40th corp mention (go 40th Corp!!!!)


Actually, forget what I said earlier. I just reread the whole thing in 1 sitting. It makes a bit more sense now that the whole thing is on paper. Uhm, I might suggest a little return to some of the earlier parts to see if you can easy he transition between some of the themes and styles. It lacks a bit of internal coherancy.

While this works well (especially the part where he's exhaling) it seems like you took a while to find your writing style.

Anyways, if you're happy send a mod a buzz and have it moved over to the projects.
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Offline Onanon

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Re: 'At Home, He is a Commissar'- A Nihil Rifles tale
« Reply #16 on: August 12, 2007, 08:11:24 AM »
Okay, sexy ending.
A bit jarring the change in scene though.  I like the end, the straws of hope extended (and I suppose it fits with some fluff somewhere?) and I like the 40th corp mention (go 40th Corp!!!!)


Actually, forget what I said earlier. I just reread the whole thing in 1 sitting. It makes a bit more sense now that the whole thing is on paper. Uhm, I might suggest a little return to some of the earlier parts to see if you can easy he transition between some of the themes and styles. It lacks a bit of internal coherancy.

While this works well (especially the part where he's exhaling) it seems like you took a while to find your writing style.
There's a break of about a month between the first and second parts, and I guess I changed a lot in a single month... Will do. It's sort of meant to be jarring, the character has fragmented into different parts. This is the shattering and the beginning of  reification, the second has the fragments waging war on each other and the last is the destruction of both and the birth of something far more sinister. 

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I like the end, the straws of hope extended (and I suppose it fits with some fluff somewhere?)
Not sure exactly what you mean, but yeah. There's another 2 stories in the 'Commissar' arc, 'The Commissar is a Man of Action'- Roy settles into the planet to an extent and the Eldar attack again, and 'The Commissar stands Alone'- the conflict between Mono and Roy. 

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it seems like you took a while to find your writing style.
That's why I'm doing this! :D
As the Commissar undergoes a crisis of faith and ideology, I find a writing style I can use without looking into myself too deeply. The best of the stuff comes from self-confrontation, but it leaves me very drained mentally. I'm trying to strike a balance between it. 'Paralysed' and 'Still' are experiments in me writing very simply.
ZOMG!!1PRETENSIONS!!12!

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Anyways, if you're happy send a mod a buzz and have it moved over to the projects.
Will do.
I like what you're doing, but none the less... It's pretty freakin' messed up. Which is cool. Great ideas and concepts, but again, pretty freakin' messed up.
Lol.

Offline Lord Commissar Spiteful

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Re: 'At Home, He is a Commissar'- A Nihil Rifles tale
« Reply #17 on: August 12, 2007, 08:52:26 AM »
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Not sure exactly what you mean, but yeah.
It implies a connection to the fluf of your TT army or something. I like it when armies have a strong background. Makes it more than mere plastic and acrylic paint.

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It's sort of meant to be jarring, the character has fragmented into different parts.
Well, that comes accross nicely. It's just a lot of people here seem confused. Perhaps I need to make a distinction between emotionally jarring as opposed to jarring the reader, uhm, confusing him rather. (my appologies, sometimes my mind goes areas my vocab can't follow).

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'The Commissar is a Man of Action'- Roy settles into the planet to an extent and the Eldar attack again, and 'The Commissar stands Alone'- the conflict between Mono and Roy. 
:D cool. Please keep me appraised. These are pretty cool stories, but have lots of RL stuff, so I'll be away mostly. I still keep an eye on "unread replies" so the usual "IG Fiction" thread still gets my attention.

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the birth of something far more sinister. 
:D The commissar in me smiles.

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That's why I'm doing this!
Good luck mate. It's nice to see you develop. The stories are getting better in my oppinion, so I suppose you are working it out.

In the end, you are the boss when it comes to this, so take what you want from our crit and discard what you don't think is relevant.

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Will do.
:P Nice change to pile up other's workload I think. Haven't been there in weeks, so I smile everytime we send them something new. :D And no commissariate to check up on us!
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Offline Jared

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Re: 'At Home, He is a Commissar'- A Nihil Rifles tale
« Reply #18 on: August 12, 2007, 09:37:48 AM »
I thought i would comment on this. I only just read it now after reading a few of your other pieces and would like to say that i enjoyed it. There is a very intellectual, poetic feel to it and although a little hard to follow at times (could be put down to tiredness) it is quite consistent in the way it portrays the emotions and thoughts of the character. It follows the trend of several movies i have seen to challenge the reader to think about what exactly is happening rather that just following a narrative. Nice piece.

Offline Onanon

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Re: 'At Home, He is a Commissar'- A Nihil Rifles tale
« Reply #19 on: August 12, 2007, 04:44:00 PM »
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Not sure exactly what you mean, but yeah.
It implies a connection to the fluf of your TT army or something. I like it when armies have a strong background. Makes it more than mere plastic and acrylic paint.
*Cough* That's pretty much all it is now, just backround, a Commissar, an unmade Sentinel (who's getting his own own trippy story) and a Leylandii-pattern Hellhound are all I have.

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It's just a lot of people here seem confused. Perhaps I need to make a distinction between emotionally jarring as opposed to jarring the reader, uhm, confusing him rather. (my appologies, sometimes my mind goes areas my vocab can't follow).
I understand what you're getting at here. Trying to make it a lot smoother in 'Still' and 'Paralysed', both work- to an extent. It's a lot choppier on a forum split with replies. The problem for me is striking the balance between a minimalistic style yet still making sense with the cuts. It's proving difficult, but you've been a fantastic audience so far for putting up with it.

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I thought i would comment on this. I only just read it now after reading a few of your other pieces and would like to say that i enjoyed it.
Good to see an audience transferral from the other stories ;).

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There is a very intellectual, poetic feel to it and although a little hard to follow at times (could be put down to tiredness) it is quite consistent in the way it portrays the emotions and thoughts of the character.
Very good to hear. It's sort of... method writing? I put myself into trances, daydream and argue with the mirror. I listen to a piece of music, and type what the character says in my head. The fit he has, the visions he suffers and the catatonic trance he goes into all happened to me in the past (and still happen) The planet and the environment are an expression of the desolation of the human soul, and an exploration into why we are doomed to loneliness and suffering because we are human beings.

I don't write this stuff. It simply passes through me.

This is the smallest portion of what I can channel, and it's good to get a focus for it. People are frightened of me. Despite all that, I don't hate myself. I've learned to live with the blackness, and to take substance from it. It's easy to hate and to fear, and it's very easy for me to be violent and darkl. The blackness is always calling me, and I've found the strength to sit on the edge and to dip my toes in it.

*cough* Sorry, that seems to slip out from time to time...

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It follows the trend of several movies i have seen to challenge the reader to think about what exactly is happening rather that just following a narrative. Nice piece.
Good to see that you were challenged by it! :D What movies exactly?
« Last Edit: August 13, 2007, 09:02:56 AM by No Love Lost »
I like what you're doing, but none the less... It's pretty freakin' messed up. Which is cool. Great ideas and concepts, but again, pretty freakin' messed up.
Lol.

 


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