Post by Lala on Jan 22, 2011 10:18:04 GMT -5
"A Story to Set us Free - 2010"
I want to start by congratulating each and every participant for taking the time from their life to create these amazing stories. Each brought on the emotions that were embedded within your music, bringing them full-force into the world. My goal behind this was to see who demonstrated more connection to the music. Music is but another form of art, another medium for artists to explore. Writing is the same.
Choosing the winner was so tough....much tougher than I thought. It was so difficult that it ran me more than twenty days over when I said I was going to finish it. Well, the results are in.
I am leaving this option up to all participants: If you would like score (max of 300 points), please PM me. I will also give you my in-depth reactions to your entries (both song and story). I will not share scores unless a participant wishes to have them released.
The winner of "A Story to Set us Free - 2010" was AlmightyArceus! Congratulations!
His story can be viewed below. I set it up the same way I judged; you may listen to the song, read the story, or do both. I did all three through this process.
"Electopolis" by AlmightyArceus
I am not sure why I am fond of the big cities. Perhaps it is because I was raised in one. There’s always too much happening at once. Too much around me; too much to win, too much to lose. As one person hit’s the bulls-eye, another hits himself in the foot. Entire communities crash under the weight of another’s unruly success. Once the building limit has been exceeded, something’s bound to give out.
I must be fond of them for the variety, for all of the things that show their beauty, or how homely they are. As I stood atop the musty balcony--dawn approaching rather quickly as the sun tried to break through the smog before it suffocated it; H-cars flying in irregular patterns across the early morning sky; factories constantly rumbling as their electronic slaves worked literally endless shifts powering the city, each monolithic structure shaking under the pressure from within--I knew that’s what attracted me so hopelessly to this unsanitary god of the earth. It is quite strange how one sticks with a body so vile for so long--but perhaps that same body is the only thing that can keep its counterpart alive…or vice versa.
I jumped off the balcony. That was just the first layer of it all. Soaring down from the Overgrowth factory district, I plummeted right through the Canopy commercial district. Endless Vines of electronic rail lights lined the sky, in flashing neon colors, as the H-cars followed the bleakly lit pathways of their lives, attached to the Vine like metallic blooms upon a RoboChia. SkyHawks patrolled ominously from their perches; the aged, towering stores, clubs, restaurants, cinemas--just about anything you could ever think of. Flashing lights and signs were upon each and every building, attempting to attract even more attention to themselves than the store next to them, until the entire district was a blinding, epileptic disaster.
The Undergrowings--where most of the humanoid residents lived--came next in my terminal descent. Mossy, uniform structures of the blandest gray stood side by side along the aerial avenues. The SkyHawks were readily present around this neighborhood, driving aside nearly each humanoid H-car and making sure they stayed on course with the Vine. EVERY house was the same on that avenue--or at least, it seemed that way, for it was not so. At the top of each MegAparatment there stood an extravagant penthouse, each with luxuries the people below couldn’t dream of affording. Such was the strata of society.
Finally came the Floor, or what many people called Dirt Town. This is where all the filth of the city started and ended. It was where all the androids, cyborgs, and robots lived, where they were built, where they were destroyed and then recycled into a brand new slave. Mountains of trash were piled around the massive sewage pipes that drained straight to the “ocean” (though it was quite apparent that much of this ended up in the fountains and drinking water of the Overgrowth. The poorest of the poor made houses out of dirt, trash, and scrap metal underneath the intimidating towers of the upper levels thousands of feet above them. These were not a hungry people; so much wasted food came down from the top that they nearly had a feast of grime every day. Perhaps they were the most fortunate, for they had the least to worry about and the most to gain.
I didn’t fall all the way. I had jumped thousands of feet to get back to my home in the Undergrowings. I merely kicked my feet and immediately my jet suit activated, flying me on autopilot to my home. The Floor People gawked at me; they had every reason to. For I was caught within an electropolis; each molecule of me was becoming more and more synthetic, until I would no longer be a humanoid. I would merely be another slave; another piece of scrap metal used to shelter the dregs of society from ever dying out.
Of course, it wasn’t all bad. For every bad thing within our lives, there is always something else to compromise for it. Such was the way with my electropolis. Every type of technology available--from the latest model of H-cars, state of the art androids, teleportation devices; to food in a can, holograms, and virtual reality modems. For every level about Dirt Town, every resource was available easily; every single necessity could be instantly provided. No one would starve; yet most were starved for the number one necessity of them all--happiness. It may be cliché, but truly that which is cliché holds stronger to society than that which is an obscurity.
I was not one to neglect the hungers of my happiness. Instead of heading home, I flew for hours around the city. I basked in each and every glorifying activity possible; going to every club, eating at many restaurants, chatting with associates, etc. I flew in zig-zags across the Vine’s traffic patterns, setting off some of the Sky Hawks to go into chase mode. Hell did I care. That just added to the fun. Swerving around building after building, calling after each new drone that locked onto me to “Try and catch me!!!”
There were near 100 of them on me now. I figured I should give up the chase, but I couldn’t let them catch me. I just realized what a dangerous situation I had put myself in; if I let myself get caught, with that many drones on my tail, I’d either get life in Dirt Town or blown to bits by the taser rifles on the SkyHawks. No, I had to keep going. Besides, this would only add to the fun.
I decided to bait them. I flew all around the commercial district, landing in front of each and every plasmoid sign so that they would grab a ghost image of my silhouette. I saw the SkyHawks encroaching on the avenue I was on, so I hid within one of the clubs. Outside, the SkyHawks went for the signs; each came to close to the signs to divert themselves from their course, and so crashed into each. Explosions atop every building on the aerial avenue lit up the streets to a light so blinding that not even the SkyHawks could see where they were going. Dozens crashed into civilians, others into themselves, until the Vine became one big robotic mess. I knew I wouldn’t have long; I jumped out into the smoke that choked the avenue to make my escape.
It grabbed me. The lone SkyHawk who had begun the chase with me had been waiting outside the club the entire time. Crowds of people watched as my suit was deactivated and I was dropped towards Dirt Town. I didn’t even have time to say a single syllable. The people watching--they didn’t care. Nobody could care, for this sort of thing was only too natural. There went another person down to the dregs to become a part of the Floor which held the upper levels in place. Falling, falling. Such is the process in an electropolis.
Again, I want to reiterate my congratulations to all participants! Keep up your musical works!
I want to start by congratulating each and every participant for taking the time from their life to create these amazing stories. Each brought on the emotions that were embedded within your music, bringing them full-force into the world. My goal behind this was to see who demonstrated more connection to the music. Music is but another form of art, another medium for artists to explore. Writing is the same.
Choosing the winner was so tough....much tougher than I thought. It was so difficult that it ran me more than twenty days over when I said I was going to finish it. Well, the results are in.
I am leaving this option up to all participants: If you would like score (max of 300 points), please PM me. I will also give you my in-depth reactions to your entries (both song and story). I will not share scores unless a participant wishes to have them released.
The winner of "A Story to Set us Free - 2010" was AlmightyArceus! Congratulations!
His story can be viewed below. I set it up the same way I judged; you may listen to the song, read the story, or do both. I did all three through this process.
"Electopolis" by AlmightyArceus
I am not sure why I am fond of the big cities. Perhaps it is because I was raised in one. There’s always too much happening at once. Too much around me; too much to win, too much to lose. As one person hit’s the bulls-eye, another hits himself in the foot. Entire communities crash under the weight of another’s unruly success. Once the building limit has been exceeded, something’s bound to give out.
I must be fond of them for the variety, for all of the things that show their beauty, or how homely they are. As I stood atop the musty balcony--dawn approaching rather quickly as the sun tried to break through the smog before it suffocated it; H-cars flying in irregular patterns across the early morning sky; factories constantly rumbling as their electronic slaves worked literally endless shifts powering the city, each monolithic structure shaking under the pressure from within--I knew that’s what attracted me so hopelessly to this unsanitary god of the earth. It is quite strange how one sticks with a body so vile for so long--but perhaps that same body is the only thing that can keep its counterpart alive…or vice versa.
I jumped off the balcony. That was just the first layer of it all. Soaring down from the Overgrowth factory district, I plummeted right through the Canopy commercial district. Endless Vines of electronic rail lights lined the sky, in flashing neon colors, as the H-cars followed the bleakly lit pathways of their lives, attached to the Vine like metallic blooms upon a RoboChia. SkyHawks patrolled ominously from their perches; the aged, towering stores, clubs, restaurants, cinemas--just about anything you could ever think of. Flashing lights and signs were upon each and every building, attempting to attract even more attention to themselves than the store next to them, until the entire district was a blinding, epileptic disaster.
The Undergrowings--where most of the humanoid residents lived--came next in my terminal descent. Mossy, uniform structures of the blandest gray stood side by side along the aerial avenues. The SkyHawks were readily present around this neighborhood, driving aside nearly each humanoid H-car and making sure they stayed on course with the Vine. EVERY house was the same on that avenue--or at least, it seemed that way, for it was not so. At the top of each MegAparatment there stood an extravagant penthouse, each with luxuries the people below couldn’t dream of affording. Such was the strata of society.
Finally came the Floor, or what many people called Dirt Town. This is where all the filth of the city started and ended. It was where all the androids, cyborgs, and robots lived, where they were built, where they were destroyed and then recycled into a brand new slave. Mountains of trash were piled around the massive sewage pipes that drained straight to the “ocean” (though it was quite apparent that much of this ended up in the fountains and drinking water of the Overgrowth. The poorest of the poor made houses out of dirt, trash, and scrap metal underneath the intimidating towers of the upper levels thousands of feet above them. These were not a hungry people; so much wasted food came down from the top that they nearly had a feast of grime every day. Perhaps they were the most fortunate, for they had the least to worry about and the most to gain.
I didn’t fall all the way. I had jumped thousands of feet to get back to my home in the Undergrowings. I merely kicked my feet and immediately my jet suit activated, flying me on autopilot to my home. The Floor People gawked at me; they had every reason to. For I was caught within an electropolis; each molecule of me was becoming more and more synthetic, until I would no longer be a humanoid. I would merely be another slave; another piece of scrap metal used to shelter the dregs of society from ever dying out.
Of course, it wasn’t all bad. For every bad thing within our lives, there is always something else to compromise for it. Such was the way with my electropolis. Every type of technology available--from the latest model of H-cars, state of the art androids, teleportation devices; to food in a can, holograms, and virtual reality modems. For every level about Dirt Town, every resource was available easily; every single necessity could be instantly provided. No one would starve; yet most were starved for the number one necessity of them all--happiness. It may be cliché, but truly that which is cliché holds stronger to society than that which is an obscurity.
I was not one to neglect the hungers of my happiness. Instead of heading home, I flew for hours around the city. I basked in each and every glorifying activity possible; going to every club, eating at many restaurants, chatting with associates, etc. I flew in zig-zags across the Vine’s traffic patterns, setting off some of the Sky Hawks to go into chase mode. Hell did I care. That just added to the fun. Swerving around building after building, calling after each new drone that locked onto me to “Try and catch me!!!”
There were near 100 of them on me now. I figured I should give up the chase, but I couldn’t let them catch me. I just realized what a dangerous situation I had put myself in; if I let myself get caught, with that many drones on my tail, I’d either get life in Dirt Town or blown to bits by the taser rifles on the SkyHawks. No, I had to keep going. Besides, this would only add to the fun.
I decided to bait them. I flew all around the commercial district, landing in front of each and every plasmoid sign so that they would grab a ghost image of my silhouette. I saw the SkyHawks encroaching on the avenue I was on, so I hid within one of the clubs. Outside, the SkyHawks went for the signs; each came to close to the signs to divert themselves from their course, and so crashed into each. Explosions atop every building on the aerial avenue lit up the streets to a light so blinding that not even the SkyHawks could see where they were going. Dozens crashed into civilians, others into themselves, until the Vine became one big robotic mess. I knew I wouldn’t have long; I jumped out into the smoke that choked the avenue to make my escape.
It grabbed me. The lone SkyHawk who had begun the chase with me had been waiting outside the club the entire time. Crowds of people watched as my suit was deactivated and I was dropped towards Dirt Town. I didn’t even have time to say a single syllable. The people watching--they didn’t care. Nobody could care, for this sort of thing was only too natural. There went another person down to the dregs to become a part of the Floor which held the upper levels in place. Falling, falling. Such is the process in an electropolis.
Again, I want to reiterate my congratulations to all participants! Keep up your musical works!