Writing Challenge – The Dice Pool

Flash Fiction Challenge Week 5: Subscribe to Life!

Enshittification

I think we all know the feeling, right? Like, whenever the word-processing software you bought for a flat fee decides to switch to a subscription service so you can’t save any files on it without shelling out 7.99 a month? Or when you need to sign up for a free delivery service from the worst company in the world just so you can watch the latest season of Star Trek? Yeah.

Anyway, that’s what this week’s flash is about. There is no hidden meaning or anything. It’s just straight-forward anti-enshittification propaganda. Enjoy!

This is a flash fiction challenge where I challenge myself and anyone else who cares to take part to write a 500 word flash fiction piece every week. I generate five random nouns and five random verbs for each piece. Part of the challenge is to include all the words in the piece. Here are the words for this piece.

Nouns

Session
Nature
Wood
Guest
Membership

Verbs

Dominate
Slow
Forbid
Get
Dictate

Subscribe to Life!

By Ronan McNamee

You roll up to your spot in the Elysian Woods Outdoor Living Simulation Centre and unroll your tent. You hit the Temporary Habitable Structure Instantaneous Construction button on the remote you received in your first Kampzite subscription box and your tent lies there, a useless, Permanent, Uninhabitable Chaos Slowly just existing. You check your phone. In your latest fit of anti-capitalistic pique the night before, you canceled your Danube subscription. It seems, when you did that, Kampzite, Bafftime, Fudz and even Lurollx went with it. You attempt to construct it with your hands. You receive a text message from Kampzite. It is a friendly reminder that interfering with Kampzite property is an offense and that any further tampering will result in the police being summoned and a hefty fine. A moment later you get another text, this time from Danube, this one much less friendly.

A week spent in the wondrous glory of nature. Too much to ask.

You attempt to restart your Danube subscription right then but you had bravely deleted all account credentials from your phone when you cancelled your subscription. You lock yourself out completely, trying to log in with incorrect passwords. You use up the last of your data subscription credits in the process. There are no Elysian Woods colleagues anywhere.

You fold up your “tent” and pop it in your boot. Frustrated, you ask your
EV to take you to the nearest hostelry so you don’t have to sleep in the car. Sleeping in your car is outside the fair use policy you signed up for in your EZ-EV subscription.

You slow, passing the sign. Gaia’s Gardens: Subscription Retreat. Maybe you’ll be eligible for a guest membership. Your EV chimes. You have exited the area covered by your EZ-EV contract. The car lights dim and it rolls to a halt. Wondering how you found yourself in a life utterly dominated by which services you subscribe to, you slide out and onto the road.

You begin to dictate this story to an app on your phone. The app refuses to save it on your free plan.

Gaia’s gates forbid you entry. There is no guard house, there is no intercom. There is only a camera. You peer through the fence into paradise. Forest gives way, beyond, to cold brew coffee houses and hot yoga sessions, to silent discos and loud wind sounds, to glamping. Desperate, you climb that fence, rattling and trembling as you summit before plummeting to the piney floor below.

You awake to pain. Your back. It’s bad. But there’s your phone on the floor nearby. You call emergency services. “Danube Heightened Experience Response Services. Your account number please.” You laugh into the receiver. “Your account number please,” repeats the AI voice. Another voice from the trees, “Hi there, our facial recognition cameras can’t seem to identify you. Would you mind telling us your Gaia Gardens Subscription Credential Code?” The Emergency Services voice says, “Danube Police have been dispatched, please remain where you are.”

Next week

I have been running this challenge for five weeks now and I feel as though I have gotten enough out of it. It has spurred me to write more fiction and has gotten those creative juices flowing (isn’t that a dreadful idiom?) Anyway, I’m going to focus on writing more RPG related posts for a few weeks and I might come back to the flash later in the year.

Flash Fiction Challenge Week 4: He Told Us

The news

Art is political. I might struggle to call what I make “art” most of the time but I guess, whether it’s good or bad, it’s still art. Some of it is more overtly political than others. You can certainly see the politics in NK Jemisin’s Broken Earth novels. It bristles and boils up and breaks the world, but it is still veiled by its fantasy setting. When you read her Great Cities books, based, as they are in her very real home of New York City, the place and the politics are the real deal. It’s right there on the page; the shit that people deal with every day even it is couched in fantastical occurrences and the antagonists are disguised behind cosmically horrific metaphor.

Usually, what I write lies in the former category but, today’s flash is jumping right out of the headlines. It came unbidden, I will say, but here it is. Take it for what it’s worth.

Nouns

crusade
cluster
drawer
railcar
turkey

Verbs

permit
stop
spring
control
fuck 1

He Told Us

by Ronan McNamee

He told us to permit no Rykerites. Neither should we tolerate a Jellicho to live amongst us. For we were the people of the one true god! Kark!

We joined together in a great convocation. We occupied Scotte Station and created of the railcars an impassable barrier. That’s how the Rylerites came to our great city, like diseased cells through the arteries of a body. We watched the trains burn from the terminal.

He told us to take back control so our crusade abandoned the useless railway and spread to the spokes of our great metropolis, the bridges. Those who could, exploded them, the rest of us smashed them, rammed them, blocked and burned them. No more Jenwayers coming across those bridges.

Finally, together on our island of freedom, we beat down doors, beat on drums, beat those damned heathens, the Forgistas. They didn’t belong here either.

He told us to clean the city and that’s what we did. We sprung traps for all the unwanted. We clustered them all in Liberty Gardens and watched them bobbing around in there, like livestock, like turkeys. We fenced them in and went home for dinner.

He told us to eat what the city produced. So we opened our pantries and explored the recesses of our drawers. We ate ketchup and pickles until our tongues fizzed and stung. We drank old soda and energy drinks until our teeth throbbed and our brains balked.

We looked across the barricades and threw obscenities at the filthy outsiders beyond. We returned to Liberty Gardens. The Rykerites and Jellichos had run out of condiments and own-brand cola. They lay in the dirt and we licked our lips.

He told us not to stop until they were gone. So we started and did not cease until we picked our teeth. We were free of them then. Or were we? Some of our crusaders continued to subsist on mayo and sherbet. They refused the “turkey.” They went back to their lives. Sympathisers. Vegetarians. Fuck them.

He told us to find the traitors and destroy them, hang them from the bridges and the tallest skyscrapers. And we did, though we kept a few to make up for the last of the city food. Great Kark would not begrudge his favoured people a good meal.

The eyes of the traitors looked down on us, as we basked in the streets, satiated. And I heard him tell the others to take us for anti-city behaviour. We ran and cried but finally obeyed the leader. We gave ourselves to the great people of our city and they fenced us in, fed us stale donuts and old olives until we lay in the dirt, doing what we were told until they came for us with belief and hunger in their eyes. Had Kark abandoned me? Was I no better than a Forgista now? I always did what I was told. Was this a reward?

He told us what he was, but we never listened.

Next week’s words

Here are the five nouns and five verbs to fit into next week’s piece:

Next week’s nouns

session
nature
wood
guest
membership

Next week’s verbs

dominate
slow
forbid
get
dictate

Happy writing!

Flash Fiction Challenge Week 3: All that Glitters

A little horror

I don’t think it’s particularly worthy of a trigger warning, to be honest, but, just in case, this week’s flash features insects, skeletons and flesh eating, not necessarily in that order. Also, it’s got a foolish academic. It’s a wee bit Indiana Jones, a dash of Pirate Borg and a smidgen Cthulhu.

This here flash fiction challenge is to write a 500 word piece, including the five random verbs and five random nouns that I generate each week. Here are the words that I randomly generated last week:

Nouns

expenditure
entertain
tablet
morsel
leader

Verbs

announce
stand
reverse
sue
decline

All that Glitters

by Ronan McNamee

A weevil squirmed fervently behind his right eye. He entertained the idea of a blink. Couldn’t justify the expenditure of such effort. Instead, his eye flicked to the tablet, nuzzling his thigh. Its script illumined impossibly in his guttering torchlight, shifting and slithering like his eye’s new neighbour.

“Stand aside, ignoramuses! Do you suppose I endured my long sojourn just for some roustabout to bear premier witness to the treasures and magics of these fabled burial chambers?!” With ears they comprehended nothing. The Professor’s wild curtain-parting gesture however, banished the obscuring cloud of labourers to reveal a twilit window into antiquity. Almost. Their leader, stout and mono-manual, remained. She pointed with her hook. “Gold, first,” the demand landed at his feet with her spittle.

Inside, he felt his decline. He could see it on the outside. The insects dwarfed the average weevil, or even cockroach. They peeled off morsels of flesh, in strips. His singular orb witnessed it, the other dribbled into his beard. He heard himself draw a ragged breath. This could never be reversed. The tablet…

“My lady, you’ll be remunerated upon the fulfilment of my expedition.” Even standing a full head taller than her, she surveyed him as a disobedient hound. “Pay now, Professor. (such insolence!) Not coming back.” She gestured at the stylised, be-vined, skull guarding the cavern entrance, flanked by glittering, gluttonous beetles. She hooked around at her people, eyeing each one. She announced a single word in her own language. Three syllables rippled out through the contingent, in a shivering susurrus. The mob nodded as one. The Professor quavered a moment, then scoffed and pushed past.

So glad, he was, that he felt nothing more. No pain, at least. Something wriggled fitfully in his brainpan. That tickled? A last gob of meat, dislodged by his dinner-guests, plopped from his tibia to the tablet. A sickly, emerald glow pulsed from the artefact. He felt ready to stand again. He rose with a clamorous clacking, new power making up for the loss of muscles and sinews. He turned towards the broken, sun-bright steps. Outside, they awaited his return. Bloated, distended, still starving, his companions flew up into the last tangerine light of the day. It glinted off their golden shells. “You wanted gold,” he chattered.

The Professor ignored the mindless caterwauling above. She bawled at his back as he descended, “You owe us! Professor!” He rolled his eyes in his sockets. And grinned. The chamber was disappointingly low but the contents! A vast figure crawled skeletally across the far wall in bas relief, a hand raised before a plague of golden insects, suing for peace perhaps? A rugged altar, stained in centuries of sacrifice held a tablet. It shone with a wan inner light. Untouched, as it was, by the ubiquitous dust, he read the first word, startled. It was the word the hook-hand had used… He heard the creatures flitter out of the walls as he collapsed, tablet beside him. The Professor whimpered.

Next week’s words

Next week’s nouns

crusade
cluster
drawer
railcar
turkey

Next week’s verbs

permit
stop
spring
control
fuck

Honestly didn’t know that the random word generator was capable of expletives but… let’s go, RWG!

Flash Fiction Challenge Week 2: Securing Destiny

Bloggies News

A couple of things before I get to this week’s flash. If you read my last post, you’ll know that thedicepool.com was up for a Bloggie for best debut blog of 2024 in the TTRPG space. To those who voted for me, thanks so much! Your support means a lot. It honestly motivates me to keep working on this site and it’s obviously nice to know that someone enjoys what I write. Unfortunately, it was not to be. Murkmail won by a country mile, and deservedly so. You should go check out their blog. I came in seventh place, lower than I’d hoped but higher than I expected. For the full results, here’s a link to sachagoat’s blog. While you’re there, go and vote in the current round! It’s the Advice category right now and it’s down to the last 8 entries. They are all well worth your time to read if you’re interested in RPGs.

I redecorated

There were a few things missing from the very minimalist theme I was using. I really always wanted a sidebar. Maybe I’m just old-fashioned. Anyway, I switched themes so I could have one. I like it because I can keep useful stuff there, like my archives, lists of categories and tags, a blogroll of other blogs that I like or am subscribed to. That sort of thing. What do you think of the new look, dear reader?

Week 2

This one started with my head in a very contemporary office space and ended with something in a much more far future space space, if you know what I mean. I gave this a bit more time than the last one, but I’m not convinced it’s better for it. I’m happy with the plot I got in there and even the level of character development, but I’m not as satisfied with the quality of the writing. Here are the random words I challenged myself to fit into this 500 word piece:

Nouns

measurement
consequence
desk
winner
employer

Verbs

echo
influence
enquire
mix
pin

Securing Destiny

by Ronan McNamee

“Let’s put a pin in that.” Mr Grogan locked eyes with Terry and dared him to voice another concern. Terry, shook, broke first. “And move on to the next item, shall we?” Timpani thundering in his ears, Terry inhaled through his one unblocked nostril. A trick of his Mum’s, to calm him. The meeting continued, the others focusing on Grogan’s drone. Terry exhaled through an o. His pressure regulated with the cabin’s.

Why? His ghostly face, reflected in the void-dark porthole by his desk, echoed his confusion. Why had he opened his mouth? If his employer worried about the security of the life-support system, he’d have addressed it. Right? His mum beamed at him from her little holo-plinth. She winked conspiratorially. Secrets were her strength. She always said, say nothing and let the fools sing. Good advice, he always thought. So why had he ignored it today? To reassure himself that he wasn’t paranoid, he re-checked the firewall. There: a weakness. A hacker would need to know what they were seeking, but, surely, a weakness is a weakness. The consequences of such a key ship system being compromised defied measurement. Catastrophic.

Maybe Mr Grogan hadn’t wanted it discussed openly at the stand-up. Terry mixed up a lunchtime bowl of blue kibble on the mezzanine, and nodded. Made sense. But why? Security reasons? The other staff were trusted. Too distracting? It was a serious issue. So why? There was his mum again, with one of her sayings. Who stands to gain from it? Grogan? A play for control? Would he gamble with the lives of everyone aboard the Destiny? Did he think he could come out of that eventuality a winner?

Terry overthought everything. Everyone said so. He was pushed to enquire, he struggled to come to decisions, he had a tendency to catastrophise. Of course he did. Every scenario ended in catastrophe on a long enough time-line. That’s why his job was security for the engineering crew. It was why he was trusted, too. He took that trust seriously. Over a thousand souls depended on him.

In the depths of the ship, later, doing his rounds, Terry still debated his options. Grogan found him there, wiped his upper lip and drew close. “I know you think it’s me,” he had to shout his secret over the din down there, “the captain says there’s too many mouths to feed. Wants an… accident. She has… influence over me.” Terry nodded. He had heard rumours about Grogan’s indiscretions. The man sweated before him now in the greasy, red dullness. Terry told him he wouldn’t open his mouth.

Terry stayed late. Got in the back way through the firewall exploit. He selected the captain’s quarters and Grogan’s. Glanced at his mum before hitting EXECUTE. When he took the job, he told her he worried about this sort of situation arising. She’d said, if they don’t deserve your trust, then they don’t deserve Destiny. He tapped the button and listened for the klaxon.

Next week’s words

Random nouns and random verbs to attract those muses.

Next week’s nouns

expenditure
entertain
tablet
morsel
leader

Next week’s verbs

announce
stand
reverse
sue
decline

Please do let me know if you have been writing along with me, dear reader. I’m going to do this anyway, but misery loves company and all that.

Flash Fiction Challenge: Habitant 1306

Week 1

Predictably, I spent absolutely no time thinking about this challenge until yesterday and then I knocked out the five hundred words in an evening. No matter how I did it, though, I have a sense of accomplishment. It’s been such a long time since I wrote for the pleasure of it, I forgot what it was like. That slow unfurling of the story in my mind, the careful (or not so careful) selection of the words, the freedom to make it what it wants to be. I enjoyed it.

Anyway, the random words certainly helped get me started in this case. I had some images from other media in the forefront of my mind as I wrote. Aveena, the holographic assistant from the Citadel in the Mass Effect games was the first thing. But instead of a mysterious space station, it was the assistant for something like the arcologies in Appleseed, a manga that I read more than 30 years ago. I remember almost nothing about it except for the arcologies, which I thought were a pretty cool concept. Habitant 1306 is the result. Here’s the list of the random words that I managed to fit into it first.

Nouns

Development
Surgery
Union
Shopping
System

Verbs

Execute
Finish
Approve
Undertake
Take

Habitant 1306

By Ronan McNamee

“The System is here to fulfil all of your needs, Habitant 1306.” The hologram flickered and flashed, blinding me momentarily. Why had it designated me Habitant 1306? I thumbed my eyes and walked on past it. It felt like a haunting, but not the one I would want. The vastness of the Development’s central atrium bloomed around me, twilit and dripping. I pulled Aunty’s scarf tight.

Maybe it knew me? The cracked and mossy statue of a habitant, gaily swinging their shopping bags winked at me, I’m certain. Did the statue know me too, somehow? Spiders crawled up my spine. I whipped about but caught only the brief flicker of the hologram, awaiting the next habitant. It might wait forever.

What if it mistook me for someone else? Perhaps Habitant 1306 looked like me. What if 1306 was the designation, not just of habitant, but also habitation? An “i” towered, gallingly tall, above a booth, hunkered between ATM and escalator. A gentle glow beneath an encrustation of grime drew me in. With a wipe I discovered a map on a screen. Below, the development delved deep. Caverns occupied by industry, commerce, leisure. Above me, the habitations stretched high into the night sky.

Developers had undertaken the doomed project; the union of all aspects of life in a System-governed space. Self-sustaining, self-regulating, self-populating… 1306 was far above. There were elevators but I didn’t trust them not to take me where they wanted. A stairwell, housed in a tall glass tube, spiralled into the heavens. I stretched, knowing Aunty would approve, and started the climb. Every few landings, a gap in the Development’s titanic cladding allowed the Free City streets to shine out below. My home, where Aunty found me as a nipper, clad in my birthday suit, exploring, unworried and unhurried, she told me.

13 sounds doable, but each floor encompasses cities. Peach streaked the horizon as I finished with the stairs. 06 was on a low inter-level. The halls’ walls and ceilings had partially collapsed. Utility cabling and piping barricaded the way. The Development’s arteries blocking my path to the heart. I had surgery to perform. I hefted my idle crowbar and scrubbed in.

Shocked, soaked and stinking, I left the patient bleeding behind me, crawling to the end of the hall. Forty winks, Aunty found me. She scowled with that smile hiding behind. Only ever in the electrified darkness inside my eyelids, these days. I thumbed my eyes to clear them again, rose and stretched.

1306 said the door. “Everyone left you,” I said to the Development or the door, maybe. Touched, it swung sullenly open. Illumination blossomed. It was a home. Unobtrusive conveniences skulked, observing my steps. But still, a sort of habitation to be sure.

A closet? Located dead-centre, it buzzed and gurgled. Inside was a tall mirror. No, I switched the light on and saw me, in my birthday suit, watching Aunty. The pink water bubbled. A single word question blinked on the tank’s surface, “Execute?”

Next week’s words

And here are the random words generated for next week’s challenge.

Next week’s nouns

measurement
consequence
desk
winner
employer

Next week’s verbs

echo
influence
enquire
mix
pin

I’d love to hear from you if you took part in the challenge this week, dear reader, or if you wrote anything you’re satisfied with in the last few days, even. Get in the comments!

Short Fiction Challenge

These are not resolutions, okay?

Yes, I wrote all the way back last year, that I don’t really believe in New Year’s resolutions. So much so that I then proceeded to list five of them, with the proviso that they were “gaming resolutions,” not real ones. So, I may as well continue along Self-Delusion Avenue into 2025, I thought.

So! There are a couple of non-RPG things I’d like to try to do more often:

Practice my Japanese and improve my fluency before our big trip to Japan in the autumn
Write more fiction that is not related to games

The cover of the book, Read Real Japanese Fiction, Edited by Michael Emmerich and featuring the writing of Hiromi Kawaguchi, Otsuichi, Sinji Ishii, Banana Yoshimoto, Kaoru Kitamura and Yoko Tawada. It also features the illustration of a small, angry, barefoot child with a light blue dress on.

日本語の練習は大変だけど楽しいです。最近　Read Real Japanese　Fiction　という本を読み始まりました。その本の中には日本の著者六人のすばらしい短編小説が読めます。一文ずつ、英語の説明もあるから分かりやすいです。それ以外、Netflixで日本のテレビ番組をよく見て日本語のリスニングの練習もできます。日本語を話すことの練習もできればいいな。

A double-page spread from the book “Read Real Japanese Fiction.” This shows a page of the short story, Kamisama by Hiromi Kawaguchi and the opposite page with explanations in English for each sentence.

For the second point, I thought I might use this very blog, dear reader… and perhaps, dear fellow writer…

Random Word Generator

In a now defunct writing group I was once a part of, we often used a random word generator to get our minds working on new short pieces of fiction. In fact, some of the short stories and flash fiction I posted here came from that group. I think we can all agree that I had mixed success. But, there is no doubt about one thing: it got me writing. I always found that, when my brain was working on the practical problem of fitting those randomly selected words into whatever it was I was writing, I was not focusing so much on the fact that I didn’t have any ideas. I let the words guide me into something resembling a story. After a while, I found the ideas for short fiction coming without the aid of the random words and so I would have to shoe-horn them in, which is an interesting exercise in itself. But the random words were the kickstart that I needed.

So I decided to use the same method again. Here is my first effort. I used this random word generator to come up with five nouns and five verbs:

Nouns I used

Engine
Clothes
Thought
Employer
Investment

Verbs I used

Summon
Chase
Determine
Cheer
Assess

This time, I thought I would challenge myself to write in a format I don’t think I have ever attempted before, a hundred word flash.

Present Imperative

by Ronan McNamee

Swim. Up to the air. Breathe. Curse your clothes. They catch every eddy, urging a return to drowning. Locate your employer. She bobs there on the surface; regards the depths. Consider her investment in you. Learn from her mistakes. Recognise the ice of the sea in your bones. Move. Chase survival, success. Stroke past her and her solitary Chu. Welcome the deep-freeze motivation. Summon your future. Allow it to cheer you, sustain you. Pause, paddle. Resist the chill in your blood. Hear the engine enter earshot. Determine the direction. Assess difficulty and distance. Chatter a grin. Swim.

Next Challenge

Five verbs: execute, finish, approve, undertake, take. Five nouns: development, surgery, union, shopping, system — The Randomly Generated words to use in writing the 500 word flash fiction due on Wednesday, 15th January, 2025.

Here’s the plan. I’m going to generate five more nouns and five more verbs right now. I am going to take these words and come up with a 500 word piece of flash fiction. If you’re interested, dear reader, I would invite you to do the same. I’m going to post my piece on this here blog next Wednesday. If you want, you can leave yours as a comment under this post or under my post next week or on your own blog and link to it, or you can write it in that little notebook you keep just for yourself, or you can write it on the wind so only the birds and the gods can read it.

Here are the words for next week:

Nouns for next week

development
surgery
union
shopping
system

Verbs for next week

execute
finish
approve
undertake
take

And this is the best part: I’m going to do this every Wednesday until I decide I’ve done enough. Feel free to join me in this weekly writing challenge, dear reader. Or maybe just try it this once and see if you like it. One way or the other、よろしくお願いします。