[FFML] [C&C] Re: [fic][Dark Cloud] DARK CORONA: Days -1 through 5

[Aaron Nowack]

Much belated, even only counting from my last belated C&C...

Usual disclaimers apply.

The Eternal Lost Lurker wrote:
> 
> (The formatting is going to look a little screwed up. Probably more screwed
> up even than before I posted it, after Outlook and my mail server get
> through with it. For that, I apologize. There's only so much I can expect
> out of this software. -_-)

Noted.

> (And no, I haven't abandoned FitW or Moonshadow.)

Yay!

Well, actually, I still haven't gotten around to _reading_ FitW, but I
believe it's safe to assume its non-abandonment is good news.  ;)

> [Day -1, Night]

If One Hundred Days taught me anything, it's that this formatting choice
can lead to exceedingly long stories.  (Unless one "skips" days, I suppose.)

Not that there's anything _wrong_ with exceedingly long stories, of course.

> A sigh from the sole occupant of the supper table wafted the steam from the
> serving dishes. The teenager rested his chin morosely on his folded arms,
> gazing at the steaming joint of roast beef on the table as though expecting
> to find some deep, profound answer to the mysteries of life in its dripping
> juices.

He did find Jesus and a baker's dozen of saints, but they were more
interesting in talking about pro football than the mysteries of life.

> The mayor of Norune emerged from the tent, followed by the Shaman of Dran,
> the highest spiritual leader in the valley, and the priest from the mission,
> a less recognised figure than the Shaman, but still highly respected; the
> introduction of the coastal religion to Norune had been shaky, but with the
> combined efforts of the great hero Toan and his trusted and wise comrade,
> Ruby, the villagers had agreed to allow a standing mission in Norune, and
> the traditional and modern faiths had learned to respect one another and
> share a common flock.

Hrm.  I'd suggest splitting this into more sentences.  It's a fairly big
chunk of text.

> "Now Brandt, remember...do not unsheathe Dark Cloud at any point during the
> ceremony or festival. You're not to touch the sword until you're sequestered
> in the Windmill. It's not an especially good idea to free the sword from its
> slumber in the middle of a village full of innocents."

...ominous.

> *Besides,* he told himself, *Mom says Atla are usually found in some kind of
> dungeon or secluded, bounded area...a canyon is certainly bounded, and I do
> see caves over there.*

This certainly isn't for game design reasons... :)

> He darted back as he felt a rush of air across his front. Briefly, he caught
> a flash of a mining pick. Instinctively, he parried it with his sword, then
> stabbed out, striking whatever had swung at him. A wet, gurgling squeal met
> his thrust, and when he drew back his blade, glistening with blood, he
> thrust his torch forward to illuminate the dead body of an oversized rat
> with its tail tied around a mining pick. He blinked. "Ooooookay..."

...okay indeed.

Then again, it beats trying to rationalize monsters that look like giant
playing cards, as I kinda sorta tried to do in a Suikoden fanfic once
upon a time...

> "Hey now, who the bleedin' hell're you?"
> 
> Brandt stood slowly, blinking. Before him stood a round wooden house, beside
> which stood a tall, barrel-chested man with matted black hair and a bushy,
> tangled black beard. He was dressed in canvas work pants, thick leather
> boots, and a suede jerkin; his arms were crossed and he was glaring
> menacingly at the teenager.
> 
> "Where th' hell is everybody?" the man rumbled, staring around wildly. "An'
> what th' hell happened to th' town?"

Awkward.

> "Pick rat," Brandt replied, settling into a combat stance. "I killed one a
> little while ago, the first time I came down here."
> 
> "Pick rat?"
> 
> "Well, it's a great big rat and it's carrying a mining pick. What else would
> you call it?"
> 
> "I'd call it being drunk off me ass," the miner replied gruffly. Brandt
> chortled.

Hah.

> "Thanks." Blackstone bent to pick up the money. "Why would a bag o' bones
> have money, anyway?"

Same reason that wolves carry full suits of plate armor!


> "This is a Gate," Brandt replied, shaking his head. "Gates don't go away.
> We've opened it, so we'll be able to go through it the next time we come
> down here." At Blackstone's doubtful expression, the teen shrugged. "Like I
> said, these places follow their own rules." He stretched. "Besides, I don't
> know about you, but I'm getting a little tired."
> 
> The miner sighed. "Yeah, you're right. We'll come back in th' mornin'."

So, knowing nothing about the game, I'm guessing the dungeons are
randomly generated each time you enter and the Gates are checkpoints?

Hmm.  Not too much to say in the general comments here; it's
well-written (of course), and engages in some much-needed-for-me setting
establishing.  The decision to stick as closely to game mechanics as it
seems you are is a tad unusual (at least, for a mostly serious story of
this quality) but it works fairly well thus far.

I didn't notice any formatting problems on my end, incidentally.

-- 
           Aaron Nowack
"Never let reality get in the way of a good hypothesis."
http://www.mimiru.net/