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writerconuk
WriterconUK - Badfic
To write or not to write.
Or: Run away! Run away!
It has become something of a tradition that the last activity at our micro-con is the group creation of a really atrocious piece of bad, BAD fic.
There were examples taken from sites dealing with such horrors:
“Gee, golly, gosh, gloriosky,” thought Mary Sue as she stepped on the bridge of the Enterprise. “Here I am, the youngest lieutenant in the fleet - only fifteen and a half years old.” Captain Kirk came up to her. “Oh, Lieutenant, I love you madly. Will you come to bed with me?” “Captain! I am not that kind of girl!” “You’re right, and I respect you for it. Here, take over the ship for a minute while I go get some coffee for us.” Mr. Spock came onto the bridge. “What are you doing in the command seat, Lieutenant?” “The Captain told me to.” “Flawlessly logical. I admire your mind.”
WTF Fanfiction.tumblr.com provided snippets of horrendosity:
I went on to define badfic:
Characters which feel ‘off’
OOC canon characters
Too good to be true original characters
Settings which don’t convince
Improbable situations
Over-described locations
Implausible rooms for characters
A badfic plot by definition will rely on:
A character acting out of character
A ‘magic’ twist of the sort that never happens in canon
A sudden inexplicable change of heart
Intervention by a minor character to set things right
An inheritance, a gift or a sudden discovery
and then I established the rules:
Three groups - three chapters, one each
Beginning: Two characters meet and dislike each other on sight
Middle: Two characters get closer but something catastrophic intervenes
End: Despite all the odds (which are very significant) love is declared and they either live happily ever after or die beautifully and tragically together.
The title they were given was "How We Survived the Zombie Apocalypse"
Rules:
The more clichés the better
Characters must be from different fandoms
A luridly-described location is needed. The more adjectives the better
Verbs exist to be modified by adverbs
Never use the same synonym for ‘said’ more than once. Treat it like Just a Minute.
At least one major infodump required.
THIS was the end result - three groups of four (a few non-writers opted out) created the following in just under an hour. Names will not be named in order to protect the guilty.
Badfic 2015 - the Revenge of the Clichés
The start
Jack Harkness STD, Jane Rochester, née Eyre
In a lavishly decorated room festooned with silks, Jack Harkness was hanging decoratively from the large crystal rose gold chandelier. He is holding his sword, yes, that one, as he observes the mousy woman walk into the room cautiously. Her face pulls into a shocked grimace at the rumpled state of the bed, which looks like Tracey Emin’s installation with both identifiable and unidentifiable stain. She felt her eyes drawn inexorably to the ceiling and gasps gently in amazement. Jack smiles his patented come hither sexily smouldering smirk. He knows exactly when his 51st century pheromones crash into her.
Jane had been told that the work offered required women in missionary positions but now thinks she had not fully thought this through. “Oh my,” she ejaculated in disgust as she notices the naked man above her.
She has been reduced to these circumstances after her beloved older husband, Mr Edward Rochester, succumbed to an unidentified malaise. Unbeknownst to her, the cause of her husband’s gruesome, but suitable or late night screening, demise was dandling above her jauntily. Somewhere in his travels in time, the myriad of diseases swirling in Captain Jack Harkness, as he called himself now, had mutated into an unusual form of zombyism contracted only by sexual contract. Indeed, as Jack is so renowned and for a short period had become so fashionable after Queen Victoria had requested his patronage on Prince Albert’s death bed. The newspapers had gleefully reported Albert’s continued attendance on his Queen after he ‘recovered’ from his cold, although neither were ever the same again and were seen infrequently in public, or near the full moon. It is not clear to your narrator how Rochester contracted said aforementioned infirmity but unbeknownst to herself, our Jane is about to find out.
It was at this point that the naked Jack Harkness landed on her with an “I was only saying hello.”
In shock and awe, Jane discovers extra strength and Jack’s distinct lack of clothing. She thrusts him away with shock and awe before attempting to escape the lavishly decorated hell she has now found herself in.
“Get off,” she averred.
“I intend to,” Jack whispers seductively into her shell like ear. “And if you get lucky and play your cards right…”
“Oh my, gambling as well in this den of iniquity…” Jane feels faint as the reality of her position, under a naked man, so unlike her decent, loving husband (AN: Cheating unbeknownst to her.) becomes clear.
“You may actually learn to enjoy your new missionary work.” Jack purred seductively. It had worked with Albert, the Doctor, Shakespeare, Kitty Pride, Pitt the Younger, Simon Cowell, Claudius, John Hart, Cleopatra - who had incredibly curly hair for her time period and Elizabeth, the so called Virgin Queen to name but several.
Lost in ravelry, Jack doesn’t notice that the latest was attempting to escape, despite tripping lightly over Jack’s discarded overcoat….
The Middle
Merlin and Spike
“Spike! This way!” screamed Merlin loudly.
The bleach blonde vampire turned, his blue eyes blazing yellow, like a million sunflowers opening at once. “Shut your gob you wanker,” he ground out from between clenched teeth. Behind them a zombie turned the corner. Ahead of it it saw both with razor-sharp cheekbones, one dark, the other fair.
Spike gave a high-pitched female-sounding scream of distress. “Spike, what is wrong?” Merlin ejaculated.
“It’s a zombie. One of those monsters that were created by the meteorite when it fell onto New York and released the space virus modified by the nuclear reaction which occurred when the power station under the Empire State Building blew up because the air was contaminated by the flatulent workers eating a particularly vicious vindaloo last night.” He explained informatively.
“Can’t you use your magic?” said Spike interrogatively.
Suddenly another zombie fell from the roof of the building above them, scattering them both in all directions. It was the next day before they found each other again, but in the meantime a lot had happened. Merlin had worked out a spell and Spike had bitten a zombie which unfortunately turned into a zompire.
Tears poured down Merlin’s face, clouding his sapphire-blue eyes, he has spent the night huddled heartbroken inside an empty oil drum, he had only just realised how important the blond vampire was to him. That moment when blue eyes stared into blue across a zombie-crowded Times Square had meant the world to him.
Meanwhile Spike had been stood thinking about Merlin as he scoped out the landscape with his penetrating gaze. His cerulean orbs sparkled with unshed tears. “Where’s sodding King Arthur with his bloody great big sword when you need him?” he growled lowly, and then he remembered that he had heard Arthur and Merlin were in a relationship once and decided that he didn’t want him after all.
Wile he was thinking 37 zombies approached looking hungry and groaning alot. “Grrr!” they went. Spike took in an unneeded breath and screamed. “Look out!”
From far away Merlin heard the dulcet tones of the man he loved and released a breath he did not know he had been holding. Perhaps they had a future after all.
The End
Ianto Jones, Cathy Earnshaw
Meanwhile on a lush island off the coast of Costa Rica where the palm trees waved in the winds like the crowds on the shore waving farewell to the tragically fated Titanic. It was an island that suffered badly from hurricanes but still managed to attract a reasonable number of tourists despite the genetically modified dinosaurs who play no further part in this story but dinosaurs are cool this year.
Elmore Leonard passed by clutching his copy of ten rules of good fiction writing. On realising where he was he shot himself.
The sands naturally formed the shape of a 3D printer because chaos theory and it then shuddered and spewed out zombies disgustingly.
“Quick!” Ianto Jones cried to Cathy Earnshaw alarmedly. “Shoot them accurately through the head.”
“My!” Exclaimed Cathy. “What a big gun you’ve got.”
“This is just the sawn off version.” Ianto decaled lewdly. “You should see the fully erect version.”
He swept Cathy into his arms passionately. “Oh, Cathy. You’ve made me realise I’m not gay anymore. You are perfectly perfect in every way.”
He dropped to his knees, lifted her skirts and plunged his face into her Kate Bush.
“Wow, wow, wow, unbelievable” moaned Cathy extactically as she reached the wuthering heights of orgasm
“Oh, Cathy,” Ianto groaned. “You are so perfectly perfect I would love you even if you were a zombie.”
“Thank goodness for that,” Cathy cried, her eyes turning white and her skin fifty shades of leporous grey as she shamled towards him.
“Oh no!” Sobbed Ianto broken heartedly “Cathy I love you so much you can eat my face if you like.” Ianto wailed.
Cathy lurched towards him but was stopped in her steps by the arrival of another man.
“You can’t eat him raw,” Hannibal exclaimed. “He must be properly cooked first.”
Cathy paused and having imparted his adviced Hannibal rode across the alps on his elephant.
“Cathy, we can’t go on like this but I love you so much I can’t live without you.” Ianto ejaculated
Hand in hand they collapsed in an embraced, landing on the sandy 3D printer causing it to explode.
No more zombies would be created and the remaining ones on the island were happily eaten by the dinosaurs.
In a galaxy far, far, away two spirits camed together forever entwined as they formed the birth of a irridescent new star. Some would name the star Cathto others called it Ianty. In years to come a civil war would break out over which name was correct but Cathy and Ianto didn’t care because they were together.
And that, Dere Reederz, is why you should join us next year.
Or: Run away! Run away!
It has become something of a tradition that the last activity at our micro-con is the group creation of a really atrocious piece of bad, BAD fic.
There were examples taken from sites dealing with such horrors:
“Gee, golly, gosh, gloriosky,” thought Mary Sue as she stepped on the bridge of the Enterprise. “Here I am, the youngest lieutenant in the fleet - only fifteen and a half years old.” Captain Kirk came up to her. “Oh, Lieutenant, I love you madly. Will you come to bed with me?” “Captain! I am not that kind of girl!” “You’re right, and I respect you for it. Here, take over the ship for a minute while I go get some coffee for us.” Mr. Spock came onto the bridge. “What are you doing in the command seat, Lieutenant?” “The Captain told me to.” “Flawlessly logical. I admire your mind.”
WTF Fanfiction.tumblr.com provided snippets of horrendosity:
I went on to define badfic:
Characters which feel ‘off’
OOC canon characters
Too good to be true original characters
Settings which don’t convince
Improbable situations
Over-described locations
Implausible rooms for characters
A badfic plot by definition will rely on:
A character acting out of character
A ‘magic’ twist of the sort that never happens in canon
A sudden inexplicable change of heart
Intervention by a minor character to set things right
An inheritance, a gift or a sudden discovery
and then I established the rules:
Three groups - three chapters, one each
Beginning: Two characters meet and dislike each other on sight
Middle: Two characters get closer but something catastrophic intervenes
End: Despite all the odds (which are very significant) love is declared and they either live happily ever after or die beautifully and tragically together.
The title they were given was "How We Survived the Zombie Apocalypse"
Rules:
The more clichés the better
Characters must be from different fandoms
A luridly-described location is needed. The more adjectives the better
Verbs exist to be modified by adverbs
Never use the same synonym for ‘said’ more than once. Treat it like Just a Minute.
At least one major infodump required.
THIS was the end result - three groups of four (a few non-writers opted out) created the following in just under an hour. Names will not be named in order to protect the guilty.
Badfic 2015 - the Revenge of the Clichés
The start
Jack Harkness STD, Jane Rochester, née Eyre
In a lavishly decorated room festooned with silks, Jack Harkness was hanging decoratively from the large crystal rose gold chandelier. He is holding his sword, yes, that one, as he observes the mousy woman walk into the room cautiously. Her face pulls into a shocked grimace at the rumpled state of the bed, which looks like Tracey Emin’s installation with both identifiable and unidentifiable stain. She felt her eyes drawn inexorably to the ceiling and gasps gently in amazement. Jack smiles his patented come hither sexily smouldering smirk. He knows exactly when his 51st century pheromones crash into her.
Jane had been told that the work offered required women in missionary positions but now thinks she had not fully thought this through. “Oh my,” she ejaculated in disgust as she notices the naked man above her.
She has been reduced to these circumstances after her beloved older husband, Mr Edward Rochester, succumbed to an unidentified malaise. Unbeknownst to her, the cause of her husband’s gruesome, but suitable or late night screening, demise was dandling above her jauntily. Somewhere in his travels in time, the myriad of diseases swirling in Captain Jack Harkness, as he called himself now, had mutated into an unusual form of zombyism contracted only by sexual contract. Indeed, as Jack is so renowned and for a short period had become so fashionable after Queen Victoria had requested his patronage on Prince Albert’s death bed. The newspapers had gleefully reported Albert’s continued attendance on his Queen after he ‘recovered’ from his cold, although neither were ever the same again and were seen infrequently in public, or near the full moon. It is not clear to your narrator how Rochester contracted said aforementioned infirmity but unbeknownst to herself, our Jane is about to find out.
It was at this point that the naked Jack Harkness landed on her with an “I was only saying hello.”
In shock and awe, Jane discovers extra strength and Jack’s distinct lack of clothing. She thrusts him away with shock and awe before attempting to escape the lavishly decorated hell she has now found herself in.
“Get off,” she averred.
“I intend to,” Jack whispers seductively into her shell like ear. “And if you get lucky and play your cards right…”
“Oh my, gambling as well in this den of iniquity…” Jane feels faint as the reality of her position, under a naked man, so unlike her decent, loving husband (AN: Cheating unbeknownst to her.) becomes clear.
“You may actually learn to enjoy your new missionary work.” Jack purred seductively. It had worked with Albert, the Doctor, Shakespeare, Kitty Pride, Pitt the Younger, Simon Cowell, Claudius, John Hart, Cleopatra - who had incredibly curly hair for her time period and Elizabeth, the so called Virgin Queen to name but several.
Lost in ravelry, Jack doesn’t notice that the latest was attempting to escape, despite tripping lightly over Jack’s discarded overcoat….
The Middle
Merlin and Spike
“Spike! This way!” screamed Merlin loudly.
The bleach blonde vampire turned, his blue eyes blazing yellow, like a million sunflowers opening at once. “Shut your gob you wanker,” he ground out from between clenched teeth. Behind them a zombie turned the corner. Ahead of it it saw both with razor-sharp cheekbones, one dark, the other fair.
Spike gave a high-pitched female-sounding scream of distress. “Spike, what is wrong?” Merlin ejaculated.
“It’s a zombie. One of those monsters that were created by the meteorite when it fell onto New York and released the space virus modified by the nuclear reaction which occurred when the power station under the Empire State Building blew up because the air was contaminated by the flatulent workers eating a particularly vicious vindaloo last night.” He explained informatively.
“Can’t you use your magic?” said Spike interrogatively.
Suddenly another zombie fell from the roof of the building above them, scattering them both in all directions. It was the next day before they found each other again, but in the meantime a lot had happened. Merlin had worked out a spell and Spike had bitten a zombie which unfortunately turned into a zompire.
Tears poured down Merlin’s face, clouding his sapphire-blue eyes, he has spent the night huddled heartbroken inside an empty oil drum, he had only just realised how important the blond vampire was to him. That moment when blue eyes stared into blue across a zombie-crowded Times Square had meant the world to him.
Meanwhile Spike had been stood thinking about Merlin as he scoped out the landscape with his penetrating gaze. His cerulean orbs sparkled with unshed tears. “Where’s sodding King Arthur with his bloody great big sword when you need him?” he growled lowly, and then he remembered that he had heard Arthur and Merlin were in a relationship once and decided that he didn’t want him after all.
Wile he was thinking 37 zombies approached looking hungry and groaning alot. “Grrr!” they went. Spike took in an unneeded breath and screamed. “Look out!”
From far away Merlin heard the dulcet tones of the man he loved and released a breath he did not know he had been holding. Perhaps they had a future after all.
The End
Ianto Jones, Cathy Earnshaw
Meanwhile on a lush island off the coast of Costa Rica where the palm trees waved in the winds like the crowds on the shore waving farewell to the tragically fated Titanic. It was an island that suffered badly from hurricanes but still managed to attract a reasonable number of tourists despite the genetically modified dinosaurs who play no further part in this story but dinosaurs are cool this year.
Elmore Leonard passed by clutching his copy of ten rules of good fiction writing. On realising where he was he shot himself.
The sands naturally formed the shape of a 3D printer because chaos theory and it then shuddered and spewed out zombies disgustingly.
“Quick!” Ianto Jones cried to Cathy Earnshaw alarmedly. “Shoot them accurately through the head.”
“My!” Exclaimed Cathy. “What a big gun you’ve got.”
“This is just the sawn off version.” Ianto decaled lewdly. “You should see the fully erect version.”
He swept Cathy into his arms passionately. “Oh, Cathy. You’ve made me realise I’m not gay anymore. You are perfectly perfect in every way.”
He dropped to his knees, lifted her skirts and plunged his face into her Kate Bush.
“Wow, wow, wow, unbelievable” moaned Cathy extactically as she reached the wuthering heights of orgasm
“Oh, Cathy,” Ianto groaned. “You are so perfectly perfect I would love you even if you were a zombie.”
“Thank goodness for that,” Cathy cried, her eyes turning white and her skin fifty shades of leporous grey as she shamled towards him.
“Oh no!” Sobbed Ianto broken heartedly “Cathy I love you so much you can eat my face if you like.” Ianto wailed.
Cathy lurched towards him but was stopped in her steps by the arrival of another man.
“You can’t eat him raw,” Hannibal exclaimed. “He must be properly cooked first.”
Cathy paused and having imparted his adviced Hannibal rode across the alps on his elephant.
“Cathy, we can’t go on like this but I love you so much I can’t live without you.” Ianto ejaculated
Hand in hand they collapsed in an embraced, landing on the sandy 3D printer causing it to explode.
No more zombies would be created and the remaining ones on the island were happily eaten by the dinosaurs.
In a galaxy far, far, away two spirits camed together forever entwined as they formed the birth of a irridescent new star. Some would name the star Cathto others called it Ianty. In years to come a civil war would break out over which name was correct but Cathy and Ianto didn’t care because they were together.
And that, Dere Reederz, is why you should join us next year.