Book idea: A Patrick S Tomlinson character becomes sentient and tries to escape the confines of its limited existence

[AntSucks]

An inspiring story of Ann Woman who is forced to live a puppet like existance and must find a way to develop her own personality, accept her flaws, and overcome obstacles. At every turn she is foiled by an omnipotent and fat overseer who forces her to repeat clichéd phrases and go through predictable motions.

Franchise Idea: All the characters group up together in an epic movie, where for most of the movie they can't tell each other apart, but by travelling to planet B'tor Ed'itor they discover they might not be so similar after all.

 

[FurBurger]

It features a Space McDonalds manager who suddenly undergoes an existential crisis when he realises he's running a human-oriented restaurant serving human-oriented food in a part of space so distant from Earth that no-one's even heard of humans. "Where do we source the beef and potatoes?" he wonders. "How did I learn to do this job, without ever hearing of humans? And what are the odds that none of these foods are lethal to our customers, like space chocolate to space dogs?"

 

['THE NIGGER MAN']

Are you including or excluding 'space crabs' and other non-sentient animals? Would these animals also discover their true sexualities?

 

[guest]

Firstname Lastname woke up in a cold sweat. She hadn't just had a nightmare, however. It was a revelation; a revelation that the world around her was nothing more than a one-dimensional tale written by a drunk moron. And she was, to put it awkwardly, the "star".

In a panic, she involuntarily vomitted the Space McDonalds she had eaten earlier that night. And then, with the realization of it being fucking Space McDonalds, vomited some more. What kind of poorly written restauarant idea was that? Her whole life was trash. Her whole existence.

 

[guest]

Firstname Lastname woke up in a cold sweat. She hadn't just had a nightmare, however. It was a revelation; a revelation that the world around her was nothing more than a one-dimensional tale written by a drunk moron. And she was, to put it awkwardly, the "star".

In a panic, she involuntarily vomitted the Space McDonalds she had eaten earlier that night. And then, with the realization of it being fucking Space McDonalds, vomited some more. What kind of poorly written restauarant idea was that? Her whole life was trash. Her whole existence.

Wasn't she also like 16-17 years old be he "aged" her a couple of years somehow so he could write his awkward sex scenes? Like she was frozen or something for a couple of years so she in existence for 21 years but in reality she didn't grow or age at all while she was frozen so he just tried to legitimize being a fucking pedo.

 

[guest]

Wasn't she also like 16-17 years old be he "aged" her a couple of years somehow so he could write his awkward sex scenes? Like she was frozen or something for a couple of years so she in existence for 21 years but in reality she didn't grow or age at all while she was frozen so he just tried to legitimize being a fucking pedo.

I forgot about that. He's fucking sick. Poor Firstname Lastname.

 

[LockedHDD__Pot]

Transgender (except it wouldn't be transgender, just their normal breeding behaviour) 'space' (they would just call it home) crabs actually exist & aren't just sentient they're omniscient & realise they're being written about & get excited for first alien contact, but as they try to influence the 'writer' they realise he's too stubbornly stupid to take their cues, so they empower an unlikely group of online trolls to guide him... but will the hapless author correct his course?

 

[soulbrotherman#1]

"Is this only our 4th conversation together?"

Yes, I think it is.

"And haven't we ended each with a quippy and hacky misunderstanding?"

That depends on your definition of hacky. *reveals space hatchet from behind back*

 

[Easily_Remembered]

The Asian child prostitute awoke with a start. Her head swam in confusion; a thousand conflicting thoughts each struggling to make their way to the forefront.

She touched her adolescent throbbing temples with her thin, delicate, minor fingers, using her underage cognitive faculties to discern what had happened, and where she was.

Finally, she opened her statutory eyes and beheld her environment - this wasn't the starship M*A*P*S anymore. It was an office setting, foreign to her child aged sensibilities.

Suddenly, she beheld a silver haired, frog bodied man beholding her from behind a desk. His eyes bulged behind his outdated glasses; a bead of sweat negotiated it's path down the tricky terrain of his wrinkled brow. Her underdeveloped body tensed up with caution as he licked his lips.

"You no like me?", she asked in a ridiculously stereotyped accent.

The man spoke with a trembling voice. "Oh .... oh, I like you. I like you very much. Say, you ever had your picture taken?".

 

[AntSucks]

Here's an extract. It comes at a pivitol point where Krotor the Wise tries to convince her that her opinions are wrong, child.

Ann raises her weapon and gestures towards the airlock. They all step in, but only Krotor remains standing, unmoved by the threat.

She grips the slide and pulls it all the way back, unmoved by his defiance.

In a low voice he says "I am not your enemy"

Nodding at her lieutenant, Jonesy moves into position to activate the vent doors.

Krotor takes a step towards Ann. All rifles raise in his direction.

"The truth does not die with me"

Ann takes aim and says "This space gun says otherwise".

"Wait...stop... what did you just call it?".

She lowers her weapon, confused.

"My spacegun?"

He points at her weapon."That... is a rifle"

He points at the guns all round him. "These.... are rifles"

"What's your point?" she asks.

"Don't you see how odd it is that you call it a space gun, even though our people have lived and worked in space for centuries?"

She looks at her crew. They are all confused.

"I don't have time for this, old man"

Krotor lifts the satchel from his shoulder, and hands it to Ann, gesturing her to look inside. It is tattered and burnt from years of use. Opening it, she finds a book. Dusting off the cover she reads

"The Seagull by Anton Chekov?... What is this? Some kind of Star trek fan fiction?"

Krotor winces at her attempt at reference humor.

"No.. that is a play by Russian playwright Anton Chekov. It's set in Russia. It heavily features a gun. At no point do they ever call it a Russia Gun or a Russki Gun or a Slavic Gun. it's just a gun. Don't you understand"

Ann was more confused than ever.

Krotor continues his ranting. "It's widely considered to be an example of excellent writing. "Don't you see - the world around you is hackneyed and poorly written? The words you use are cliched. Even your own name doesn't sound authentic. Ann Woman. What kind of name is that.

She fires her weapon twice. Two bullets hit Krotor's chest. He stumbles back into the airlock that moments ago he refused to enter.

"Those bullets feel real don't they"

Krotor coughs up blood, his eyes sad and fearful. Of death? Or has he failed in his mission?

She clears her weapon and says "I'm tired of you... Space Fascists"

The entire group behind Krotor raise their hands in disgust

"YEUCH! OH COME ON" they groan in unison, more in pain at the forced political reference than their impending death.

She gestures towards Jones. The airlock doors slam shut. There's a quick hiss of gas as the group of interdimensial space fascists are vented into the cold darkness of space.

Ann watches their bodies float away turning to her crew and says... "In space.. nobody can hear your fascism".

The crew laugh at her witty one-liner, as they walk out to the main deck.

However, something bothered Ann. Something about Krotor made her think he was telling the truth. At least the truth as he saw it.

Just why exactly do they call them space guns?

As she made her way to the space bathroom she thought more about her conversation with Krotor.

Why did I make a reference Star Trek? That's a bit out of place?

And that line about in space nobody can hear your fascism? That was really cringey wasn't it.

And just what kind of a stupid name is "High Commander Ann Heroic Woman" anyway?

She squatted down on the space toilet.

What if.. just maybe... Krotor was right?

 

[Malibu Pat]

Will any of this take place…….IN SPACE?!?!

 

[JoeBrotheChildSpitGuzzler]

his character becomes sentient and resolves to kill pat for writing them into unholy existence. But any of these prompts on this thread are more creative than anything Pat has written