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Bingo
Night Light loves bingo. He likes to help put the numbers in their proper places, comfortable and safe.
When he was a younger, brighter stallion, he would let the numbers sprawl freely all over the pages of his textbooks, ladder up and down the monkey-bar margins like rowdy children. They’ve moved out of his head since then, and into an apartment complex downtown -- five floors, five rooms for each. Safer that way. Easier.
“Two fat ladies,” the caller intones, “88.”
“Good evening, ladies,” Night Light says, smiling, meeting them at the reception. They scowl at him with their jowls, flanks jiggling like lava lamps, and they wobble past him to the elevator. Fourth floor, flat three.
It’s been a busy night, tonight. Lot of folks coming home for the summer.
“1 and 7,” comes the caller. “17.”
17 comes to Night Light smiling, as if he’s always known him. Night Light recognises him -- he’s a tall, stout unicorn, mane falling easily about his handsome face.
They share a nod and a smile, linger for a while, a little too long because already there’s somepony else coming through the door:
“2 and 3. 23.”
17 looks back in surprise, laughs in delight. Night Light frowns, peers over 17’s shoulder, and sees a beautiful alicorn. Her neck is curved elegantly like a swan, her wings curling up and in towards her sides, a little like a heart. She flitters over to 17, and they nuzzle, and they kiss.
Night Light feels a pang of something, but he smiles at the couple anyway. He can’t help but admire the beauty of them, the clashing shapes of them that, nonetheless, his mind is already fitting together like jigsaw pieces--
“Ooh,” the caller giggles, “Naughty forty.”
Ponies next to him chuckle, his friend elbowing him softly in the side. Night Light frowns.
17 and 23 slide up the stairs (their rooms are next to each other’s, of course) but the image of them is drowned out by something else. Something that doesn’t fit in his house.
40 is a crooked old stallion lying in a bed built for two, curled up right against the edge. The space next to him is empty. Night Light can’t see his expression. Doesn’t want to see it. Reminds him too much of university, when the numbers grew too big for his head and they--
“Full house,” Night Light calls.
It takes a while for everypony to notice him. They were still chuckling at the 'naughty forty' line.
When the caller comes to check his apartment building, each room filled up and locked up tight, she looks at him. Night Light recognises her from somewhere.
“Hey, you,” she says, wrinkled face crinkling into a smile. “The birthday boy. Remind me, how old were you this year?”
Night Light smiles and he doesn’t think of the numbers. They’re safe in their rooms, sleeping. They don't bother him in there.
Safer that way. Easier.
When he was a younger, brighter stallion, he would let the numbers sprawl freely all over the pages of his textbooks, ladder up and down the monkey-bar margins like rowdy children. They’ve moved out of his head since then, and into an apartment complex downtown -- five floors, five rooms for each. Safer that way. Easier.
“Two fat ladies,” the caller intones, “88.”
“Good evening, ladies,” Night Light says, smiling, meeting them at the reception. They scowl at him with their jowls, flanks jiggling like lava lamps, and they wobble past him to the elevator. Fourth floor, flat three.
It’s been a busy night, tonight. Lot of folks coming home for the summer.
“1 and 7,” comes the caller. “17.”
17 comes to Night Light smiling, as if he’s always known him. Night Light recognises him -- he’s a tall, stout unicorn, mane falling easily about his handsome face.
They share a nod and a smile, linger for a while, a little too long because already there’s somepony else coming through the door:
“2 and 3. 23.”
17 looks back in surprise, laughs in delight. Night Light frowns, peers over 17’s shoulder, and sees a beautiful alicorn. Her neck is curved elegantly like a swan, her wings curling up and in towards her sides, a little like a heart. She flitters over to 17, and they nuzzle, and they kiss.
Night Light feels a pang of something, but he smiles at the couple anyway. He can’t help but admire the beauty of them, the clashing shapes of them that, nonetheless, his mind is already fitting together like jigsaw pieces--
“Ooh,” the caller giggles, “Naughty forty.”
Ponies next to him chuckle, his friend elbowing him softly in the side. Night Light frowns.
17 and 23 slide up the stairs (their rooms are next to each other’s, of course) but the image of them is drowned out by something else. Something that doesn’t fit in his house.
40 is a crooked old stallion lying in a bed built for two, curled up right against the edge. The space next to him is empty. Night Light can’t see his expression. Doesn’t want to see it. Reminds him too much of university, when the numbers grew too big for his head and they--
“Full house,” Night Light calls.
It takes a while for everypony to notice him. They were still chuckling at the 'naughty forty' line.
When the caller comes to check his apartment building, each room filled up and locked up tight, she looks at him. Night Light recognises her from somewhere.
“Hey, you,” she says, wrinkled face crinkling into a smile. “The birthday boy. Remind me, how old were you this year?”
Night Light smiles and he doesn’t think of the numbers. They’re safe in their rooms, sleeping. They don't bother him in there.
Safer that way. Easier.
This story took me too long to figure out. However, I am still confused – is Night Light actually at a bingo parlor/retirement home? 17 and 23 (Shining Armor and Cadance) going upstairs together seems to imply that he actually isn’t, and the bingo parlor is imaginary – he’s actually somewhere else. But if so, I’m not sure how much of what I’m seeing is real, and what is imaginary. Maybe that’s the point – Night Light doesn’t want to deal with the death of his wife/his wife leaving him – but I’m kind of left confused here.
What I think the story is actually going for is that he is at the bingo parlor, and none of the numbers are really there at all, they’re just reminders of ponies he feels like he is missing from his life, or ponies around him. He feels abandoned by 17 because she moved off with 23, and he doesn’t want to think about 40, being him, alone in bed.
This is a story steeped in emotion, but it could have done with a bit more clarity about what was really going on here.
What I think the story is actually going for is that he is at the bingo parlor, and none of the numbers are really there at all, they’re just reminders of ponies he feels like he is missing from his life, or ponies around him. He feels abandoned by 17 because she moved off with 23, and he doesn’t want to think about 40, being him, alone in bed.
This is a story steeped in emotion, but it could have done with a bit more clarity about what was really going on here.
I recognized the callouts from British Bingo as well as winning with Full House... but don't they use 9x3 cards instead of 5x5? Just a little detail, since knowing how to play the game isn't crucial for reading this.
Just a night of bingo for a mathematician with dementia? A life story told through synesthesia? Maybe both?
The more I re-read this, the more charming little details I discovered. I love how the beginning paints the picture of giving personalities and environments to his numbers, from jungle gyms to apartments. It's such a great way to establish some info about Night Life's past, while also effortlessly getting inside his head.
I like how he turns the numbers into ponies from his life. 88 as the fat ladies is from the British game,obviously they refer to Celestia and Luna! they're probably not important except to introduce the idea, and the relevant characters use new, original interpretations. And I like how they progress from one to another as part of a story, instead of being just a dull list. the Naughty Forty is a great follow-up to where his mind was going a few seconds earlier.
When I find really interesting song lyrics, usually they work on multiple levels: as a metaphorical expression of emotion but also a literal story taken at face-value. They say different things, but thematically work together and make each other deeper. Even if you don't fully understand one side, the other can help you catch the gist.
This is where I think the story could be improved. I think I understand the spiritual story here, the bingo numbers passing through his head. It's not just a sequence of visual comparisons for the sake of being clever, but carries a lot of conflicted emotions. However, I don't think I'm following the literal story here about the old man playing a Bingo game. Who's the old lady? Is she a stranger flirting with him? Is it his wife, implying his memory is decaying? I don't quite catch what that side of the story is trying to say, which also makes me feel like I don't fully understand the emotion expressed via the number-ponies. Ideally, the two layers should reinforce each other.
This is a very smart story, executed in such a unique way, with a delicate handling of little details. I very much enjoyed it, but just a little more work in accessibility could turn this into an awesome experience.
Just a night of bingo for a mathematician with dementia? A life story told through synesthesia? Maybe both?
The more I re-read this, the more charming little details I discovered. I love how the beginning paints the picture of giving personalities and environments to his numbers, from jungle gyms to apartments. It's such a great way to establish some info about Night Life's past, while also effortlessly getting inside his head.
I like how he turns the numbers into ponies from his life. 88 as the fat ladies is from the British game,
When I find really interesting song lyrics, usually they work on multiple levels: as a metaphorical expression of emotion but also a literal story taken at face-value. They say different things, but thematically work together and make each other deeper. Even if you don't fully understand one side, the other can help you catch the gist.
This is where I think the story could be improved. I think I understand the spiritual story here, the bingo numbers passing through his head. It's not just a sequence of visual comparisons for the sake of being clever, but carries a lot of conflicted emotions. However, I don't think I'm following the literal story here about the old man playing a Bingo game. Who's the old lady? Is she a stranger flirting with him? Is it his wife, implying his memory is decaying? I don't quite catch what that side of the story is trying to say, which also makes me feel like I don't fully understand the emotion expressed via the number-ponies. Ideally, the two layers should reinforce each other.
This is a very smart story, executed in such a unique way, with a delicate handling of little details. I very much enjoyed it, but just a little more work in accessibility could turn this into an awesome experience.
This was beautiful in a way, but in a bigger way, it did nothing but confuse me. Is this Twilight's dad? If so, why does it matter that it's him? I don't see any connection to his character.
To a degree, this requires the reader to know or be able to figure out British bingo slang, though most of them are explained (or have no explanation). I did like that he imagines the numbers to be little pictures, though I couldn't always visualize what they meant. 40, in particular, I can see a bit in an academic sense where the "crooked" comes in, but I still don't see the whole picture.
Anyway, what's his deal? Is this an aged version of Twilight's dad who's playing bingo, like old folks'll do, and not remembering much about his life? And I can't fathom what he's afraid of the numbers (and presumably ponies) bothering him about. The 23 I guess might be him remembering Twilight, but the remembrance has no effect on him.
Now, my best effort is that this actually is Twilight's dad, and his wife has been gone for some time. He's senile, and whether his wife's death caused that is an open question. But then I'm left wondering who 88 is, and it's curious that there's no reference to Twilight. Sure, he could have forgotten her, but I'm getting more notes of him repressing something rather than going senile and having this fantasy unintentionally. For that matter, I'm guessing there isn't actually a bingo game gong on at all, though that doesn't change anything important about the story. And the bit about the mathematician and university seemed like a throwaway thing. It does involve the numbers, but in a way that implies a lot of past that never gets developed, then ends up not meaning anything either.
Full disclosure: I probably wouldn't have come up with all that if I hadn't read >>TitaniumDragon but then I'm not someone who reads between the lines too well. This'll be a tough one to rank. I appreciate the craft that went into it, but understanding a story is kind of important in deciding how it stacks up to the rest.
To a degree, this requires the reader to know or be able to figure out British bingo slang, though most of them are explained (or have no explanation). I did like that he imagines the numbers to be little pictures, though I couldn't always visualize what they meant. 40, in particular, I can see a bit in an academic sense where the "crooked" comes in, but I still don't see the whole picture.
Anyway, what's his deal? Is this an aged version of Twilight's dad who's playing bingo, like old folks'll do, and not remembering much about his life? And I can't fathom what he's afraid of the numbers (and presumably ponies) bothering him about. The 23 I guess might be him remembering Twilight, but the remembrance has no effect on him.
Now, my best effort is that this actually is Twilight's dad, and his wife has been gone for some time. He's senile, and whether his wife's death caused that is an open question. But then I'm left wondering who 88 is, and it's curious that there's no reference to Twilight. Sure, he could have forgotten her, but I'm getting more notes of him repressing something rather than going senile and having this fantasy unintentionally. For that matter, I'm guessing there isn't actually a bingo game gong on at all, though that doesn't change anything important about the story. And the bit about the mathematician and university seemed like a throwaway thing. It does involve the numbers, but in a way that implies a lot of past that never gets developed, then ends up not meaning anything either.
Full disclosure: I probably wouldn't have come up with all that if I hadn't read >>TitaniumDragon but then I'm not someone who reads between the lines too well. This'll be a tough one to rank. I appreciate the craft that went into it, but understanding a story is kind of important in deciding how it stacks up to the rest.
A novel conceit, with the bit of synesthesia-like images intertwined with numbers. Unfortunately, it felt like it distanced me from Night Light, rather than making me empathize, so the story felt a bit flat for me. The idea could definitely be expounded upon and would probably come off stronger if given a longer form (a la "A Beautiful Mind.")
Genre: Senility
Thoughts: I'm guessing the perspective character (and the number 40) is indeed an older Night Light. I would further guess that 88 is the Princesses, 17 is Shining Armor, 23 is a confused amalgamation of Twilight Sparkle and Cadance, and the caller is Twilight Velvet. These are Night Light's waning days, and his family is trying to reach out to him as best they can, but he's too far gone. (EDIT: I would further guess that there's some kind of occasion going on that brings the kids home to visit; likely Night Light's birthday, but possibly some other kind of holiday.)
That's sad, and the whole composition here is feelsy and just shy of poignant. I feel like it's all too much guesswork to really be sure what's going on, but it's awfully darn close to coming together.
Tier: Almost There
Thoughts: I'm guessing the perspective character (and the number 40) is indeed an older Night Light. I would further guess that 88 is the Princesses, 17 is Shining Armor, 23 is a confused amalgamation of Twilight Sparkle and Cadance, and the caller is Twilight Velvet. These are Night Light's waning days, and his family is trying to reach out to him as best they can, but he's too far gone. (EDIT: I would further guess that there's some kind of occasion going on that brings the kids home to visit; likely Night Light's birthday, but possibly some other kind of holiday.)
That's sad, and the whole composition here is feelsy and just shy of poignant. I feel like it's all too much guesswork to really be sure what's going on, but it's awfully darn close to coming together.
Tier: Almost There