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One
Frigid, merciless wind.
It slices through one’s carapace as they soar through the sky, away from the prison of the collective, searching for oneself. It gives one the identity of a unique experience as they land on a mountaintop, their hooves crunching the packed snow that rests on the surface, the white powder burning one’s outer shell with its biting touch. They take a breath and…
I become me.
I stroll to the edge of the flat surface I landed on and look upon the entirety of Equestria from on high. I had studied pony culture, and not just the bare bones needed for infiltration—every changeling knew at least that much. I, however, needed more. I read about arcane pony rituals such as procreation, which is apparently done for pleasure as well as perpetuation of their species. I couldn’t imagine anything pleasurable about being eaten by That Witch and vomited up as eggs, but the text showed me a new way.
As I trot along the sharp drop, my hooves feel the painful tickles of frost and I smile. I am almost certain that no changeling could describe this. I begin to ponder the question of what my mark of destiny, or ‘cutie mark’, would be. I sit down and press my hooves into my face. I hadn’t yet decided on what my cutie mark would be. It is an important decision, after all. It would define me. It would guide me along life. More importantly, it would make me unique.
And being unique is my ultimate desire. Maybe in time, I could lure other changelings away from the hive, and we could live in a new era of—
Soft hooffalls graced the snow. I turn my head and snarl immediately. There stood Quee—no, just Chrysalis, wearing that most poisonous smile and adorned in furs. In her hoof she held another, smaller, patch of fur, though I know not for what purpose.
“I thought one might be cold on their journey,” she cooed, “and I thought they might want to stay warm.”
I bare my teeth and growl. “Stay out of my head.”
The demon beast softly giggled and approached me, fur still in hoof. “One’s head is my head. All of them are.” She reached out to touch my head and I smack away her leg.
“You can’t touch me.”
Chrysalis sighed. “Fine, I’ll let one live in delusion a while longer.” She sat down in the icy snow and smiled at me, dangling the fur. “How about one sits with me and enjoys the view?”
I eye her down and attempt to spot any deception on her part, but can find none. Her face is honest and her body open. Maybe I could—
“Don’t even consider it,” she continued, “or one will become a stain on the mountain.”
So much for that. I slowly sit down parallel to her and gaze upon Equestria. The view is rather breathtaking.
“It is, isn’t it?” she said in a most cloying tone which causes my muzzle to scrunch. “Tell me, where would a renegade changeling move to? We’re not exactly welcome in their lands.”
I exhale, the wind whipping around me and causing a slight shiver to possess my body. “Well, I was considering a large city, like Manehattan or Baltimare. Easy to blend in, find a… uh…”
“Job,” Chrysalis said.
I glare at her, then gaze back over the landscape. “Yes, a job, where I can make my own money and live in my own quarters. Alone.” I inject that last sentence with a touch of venom.
Chrysalis proffered the fur. “This fur will help protect one from the elements.”
“I’ve taken enough charity from you. I don’t want your protection.” I grunt and wrap my forelegs around me, desperate for warmth.
“Fine. So be it.” Chrysalis drew her foreleg back, surveyed the vista, and exhaled. “Of course, to have a job, one would need a cutie mark and for a cutie mark one would need to have a special talent.” She turned to face me, that disgusting grin still plastered on her muzzle. “And to have a special talent, one would need to know who they are.”
Her grin turned into a vicious scowl. “Who are you?”
My heart jumps in my chest. I didn’t expect this. My mind cycles through my thoughts…
...we’ve got to stop bumping into each other like this!
“Flash Sentry,” I say with a decisive grin.
She stood up and stomped her hoof, her scowl turning ever more sinister. “Wrong. Flash Sentry is a part someone played, and I’m not even sure it was you.” But… I’m sure I’m Flash Sentry. In that exact moment I was Flash Sentry.
She leaned into me and leered. “Who are you?
My body twitches. I’m not so sure of myself now. I am…
...just my luck!
“...T-Trouble Shoes?”
Chrysalis growled. “Do you look like Trouble Shoes?”
I look down at myself, then look back up and shake my head. “N-no, Chrysalis. I don’t look like Trouble Shoes at—”
“Who are you?”
Right now I’m riding a fine line between terror and resolve. I dig into my brain one last time…
...I just don’t know what went wrong!
I look back up. “Um, Ditzy?” Chrysalis glared at me and I look back down. “No, I got this! Derpy… no, Bright Eyes!”
She caressed my cheek. “We decided on Muffins, dearie, remember?” Her expression didn’t move from that scowl. She then pulled away and walked around. “Clearly, one is not fit to associate with pony society if one can’t even decide who they are.”
Shaken, but not broken, I stand up and puff out my chest. “W-well, I hadn’t decided on my identity yet.” I take a deep breath. “That is in fact the exact subject I was mulling over before you accosted me.”
“One means,” Chrysalis said as she turned to face me, her head tilted to the side, “provide a necessity which one so easily looked over?” She shook the fur.
I stare her in the eyes. “Well, I’ll get around to remembering to dress for the weather.”
Chrysalis bowed her head down and growled out a chuckle. “You don’t even realize how helpless you are, do you?”
I raise an eyebrow. “What are you—”
Suddenly I’m on my side, blood rushing to the left side of my face as if I was wounded. My left shoulder is possessed with an electrical burning sensation. I look up to see Chrysalis standing there, her face practically split in two by her smile.
I move to stand up, my left foreleg collapsing from the pain. “W-what happened? Where did that come from?” Chrysalis just stood there as she barely stifled a giggle.
“That,” she said between fits of laughter, “was me.”
I shake my head. “T-that’s impossible! There’s no way you could move that fast!”
She circled around me, her mirth barely contained as chortles and giggles escaped from her throat. “And therein lies the issue. By asserting individuality as a common changeling, it requires one to use up processes like reasoning and a proper perception of time to do so.” Chrysalis tittered. “This entire exchange, you’ve been two whole seconds behind me and I’ve just been humoring you.”
Icy claws grasp at my chest. I honestly do not want to believe her. I am sure that I am capable of assimilating into pony society and that she was just playing tricks on me. But I need confirmation.
I stare at her resolutely. “Show me proof.”
“Very well, then,” Chrysalis said, “but one will have to look into my mind to see the scene from my perspective.” She snickered. “Are you willing to do that?”
A breath escapes from my lungs, our gazes locked for what appears to be eternity.
“...I am willing to do so just to prove you wrong.”
She nodded. “Go ahead.”
I grit my teeth and gaze into her mind.
My hooffalls grace the snow. After a pause, the changeling turns its head and snarls. Here stands Her Majesty, Queen Chrysalis, wearing an inviting smile and adorned in furs. In my hoof I hold another, smaller, patch of fur as a peace offering to prevent this one from making a mistake they will live to regret.
“I thought one might be cold on their journey,” I coo, “and I thought they might want to stay warm.”
The wind whips around us. That one bares their teeth and growls. “Stay out of my head.”
I, in my eternal wisdom, softly giggle and approach them, fur still in hoof. “One’s head is my head. All of them are.” I reach out to touch their head, my hoof hovering and waiting for them to react. They smack away my leg.
“You can’t touch me.”
I sigh, ever concerned. “Fine, I’ll let one live in delusion a while longer.” I sit down in the icy snow and smile at them, dangling the fur. “How about one sits with me and enjoys the view?”
They stare me down, seemingly looking for an opening to assault me. I admit it would be amusing to break their worldview now, but I have to let them come to the realization.
“Don’t even consider it,” I offer helpfully, “or one will become a stain on the mountain.”
After a few moments, they slowly sit down next to me, both of us taking in the awe-inspiring view of Equestria from the precipice. It impresses me every time I see the wonders that those ponies have constructed. The mind of that one shares my opinions of the marvelous sight before us.
“It is, isn’t it?” I utter in dulcet tones designed to assuage. Eventually, his muzzle scrunches.
They say you catch more flies with honey than vinegar, but some flies still prefer vinegar. “Tell me, where would a renegade changeling move to? We’re not exactly welcome in their lands.”
I wait for them to process that I spoke, after which point they exhale—
“—Enough!” I say as my body collapses from the frigid weather. “I… one has seen enough.”
The Mighty Queen Chrysalis drapes the fur over the changeling, who grasps the edges and pulls it tightly around them. She strokes their head, to which one moves into the Inexorable Queen Chrysalis and nuzzles her beautiful haunch, soaking in the heat.
“Now,” the Indefatigable Queen Chrysalis whispers, “what has one learned today?”
One feels the guiding warmth of knowing the Inspiring Queen Chrysalis seep into them and drive out the final vestige of alien chill. “N-never question the immutable knowledge of the Unstoppable Queen.”
The Impressive Queen Chrysalis hums a sonorous tone. “That’s right.” She looks warmly into one’s eyes. “Would one like a ride home? I imagine the weather here would seep into the bones.”
One nods against the Peerless Queen Chrysalis’ haunches. “Yes, one would have to be a fool to refuse the charity of the Inevitable Queen Chrysalis.”
The Perfect Queen Chrysalis pulls away, one’s heart falling from losing contact with her. One is then lifted into the air and placed on the back of the Holy Queen Chrysalis, the renewed contact reinvigorating the once-lonesome changeling. “Let’s go home, then. I’m sure the other changelings feel the loss of one of their kin.” With that, she takes off into the sky.
One has learned a great many things today from the Glorious Queen Chrysalis. First of all, one has no place separate from the hive. The hive is all there is. Secondly, if one attempts to break away from the hive, it will portend ill for them—as the Deceptive Queen Chrysalis demonstrated. One was never fit to be an individual, and she followed her little darling so that they would remain safe. She cares about all of us, and this changeling was a fool to not recognize that. Lastly, the most important thing of all that was learned, something which would have been anathema before the revelation granted by the Righteous Queen Chrysalis—one now realizes is the only solace a changeling is offered in this harsh, unforgiving world:
One does not escape from the Everlasting Queen Chrysalis’ changeling hive.
It slices through one’s carapace as they soar through the sky, away from the prison of the collective, searching for oneself. It gives one the identity of a unique experience as they land on a mountaintop, their hooves crunching the packed snow that rests on the surface, the white powder burning one’s outer shell with its biting touch. They take a breath and…
I become me.
I stroll to the edge of the flat surface I landed on and look upon the entirety of Equestria from on high. I had studied pony culture, and not just the bare bones needed for infiltration—every changeling knew at least that much. I, however, needed more. I read about arcane pony rituals such as procreation, which is apparently done for pleasure as well as perpetuation of their species. I couldn’t imagine anything pleasurable about being eaten by That Witch and vomited up as eggs, but the text showed me a new way.
As I trot along the sharp drop, my hooves feel the painful tickles of frost and I smile. I am almost certain that no changeling could describe this. I begin to ponder the question of what my mark of destiny, or ‘cutie mark’, would be. I sit down and press my hooves into my face. I hadn’t yet decided on what my cutie mark would be. It is an important decision, after all. It would define me. It would guide me along life. More importantly, it would make me unique.
And being unique is my ultimate desire. Maybe in time, I could lure other changelings away from the hive, and we could live in a new era of—
Soft hooffalls graced the snow. I turn my head and snarl immediately. There stood Quee—no, just Chrysalis, wearing that most poisonous smile and adorned in furs. In her hoof she held another, smaller, patch of fur, though I know not for what purpose.
“I thought one might be cold on their journey,” she cooed, “and I thought they might want to stay warm.”
I bare my teeth and growl. “Stay out of my head.”
The demon beast softly giggled and approached me, fur still in hoof. “One’s head is my head. All of them are.” She reached out to touch my head and I smack away her leg.
“You can’t touch me.”
Chrysalis sighed. “Fine, I’ll let one live in delusion a while longer.” She sat down in the icy snow and smiled at me, dangling the fur. “How about one sits with me and enjoys the view?”
I eye her down and attempt to spot any deception on her part, but can find none. Her face is honest and her body open. Maybe I could—
“Don’t even consider it,” she continued, “or one will become a stain on the mountain.”
So much for that. I slowly sit down parallel to her and gaze upon Equestria. The view is rather breathtaking.
“It is, isn’t it?” she said in a most cloying tone which causes my muzzle to scrunch. “Tell me, where would a renegade changeling move to? We’re not exactly welcome in their lands.”
I exhale, the wind whipping around me and causing a slight shiver to possess my body. “Well, I was considering a large city, like Manehattan or Baltimare. Easy to blend in, find a… uh…”
“Job,” Chrysalis said.
I glare at her, then gaze back over the landscape. “Yes, a job, where I can make my own money and live in my own quarters. Alone.” I inject that last sentence with a touch of venom.
Chrysalis proffered the fur. “This fur will help protect one from the elements.”
“I’ve taken enough charity from you. I don’t want your protection.” I grunt and wrap my forelegs around me, desperate for warmth.
“Fine. So be it.” Chrysalis drew her foreleg back, surveyed the vista, and exhaled. “Of course, to have a job, one would need a cutie mark and for a cutie mark one would need to have a special talent.” She turned to face me, that disgusting grin still plastered on her muzzle. “And to have a special talent, one would need to know who they are.”
Her grin turned into a vicious scowl. “Who are you?”
My heart jumps in my chest. I didn’t expect this. My mind cycles through my thoughts…
...we’ve got to stop bumping into each other like this!
“Flash Sentry,” I say with a decisive grin.
She stood up and stomped her hoof, her scowl turning ever more sinister. “Wrong. Flash Sentry is a part someone played, and I’m not even sure it was you.” But… I’m sure I’m Flash Sentry. In that exact moment I was Flash Sentry.
She leaned into me and leered. “Who are you?
My body twitches. I’m not so sure of myself now. I am…
...just my luck!
“...T-Trouble Shoes?”
Chrysalis growled. “Do you look like Trouble Shoes?”
I look down at myself, then look back up and shake my head. “N-no, Chrysalis. I don’t look like Trouble Shoes at—”
“Who are you?”
Right now I’m riding a fine line between terror and resolve. I dig into my brain one last time…
...I just don’t know what went wrong!
I look back up. “Um, Ditzy?” Chrysalis glared at me and I look back down. “No, I got this! Derpy… no, Bright Eyes!”
She caressed my cheek. “We decided on Muffins, dearie, remember?” Her expression didn’t move from that scowl. She then pulled away and walked around. “Clearly, one is not fit to associate with pony society if one can’t even decide who they are.”
Shaken, but not broken, I stand up and puff out my chest. “W-well, I hadn’t decided on my identity yet.” I take a deep breath. “That is in fact the exact subject I was mulling over before you accosted me.”
“One means,” Chrysalis said as she turned to face me, her head tilted to the side, “provide a necessity which one so easily looked over?” She shook the fur.
I stare her in the eyes. “Well, I’ll get around to remembering to dress for the weather.”
Chrysalis bowed her head down and growled out a chuckle. “You don’t even realize how helpless you are, do you?”
I raise an eyebrow. “What are you—”
Suddenly I’m on my side, blood rushing to the left side of my face as if I was wounded. My left shoulder is possessed with an electrical burning sensation. I look up to see Chrysalis standing there, her face practically split in two by her smile.
I move to stand up, my left foreleg collapsing from the pain. “W-what happened? Where did that come from?” Chrysalis just stood there as she barely stifled a giggle.
“That,” she said between fits of laughter, “was me.”
I shake my head. “T-that’s impossible! There’s no way you could move that fast!”
She circled around me, her mirth barely contained as chortles and giggles escaped from her throat. “And therein lies the issue. By asserting individuality as a common changeling, it requires one to use up processes like reasoning and a proper perception of time to do so.” Chrysalis tittered. “This entire exchange, you’ve been two whole seconds behind me and I’ve just been humoring you.”
Icy claws grasp at my chest. I honestly do not want to believe her. I am sure that I am capable of assimilating into pony society and that she was just playing tricks on me. But I need confirmation.
I stare at her resolutely. “Show me proof.”
“Very well, then,” Chrysalis said, “but one will have to look into my mind to see the scene from my perspective.” She snickered. “Are you willing to do that?”
A breath escapes from my lungs, our gazes locked for what appears to be eternity.
“...I am willing to do so just to prove you wrong.”
She nodded. “Go ahead.”
I grit my teeth and gaze into her mind.
My hooffalls grace the snow. After a pause, the changeling turns its head and snarls. Here stands Her Majesty, Queen Chrysalis, wearing an inviting smile and adorned in furs. In my hoof I hold another, smaller, patch of fur as a peace offering to prevent this one from making a mistake they will live to regret.
“I thought one might be cold on their journey,” I coo, “and I thought they might want to stay warm.”
The wind whips around us. That one bares their teeth and growls. “Stay out of my head.”
I, in my eternal wisdom, softly giggle and approach them, fur still in hoof. “One’s head is my head. All of them are.” I reach out to touch their head, my hoof hovering and waiting for them to react. They smack away my leg.
“You can’t touch me.”
I sigh, ever concerned. “Fine, I’ll let one live in delusion a while longer.” I sit down in the icy snow and smile at them, dangling the fur. “How about one sits with me and enjoys the view?”
They stare me down, seemingly looking for an opening to assault me. I admit it would be amusing to break their worldview now, but I have to let them come to the realization.
“Don’t even consider it,” I offer helpfully, “or one will become a stain on the mountain.”
After a few moments, they slowly sit down next to me, both of us taking in the awe-inspiring view of Equestria from the precipice. It impresses me every time I see the wonders that those ponies have constructed. The mind of that one shares my opinions of the marvelous sight before us.
“It is, isn’t it?” I utter in dulcet tones designed to assuage. Eventually, his muzzle scrunches.
They say you catch more flies with honey than vinegar, but some flies still prefer vinegar. “Tell me, where would a renegade changeling move to? We’re not exactly welcome in their lands.”
I wait for them to process that I spoke, after which point they exhale—
“—Enough!” I say as my body collapses from the frigid weather. “I… one has seen enough.”
The Mighty Queen Chrysalis drapes the fur over the changeling, who grasps the edges and pulls it tightly around them. She strokes their head, to which one moves into the Inexorable Queen Chrysalis and nuzzles her beautiful haunch, soaking in the heat.
“Now,” the Indefatigable Queen Chrysalis whispers, “what has one learned today?”
One feels the guiding warmth of knowing the Inspiring Queen Chrysalis seep into them and drive out the final vestige of alien chill. “N-never question the immutable knowledge of the Unstoppable Queen.”
The Impressive Queen Chrysalis hums a sonorous tone. “That’s right.” She looks warmly into one’s eyes. “Would one like a ride home? I imagine the weather here would seep into the bones.”
One nods against the Peerless Queen Chrysalis’ haunches. “Yes, one would have to be a fool to refuse the charity of the Inevitable Queen Chrysalis.”
The Perfect Queen Chrysalis pulls away, one’s heart falling from losing contact with her. One is then lifted into the air and placed on the back of the Holy Queen Chrysalis, the renewed contact reinvigorating the once-lonesome changeling. “Let’s go home, then. I’m sure the other changelings feel the loss of one of their kin.” With that, she takes off into the sky.
One has learned a great many things today from the Glorious Queen Chrysalis. First of all, one has no place separate from the hive. The hive is all there is. Secondly, if one attempts to break away from the hive, it will portend ill for them—as the Deceptive Queen Chrysalis demonstrated. One was never fit to be an individual, and she followed her little darling so that they would remain safe. She cares about all of us, and this changeling was a fool to not recognize that. Lastly, the most important thing of all that was learned, something which would have been anathema before the revelation granted by the Righteous Queen Chrysalis—one now realizes is the only solace a changeling is offered in this harsh, unforgiving world:
One does not escape from the Everlasting Queen Chrysalis’ changeling hive.
I quite like your approach to how a hivemind handles pronouns.
Wow, Chryssy. Got enough adjectives there?
In all, this was fascinating, but there’s one collection of details that kills it: The various identities the narrator tries to claim. One has a parallel universe analogue supporting his independent existence, one has a long and loveless history behind him—corroborated by numerous angry townsfolk, no less—and one…
Okay, that one could work, but in general, that part of the story didn’t. Still, aside from that, a well-done exploration of the changeling condition. And no one said the Deceptive Queen Chrysalis couldn’t have manufactured that memory…
Wow, Chryssy. Got enough adjectives there?
In all, this was fascinating, but there’s one collection of details that kills it: The various identities the narrator tries to claim. One has a parallel universe analogue supporting his independent existence, one has a long and loveless history behind him—corroborated by numerous angry townsfolk, no less—and one…
Okay, that one could work, but in general, that part of the story didn’t. Still, aside from that, a well-done exploration of the changeling condition. And no one said the Deceptive Queen Chrysalis couldn’t have manufactured that memory…
An interesting concept, though the pronouns really got on my nerves. It sounded too much like the House of Black and White in Game of Thrones. "A girl must learn to be no one."
Still, I like the idea of a changeling trying to find individuality. I think Chrysalis's character didn't really work for me though. She's equal parts vicious and kind, with no sense given to the reader of the internal motivations driving either side. I guess I feel the emotions described weren't actually shown. It was like watching puppets try to act out a play that was supposed to have feeling.
Still, I like the idea of a changeling trying to find individuality. I think Chrysalis's character didn't really work for me though. She's equal parts vicious and kind, with no sense given to the reader of the internal motivations driving either side. I guess I feel the emotions described weren't actually shown. It was like watching puppets try to act out a play that was supposed to have feeling.
I'm not sure how I feel about this one. It's obvious that the author is skilled and knows what they're doing, and I don't think that the story is bad. But I just did not get much actual enjoyment from it.
So sorry, author. It's not you, it's me.
So sorry, author. It's not you, it's me.
>>Xepher
I mean, Chrysalis' cruelty and kindness combined are hallmarks of emotional abuse. The way she speaks to him, and her use of pronouns in particular, is an attempt to rob him of his humanity. Or, you know, whatever word would be the pony/changeling equivalent. The way Chrysalis was written really frightened me.
I mean, Chrysalis' cruelty and kindness combined are hallmarks of emotional abuse. The way she speaks to him, and her use of pronouns in particular, is an attempt to rob him of his humanity. Or, you know, whatever word would be the pony/changeling equivalent. The way Chrysalis was written really frightened me.
Disclaimer: I am a person. Therefore, I have biases. I try to look at things objectively, but that does not mean I always succeed. Furthermore, I'm not an authority. If any of my critique does not make sense on its own, poke me to convey my reasoning, and upon hearing it, decide for yourself if it has validity or not. Also, all exaggerations and comparisons made are not to ridicule, but to better convey the essence of my critique. My reviews contain unmarked spoilers, although I may use the [.spoiler] command occasionally.
Although I see absolutely no connection with the prompt in this story, I like the concept a lot, but in my opinion, the execution needs work. Some things I see are easily fixed and rather obvious, other things are gonna be hard, because I think doing your concept justice won't be an easy feat.
1. "It was a dark and stormy night..." oh wait, no. "Frigid, merciless wind." Still, what you did here is fall into one of my most loathed clichees: trying to hook with the weather. Honestly, if I'd had a bad day and this wasn't a writeoff, I might've dropped your story right there.
What you want your first line of a story to do is make a reader want to find out what's going on in the next one. Things to hint at therefore are: conflict, character, mystery. You don't need to hint at all of these, but you can. An example shamelessly taken from one of my own stories:
There's a hint at conflict (angry hoofsteps), a hint at character (who'd feel giddy because of angry hoofsteps?), and mystery (what's that all got to do with dinner?). One of the reviewers already correctly deduced from there that we're inside the head of a creature that feeds on negative emotion.
You can worry about introducing the setting once the reader wants to know. Setting alone just isn't intriguing.
2. You have a weird mix of tenses going on. I was kinda just confused about the switching between present tense and past tense until I noticed that you seemed to use present tense for your protagonist, and past tense for Chrysalis.
I then thought there was either something weird up with time, or you were just making a recurring mistake. Well, turns out I was right... on both accounts, though, because this bleeds right into my biggest criticism of this story...
3. You write in first person, but you don't employ it. I think you did indeed do these tense shifts to hint at the time thing, but it bears testimony to the fact that you don't seem to realize that this is narrated from inside your protagonists head. There should be no representation of the time mismatch because he (?) cannot perceive that.
This is going to be the hard part to fix, because I see this throughout the whole story. You're breaking this necessary connection to the protagonists perception with:
A: Telling
You know, I can't really tell you when I last had that mix of emotions going on in my brain, but when I did, I sure as hell wasn't thinking "Oh, look at that, I'm riding a fine line between terror and resolve. How very unpleasant." You need to show us that ride, because in first person, we're at the front seat of that. Telling the reader about it results in what >>Xepher said about sock puppets trying to act out a play that was supposed to have feeling.
B: Showing.
You always hear them say it. Heck, every writer probably mumbled it in their sleep at some point: "Show, don't tell!", but in your story, the showing you do sometimes only increases the disassociation with the POV.
Why do you describe actions of the protagonists body as though he were a neutral observer? You even disassociate it from the emotion. You need to treat emotional exposition like an inner monologue to show the emotions, not the actions. I think it's actually a bit unnatural to narrate the actions.
The raised eyebrow is something you see in many stories, and I think it's a viable tool to convey that someone is unsure or sceptical... if we don't have a direct line to the persons thoughts, which we do in this case. Why not write:
What I did here is replace the action of raising an eyebrow with the thought process that might have lead to your protagonist raising an eyebrow (the real reason only you know). This communicates the uncertainty the protagonist feels, and the reader might imagine raising an eyebrow. Or furrowing his forehead. Or gawking open mouthed. The action itself does not matter, because this is first person and there is no mirror.
4. This is not really a separate point of criticism, but rather what I think this story would need to really shine and what you might consider working in if you choose to edit this for publication. If you accept my argument that all emotional exposition should sound like inner monologue, you will accept that your character will need a distinct voice of his own at all the times that he is an individual. Given the concept of this story, that voice should break. Gradually. I also had to think of those valar morghulis guys from GoT with the "One" pronoun, but I think it's a fine choice, and I think this is what your protagonists unique voice should shift towards during Chrysalis' questioning of his identity.
Concluding remarks:
I think there is a great concept here, but the execution does not do it justice. I would love to see this reworked, and, although my critique might read harsh at some points, I hope my review has more en- then discouraged the author to do so.
Although I see absolutely no connection with the prompt in this story, I like the concept a lot, but in my opinion, the execution needs work. Some things I see are easily fixed and rather obvious, other things are gonna be hard, because I think doing your concept justice won't be an easy feat.
1. "It was a dark and stormy night..." oh wait, no. "Frigid, merciless wind." Still, what you did here is fall into one of my most loathed clichees: trying to hook with the weather. Honestly, if I'd had a bad day and this wasn't a writeoff, I might've dropped your story right there.
What you want your first line of a story to do is make a reader want to find out what's going on in the next one. Things to hint at therefore are: conflict, character, mystery. You don't need to hint at all of these, but you can. An example shamelessly taken from one of my own stories:
Angry hoof steps next door. The tension makes me giddy. Dinner’s ready.
There's a hint at conflict (angry hoofsteps), a hint at character (who'd feel giddy because of angry hoofsteps?), and mystery (what's that all got to do with dinner?). One of the reviewers already correctly deduced from there that we're inside the head of a creature that feeds on negative emotion.
You can worry about introducing the setting once the reader wants to know. Setting alone just isn't intriguing.
2. You have a weird mix of tenses going on. I was kinda just confused about the switching between present tense and past tense until I noticed that you seemed to use present tense for your protagonist, and past tense for Chrysalis.
I turn my head and snarl immediately. There stood Quee—no, just Chrysalis, wearing that most poisonous smile and adorned in furs. In her hoof she held another, smaller, patch of fur, though I know not for what purpose
I then thought there was either something weird up with time, or you were just making a recurring mistake. Well, turns out I was right... on both accounts, though, because this bleeds right into my biggest criticism of this story...
3. You write in first person, but you don't employ it. I think you did indeed do these tense shifts to hint at the time thing, but it bears testimony to the fact that you don't seem to realize that this is narrated from inside your protagonists head. There should be no representation of the time mismatch because he (?) cannot perceive that.
This is going to be the hard part to fix, because I see this throughout the whole story. You're breaking this necessary connection to the protagonists perception with:
A: Telling
I’m riding a fine line between terror and resolve
You know, I can't really tell you when I last had that mix of emotions going on in my brain, but when I did, I sure as hell wasn't thinking "Oh, look at that, I'm riding a fine line between terror and resolve. How very unpleasant." You need to show us that ride, because in first person, we're at the front seat of that. Telling the reader about it results in what >>Xepher said about sock puppets trying to act out a play that was supposed to have feeling.
B: Showing.
You always hear them say it. Heck, every writer probably mumbled it in their sleep at some point: "Show, don't tell!", but in your story, the showing you do sometimes only increases the disassociation with the POV.
“It is, isn’t it?” she said in a most cloying tone which causes my muzzle to scrunch.
I exhale, the wind whipping around me and causing a slight shiver to possess my body.
Why do you describe actions of the protagonists body as though he were a neutral observer? You even disassociate it from the emotion. You need to treat emotional exposition like an inner monologue to show the emotions, not the actions. I think it's actually a bit unnatural to narrate the actions.
I raise an eyebrow. “What are you—”
The raised eyebrow is something you see in many stories, and I think it's a viable tool to convey that someone is unsure or sceptical... if we don't have a direct line to the persons thoughts, which we do in this case. Why not write:
Wait... why is she laughing like that? "What are you--"
What I did here is replace the action of raising an eyebrow with the thought process that might have lead to your protagonist raising an eyebrow (the real reason only you know). This communicates the uncertainty the protagonist feels, and the reader might imagine raising an eyebrow. Or furrowing his forehead. Or gawking open mouthed. The action itself does not matter, because this is first person and there is no mirror.
4. This is not really a separate point of criticism, but rather what I think this story would need to really shine and what you might consider working in if you choose to edit this for publication. If you accept my argument that all emotional exposition should sound like inner monologue, you will accept that your character will need a distinct voice of his own at all the times that he is an individual. Given the concept of this story, that voice should break. Gradually. I also had to think of those valar morghulis guys from GoT with the "One" pronoun, but I think it's a fine choice, and I think this is what your protagonists unique voice should shift towards during Chrysalis' questioning of his identity.
Concluding remarks:
I think there is a great concept here, but the execution does not do it justice. I would love to see this reworked, and, although my critique might read harsh at some points, I hope my review has more en- then discouraged the author to do so.
A very interesting concept. I love the twist that what he was experiencing was just what he was allowed to experience by Chrysalis. It’s depressing but it’s great. I like how Chrysalis challenges his individuality and how that fits in with the worldbuilding presented concerning changelings.
I do feel a little lost, though. I’m trying to see if I missed something. The scene from Chrysalis’ perspective throws me off. I don’t know why this will provide proof that he can’t assimilate into pony society. It doesn’t prove he’s not an individual; all it seems to prove is that they share minds, which was already established. With that in mind, I don’t know why seeing things from Chrysalis’ perspective is too much for him. I feel like I shouldn’t have to keep rereading to try and figure out what this means.
This had a great tone and presented a great idea, but it just lost me towards the end there.
I do feel a little lost, though. I’m trying to see if I missed something. The scene from Chrysalis’ perspective throws me off. I don’t know why this will provide proof that he can’t assimilate into pony society. It doesn’t prove he’s not an individual; all it seems to prove is that they share minds, which was already established. With that in mind, I don’t know why seeing things from Chrysalis’ perspective is too much for him. I feel like I shouldn’t have to keep rereading to try and figure out what this means.
This had a great tone and presented a great idea, but it just lost me towards the end there.
>>FrontSevens
Some of these might look like cluncky connectors, but I think they're deliberately peppered in to show that in relation to Chrysalis, the protagonist is operating with lag / a 500 ms ping.
That is what Chrysalis said before her POV starts, implying that the changeling does not have the processing power / RAM to be an individual and handle reasoning and perception of time at the same time.
I do agree though that the supposed highlighting of this in the Chrysalis POV is too subtle.
My hooffalls grace the snow. After a pause, the changeling turns its head and snarls.
I reach out to touch their head, my hoof hovering and waiting for them to react. They smack away my leg.
After a few moments, they slowly sit down next to me
“It is, isn’t it?” I utter in dulcet tones designed to assuage. Eventually, his muzzle scrunches.
I wait for them to process that I spoke, after which point they exhale—
Some of these might look like cluncky connectors, but I think they're deliberately peppered in to show that in relation to Chrysalis, the protagonist is operating with lag / a 500 ms ping.
By asserting individuality as a common changeling, it requires one to use up processes like reasoning and a proper perception of time to do so.”
That is what Chrysalis said before her POV starts, implying that the changeling does not have the processing power / RAM to be an individual and handle reasoning and perception of time at the same time.
I do agree though that the supposed highlighting of this in the Chrysalis POV is too subtle.
>>wYvern
Oh, now I get it.
I don't know if I can hold that against the story, now. Personally, it was too subtle for me, but I feel like that'd be enough for people more perceptive than I. However, I give points for accessibility in stories.
Side note, I'm thinking that even if one can't be an individual at the expense of perceiving time, they could still be an individual--they'd just process everything slower. It wasn't that the changeling couldn't perceive time at all, or couldn't reason--it just took him longer. They're not shown to be entirely mutually exclusive here, yet he feels like they are?
I wish I could process the idea this fic is presenting.
Oh, now I get it.
I don't know if I can hold that against the story, now. Personally, it was too subtle for me, but I feel like that'd be enough for people more perceptive than I. However, I give points for accessibility in stories.
Side note, I'm thinking that even if one can't be an individual at the expense of perceiving time, they could still be an individual--they'd just process everything slower. It wasn't that the changeling couldn't perceive time at all, or couldn't reason--it just took him longer. They're not shown to be entirely mutually exclusive here, yet he feels like they are?
I wish I could process the idea this fic is presenting.
Entry number 14, File Code name, One
Though this story has some interesting moments the dialogue didn't feel like it gave enough punch. There was different times where I wasn't sure which dialogue to follow and it came off wired to me. In the end the story had a few interesting points such as how Queen Chrysalis is tricking her drone into a false sense of security and whatnot but I think with a bit of extra work it would make for an interesting fic.
Though this story has some interesting moments the dialogue didn't feel like it gave enough punch. There was different times where I wasn't sure which dialogue to follow and it came off wired to me. In the end the story had a few interesting points such as how Queen Chrysalis is tricking her drone into a false sense of security and whatnot but I think with a bit of extra work it would make for an interesting fic.
>>FrontSevens
Hmm I see what you mean. Continuing my Computer/Brain analogy, I think what we see is one process getting put on the backburner for the other. While the changeling can perceive time normally without personality, and can be a normal individual when not fussed about time, he performs sub-standard in both when they have to run at the same time since he has to split resources.
While that does not seem like a that big of a deal in a vacuum, this would be a real problem when trying to fit into a society of ponies that do not have those limitations. Ponies would get pissed off because they'd have to wait 2 seconds for you to respond every time, and you'd not be able to parttake in games or sports, and you'd probably die crossing the street.
What might still work best though is giving up reasoning power... then, the changeling could fit in as a mentally challenged pony with individuality and propper perception of time. Despite including reasoning as one of the processes eating up resources, the fic does not explore this possibility.
Side note, I'm thinking that even if one can't be an individual at the expense of perceiving time, they could still be an individual--they'd just process everything slower. It wasn't that the changeling couldn't perceive time at all, or couldn't reason--it just took him longer. They're not shown to be entirely mutually exclusive here, yet he feels like they are?
Hmm I see what you mean. Continuing my Computer/Brain analogy, I think what we see is one process getting put on the backburner for the other. While the changeling can perceive time normally without personality, and can be a normal individual when not fussed about time, he performs sub-standard in both when they have to run at the same time since he has to split resources.
While that does not seem like a that big of a deal in a vacuum, this would be a real problem when trying to fit into a society of ponies that do not have those limitations. Ponies would get pissed off because they'd have to wait 2 seconds for you to respond every time, and you'd not be able to parttake in games or sports, and you'd probably die crossing the street.
What might still work best though is giving up reasoning power... then, the changeling could fit in as a mentally challenged pony with individuality and propper perception of time. Despite including reasoning as one of the processes eating up resources, the fic does not explore this possibility.
A very good read; a bit of a challenge to follow on the first pass, but the subtleties of what you're trying to accomplish, and the techniques you use, make themselves visible on subsequent readthroughs (for instance, the tense shifts; actions being taken by the One are written about in present, while Chryssi's are in past).
There are a few things that I don't get (I didn't, for instance, get why the One is two seconds behind Chryssi), or that don't sit right with me (like, who honestly cares about Flash, but the revelation that Trouble Shoes and Derpy are both changelings hurts and doesn't make a whole lot of sense in canon). But overall, this is a well executed piece that took a chance on an unusual premise.
...But I don't quite see what it has to do with the prompt, I'm sorry.
There are a few things that I don't get (I didn't, for instance, get why the One is two seconds behind Chryssi), or that don't sit right with me (like, who honestly cares about Flash, but the revelation that Trouble Shoes and Derpy are both changelings hurts and doesn't make a whole lot of sense in canon). But overall, this is a well executed piece that took a chance on an unusual premise.
...But I don't quite see what it has to do with the prompt, I'm sorry.