/hob/ - Hobbies

>>67824
What are some of your

c y b e r p u n k i n s p i r a t i o n s ?

>>67825
>>67825
>blade runner (the book)
>psycho pass
>gits (movie 1 and 2, live action, series)
>matrix and animatrix
>blade runner 2049
>blame! (manga)
>experiment serial lain
>ergo proxy
>akira (movie and book)
>e.y.e divine cybermancy
>neotokyoº
>texnolyze (anime)
>some what I call cyberpunk musics
https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLbniq6ShcFR4QvA4NfsM8RCQL-JwK4aVq&si=JspDs4kVTDBNlrx6
>some cyberpunk documentaties and mini movies
https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLbniq6ShcFR5df6Y5PgLdZlFhRp0Dwmhb&si=ffieWVOzP9RN1tXR
I also played 10 minutes of cp 2077 but I don't consider it really cyberpunk

>>67826
>I also played 10 minutes of cp 2077 but I don't consider it really cyberpunk
Good because it's not. It's just California with RGB LED lighting

Please watch Dennou Coil

>>67827
>denou coil
I will thank you

>>67827
>California with RGB LED lighting
lol you're right

>>67816
are you still working on?

I want to write a fantasy book. I've started by writing down names first. is it a good idea?

can I write a book if I didn't read so much books in my life?

>>63690
that sounds interesting, update when complete plez

I have been skipping any sort of long text I see on the internet immediately nowadays, I just suspect that it has been written by chatGPT. am I wrong for doing this? this also made me question, when people are writing things nowadays aren't they scared of just being accused of simply using chatGPT? writing seems like a dead end to me. I would like to be wrong on this though.

>>67880
Pretty sure folks can tell immediately when text is written by chatGPT, the ai follows the same routine structure for every piece it writes. Also I suppose it depends on where you are lurking, on the chans I presume there won't be and there never will be the rise of ai written texts.

I'm writing a dark fanatsy, what do you think of it?

>The ritual
Hook-Moon. They want to resurrect Hook-Moon, the worshipers of Hook-Moon. Assassin and agent of the designs of darkness during his lifetime. Once hunted and killed like a rat while alive, he was welcomed with open arms by darkness and then transformed into a demon.

For some time now, in the Capital, children have been disappearing and we can no longer find them. The required militia and curfew for all residents of the capital so that disappearances can be mitigated. When the militia encountered children, the militia captured them and housed them in prison to keep them safe. Many of them are just people on the streets. The capital does this so that residents calm down. The militia is there to provide a sense of security in the capital.

Lysia, 10 years old, helps her sick parents with her 5 year old little brother, she and he clean the house and make food, then the shopping and finally the laundry.

>>67920
I like it. Is there gonna be a twist where it's revealed that the cultists have infiltrated the government, using their own threat as an excuse to hold children captive before sacrificing them?

>>67936
I also written this (I forgot to add it):

"Lysia, 10 years old, helps her sick parents with her 5-year-old little brother, she cleans the house and cooks food, then the shopping and finally the laundry. Every day she repeated these chore tasks. To be able to live and take care of her parents and her little brother, she had to become a prostitute. This made it possible to provide for all the needs of his family."

>spoilers:
damn it haha you're smart, you're 90% right! I'm impressed. in fact the cultists are the one who kidnapped the kids to sacrifice them to reseruct hook-moon as a demon

Haven't written this sort of thing in a while, but then I thought about experimenting with ai designed for it.

It was ok, considering how talentless I was at bringing these sort of things into fruition since I first discovered them anyhow. XP

>>67964
Another one. I certainly didn't plan this one to even see the dark of night.

But that last one hit deep.. ;_;

Let's just say I didn't reinvent the wheel so much as I redesigned it to fit Evel Kneivel's tires…

And here's another Doraemon one, a Kuragehime one and a Bakuman one.

Honestly I'm just dumping these here cause this may have been a momentary thing I did that was but the friction that came forth as I finished another project that left me with such a hangover (I can feel it fading away already), and these are just the ones that weren't too random of ideas. To make it simple it was fun while it lasted, but work is like alcohol if being a workaholic is a thing =_=.

>>67974
>>67970
>>67969
>>67964
are all of these made by AI or written by yourself?

>>67975
Both.
Some are half and half, but most of these I just came up with the idea yet editted it nonetheless (and even added my own bits).
Basically I took heavy advantage of the "what should happen next?" And the "one paragraph at a time" tool
https://perchance.org/ai-fanfic-generator
It's amateur but it's fun, ngl.

>>67976
ok just wanted to know…it's hard to write 'what's next/ happen next' in a story

A fanfiction I tried to pull through, with help from ai, yet realized that (at least on an emotional level) I was biting on more than I could chew with.
Long story short: it would've had to involve Hobbes from C&H and what I can only describe as Everything Everywhere all at once meets the Fate anime franchise (but with Hobbes as Jobu Topaki/Joy and Susie Derkins as Evelyn, with a bit of Natasha Romanov so it made sense).
Fortunately I know for a fact I wouldn't have gained anything by finishing this kind of work anyway.
Trust me.

Also I wrote what is essentially a sequel to this cringeworthy fic from High School (I even gave it a title that fits the theme) with ai too:
fanfiction.net/s/3820372/1/FS-and-Chill

Writing… Another creative outlet in which idiots believe that what AI generates for them counts as their own creations.

If some glorified, politicized chatbot wrote any part of it, keep it out of this thread.

>>67979
to me, using AI is cheating

>>67980
>to me using ai is cheating
I apologize.
I forfeit the fanfiction game forever. =_=

>>67981
daijobu

>>67982
。。。知らない
>>67979
Understood.
Though do include that with an asterisk in the next writing thread.

>>67983
きっと大丈夫さ

Does anyone have any experience, knowledge etc about the "business" (subculture,"scene" etc) of fanzines, political fliers, independent pamphlet writing, religious tract etc? Im interested in the activity itself…stickers even ,or stencils. Im trying to start small by buying notebooks, taking up pen\pencil writing again, trying to learn different forms of "drawing" the words. I also try to frequent those "old man bookstores" , the well known book fairs and stand-rows zone in my city, and such things.
>pic semi related

restart another story, I can't help myself

Janon

>Chapter 1

Still alive in his mother's womb, the young future wanderer was already showing prodigies in terms of magic.
“He will be born a prodigy under the aegis and blessing of the Gods and of God” said his mother, touching his belly.
She went to bed in her sofa bed

It is customary to give the child's first name at birth. But only the oracle can give the child's first name. His first name and his destiny will be revealed to the oracle when it touches the child.

9 months later, the young magician was born and he was already being prepared for the ritual even though he had just uttered his first cries and cries

My red tongue felt rough against my teeth, it brought back memories of cats in my childhood licking their wounds. A face I didn't recognize was reflected in the mirror. The neighbor's dog whines when it smells me and hides behind its owner. I would have hit the ground cables with a copper hoe and felt my tendons break. I smiled gently because I knew better.

As I left the hall I hummed lullabies, the wrong notes announcing mistakes like syntax. The medicines worked and the tremors stop. I didn't differentiate between real and fake feelings. The mind is like a ship on a misty sea that has lost its course. I lower the chalice filled with blood and pour it into the roots, thick and blooming.

Tar flows thickly in the stream. The rain turned the green leaves brown. Poems have sung about a giant who stretched his arms towards the sky. I travel over the meridian and come back on the red express train. The end result is a self-created wonderland.

Mothers are ashamed and fathers disappear, but children play. They walk in life to the rhythm of Newton's cradle. It was time when the movement of the pendulums stopped and the sky began to whistle. With bleeding eyes, they falter out of the dugouts. Commands fade to a whisper as dirt and splinters overwhelm the senses.

The last letter written in blood, paid for by the next of kin, arrives. We broke the porcelain dishes and bought wreaths with flowers. The ceremony echoed inside the domed building. Trembling fingers are crossed under the gold-framed paintings. A mother falls to her knees near her son and hears the call as the night darkens.

I've read Schopenhauer's essays on authorship and on style, I think people who are interested in these topics should check them out. (https://www.gutenberg.org/files/10714/10714-h/10714-h.htm)

few ideas I want to bring forward: he mentions beauty of the style comes from the idea itself, rather than the embellishment one adds to his sentences or the overall mastery one has of the language. so essentially he suggests rather than trying to perfect your usage of the language you should polish your ideas and those correct ideas will adhere to the right words. as a result better authorship will emerge.

another point he makes is neither writing a lot nor reading voraciously can make you a better author (latter is something at on point I thought was the key). he thinks writing all the time weakens your ability to think considerately and follow your thoughts, and in turn makes you a scatterbrained author. and with reading you can only discover the usage of metaphors and other methods of using language in action. this can teach and allow you to activate your already existing innate abilities accordingly but if you don't have them in the first place reading will do nothing to make a better writer of you.

>>68171
intresting
so if you don't read too much and write occasionaly you can be a better writer?

>>68171
>I've read Schopenhauer
Then anything you write afterward has no value. Your inner psyche is forever tainted with his whining, semantic-bending ooga booga scratches on his basement wall. If you read anything of his because a college professor or some due online told you to, then you've been pranked.

>>68191
have you read Schopenhauer? what makes you say he's a fraud?

>>68192
I never said he was a fraud, in fact his "philosophy" is pretty on-par for the time period it came from. Like so many other well-known "thinkers" of the time, his writings are bland on the surface and only occasionally dip in to nihilism and misanthropy to break the monotony, with him using his own set of semantics (I.e "people say X is X but according to MY PERSONAL definition of X, X is actually Y") to justify his textual layaboutting.

He's well known, but not well respected, and anyone who takes his work seriously has got to be as boring as he was. And now he's dead; died alone like he wanted.

>>68193
damn…that's devastating. can you give me exemples of x is not x but y?

>>68192
don't bother

>>68195
why? I want to know because I kind of like him and put him in a pedestal as a philosophers compared to other philosophers, so I. want to know because he affected me

>>68196
i meant don't bother replying to that retard

Not mine but a transliteration I made of a poem I like, originally written in Spanish:



The distance between here and
a star that has never existed
because God has not managed to
pinch the skin of the night that far!
And to think that we still believe
that world peace is bigger or more
useful than the peace of a single savage…
This desire for relativity in
our contemporary life—
is what gives space an importance
that only exists within us—
and who knows how long it will take us
to learn to live like the stars—
free in the midst of what is endless
and without anyone to feed us.
The earth does not know the paths
it walks daily—and
rather, those paths are the
consciousness of the earth…
But if it’s not so, let me ask a
question: -Time, where are
you and I, I who live in you and
you who do not exist?


- Alfonso Cortes, a literal squizo writer from Nicaragua. Circa 1930(?)

>>68218
I think the rhythm and verse of it might have been lost in translation, unless it's meant to be freeverse.

>>68219
yeah, this hard to keep the rythm of the original while you try to be as accurate as possible with the translation.

>>68191
thanks for the worthless input I guess.

>>68194
read Schopenhauer and deter his value on your own. he is a great writer, opposite of the guy whom you're responding to: he uses few words to convey lot of ideas. even if you disagree with his philosophical conclusions you will find value in the language alone, which is why I posted his writings on authorship and style because he seems to really understand it. and again opposite of the retard you're responding to there aren't many philosophers from his era that you can read with such ease.

Nietzsche said this. but how to not have a terrible depth when you write a book ¿(T_T)?

When you write a story, are you trying to make people learn a specific lesson or political view? Or do you just expect people to interpret and relate to the events in their own way?
I want to get into writing or creative work but it feels weird to push a specific message, it feels like propagandizing people.
Let's say it's the best case scenario and something I write becomes mega successful, I don't want to homogenize humans into all having the same viewpoint because they read my propagandistic work.

>>68338
write a fantasy book?

>>68338
>When you write a story, are you trying to make people learn a specific lesson or political view?
No.
I don't really write fables (specific lessons) or political works.
One day when I feel competent enough I hope write a work loosely inspired by Atlas Shrugged, just because I am convinced I could get the same ideas across without the story telling being so shit, but as far as stuff I have actually written or currently writing, they are pretty devoid of politics, preaching, or propaganda.

If you don't want to write stuff with a message then you don't have to.
Write what you enjoy writing and tell stories you think someone would enjoy hearing. When it comes to fiction, it's about the storycraft first and foremost. Focus on making a good story told well first and foremost and worry about all that other stuff in subsequent drafts.

A Walk in the Park

Prologue


Steam rose from the black reflective disk. Transfixed, a man sat gazing into the darkness. He did not move; he did not blink; he did not breath in that moment as his mind fell deeper and deeper into the inky darkness. The crashing tinkle of the bell of the front door drew the man out of that black pit. He peeled his eyes away from the abyss and observed the outside world once more. The sound announced the entrance of a uniformed police officer who scanned the area before walking with a deliberate stride towards the man, taking a seat across from him . The officer looking down nervously at his fidgeting hands. The man's icy blue cold stare looked through the officer, face set in a stony lack of expression. The officer glanced up opening his mouth to speak before stopping and quickly looking back down with a shiver. The silent moment stretched uncomfortably into a minute. The man's gaze unwavering, the officer still unable to bring himself to meet it.
"Can I get you anything darling?"
The stalemate broken by the outside influence of a well meaning waitress who leaned expectantly at the officer with her little notepad primed to take a order.
"Uh, no. I will just be here a couple of minutes I think." The cop said.
Shifting her focus she ask "Freshen up your coffee dear?"
The man gave a single nod. With that assent she was quick to refill the dark mirror in a mug of black coffee and leave the two men alone.
The man sipped, then took a long deep breath. The comforting smells of sizzling lard on the grittle mingling with the strong coffee brewing. He set the mug down and cupped it with both hands, letting it's warmth radiate up his limbs and defrost his cold expression. He finally look at the officer sitting across from him. Really looked.
Bags under his eyes that don't fit his still youthful face. Nicks in his face from shaky hands and shakier mind. The slump of his shoulders and unease in his posture. He still nervously fidgeted, unsure of what to do with his hands.
Taking another sip the man cleared his throat. "Danny?"
The officer jittered a bit on the spot before responding "Uh, right, um, how do I explain this? "
He paused to collect his thoughts "Detec-"
The man raised his hand to interrupt. "Just Jack now. "
The officer nodded before continuing in a rush "I called you, what I mean to say is that you are the only one I know who can deal with this. Whatever this is. They ether don't know what I mean and blow it off as nothing or they know what I mean and want nothing to do with it. But you know and I think you can handle it."
The man named Jack took another sip from the mug and waited.
"There is this park, you know the one with the fountain that is always broken. Popular with dog walkers. "
Jack nodded before answering "Lupes park. I still remember busting that flasher back when I was around your age there."
The officer smiled quickly before it faltered into his previously stressed expression once again. "That's the one. Here is the thing. People don't walk their dogs there anymore. They…" He trailed off taking a moment to compose himself. "There is something there that is causing all the dogs to freak out."
The officer glanced up at Jack before looking back down. "It isn't just that. The animals are missing.
"Missing?" Jack said
The officer nodded "Yeah, missing. Used to have squirrels , birds, all kinds of stuff you usually see in a park. Now the place is scary quiet. "
Jack sipped his coffee and grunted in response.
"If that was all I probably could just ignore it like everyone else at the precinct is. But Frank is gone too."
Jack raised a questioning eyebrow and waited for the officer to continue.
"He is a homeless guy that practically lives in that park. I sometimes checked in with him while on patrol. Good guy, would keep me posted on the goings on in the area. Kept out of trouble himself. Now he has vanished without a trace. I tried, I really tried to get someone to look into it, but him being homeless the higher ups told me he was likely transient and just up and left. I knew him. He loved that park. It meant something special to him. He wouldn't just disappear with no one seeing him and him saying nothing to no one. "
Jack took a deep breath, closed his eyes, then slowly let it out before responding. "Why are you really asking me about this? I am just a normal everyday citizen now. I Don't do investigations anymore."
The officer began to tremble. He clenched his hands before speaking in a whisper "I can feel it. That something isn't right. When I went down there I got the same feeling."
He then looked up into Jack's eyes for the first time "The same feeling as that time."
Jack nodded in understanding.
"I-I-I can't go there anymore. Not when I have that feeling. The only thing that saved me is not knowing. You know yet still are here so maybe you can go and find out what is really going on. Before something really bad happens."
Jack leaned back and responded "I will remind you again that I am not a detective, not a cop, I am just a normal guy. What exactly to you expect me to do 'if something really bad happens'?"
The officer went back to looking at his restless hands. "Maybe you could use your new job. Get the word out if it turns out to be something. Get some heavy artillery down here to deal with it if necessary. "
"My new job? You mean writing nonsense about local ghost tours and ufo sightings for next to minimal wage while I look for a real job?" Jack asked.
"Yeah, you are sort of a reporter, and if this is anything like the last time that gave me this feeling then-"
Jack cut the officer off saying "If it's like the last time then people won't be able to handle it and I certainly can't go to print with it."
He then rested his head on his knuckles "though I suppose I could edit it into something acceptable if your feeling turns out correct. And if it isn't then I can spin it into a mystery story. Ether way it is content I suppose."
Raising up his head, Jack took a long drink from the mug before returning it to the table. "Still, having some armed backup and authority would be nice. What do you say?"
The young police officer rapidly shook his head hard, eyes locked in horror as a peppering of "no-no-no-no" escaped his lips.
Jack raised his hand to calm him before saying "It's fine. If I suspect it's anything more than my pepper spray can't handle then I will simply run. That said, I will text you the details of when I go and a second meet time here for a debrief. If I don't make second contact then call in the carvery. "
"t-thank you for doing this." The officer said.
"Sure, pay me back by covering the bill, both my coffee now and whatever we order when I get back to tell you what I find. That will make us even. "