100codelyoko wrote:
CheeseMunchy wrote:
100codelyoko wrote:
I write like J. R. R. Tolkien.
Wait, who?Dude, then you write awesome.
Thank you~
I shall read the Hobbit and find out who I write like. ._.
Na, you should read Lord of the Rings.
I think it's better.
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Dinoclor wrote:
CheeseMunchy wrote:
I write like Raymond Chandler, and Cory Doctorow.
CORY DOCTROW?
OMG, you are lucky.
Who's she?
Guessing shes/hes a girl.
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CheeseMunchy wrote:
Dinoclor wrote:
CheeseMunchy wrote:
I write like Raymond Chandler, and Cory Doctorow.
CORY DOCTROW?
OMG, you are lucky.Who's she?
Guessing shes/hes a girl.
HE is a great author who self publishes on the internet. You can find his books on creative commons books, or on his website, however I cannot link to it due to a word in the URL.
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Dinoclor wrote:
CheeseMunchy wrote:
Dinoclor wrote:
CORY DOCTROW?
OMG, you are lucky.Who's she?
Guessing shes/hes a girl.HE is a great author who self publishes on the internet. You can find his books on creative commons books, or on his website, however I cannot link to it due to a word in the URL.
Ah, a he.
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I put in my latest draft of a story:
Svinnik wrote:
Operation: Yggdrasil
Time: 2150
Location: 50 thousand feet above the Amazon River
Hunter Ragnar crouched on the floor of the airplane, ready to jump at the slightest indication. The interior was drab, a sickly gray. There was a gun rack and a jump seat next to Ragnar, but otherwise, he was alone with only his trusty rifle to keep him company. Ragnar was cloaked in a dark bluish robe, the latest technology from Aperture Science, and wore night vision goggles. He was not unhandsome, with a rugged beard and eyes that spoke of experience that someone of Ragnar’s twenty years should not have had. Ragnar checked his Galil and Desert Eagle for any signs of possible jamming. The last time that Ragnar’s guns had jammed, he had almost died, if not for the sacrifice of Uthred. As Ragnar, finished with his checks, smoked a nervous cigarette, characterized by his quick huffs of the noxious smoke. He checked his watch. One minute till the jump. Ragnar put out the wretched death-stick and slipped on the parachute.
“Thirty seconds until jump.” The intercom blared. The cargo door slowly opened and Ragnar walked to the edge, a mere slip away from the most frightening death possible, with torture at the hands of Kim Jong Il’s servants a close second. Ragnar prayed to his dead companion that he would survive this mission. If he should survive, most likely he would be given a few days vacation time. If not, that’s some valuable vacation time saved. Ragnar had no family to worry about him. Better that way, for what Ragnar was concerned.
“Jump.” Hunter ran forward from his position on the cargo bay and jumped. Many people have tried to describe the thrill of jumping off of an airplane into the void but they often go insane from trying to focus on the small details, like how the air smelled or some other garbage. To save the storyteller the considerable burden of insanity, the jump is not described. Try using your imagination. As Ragnar fell, he prepared to pull the cord. Ragnar looked around him and suddenly realized that the human species shouldn’t be up here. When God found out about the humans conquering the sea, he passed it off as a fluke. A few thousand years later when airplanes were invented and flight was invented, history sadly ignoring the brave souls that jumped off cliffs flapping their arms and making self described “birdy noises”. God was shocked, so naturally, His curiosity if humans could make it to the moon before the twenty first century was piqued. Why he chose to divulge the secrets of rocketry to scientists that were following the world’s most evil goose-stepper, no one knows. One must assume it’s a joke, although a rather unfunny one considering the about fifty million people that died in World War Two. After the Moon landing in 1969, God challenged the human race to solve the Higgs Boson. Now, in 2011, we are almost done with that goal. The next logical step for God is to retire to a nursing home and dominate at shuffleboard, complaining about modern “rock” music all the while. And so goes modern religion.
It says Arthur C. Clark.
Last edited by svinnik (2011-12-22 14:50:59)
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I write like J. K. Rowling.
Last edited by ProgrammingPro01 (2011-12-22 16:24:27)
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I wrote a story with 32 pages (century gothic, 12) but I can't really compare it I don't know many german writers
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svinnik wrote:
I put in my latest draft of a story:
Svinnik wrote:
Operation: Yggdrasil
Time: 2150
Location: 50 thousand feet above the Amazon River
Hunter Ragnar crouched on the floor of the airplane, ready to jump at the slightest indication. The interior was drab, a sickly gray. There was a gun rack and a jump seat next to Ragnar, but otherwise, he was alone with only his trusty rifle to keep him company. Ragnar was cloaked in a dark bluish robe, the latest technology from Aperture Science, and wore night vision goggles. He was not unhandsome, with a rugged beard and eyes that spoke of experience that someone of Ragnar’s twenty years should not have had. Ragnar checked his Galil and Desert Eagle for any signs of possible jamming. The last time that Ragnar’s guns had jammed, he had almost died, if not for the sacrifice of Uthred. As Ragnar, finished with his checks, smoked a nervous cigarette, characterized by his quick huffs of the noxious smoke. He checked his watch. One minute till the jump. Ragnar put out the wretched death-stick and slipped on the parachute.
“Thirty seconds until jump.” The intercom blared. The cargo door slowly opened and Ragnar walked to the edge, a mere slip away from the most frightening death possible, with torture at the hands of Kim Jong Il’s servants a close second. Ragnar prayed to his dead companion that he would survive this mission. If he should survive, most likely he would be given a few days vacation time. If not, that’s some valuable vacation time saved. Ragnar had no family to worry about him. Better that way, for what Ragnar was concerned.
“Jump.” Hunter ran forward from his position on the cargo bay and jumped. Many people have tried to describe the thrill of jumping off of an airplane into the void but they often go insane from trying to focus on the small details, like how the air smelled or some other garbage. To save the storyteller the considerable burden of insanity, the jump is not described. Try using your imagination. As Ragnar fell, he prepared to pull the cord. Ragnar looked around him and suddenly realized that the human species shouldn’t be up here. When God found out about the humans conquering the sea, he passed it off as a fluke. A few thousand years later when airplanes were invented and flight was invented, history sadly ignoring the brave souls that jumped off cliffs flapping their arms and making self described “birdy noises”. God was shocked, so naturally, His curiosity if humans could make it to the moon before the twenty first century was piqued. Why he chose to divulge the secrets of rocketry to scientists that were following the world’s most evil goose-stepper, no one knows. One must assume it’s a joke, although a rather unfunny one considering the about fifty million people that died in World War Two. After the Moon landing in 1969, God challenged the human race to solve the Higgs Boson. Now, in 2011, we are almost done with that goal. The next logical step for God is to retire to a nursing home and dominate at shuffleboard, complaining about modern “rock” music all the while. And so goes modern religion.It says Arthur C. Clark.
I think it's a bit more like Douglas Adams.
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L. Frank Baum.
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Apparently the people who wrote the beginnning (Check which famous writer you write like with this statistical analysis tool, which analyzes your word choice and writing style and compares them with those of the famous writers.
Any text in English will do: your latest blog post, journal entry, comment, chapter of your unfinished book, etc. For reliable results paste at least a few paragraphs (not tweets).) sounds like H.P. Lovecraft. What is Lovecraftian about that?
I write like Douglas Adams, apparently. Except I suck at writing, and he is awesome.
It's fun to type random letters and see who you write like... on the inside.
Last edited by luiysia (2011-12-22 16:55:14)
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Uhm with my story I've been writing I got Cory Doctorow and with this:
soupoftomato wrote:
If you have ever played Magic think of that.
The 20 HP you get in Magic just has more representation as the battle ship. You add things to attack to it (the creatures in Magic, which can be targted even though your goal is the battleship, things with immediate effect (an instant), and things that have lots of health to block with (I think they're Defenders in magic, they have 0 attack and several Health)
But since you're building this onto your ship it will all be visual instead of seeing the cards (you'll only see card representations in your hand). And some cards will add directly to the ships power instead of being a target.
This is all rather complicated and there will need to be a purchasing system but does it make sense so far?
Which I thought would be writing more like myself I got Arthur Clarke,
Never heard of either
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WHEN I RIGHT POETRY I GET STEPHEN KING!!!
soupoftomato wrote:
I wonder who I write like?
I have a good friend named Mike.
Once I stole his bike.
I feel sorry now.
Maybe I should repay him
with a large
dairy
cow
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ProgrammingPro01 wrote:
I write like J. K. Rowling.
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veggieman001 wrote:
I write like H.G. Wells
You kind of do...
once I typed in * repeatedly and it said I write like Stephanie Meyer, though. D:
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I write like Chuck Palahniuk. Who's that?????
Edit: I entered this post and I still got Chuck Palahniuk...
Last edited by ImagineIt (2011-12-22 18:20:27)
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frgioushxajinDSKUCghordiulzsha7wyeugvfrxwjsahUAKJEfhiuysjfaejkwheruhdjsuriakfjieurytdhftdsadfc.grsea.xwe.scrhgd.vfxcxdtw.svebdfh.tvrcd.ezsxgrdcsvd.ecsa.xgrvtrsewcgxrstvfedgxrscetvf.grcxer.sdtc.fwd4sre.ztxcdrds = H. P. Lovecraft
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100codelyoko wrote:
I write like J. R. R. Tolkien.
Wait, who?
He used to write letters to his kids pretending to be Santa. We learned about him in school.
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