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"Guess-the-Author" Analysis and Critiques

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Yay, I got 3 of 5 on my first attempt (and even the fourth correct one was so close, I was toying between naming Gangster or Cora for entry #1). I am pretty proud of that result :)

Nice reads all, I had to read the entries again now :)
 
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Avernite said:
No, your 'it is totes a cryptogram' is what did it.
Click to expand...

I figured seeing as Peter had enlisted me in his game, I may as well have a bit of fun muddying the waters further. In hindsight this was a stupid decision because it turns out that a month of denials cannot outweigh a day of coy misdirection.

The only thing I will say now is that I never quite got the “only the host could have written this” line of argument. The authors Peter mentioned in the poem are on every list of possible entrants, so it’s not as if writing it would have required special knowledge.
 
DensleyBlair said:
I figured seeing as Peter had enlisted me in his game, I may as well have a bit of fun muddying the waters further. In hindsight this was a stupid decision because it turns out that a month of denials cannot outweigh a day of coy misdirection.

The only thing I will say now is that I never quite got the “only the host could have written this” line of argument. The authors Peter mentioned in the poem are on every list of possible entrants, so it’s not as if writing it would have required special knowledge.
Click to expand...
Well, see, a cryptogram should point to something.

In this case, many authors were mentioned, suggesting multiple authors were pointed to.

It is possible that Peter's grand reveal will show how it's all clearly pointing to him, in which case, fair enough, we missed it.
It is also possible that the grand reveal is 'yeah it was just names smashed into the poem', in which case I reject the classification as cryptogram ;)
 
Avernite said:
Well, see, a cryptogram should point to something.

In this case, many authors were mentioned, suggesting multiple authors were pointed to.

It is possible that Peter's grand reveal will show how it's all clearly pointing to him, in which case, fair enough, we missed it.
It is also possible that the grand reveal is 'yeah it was just names smashed into the poem', in which case I reject the classification as cryptogram ;)
Click to expand...

I mean, obviously I can't speak for Peter, but the reason I thought of it as a cryptic crossword was not because it points to anything as a whole (which crosswords don't do – at least not as I know them) but because, as I read it, there are clues in the verses to send a reader hunting for names. Peter already covered these, I think. Stuff like "triplets of secrets" pointing to the three-letter groupings in "DensleyBlair wrote this".

But as I say, I was actually just bullshitting when I intervened in Peter's game. I think it's just names smashed into a poem, but I also think the poem alludes cryptically to the fact that this is the case. In my eyes this puts it in cryptic crossword territory, but maybe not in yours. :)

***

I have a few ideas for a next round. Something far quicker than the past couple, I think. I'll formulate something properly and post by the end of the week.
 
(Apologies, it's been a bit longer than 'by the end of the week'.)

In line with a desire to take this right back to basics after a devilish round of chicanery and mischief, I offer you all a topic which amounts to a virtually open brief:

Something is not where it should be.​

This can be interpreted however you wish: it can include the related but subtly different statement of "something is where it should not be", and something can also include someone (and, if you're feeling up to it, somewhere). You can write with any genre, setting, style or voice you wish. Let your imaginations go and see where they lead you all.

Yet—a brief is no good unless there is, at least, some hint of a constraint. Therefore, this round I am going to switch things up a bit and impose a strict 1,000 word limit. This is meant to be quick-fire, but concision brings its own challenges. A tight grip on plotting and pacing will be essential, as it will be to balance exposition with action.

Drop me a PM with expressions of interest, as ever. If we hit enough writers, I'll look to put up submissions by the middle of March or so.
 
Three writers on board already! Do send me a PM if you'd like to claim the last spot
 
Alright then, that’s our lot. Four writers signed up and ready to go!

I’ve given everyone a provisional deadline of Sunday 21 March, although I would welcome a quicker turnaround if our writers can get sorted before then. I’ll keep the thread updated either way.

Until then: Happy writing! :D
 
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Three weeks left until the final deadline and I already have two pieces submitted. Really interesting work in response to the word limit so far. Looking forward to seeing what our other two writers produce!
 
All the pieces are in! I'll aim to post some time over the weekend, so stay tuned. :)
 
Author #1


Hey Jen,

This email’s been rotting in my “Drafts” tab for a few hours now. If you’re reading this, I’ve gotten brave and/or drunk enough to finally send it. Sorry about that. You’re probably going to think I’m crazy. Maybe I am, but I’m probably not the dangerous kind, I guess. Anyway. I’ve tried to minimize the jargon and make things as clear as I can, but… well, there’s a lot. If you have a question, please do ask.

The Portland University Radio Telescope Array is a beast of a thing. Back in the mid-late oughts, it was the thing every researcher wanted to get observation time on, and even today it’s still a hell of a machine. Submillimeter, and almost as sensitive as the ALMA, and of course the big advantage to the PURTA is that it’s not out in the Chilean desert. We were very lucky to get time on it in the first place. Of course, Dr. Gutierrez worked their ass off, nights, weekends, holidays, everything; Dr. Champlain (You probably don’t remember, but I think you met him once. At that dinner in New Haven, maybe?) was still teaching students, running the department, and getting ready for a baby on the way; and I did my bit too. Anything to get the proposal finished and approved by the board.

Our project involved looking at a star system called 55 Cancri. It’s a binary star system, 55 Cancri A being a little smaller than our sun, 55 Cancri B being much smaller. Cancri A has at least five planets (Cancri ab, c, d, e, and f. They also have shiny new official planet names, but it’s a PITA to write Harriot, Lipperhey, Janssen, etc. when the letters will do) orbiting around it. Cancri A is interesting because it’s rich in a lot of metal and some other astronomers have capital-T Theories about that and it has implications for a lot of boring computational models, etc, etc, but we were focused in on Cancri B. The thing about Cancri B is that it may actually be two stars that are really close together, and our goal was to determine whether or not it was.

So the 7th comes and I head up to the array to do our observing run. The thing is that our observations seemed to indicate that there were in fact two stars. Well, they did for the first five days. Then, suddenly, the area of Cancri B emitted a whole lot more radio waves than any star its size should for around ten minutes and afterwards, there was only evidence of one star in the vicinity of 55 Cancri B. The equipment seems to have been working fine. Our processes seemed sound. There’s no known natural phenomenon that I can think of that would explain any of this. I can’t publish this and I’ll never prove it, but I’m about as sure as I can be that, around forty years ago, something out there ate a star.

I’m sitting here in this little motel up in the hills at 2:30 in the morning eating eye-gougingly expensive minibar pretzels with a draft of another email going right next to this one, addressed to Dr. Gutierrez and Dr. Champlain, and I have no idea what to write, what to say, what to think even. My guess is that we’ll end up writing another proposal, going up for another observing run, find that, whatever it may have been before, it seems to be one star right now, and end up shrugging our collective shoulders over the whole thing like we did with the Wow! Signal or Oumuamua.

The really scary thing is that back in 2003, we sent a radio transmission to 55 Cancri. It’ll get there in 2044. Of course, next to the incomprehensible vastness of the void of space, we’re just a mere speck, etc, and if there is something out there there’s no guarantee it’ll care about us one way or the other, understand our signal, or even be there when the transmission arrives. But I can’t help but keep thinking about the Fermi Paradox…

Look, I really need you to keep quiet on this for a while. I’m up for tenure next year and I can’t afford anybody thinking I’m a crackpot before then or before we decide what to do with the paper. I’m sorry to load you with all this stuff. I just had to tell someone, you know.

But (strange tonal switch alert! Sorry. It's been that kind of night) how are you? It’s been way too long since we’ve caught up (and I’m so sorry about that, my fault entirely). How are your courses going? You have the usual number of sophomores that are way too into Derrida for their own good this year? And congratulations on the anniversary! Twelve years is amazing!

Much love,

Sam
 
Author #2


It was not a dark and stormy night. Because for storms you needed an atmosphere that contained water and, despite what the schedule claimed, this was something Traxios IV lacked.

“There is a distinct lack of ice comets entering the atmosphere.” Director Molby said, gesturing towards the armoured glass window.

“That is true.” Comet Manager Patterson admitted.

“Would you care to explain why?” Molby asked.

“Not particularly.” Patterson said.

Molby glared at his subordinate.

“There was a thermal management issue involving the comet relocation engines. It has been safely and economically resolved, but there has been a negative impact on the programme.” Patterson answered.

“And if anyone on the Board reads that in the progress report and asks me to explain?” Molby raised an eyebrow.

“Try and change the subject?" Patterson said hopefully.

Molby just stared.

“We did start late.” Patterson said defensively. “So we were under pressure to make up lost time by getting the comets here faster.”

“And?”

“Well we tried running the engines harder, but we kept hitting the thermal cut out. Then one of the propulsion engineers found a heat-sink we could dump the excess thermal energy into.” Patterson said hesitantly.

“And that heat-sink failed, damaging the engines and so delaying the comet." Molby sighed while finishing off the explanation.

“Not failed as such.” Patterson corrected. “More sort of... melted.”

“Melted....? Please tell me you didn't use the ice in the comet as a heat-sink?" Molby asked.

“It was a very deep cold source and it was just sitting there doing nothing.” Patterson mumbled apologetically.

“The comets aren't late are they, they are more non-existent?”

Patterson nodded sadly.



It was not a dark and stormy night. Because, despite the protestation of the revised programme, Traxios IV still lacked an atmosphere.

“How can you miss a planet?” Molby shouted at Patterson. “Look at the size of it!” He gestured at the holo-display showing the still cloud free planet below.

“Space is very big.” Patterson explained.

“It's also entirely predictable, we can work out the position of any planet centuries in advance.” Molby said.

“Relative position or absolute position?” Patterson asked.

“What do you mean?” Molby countered suspiciously.

“Well after the thermal control incident we had to bring in some new comets from the Ilstrum system and there may have been some issues converting relative stellar movements." Patterson admitted.

“So you got your calculations wrong and missed.” Molby said flatly.

“No, the calculations were correct, just incomplete. We assumed Ilstrum and Traxios were stationary relative to each other which, as it turns out, they aren't because of stellar drift. This has been a very valuable learning experience for the team.” Patterson tried to find the positives.

"Hold up a minute. Are you saying you didn't miss planet, you missed the entire solar system?" Molby boggled.

"Technically I suppose that's what happened. But it sounds bad when you put it that way." Patterson admitted.

“You are going to bring in whatever stellar experts you need, quadruple check the calculations, and get me those ice comets.” Molby said very slowly and very deliberately.

Patterson failed to meet his superiors gaze before hurriedly leaving the room.



It was a hazy and slightly damp night, which was an improvement but still a long way short of what the plan required.

“Why, in the name of Bastiat's shattered windows, did you drop all your comets on the highlands of the Northern continent?” Molby asked.

“Our orders just said deliver two dozen comets that met certain size and composition requirements. Nothing about delivery to a specific location on the planet.” Patterson flicked the paperwork across to Molby's pad.

Molby read the order and started cursing his procurement team.

“Get a new batch of comets and drop them in the centre of the Poleside Depression." Molby pointed out a location to Patterson.

“There will be an extra cost for that.” Patterson warned.

“I am well aware.” Molby sighed. “Just make sure that this time your comets all hit the correct co-ordinates.”



It was at last a dark night and, while it was not stormy, it was at least cloudy.

Molby looked out over the sprawling volcanic ash clouds shrouding the planet and sighed.

“Looks a bit messy down there. Is this the next step in the terraforming?” Patterson said.

"Of course it isn't! The ice in those comets was supposed to be forming the Southern Ocean, not inducing massive volcanism." Molby replied. "What did you do with those comets to cause all this?"

"You wanted all the comets to hit a certain location and my re-entry team did as asked." Patterson said.

"They dropped all the comets on the exact same point?"

"With AI-assisted precision." Patterson confirmed.

"The repeated impacts must have locally ruptured the crust, which caused the super-volcanoes to form." Molby connected the dots. "Get some more comets and try again." He ordered. "In fact get a dozen extra, we'll need more ice to suppress the volcanism."

Patterson picked up the pad to contact his team.



It was not dark, stormy or even technically a night. Because all those things required an intact planet.

Extract from the Board High Commissioners Report on the Traxios IV Terraforming Disaster;

The proximate cause of the disaster was the comet strike on the Poleside Depression. Quantum modelling suggests it was impact 88 that finally ‘shattered’ the planets core, the subsequent impacts ‘merely’ increased the magnitude of the final explosion.

The ultimate cause is unfortunately less clear. The Commissioners have not been able to determine why the original plan was ignored and why so many extra comets were dropped onto the planet. The Orbital Terraforming Station where the project records were stored was destroyed in the explosion and, for the same reason, the Commissioners were unable to gather testimony from Directory Molby, Comet Manager Patterson or any of their junior staff, all of whom perished in the disaster.

Given this lack of evidence it is likely we will never know the truth behind the destruction of Traxios IV.
 
Author #3


Something Was Wrong
The day was brighter than a sun going supernova. Okay, so it wasn’t actually that ridiculously bright, but it sure felt like it was. It was weirdly cold, though. The wind blew on Zegaf’s face.

It should not have been that way. It could not logically have been that way. Brightness should produce heat, but it did not… unless… no. Zegaf refused to believe it was that. Because, if it was, then that would be an unmitigated disaster. An apocalyptic disaster.

As Zegaf thought this, though, the brightness disappeared. All of the brightness. The world was pure darkness. Zegaf barely had time to enter his experimental spaceship before he felt no heat at all. The system’s sun had destroyed itself in totality… and Zegaf hadn’t been expecting it.

That was a problem. It was a huge problem. Zegaf was from a vast interstellar state. They had not known about this system’s sun being in the middle of exploding in a supernova. Something was very, very wrong. It was possible that Zegaf had done something wrong, but he didn’t know what, if so.

He decided to make a quick call to a friend of his in another system. He made the call, and hours passed with no answer. Zegaf decided to check to see what his interstellar communicator said. The answer to that shocked him - it simply said that the number he was calling didn’t exist. If that was the case, something was not where it should be. He decided to call all of his friends, just to be sure. The same text appeared for all of them - none of his friends’s numbers existed.

Great. That meant one of three things - either all of his friends had changed their com numbers without telling him (doubtful), there was something wrong with his communicator (more likely), or he was in the wrong time. He hoped that it wasn’t the third option, but he had to check.

He jumped to lightspeed and went over to the nearest civilized system. That was lightyears away, of course, but it shouldn’t take too long.

He arrived in a system of ruin. The sun still existed, but it looked like it had recently begun to expand. The main inhabited planet looked like it was covered in lava - at least from his vantage point in space. The two other inhabited planets looked to have been flooded completely. No human life could be supported on any of the three planets in their current state.

He had definitely time-traveled. This system had a bustling metropolis, a set of outposts, and an ordinary planet with eons of history in his own time. It wasn’t filled with decrepit ruins, if even that.

He needed to get back to his own time. He could not bear to live in this age where his great civilization was likely a decrepit ruin in its entirety, if it was remembered at all. Nothing was where it should be, but, then, of course it wasn’t. Things didn’t remain constant across time. As time passed, things changed.

Indeed, regardless of the potential horror, Zegaf was tempted to explore the universe in this future eon. He didn’t truly want to, but the temptation was still there. The temptation to learn what was to come, regardless of how horrifying it was. The temptation to learn of the disasters to come and then to avert them. The temptation to learn of what went right and to ensure that it still came to pass. The temptation to play at being divine.

He knew that that was a bad idea, of course, but that didn’t erase the temptation. If anything, it encouraged it - the forbidden fruit was always so much sweeter than a normal fruit. Men weren’t meant to know the future, but that didn’t stop some from wanting to.

As he mused on these things, he saw asteroids move in front of his ship. They formed a sentence, though, and that shocked him. The sentence shocked him more, though - it was simply, “someone is not where they should be”. He figured that that was a cryptic reference to his time travel, although, if it was, the fact that it referenced where and not when was weird.

He sighed. Ruminating on that wouldn’t get him back. He should go to Terra - hopefully, they would have a way for him to get back, and Terra shouldn’t be destroyed yet, assuming his calculations as to when he was were correct.

He engaged his hyperdrive and jumped to Terra.

He didn’t expect the sight that he was greeted with when he got there. Terra looked like a virgin planet. None of the great sights that he expected greeted him. Terra was a world of pure green, with small hints of blue surrounding it.

Sol lacked the dyson sphere that he had expected. There was no sign of human habitation - or any habitation at all, for that matter - on any of the other planets.

It was as if humanity had never existed. With a start, Zegaf realized that, here, they hadn’t. “Someone is not where they should be,” he thought. “Of course, I’m not where I should be.”

Because he hadn’t traveled through time. He had traveled across dimensions, and the dimension where he had arrived was one where humanity - where homo sapiens, at least - had never existed.
 
Author #4


Ode to Victory

Seen has he all, and made known to the lands,
He taught of the descent of mices and men,
Looked at the finches, discovered the hidden,
Published from antediluvian ken.

Talk of the wrath of the nephew of Boney,
Dark and abiding, France’s great bane,
Who threw into hell so many thousands,
Through giving to Helmuth his final great gain.

Answer me fuses, of the many-flowing currents,
That many a light has been burned by throughout,
After the workshop of Ed’s son begun them,
And markets had rendered them hardly real stout.

Speak of the men and machineguns,
Felled there too early, met fate,
who came to the mudlands of Flanders,
at ever a much higher rate.

Right at the start time the revolutions and darkness,
Were crafted to tell us these many great tales,
But in this last octade, the pipeline is rough and is empty,
Taken no form and brought no newer sales.

!The whole of this tale is thus bounded; separate from the all and the iron,
By the revolutions of the Rhone and Danubia,
And from stars and kings by mutual years.
 
As a reminder, this was the prompt:

DensleyBlair said:
In line with a desire to take this right back to basics after a devilish round of chicanery and mischief, I offer you all a topic which amounts to a virtually open brief:

Something is not where it should be.​

This can be interpreted however you wish: it can include the related but subtly different statement of "something is where it should not be", and something can also include someone (and, if you're feeling up to it, somewhere). You can write with any genre, setting, style or voice you wish. Let your imaginations go and see where they lead you all.

Yet—a brief is no good unless there is, at least, some hint of a constraint. Therefore, this round I am going to switch things up a bit and impose a strict 1,000 word limit. This is meant to be quick-fire, but concision brings its own challenges. A tight grip on plotting and pacing will be essential, as it will be to balance exposition with action.
Click to expand...

And a list of possible entrants is as follows:

@Cora Giantkiller
@Macavity116
@GangsterSynod
@HistoryDude
@Avernite
@Peter Ebbesen
@El Pip
@TheButterflyComposer
@Wyvern
@coz1

Comment away, guess away and – most importantly – have fun! :D
 
Booh! Not even poetic licence justifies the use of "mices" as the plural of mouse. One mouse, two mice. That 's' is NOT where it should be. :p
 
I do have to say, this is a stellar (pun intended!) set of stories!

Nr 1 reads like a scientist. The jokes at the expense of tenure and naming of planets are just a bit too much otherwise, IMO.

Nr 2 reads like a disaster story. A bit like last round's disaster siege, so going with GangsterSynod (even if it could be read similar to Pet'r Timurid Scientists)

Nr 3 reads like the Author read too much Hitchhiker's guide to the Galaxy. For its essential Britishness, I am going with Wyvern.

Nr 4 is poetry. And given the criticism right above here, that means it was obviously Peter Ebbesen thinking he could fool us by doing the same thing again.
 
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Avernite said:
Nr 4 is poetry. And given the criticism right above here, that means it was obviously Peter Ebbessen thinking he could fool us by doing the same thing again.
Click to expand...
  1. You misspell my name. I wonder how it is that people keep doing it, given that it is written next to each post, but they do.
  2. I guarantee you that I did not participate in this round, so I suggest you amend your guess, and not simply by fixing your spelling mistake
 
Peter Ebbesen said:
  1. You misspell my name. I wonder how it is that people keep doing it, given that it is written next to each post, but they do.
  2. I guarantee you that I did not participate in this round, so I suggest you amend your guess, and not simply by fixing your spelling mistake
Click to expand...
1. Because in Dutch pronunciation, Ebbessen sounds like 'Eb(be)'s son' and Ebbesen sounds like Abbey's son, and my mind has decided Ebbe is more logical ;) (the be being pronounced like English bee)
 
I'll have more complete analyses and guesses in a few weeks as usual, but for now, my preliminary guesses and thoughts:
#1: As Avernite noted, it does feel like a scientist wrote it. That's why I'm going to guess that it's him. Unless I'm mistaken (and I could very well be), he is one.
#2: Definitely not me. Makes me think TBC for some reason.
#3: You know what, on this one, I'm going to throw out a name that hasn't been mentioned by anyone yet. Macavity has written a few Stellaris AARs, and, while I'm not too familiar with his work (which I need to fix), what little I have read sort of reminds me of this piece.
#4: Poetry, done in a similar style to the last one, which was Peter's. I'm tempted to say that it is again, but I'm not super satisfied with that. I'm getting the gut feeling that someone's having a lot of fun leading us down a blind alley. But, in the absence of any better ideas, I'll guess Peter. For now.
 
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