March 2026 Writer Support Thread

[Jonathan_Bagelman]

Here’s a snippet from the upcoming Chapter 3 of The Rise of Cthulhu:

Here be spoilers

As you approach him, you can see that he clearly has the features common to many Innsmouth inhabitants, and perhaps a bit more pronounced. “What do you want, outsider?” he asks.

“I just wanted to see what goes on here,” you say.

“Now you have. Are you satisfied?”

“This doesn’t seem like a typical church.”

“We have been blessed with prosperity here. The way we do things is therefore better.”

“Not so,” you say. “I am reminded of Psalm 73, verse 12: ‘Behold, these are the ungodly, who prosper in the world; they increase in riches.’ You practice idolatry here.”

“Our God gives us fish and gold in ample supply, in return for our humble offerings.”

“You must be serving some other god, then.”

“I do. One with more power than yours! He is risen!”

“There is none greater than my God. He will put an end to your blasphemy.”

“We shall see.”

“What you do here is wrong.”

“Begone!” he demands, pointing to the exit. The congregation is watching you with outright menace. You leave the building before they decide to tear you limb from limb.

[CodedQuill]

I never figured I’d be writing a sports-related game, it’s certainly not going to be a literary masterpiece, but it has actually been quite fun.

A snippet from the skiing game I’ve been working on. For context, you are 7 years old and this is on the route where you are from a wealthy family and decided to join the expensive club ‘Snowstyle’.

“So everyone, this is $!{player_name}. Welcome to the club.”

Unsure of quite what to say to the sea of eyes washing over you, Xavier rescues you by taking your hand, “Come with me, I’ll show you around.”

Xavier heads over to the bar area before releasing his grip on your hand. It hadn’t been a particularly forceful grip, and you could have stood your ground, but you had felt compelled to follow him anyway. He checks over your shoulder to ensure the others are out of earshot.

“You and I will be rivals.” He says, which was a little bit more dramatic than you had expected for a first introduction.

“Rivals? What do you mean?” Unsure of quite what he was talking about, and doubly unsure whether you should have let him lead you away.

“I mean, Snowstyle pairs everyone in a ‘buddy’ system. We will be expected to do most things together in training, and to try to beat each other in everything.” He pauses, and straightens the sleeves on his white shirt. “Constant competition.”

“So, we’ll be training partners?” You’re pretty sure you knew what he had said, but not completely sure what he had meant. Xavier was checking the buttons on his black waistcoat. You thought it would have made him look like a waiter, only the silky fabric looked far too elegant. And the fact he was the same age as you.

“Partners?… That will depend on whether you can challenge me sufficiently.” He regards your expression carefully. “I’m not trying to scare you. I’m just trying to let you know that the club’s reputation is just as important as our own.”

He starts walking back towards the lobby, “Come, let’s give you the tour. It’s easy to get lost in the hotel, but it doesn’t reflect very well if lost children are asking for directions. It makes you look like you don’t belong…”

You keep pace beside him, until Xavier reaches the door, where he stops just before the automatic sensor would pick up his presence.

“Oh, and one other thing…” He looks you up and down. “This season’s colours are black and white.”

[Hamartia]

My short snippet contribution - one of the little standalone ‘independent research’ sections that a Pactbinder / protagonist can tackle during their free time / the free roam section. This one is for a Pactbinder trying to work out what magical politics might look like…

Summary

*if motive = “chance to sate your boundless ambition”
If you’re ever going to have a chance of fulfilling your ambitions and carving out a real place for yourself in this world, you’re going to need to understand where power lies here.
*else
If you’re going to be a part of this world, you’re going to need to understand where power lies here.
*if (motive = “chance to learn magic.”)
There’s magic, of course, but strength of magic alone certainly doesn’t seem to determine status and influence here.
*else
Magic is one thing, and all very well and good, but strength of magic alone doesn’t seem to determine status and influence here.
No, Hightower seems just as concerned with wealth, heritage, race and class as the world that you’ve left behind. The trick will be to work out how those concerns manifest at the University and in the magical world beyond this isolated domain.

Of course, this is one research topic that isn’t too difficult at all for you to tackle; there’s a wealth of information available at Hightower’s libraries, and Marcus proves more than happy to fill in any gaps in your knowledge or questions that arise from your personal research. After you’ve spent some time compiling notes, comparing sources and catching up on magical news, you come to a few conclusions.

Firstly, it doesn’t appear as though mages operate under a completely independent political apparatus; the magical press appears to be primarily concerned with the same English political parties that dominate the mundane news cycle, not to mention the same old talking points; economy, immigration policy, taxation, and so on and so forth. Magical news sources tend to exhibit a decidedly conservative slant, with a particular focus on opposing anything that implies a movement of wealth or influence away from the country’s most powerful and prosperous people. Overall, however, it appears that mages worry about the same things and vote for the same people as the rest of the country—though you do find the occasional think piece debating the necessity of hiding magic from the rest of society. Most papers you read are gently mocking of such ideas at best, openly hostile at worst.

Of more interest are the occasional references to the Third House that you find; apparently a branch of government dedicated to ensuring that ‘magical interests’ remain represented at the highest levels of power, as well as maintaining the secrecy of magic in the United Kingdom. Though details on the institution are thin on the ground, you do make a mental note of their crest, a golden gate beneath a two-tiered crown; if mages have any influence on the world beyond the not-inconsiderable privileges afforded by wealth alone, you suspect it lies with this secretive faction.

You doubt that official news sources are likely to tell you much more than you’ve already discovered. At least you’ve managed to learn a little more about how these people think and how they approach the world; you aren’t quite sure whether to be amused or disappointed by how mundane it all is, really.

Magic, it seems, does little to change the nature of men.

One of the things that I’ve been a little interested by lately is that I don’t think that my narrative voice for Pactbinder is quite aligned to my natural cadence - I think my non-IF prose writing is by nature a bit more florid and descriptive, but my narrative voice for this has so far has been a bit brisker and more cutting, for want of a better word?

I’m not sure whether that’s my protagonist influencing me or an unconscious adaptation I’ve made for writing IF, or whether it’s a good thing, but it’s interesting to note at least…

[will]

Snippet

Grim stands far away from the festivities. You approach him with a coconut and offer it to him. He gives you a tight-lipped smile and accepts it, tipping its innards into his mouth.

He wipes his chin with his arm. “I lose more and more respect for the customs of these people the longer I spend on this island. All this talk of wombs … Chami Kumbari speaks of the folly of kings yet has clearly set himself up as one, in a sense.”

*fake_choice

# 'His followers do seem to obey his every word.'

Grim says, “The mark of a good leader is to be able to trust one’s followers to carry on one’s vision even when you are no longer there to oversee it. Chami is too … hands-on.”

“Does this have anything to do with you leaving the Chrysalline?”

He is silent for a moment. “I will return to my people, some day. But Giedin needs time to practice on his own.”

“Do you trust him?”

“No,” says Grim. “But you don’t need to challenge the people you trust.”

# 'He's not the only man on the island, but it sure feels like it sometimes.'

Grim nods. “I have seen many civilisations. Chami Kumbari seems to believe that women are the cornerstone of a functioning society, but I have a different opinion. I believe it is competition.”

“Like, fighting each other?”

“Competition can be ugly, but it is valuable. One cannot improve without it. Chami Kumbari has accepted so few men into the Renewalists because he is uncomfortable with competition. He wants to make his very strange speeches about the nature of civilisation without anyone challenging those very strange beliefs.”

“He’s free to be king, and he doesn’t even have to fight for it.”

“This is the reason that I have allied myself with the demon. The Divine Right rules this world without competition. I abhor it.”

# 'I don't think anything he said was all that bad.'

Grim scoffs. “Have you ever heard the term synecdoche?”

“Sin-neck-to-key? No, what’s that?”

“Orcs are storytellers. We listen, we learn, and we shape these stories for ourselves. We know the little techniques that other storytellers like to use. A synecdoche is one such technique. You take a small part of something, and you blow it up until it is all of that thing.”

“For example?”

“I need workers, so I demand a pair of hands. I receive an order from the king, and it is signed ‘The Crown’. Chami declares that women are the key to civilisation, and he calls them wombs.”

“Oh.”

“Maybe it is just a figure of speech. Or, maybe, and I think I am right, maybe Chami Kumbari sees women as nothing more than a vessel that contains a womb.”

# 'He opposes the Divine Right, just like we do.'

Grim nods. “For different reasons. Nyeru opposes the Divine Right because it clings to the memories of the gods rather than letting go and allowing Circadia’s people to flourish on their own. Chami opposes the Divine Right because he thinks he can do better.”

“We both found a little place to ourselves by the ocean. We both gathered followers.”

Grim’s voice is a low growl. “I am working with Nyeru only so my son can take on the responsibility of leading the Chrysalline in my absence. Do not mistake the demon’s battle for my own. They’re both wrong about why the Divine Right must be dissolved.”

“And why is that?”

“Because the Chrysalline, the Levocera, the orcs, we travel to learn and absorb the stories of other cultures. Under the Divine Right, there are no other cultures. There is the Divine Right, and there are enemies of the Divine Right. That is all that the world can be.”

[Ne_Ne]

Hello,

I’m sorry I know I’m late for Snippet day, But I just didn’t manage yesterday. I hope it’s okay to still leave this here.

It’s from the start of the first chapter.

My thanks to anyone who reads this! (And sorry Haylan)

earlier, on the way to Thornfair village..

Mairen had insisted they take up this mission, even though they would be cutting it close with the departure for the capital then. A straightforward job such as this, with a comparatively high reward, how could they just refuse such a good deal, he said. Not to mention the reputation boost for “saving an entire village from longstanding plight”. They’d need every single bit of an advantage for the upcoming event after all.

As important as he made this out to be though, he didn’t come himself.

The sky, at least, is finally looking a bit friendlier than the days past, with only a few fluffy white clouds lazily drifting along. A nice change to all the rain and mist that had held this region hostage for a long while now. Everything’s still soaked, mud caking shoes and hooves, water dripping from trees, providing an accompanying background noise together with the horses’ steps and the cold wind rustling what few leaves there are this early in spring.

Unfortunately, the nicer weather is overshadowed by something much more attention-seeking:

My behind hurts.

*page_break Very much so.

That is the extent of what I have gotten out of this ordeal so far. That and a brand new tear in my clothes.

Better than Heylans fate at least. The short, bespectacled mercenary has lost one of his boots to a particularly mean puddle of mud. Having packed as lightly as possible to not be slowed down has left him to ride single-shoed ever since then.

Sighing I look back up ahead, hoping to see our destination by now. It’s a small village, barely to be found on maps, called Thornfair village. I had not heard of it until their plight was brought before us, but apparently Rin knew of it. Said she’d not been there but had learned of its existence while in that area once. Sometimes I wonder if there’s even a single place the well-traveled woman hasn’t been to yet.

But Nope. Still nothing but poorly maintained dirt road, muddy fields and a couple of trees scattered between. Ah yes, the rain all day yesterday had definitely not helped the journey. Nor my comfort level.

At this point I begin to doubt the very existence of that darn place.

[Writing_Executive]

Hi all,

Here’s a snippet I wrote for one of the romance paths:

In a McDonald’s somewhere.

“Hey babe, are you okay..? You look a little distant,” Cass asks, her lips slightly pouted.

You give her the side-eye. She drops the pout.

“Look, if this is about me playing ninja warrior. Never mind alright, I can cover for dessert.”

You chuckle, then lunge and take a large bite from her ice-cream.

She’s exasperated.

"${fullname}, we’re no longer fourteen!

Hmmph!"

You raise your right hand to stroke her hair. She fails to suppress a smile but swiftly swats your hand away.

You raise your left hand to cradle her shoulder. She’s back to pouting again, but swats away your left hand too.

Then your right hand cradles her cheek. And she lets it remain there this time.

Sensing the mood, she asks: “What’s with you today babe?”

“Have I told you how much I adore you?” you deflect.

“Not enough,” she says while giggling.

“Well I do. I love you so much,” you say.

Her expression softens, and you catch a tear forming at the edge of her eye.

“I…” she can’t form words. Instead she closes her eyes and leans in for a kiss.

Now you’re the ninja warrior. You pull back and take another massive bite of her dessert.

Two seconds later.

"Aiyee! You criminal!!!

My ice cream!!! I’m going to kill you for this!!!"

__

Spoiler alert: You survive. Barely.

[LiliArch]

…why am I researching Finnish '80s cigarette brands now? This isn’t even useful anymore!

[LisHz]

Late for snippet day, but here! This was written this morning (and the top part last night).

Note: Which RO brings dinner will depend on previous choices. I’ve replaced the variables and multireplaces here to show Luvia’s start to this scene. I’ve also cut the choices and page breaks. Choices are indicated with an arrow. The romance has not yet started, but Luvia is a very physical person. Her uncle is Vebon Kyte, who is deeply involved in crime/etc…to simplify a bit. Luvia’s parents are also both deceased, which the MC knows.

Summary

Otha might still be down in the kitchen. The stew you’d shared with Elian had been delicious and dinner had smelled good as well. You could bring up a plate.

Or you could do what you did last year and go eat out surrounded by strangers. Your parents died investigating for those strangers. It was almost like remembering them.

Elian’s eaten with you before, as did Kian when you lived with nem that first time.

The hunger curls inward, eating itself. The memorial happens every year, but this year — you reach into the drawer holding the journal, slide your fingers along the bumps of stitches holding the pages together — this year weighs more.

Maybe you should skip dinner altogether.

“Is this a bad time?" Luvia’s voice startles you.

“What are you doing here?”

Luvia holds up a bag; warm scents drift forward. Your stomach grumbles again and Luvia presses her lips together, eyes laughing. “Shall we dine?”

“This isn’t a good time.”

Luvia sobers. “I know. That’s why I’m here.”

Do you invite her in?

→ Agree to share the memorial dinner.

You smile with a sigh. “Come in, then.”

Luvia enters and places the bag on the edge of your desk. “Where should we eat?”

You consider your options. You could clear your desk, but you also have a perfectly serviceable balcony that wraps around the building. It isn’t extremely wide, but it’d be fine for two people sharing a meal. Alternatively, the bedrooms downstairs are rarely all full. The guild does have other spaces, but you’d risk being disturbed.

Where do you suggest?

→ Eat at your desk.

Luvia tsks. “Mixing work and pleasure? How gauche.”

“Pleasure?” you comment, not looking up from your papers.

“Pleasure,” she repeats firmly. Luvia touches your chin, stilling you. “Remembering should be a pleasure. You loved them, and they loved you.”

You swallow. “Right.”

“Right,” she repeats again, holding your gaze. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, the moment breaks. “Well, I suppose I should help. We don’t want the food to get cold.” She picks up a paper and freezes. “Why is my uncle writing you?”

You open the letter and show her. “He wants to have dinner.”

“Don’t go.” Every consonant hits the room like a pick on ice.

“Luvia?”

She pulls back. “I’ve already claimed you,” she says, smiling again. “I can’t let another Kyte swoop in and steal you away. Now, shall we eat?”

[LiliArch]

Random fact: I find writing in present tense very very difficult. So much so that now that I’ve been using past tense (which I love using, but needs must) so much lately, writing narration in present tense sounds completely ridiculous to my brain.

It’s like spending a few months without your glasses, I guess. Your eyes forget.

[Anna_B]

I have a hard time writing in first person, even though I like reading it so much.

I might try an experiment where I write in third person and then convert it to first person?

[LiliArch]

I prefer 3rd person myself (I blame my reading habits), but sadly I think an IF in 3rd person past tense would be too weird…

[Dvalor53]

@Anna_B

I might try an experiment where I write in third person and then convert it to first person?

I recommend against this. My game was originally a second-person perspective, and I hated it, so I switched over to first person. It was a terrible experience. People continued to pick up the remnants of the second-person POV for years.

[LisHz]

That is a good exercise. Each viewpoint gives you new opportunities and limitations. I think that’s even in Ursula K. Le Guin’s book (Steering the Craft), iirc. Writing a scene multiple times, each in a different point of view.

[Hazel]

Rewriting for a different POV, sure. That’s a great exercise. But writing in one tense and then switching is quite error-prone. I would suggest beginning as you mean to go on.

[Ne_Ne]

I’ve had a hard time deciding on what perspective to write this thing in, but settled on 1st person eventually, in combination with different NPCs POV which are/ will be in 3rd person. I so hope I won’t regret this (already caught myself accidently switching to 2nd person in the middle of writing), because I’ve just hit 20k for the 1st chapter and really don’t want to have to switch now x_x;

[Cecilia_Rosewood]

I finished beta reading for a Choice of Games beta for the first time in years! It was only possible in the first place because it mostly coincided with my vacation, but still. I feel pretty awesome now.

[LiliArch]

Fun little thing about more-words-is-better discussions: I’m reading Raymond Chandler’s The Long Goodbye, and there’s a writer character who’s at two-thirds of his book, well over 100k words, and complains how readers want long books thinking that more words means more gold.

Nothing new under the sun!

[LeannaMandragoran]

Hello thanks for creating the thread. Currently working on my game at last learned Choice script.

[LiliArch]

On subject of viewpoints and tenses, I screwed up completely trying to write this one scene that’s stuck in my head of my space opera spy thriller. I mean, I screwed up completely about the viewpoints and tenses. It wasn’t supposed to be first-person past-tense, but that’s what came out.

For context, the MC and Nine are on opposing sides on a large-scale lukewarm war. Superficially, since Nine is a double agent.

“I used to be an idealist,” he said, bitterly. “Once upon a time. A long, long time ago.” He stared at the pistol in his hand like it was something foul that crawled up there and died. Then he took it by the barrel and offered it to me, turning away and avoiding looking at the body. “Do what you must.”

“You do realize, of course,” I said carefully, took the gun and eyed it warily. “I’m not in a business where two IPR officers suddenly deciding to shoot each other bothers me overmuch. From where I’m standing, you just made my job easier. What, exactly, do you think I must do here?”

“I don’t know.” He crossed his arms on the balcony railing and leaned his weight on them. “I don’t know anything anymore. I’m not sure I ever did. I thought I did, but maybe that was just another lie.”

“Nine,” I said, because that’s who he was. A ghost in the machine. He didn’t look at me, but his shoulders tensed. That was good enough for me, so I continued. “Far as I’m concerned, I’m better off leaving you where you are right now. We could have used the intel, sure. But I’m fairly confident you being out there throwing wrenches ranks higher on our hierarchy of intelligence operations.”

“It never ends, does it.” His voice was weary, the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that sleeping doesn’t solve. “Not for people like us. Not until we’re dead in the ditch somewhere, two bullets to the heart and one to the brain. Stars.”

“It might be better if I held to this pistol, though.” I dropped the gun in my pocket. “Probably not a good idea to have it found on you. I trust you have other weapons.”

“Sure,” he responded mechanically, then collected himself. He took a step away from the railing, took a glance at the body, and dusted his uniform. “Right. Okay. I can do that. You better scram, I’ll take care of the body. See you on the mission reports.”

[JaeCynthia]

I’ve been writing so much in the second-person present-tense for my game (since last May) that now I find myself unconsciously slipping back into it for all my other writing. It’s a real problem.