It’s time to flex our “story beginning” muscles with Geoguessr.
Let’s practice writing some openings for tales that take place in random locations all around the world!
GeoGuessr is a website where you’re thrown into a random spot in the world on Google Maps streetview, and you have to try and guess where you are.
During the last stream, we were given five random locations anywhere in the world, and for each one, we had to write a the beginning of a story inspired by it.
Here’s some highlights of what me/chat came up with for each location.
Location #1:Guangxi, China
ABBEY:
The game started on a boat.
We were ferried along, blindfolded, as assurances to our safety were guaranteed and casually whispered into our ears by state TV execs.
“You all will be making history today!” one cooed to me personally. “If Weibo isn’t on fire about this after an hour, I’ll eat my suit!”
After having walked down a dirt road for fifteen minutes with rocks crunching under our sneakers, not being able to see any of the pointed rocks that so loved to jab their way into my soles, the sounds of the rushing water was a welcome change. Although I could’ve personally done without the pushing when we were all shoved onto THE BOAT.
“Alright, you may take off your blindfolds now!” another exec cheerfully shouted.
The first thing I saw when I took off my mask was what looked like a janky amusement park ride gate closing behind us, sealing us in for the ride we’d signed up for. There was no going back now.
Thus began the finale of The Bachelorette: Rural China.
cozyrogers:
Why’d I ever decide to get on a rickety old boat full of rickety old white men with expensive new cameras?
I’m glad you asked, dear diary. No, really: I’m thankful all the way down to the cockles of my heart: at times like these, I’d much rather be writing about my life than living it.
So, yeah. I’m standing on a rusty old green boat. The thing’s shrieking in metallic D minor, like it could fall apart any second. The darkening clouds overhead are near as murky as the muddy water below, but neither can compare to the murky atmosphere in between.
This river is wide. Wide enough to make the towering rainforest that surrounds it on either bank look like underbrush in the not-quite-distance. Wide enough that I’m utterly trapped on this deathtrap of a rustbucket, within a cage of western tourists.
Click. Click. Click. Click. The cameras — they never shut up, not even for a moment.
I’ve got to escape.
thelpr_zura:
The Swamp was unforgiving. i could smell the death and disease for miles around. The Sun’s light couldn’t cut the mood. We were driving right into the shadows of wet hell. i knew for certain this muddy river would be our grave.
Joe_G89:
I gotta fall in now. Nobody was looking but that was normal. Nobody every looked my way. But today would be different. I stared off the boat into the brown murky water and prayed no alligators were near by. I pretended to slip and crashed into the warm water. I screamed for help even though I can swim. Flailing my arms and legs, I screamed as loud as I could as water filled my mouth. People scrambled to my aid, leaning over the edge of the boat with a helping hand. They noticed me.
Location #2: Nigeria, Africa
ABBEY:
James had spent days in search of the perfect spot.
And by god, he had finally found it.
After traversing the lush forest of the South Carolina/Georgia border, he stumbled in a drunken stupor onto an open mess of a field. Humidity and mosquitoes nipped at his bare limbs, but he didnt care. He’d found it.
And as soon as he saw it, he hobbled full speed ahead to dive ass-first into the murky yet glistening depths of the small cow pond nestled just below a lone and overgrown fern.
James was thankful there were no pies along his path to sully and dirty his feet before plunging into the cool relief of the pond. He briefly wondered if cows could read, noting a faded “NO GRAZING” sign. Again, he was thankful for a lack of bovine presence or any presence of anything at all. That was what he always looked for when picking “slop spots,” as he called them.
As he basked in the glory of his new discovery, he felt a small breeze of relief.
He had found the perfect place for Thursday night’s underground buxom buddies mud wrestling tournament.
cozyrogers:
My name is Abraham Thomson, the year is 1800, and I’m about to die.
Somewhere in the greenlands of western America, I’m running through sheets of grass so tall that I can’t see where I’m going. That’s not a hindrance. Actually, it’s a blessing. Where I’m running to ain’t so important as where I’m running from.
There’s no canopy of trees above my head, so I stare up at the rolling clouds as a run. The lazy bastards — how can they look just as relaxed now, as I’m runnin’ for my life, as they did when I was layin’ down on the hill behind my old Louisiana farmstead, with my childhood sweetheart by my side. The very same sweetheart what led me out westward in the first place.
Behind me, not more than fifty paces away, a voice starts wallowin’ like a banshee, and a stone-headed spear — whistlin’ with feathers — goes a’flyin right over my head from behind, cuttin’ my daydreams right in half. I can’t see where it goes, but I can hear it tearin’ through the grass and thwappin’ into the ground somewhere well ahead of me.
Back when I was a kid, I’d always wanted to meet the natives — the legendary ‘wild men of the west’. Guess the feeling ain’t mutual.
Joe_G89:
My dad wanted to shoot my German Shepard puppy because he played too hard with the other kids and then bit his hand one day. So I grabbed Maxie’s harness and ran into an open field. She looked up at me with her smile and her floppy tongue, breathing heavily. My dad yelled at me from the porch to bring that fuggin dog back, and then pow, he shot his hunting rifle. I never found out if it was a warning shot or he was aiming for the dog with two legs. But we kept running.
Location #3: Henderson Island, Pitcairn Islands
ME:
I guess some people like going to the beach for the sun or the sand or whatever.
I like going because I want to experience being engulfed.
There’s something about just lying there on the sand, with the water ever encroaching upon you. The mouth of the world, its saliva lapping against your toes, threatening to digest you if you fall in too deep.
You know the Sarlaac Pit from The Return of the Jedi? The creepy tentacle sand monster that slowly digests you over the course of a thousand years. I guess for some, that’s considered torture.
But for me, it’s all I’m thinking about as I feel the hermit crabs nibbling away at my nipples.
Joe_G89:
Tracks of my footprints dotted the beach sand. Back and forth in many rows. Everyday. The binoculars helped me see far into the water at the spot where his ship sunk. My mom and dad told me to give up, my husband was dead. It was time to move on and start a new life. But today, as I stared at that spot, something finally rose to the surface.
Location #4: Yosemite National Park, California USA
Me:
When I asked James how the bison got to the top of the mountain, he just smiled, put a finger to his lips, and whispered.
“Don’t ask questions, bro.”
When we climbed up the side of the rock, our fingers scraping against Mother Nature’s hardened backside, and I cried out for him to tell me why we were doing this, he just smiled, put a finger to his lips, and whispered.
“Don’t ask questions, bro.”
When we finally made it to the top, me panting and sweating puddles through my layers of windbreakers and climbing shoes, and I gasped out at him if he was happy now that we were stuck at the top… he didn’t say anything.
He just pointed. And I looked.
“Don’t ask questions, bro,” whispered the magical, golden glowing bison.
cozyrogers:
When my ‘ma told me to reach for the stars, she never thought I’d take it quite so literally. The first time I scaled the sheer face of a thousand-foot cliff, I was afraid I might faint… I never expected her to beat me to it. These days, I don’t let her watch anymore.
The wind whips at my back as I reach for my next foothold. Five hundred and sixty feet below, the trees on the ground look smaller than the termites that haunt them. Just another climb, like any other.
Except, not quite. This time, there’s a crowd of onlookers down there. All holding their breaths, if imagination serves. This time, I’ve got far more than one thousand feet left to go before I reach the top. And this time, the thing awaiting me at the summit isn’t a picnic and a phot
AlyxVixen:
I froze to the rockface as the creature pushed its way through the forest below me. Even at this height, its powerful body was clearly visible as it effortlessly shouldered pines out of its path. I prayed to the Mountain spirits for the dark monstrosity not to look up.
Joe_G89:
My fetish is rock climbing. But there’s more to it than that. I would climb this huge boulder, nicknamed “My Love Bulge.” I’d climb it as high as I could. Thinning air made it hard to breathe. So each inhale was precious and made me a little dizzy. But I would press my entire body onto the hard, jagged stone and thrust my hips. Slowly. Repeatedly. God, it felt so good. My erection grinding on this rock was like my own personal mortar and pestle, churning out love potions. I have to do this alone because my friends will think I’m weird. – Posted on Reddit by user Rockin’aHardPlace
Location #5: Kazakhstan
ABBEY:
When Barnaby arrived in rural Peru, all he wanted was an alpaca.
When he scaled the first of many mountains in search of this elusive spitting floof, all he ever thought about was getting his alpaca.
Problem was, he had yet to actually see one. All he knew of alpacas were the brightly colored soft, wooly parkas that he occasionally saw in department stores back home. And after caressing these pricey garments longingly year after year, he decided to throw caution to the wind and bring home his own alpaca to craft his own fluffy clothing and save barrels of money at the same time.
Barnaby might not have been the brightest bulb in the socket, but he was a master of the art of the bargain. He’d be damned if he was going to pay 500 pounds for an imported jacket when for that cost he could just import the entire animal and GROW his own!
JOE:
I revved up my dirt bike at the peak of this tall mountain thing. It was made of rocks. I nodded at my friends behind me, woo-woo’ing me, cheering me on. This whole thing was a bad idea. That feeling rippled through my body as I sat on my shakey bike. But I pushed off and accelerated. Over the bumpy rocks, my entire body shook. My arms struggled to stabilize. Then my bike slipped and I fell. I remember tumbling down, flying, jagged rocks stabbing my sides and legs. And that’s all I remember when I woke up in a body bag with my mom weeping over me.
If you want to join us and help write a story by trolling in chat, or share your own writing for feedback, then we’d love to have you join us on Twitch.
And you missed the stream, you can still watch them on the YouTube channel or watch the full stream reruns.
Hope to see you next time, friend!
