Let’s write about random world locations… with a twist.
Each round we spin the Wheel of Writing Restrictions and we have to obey what it says, along with every other restriction so far.
Will our house of cards topple, or will we emerge victorious???
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, chat and I played a game of GeoGuessr, and just like when we’ve done this before, we were given five random locations anywhere in the world.
We had to write a short story for each one… but every time, we also added two randomly chosen writing restrictions. It got… pretty intense toward the end lol.
Here’s the video of the whole stream, exercise starts around 54:00.
And here’s some highlights of what me/chat came up with for each location, with some of my favorite phrases bolded.
Location #1: Uyuni, Bolivia
Restrictions:
1. The writing must be exactly 97 words long
2. There must be characters and they must be named “The SOMETHING.”
3. The first letter of each sentence must match the final letter of the sentence before it.
SCOTT:
The Pious offered his sacrifice to The Rust. Through the air, a sharp metallic stink cut like a knife as he marched through sands unending. Gods did not sleep here, they watched, ever judging, murmuring secrets as they slowly devoured that which The Pious brought to them. Millennia had passed since The Pious’s ancestors began this sacred ritual of sand and soot. The Paragon her name was, or perhaps something else, it like all things had been blown away to dust by the breath of the gods attempting to cool their fiery world. Death begat The Pious.DannyuNDos:
There was no way to go. On the ground, on the edge, only a rusty train without accompanying rails. Sadly enough, the Pathfinder didn’t have any means of fueling the train either. Records say that Pathfinder was a single man. Nonetheless, he had hope. Energetic as he gathered resources, a miracle happened. Desperately, he tried to remember a magic spell that he was taught when he was a toddler. Right then, there was an enlightenment. “Tada Kaseri Mudapa!” Awkward though, this was really the spell. Light shed on him, and then finally, he found a way home.MystralianCryatist:
The Sandstorm glanced about carefully, seeing no sign of anyone who might stop him from exploring the train. Not yet satisfied, he scrutinized more intently so that no perils would trip him up. Pleased with his search, The Sandstorm strode forwards into the open doorway. Yet his caution had not sufficed. Dreadful dangers awaited him within, such as the centipedes which had evolved over the centuries to have shifting sands as a shell. Lesser adventurers may have palled at the sight, but it merely spurred The Sandstorm further onwards. Surely all this would pay off for him.Joe_g89:
The Choo-Choo Man stood in the graveyard of rusted metal. Long trains were stripped of parts, the rest buried wheel-deep in sand. Dry air choked The Choo-Choo Man’s throat in blistering heat. These scraps of unwanted metal became a side-show to history unburied. Despite that, The Choo-Choo Man visited back here to relish in the past. Time eroded the metallic progress these engines and wheels meant for humanity. Yelling kids have been known to come by and tag the sides of these things. Stupid sayings in red or blue or green or violet. The Choo-Choo Man cries.
Location #2: Beijing, China
Restrictions:
1. The writing must be exactly 104 words long
2. There must be characters and they must be named “The SOMETHING.”
3. The first letter of each sentence must match the final letter of the sentence before it.
4. At least one character must die in the story, but make at least 1 action after they die.
5. You have to use all five senses.
SCOTT:
The Ghost’s nickname was very prophetic because that’s what she became after she died. During a trip to the shopping mall with her boyfriend The Codpiece, her last memory of being alive was looking up at the falling AC unit. Though honestly, The Ghost didn’t mind so much. Her mobility was much improved, able to fly around anywhere she wanted to. Of course, there was just one problem: her senses had stopped working. Glorious fries from the food court had no smell. Luscious lollipops on sale had no taste. Even the inoffensive muzak was silent, and The Codpiece’s hand was listless. So she cried.Joe_g89:
The mall was never enough for The Shopper Supreme. Every purchase was a fix until the next receipt. The mall smelled like bricks and window cleaner, smells that made her credit card quiver in her pocketbook. Keepers of the items knew her by name, The Shopper Supreme, their favorite customer. Routinely, she touched the shiny things. Sadly, The Shopper Supreme fell down an escalator with bags in her arms. Safety was not a concern. Nobody turned their heads when The Shopper Supreme’s body was sucked under the rattling escalator. Reaching out for some help, she swiped the air with her MasterCard, her final purchase.RealSayakaMaizono:
I tasted his crimson blood. Delighted in the joy of my craven, evil act, crowds surrounded; a crushing sight to see, or so their faces betrayed. Dead, cold bars awaited me, if the touch of cold steel in my hands wasn’t already a precursor. Rotten shoppers to this mall stood and screamed blissful sounds. Spirits of loved ones whispered them on, to flee in fear of me, the Rat Man. Nastily timed, only then did he surprise me. Eager for revenge, since his painful death, as his final act, he let rip the stench of a massive shit. The murder wasn’t worth that horror…DannyuNDos:
The Shopkeeper shouted her final will. “Let it be remembered that I’ll hate this mall, even after my death.” Haunting enough, she died right after those words. Strangely though, she could retain her senses. She had become a ghost, bound within the mall. Letting herself some time, she tested her vision first. Through everything, she could see like an x-ray. Yet the strangeness didn’t stop there. Every frequency, she could concentrate to listen to. Other senses remained ordinary though. Humbly, she bit a hot dog from her most loved baker. Right through her teeth passed, yet she could feel its taste and scent. Terminative.MystralianCryatist:
A scent of smog wafted through cool fall air, disturbing [The Shopping Mall Patrons] intently ignoring loudly blaring advertisements and looking at bright-red billboards above store entrances. Stirred from their reverie, [The Shopping Mall Patrons] looked around for the irritating smell’s source. Listlessly, one popped a stick of gum into their mouth, enjoying the sudden bite of minty flavor. Residual resin stuck, causing a difficult-to-lift sensation in their teeth. However enjoyable it was, it had a bad result for this subunit of [The Shopping Mall Patrons]. See, that particular stick of gum triggered anaphylactic shock. Kismet favored the dead, a reflexive breath blew bubbles.
Location #3: Ichinsky V., Russia
Restrictions:
1. The writing must be exactly 112 words long
2. There must be characters and they must be named “SOMETHING” (One uppercase word).
3. The first letter of each sentence must match the final letter of the sentence before it.
4. At least one character must die in the story, but make at least 1 action after they die.
5. You have to use all five senses.
6. Cannot use the words “the” or “a(n).”
7. All sentences must rhyme.
SCOTT
Bricks had come to this field to die. Engulfed in grasses, beneath blue sky. Yellowing weeds bellowing song. Growing quieter as they rotted along. Gasping for breath now, Bricks sniffed nice and hard, reeking of pollen and sweetness and chard. Decaying slowly, all he could feel, Field embracing him warmly, enjoying its meal. Long before he awoke with his former eyes, something else opened up that let Bricks rise. Erect he stood, mighty and tall, tasting winds of summer, just before fall. Light as air, nimble as seeds, no longer Bricks, he flew as Spirit-With -Breeze. Even Mountain then spoke, its voice rumbling and fine: “Sup bro, wanna play some Xbox online?”RealSayakaMaizono:
Breezing winds blew still waters, this is where he drowned his daughters. Stubbornly, they drifted, their rotting corpses restless, til’ justice was done, they’d just begun. Nagging stenches brought Scott to see them cast ashore, shaking to his core, for help he’d call for. Renewed, Police who’d heard his tales, his crooked crying wails, carted him away; one empty cell to stay. Yellowed, rotten teeth no different than his soul, like what he did on that grassy knoll. Languid wicked taste’s were swallowed down, his hollow frown, lost at his brutal crime’s crackdown. Nagging and vain he rested, for steel’s cold touch made meek of this man now weak, so terribly bleak.Joe_g89:
Grassy hill mounds far away bump the cloudy skyline. Earth cascades to fields of colors, nature’s natural decline. Easy wind, deft cool breeze, some leaves drift on by. Yet Our Divine weeps at stagnant water welling, ponds refusing to cry. Yes, grass tickles his legs when he walks through Earth’s bushy section. Thorns rip skin and led to his infection. Near nature’s bath, he lied back on solid ground, staring up at heaven. Nasty rot crawled to his dying heart, then he was dead by hour eleven. Now mother nature sings to him, singing and singing her chants. Saving one last breath for his final death, his organs then sprouted more plants.DannyuNDos:
To earth has Gnirut arrived, ye all shall be terrified. Dare ye couldst avoid his sights, ‘cause his eyes are like hundreds and eights. Surely ye couldst hold yer breath, as he breathes fire of wrath. Huff and huff ye shalt not, odors shall drive ye nuts. Suddenly ye feel sour taste, acid goes yer throat like haste. Eat or be eaten ye couldst not choose, he already chose souls to devour whose. Even or odd, ye couldst not count, already beyond yer finger amount. Tied by his tentacles, he starts eating like festivals. Suddenly ye realized where ye are, endless garden with sorrowing tear. Reckon ye whether this is heaven, seven and eleven…
Location #4: Guangxi, China
Restrictions:
1. The writing must be exactly 115 words long.
2. There must be characters and they must be named “SOMETHING” (One uppercase word)
3. The first letter of each sentence must match the final letter of the sentence before it.
4. At least one character must die in the story, but make at least 1 action after they die.
5. You have to use all five senses.
6. Cannot use the words “the” or “a(n).”
7. All sentences must rhyme.
8. You’re colorblind. (Must describe at least one color wrong).
9. At least one person dabbing constantly.
SCOTT
Is this place Heaven? Nutshack wondered aloud, his ethereal arms dabbing strongly and proud. Diagonally his fingers pointed upward and true, he looked over rivers green as witch’s brew. Weird memories flooded through his tiny-ass brain, pattering against his thoughts like rain. Now something about falling, and high towers, was he cursed in limbo? Or merely dead for hours? Simply going by odors emitting from his sleeve, Nutshack guessed he’d been dead since New Year’s Eve. Ere one question lay on his small brain, who doth killed poor Nutshack in vain? Never before did he dab so hard, tasting truth as his fingers nearly charred. Doofus, you’d dabbed yourself to death in your own backyard.RealSayakaMaizono: Blueish grass treasured land, at ambered water’s wide expand. Dirty, tastelessly, did he stand atop that cliff, he dabbed and dipped, made stuipd quips, collectively, we hoped he’d slip. Pleasant fresh morning’s scent was lost amidst stupidity’s blight to our eyesight. That despite his recent death, even my uncle felt bereft, as his village wept. To keep from crushing pain, our windows, boarded and plain, until that bastard was slain. Nagging winter’s touch gripped our town, and yet that clown never piped down, I felt my spirits drown. Negan was his name, that stupid dance his claim to ‘fame’, or so he claimed; far more his sign of shame. Tortured taste of defeat rust on my lips, at this apocalypse…
Joe_g89:
Stoney Roller climbed over some hills, jagged boulders. Shoulders and knees clicking of his body much older. Reaching atop some grassy peak, his sight of the world made him pray. Yet colors weren’t vivid, devoid of life, he saw nothing but shades of gray. Yelling to his bud about one final trip, Stoney Roller had had enough. His now colorless world stripped passion away, proving that he wasn’t so tough. He made one last climb over gray rivers, over buildings, over huts. Something told him his next thought was just plain nuts. Sadly, his body tumbled over every rock, rolling viciously toward the town. Neck breaking, bones snapping, his arms dabbing all the way down.MystralianCryatist:
Mountaineer dabbed off one bit of sweat, his face was getting rather wet. Those golden colors surrounding the town blended nicely with the waters around. Dabbing off his forehead again, his mountain he began to descen’. Nicely round his mouth it rolled, keeping him from thinking ‘bout water or the cold. Despite earthy taste and frame, his pebble kept him somewhat sane. Ears pitched high, for grinding noise, lest avalanche start and he lack poise. Elevation going down, all the better towards River Town. Not one drop of sweat escaped his net. Those hands of his kept face well-hid. Dashed against some rocks he saw it: bloody, tiny, paw. Writhing swiftly, something it flung niftily.
Location #5: Croatia
Restrictions:
1. The writing must be exactly 115 words long.
2. There must be characters and they must be named “SOMETHING” (One uppercase word)
3. The first letter of each sentence must match the final letter of the sentence before it.
4. At least one character must die in the story, but make at least 1 action after they die.
5. You have to use all five senses.
6. Cannot use the words “the” or “a(n).”
7. All sentences must rhyme.
8. You’re colorblind. (Must describe at least one color wrong).
9. At least one person dabbing constantly.
10. Must have sentient sheep.
11. You must include a swear word in a non-English language.
SCOTT:
Daisy was worried about her farmer Nuts, watching YouTube had given his brain deep cuts. So many memes, so little food, she bleated but nothing changed his mood. Daisy’s tongue longed for that grassy taste, to hear him grinding it into paste. Evenings now came and she saw only, him dabbing his arms and leaving her lonely. YouTube was evil, its green icon reeked of caca, turning her beloved farmer’s brain straight baka. Alas, death finally arrived: Nuts passed away, then watched Cocomelon and dabbed, then actually died. Daisy stomped on grass as she sighed — she prefered watching Pewdiepie.Joe_g89:
Oh my dear ShepSheep, we don’t whisper nor let out a single peep. Perhaps we walk on this dirt path, dabbing for this moment to keep. Peasants stop to tell me beware, beware of sick thoughts behind my ShepSheep’s stare. Eventually we didn’t care, for their sly remarks slid from my ShepSheep’s hair. Reaching out for it, grabbing on some knit, the purple wool was matted, smelling of that oozy schlit. Then ShepSheep spoke his words, he called me some bastardo. Ouch, he banged his skull on me, and sent me flying to ole’ Ricardo.MystralianCryatist:
Argali’s hooves clattered ‘gainst hard stone with smooth moves. Sheeep’d managed to wander far from Altai, now nothing was similar save for sky. Yellow and green were leaves on trees, Yellow and green were leaves on trees, shaar bright red against white fleece. Excitedly waving their limbs back and forth, that sour-smelling khün trudged to the north. Herbs were so different in taste from these leaves, but sustenance was needed, yes even from trees. Southwards’ opposite Argali trotted, when suddenly she smelled something rotted. Dabbing even after its death, the khün breathed no more breath.
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!
