Click here to get drunk and rant about bad storytelling

The tavern looked not much more alive than the inhabitants of the graves it was surrounded by. In less nice words, this was a place where people were either robbed of their organs or experimented on.

It was sketchy as hell and I kinda liked more organs inside of my body. Though as per usual everyone was immortal here, so things would certainly not turn into a nightmare, where people were begging to die, but would always be revived again... and again.

Such a thing was very unlikely since this was a serious story about an author seeking forgiveness. And such a serious story valued nothing more than normal ideas and even more normal settings.

I made my way with as much swagger as humanly possible in front of the pub and knocked on the entrance. Because I had been so cool just now, nobody reacted to my knocking...

To ensure that everybody heard me knocking on the brown oak door, I began to scream bloody murder until someone opened would open it. Being polite and showing manners were most important in life.

5 minutes of imitating a Karen calling for the Manager later the door opened. To be exact "was opened" seemed a lot more fitting as someone shot through it like a cannonball.

Maybe this was a scripted event, with a long side-story just waiting to be explored...but none of that mattered to me. I could not be bothered to think about the whys and hows─the details were not important; the door was open and that was enough for me.

If others wanted to play hero and start an unskippable cutscene, they should follow their little chuuni hearts. As long as they stayed far away from me.

I took one step in it, just one measly step and, what awaited me??? Right, it was some random Joe asking me for a secret passcode to enter this secret area. There was no escaping the side-mission backtracking

Still, nope. I would not go back and search for a random passcode when the "secret" area was literally by anyone I had spoken to.

Think, author, think!! What stupid passcode would you use to make a shitty pun with?

Was it something like "drink it all in"? No, that was too good to waste it on a passcode. Well, what about "I am here to swallow more than my pride"; this story clearly needed more yaoi feel to it.

[NobleQueenBee left a helpful comment. Wanna check it out?]

Sure, it would be nearly impossible for it to be as bad as the reviews all these strange people had left me. Did I just jinx myself there?

[He would have found the city a lot faster if he had followed the yellow brick road. Just sayin']

Aaaah, I didn't get it. What the heck was a yellow brick road? Was today speak in secret code day? Wait a minute, now I get it. System, quite sneaky to pull a move like that in broad daylight.

" The passcode is He would have found the city a lot faster if he had followed the yellow brick road. Just sayin'.

My other me nodded and let me pass through into the bar... I still had no clue what the other message was trying to hint at, but it was more than obvious what the passcode would be. The System would not do any thinking if it did not have to...

Which is why it simple copy and pasted the message and made it the secret phrase of this place.

Lazy author=lazy system. The math did check out and I could finally move to the bartender and start my relaxing evening.

One look later and the bartender had already handed me a beer-like substance. It might look and taste like poison, and most likely it was in fact poison, yet I would enjoy this event at any cost.

A little poison would not be able to harm me; I was frequently visiting social media... anything below that level of toxicity posed no threat to me. And yet one comment later by an enthusiastic author, I wished that it had done more damage.

[NobleQueenBee wrote: Poor MC. I will shamelessly lend you a couple of unicorns from my story (Empress of the World) now that I am finished with them. I have a few other magical creatures to spare should you need, but whatever you do, don't trust the dragons. They might eat you.]

Thank you, dear reader, for giving the System more stupid ideas, sadly we could not afford this offer. We currently lack the necessary funds to buy luxury items like dragons and unicorns.

And given these immortal clones of mine more things to fight was by far the most idiotic thing we could be doing. It's better for anyone involved if they keep on fighting between themselves. Nobody wanted Space-Pe*a to get involved.

I gotta say I would rather trust dragons than these bloodthirsty monsters lusting for nothing more than clothing... at least, they were somewhat reasonable.

Speaking of reason, let's just pretend that the Ad never existed in the first place. Your story should never be corrupted by these strange creations of mine. Just keep your established universe as tight as possible to prevent your world from losing all its reason.

Flee while you still can... they were coming.

Good, after spreading some paranoia about my work taking over the last remaining sane stories here on WN; it was time to enjoy the nightlife again.

"Nightlife" might be a bit of a stretch since the sun was currently shining, but time was nothing more than an invention by the clock mafia anyways. Why else would someone buy such a devilish thing?

See, that was the problem with the readers─ nobody stops me before I go on another stupid rant about things nobody really cared about. It was all your guys' fault.

I might have any readers at this very moment, but it would still be your fault regardless.

A good, helpful reader would have read this story from its very beginning and simply told me off.

Had anyone ever done something to stop me? Naaah, nobody did a thing. As per usual, it would always be the same, some other authors would find my story fun to read and normal readers were playing hide and seek with me.

Dear normal readers where were you hiding? I see you lurking beneath all these other stories and this was not the place, where you want me to find you. You made me very, very angry...

Man, I do sound like a dollar-store yandere. Time to down another poisonous beer, else this would turn ugly really fast. Pulling a "moe" manoeuvre was not something to be desired.

... nobody would want to repeat the childhood trauma of 1999...