Oops, I lied. Turns out that school and an internship don't equate to tons of time.

That is true, but it also makes you more recognizable. In order to be popular, you need to stand out from the others. If you can't stand out from others, it is hard to remember, and thus harder to be popular. Kind of what I mean, but uniqueness does not mean going off topic, it is adding your own flair to something. Whether that is humor, use of juxtaposition, etc.

Welp, "constructive" criticism time. The main thing is that you left your thesis in the dust after the first section. After that, it became a guide on writing different types of articles. Gaining popularity is something that isn't really talked about and this had the chance to be something really special focusing on that. There were plenty of ways to go with that idea, from writing style, personality, series, titles. The way to become popular is to create a product worth consuming (reading, in this case) that is unique and distinctly you. Something that sets you apart from the troglodytes that read your work. I had my "Science Behind" series and deep look into old maps, Hog had his humor, Gold had his text walls, NS had a ton of personality in her writing, and the list goes on. I think that this deserves a more focused sequel, and to do that, I'd recommend going into the archives and digging around there, and figure out why each of them became reporters and are as iconic as they are. That would make a truly special article.

Me too, those were a ton of fun to make. Then again, that was when the game wasn't dead thus the forum more so. It feels weird looking back now, almost all my friends left a while ago or became reporters. I've barely been around, and the AWS itself is stagnant as far as new writers go. Also, Oxidization part 2 is in the works!

Meanwhile, my one work fails to get on to here. I go cri in corner now.

Welcome to the club

I'm not a good story writer though...

This could actually be a huge advantage at a longer range, as you won't be able to immediately tell the level of someone's weapon, which can be crucial in planning how to handle them.

"Are there any items on the menu that don't have spam?" "No, but you could try just the spam, it has less spam than the Spam Spam salad Spam" I really hope I'm remembering that correctly, but you get the point.

Authors Note: This series is a sequel to the older corrosion series, which I recommend you read, at least the last part, to understand what is going on. Parts 1-3, 4, and 5 Ten Minutes Tick… Tick… Tick… Tucker checked his watch, he showed a rare sign of emotion as he looked around quickly, seeing that people where not in their designated place. Tick… Tick… Tick… Tucker looked to where Price should be: the decoy fooled him for about 5 seconds before he moved to position beta: a location only he knew of. Tucker had survived this long by trusting no one, especially those who failed him. Tick… Tick… Tick… Tucker rubbed his hands against the detonator that John had given him, just in case something happened to him while he was setting up the bombs, and didn’t have time to set the timer. He said to detonate it at 7:15. Tucker was going to detonate it at 7:07. Tick… Tick… Tick… Tucker opened up the lid of the detonator, 1 minute to go. Ten. Nine. The seconds felt like minutes, Tucker opened up his detonator. Eight. Seven. Six. One thumb on the detonator, two eyes looking at the watch. Five. Four. Three. “...one good thing about the cavalry, though,” John continued, “Is that they always run away from personal danger. Horses can’t help it. Especially things like…” John paused for dramatic effect... "things that go boom.” He let off a thin smile, bowed, flipped the cover off, and then Tucker pressed his detonator. The top erupted into a massive fireball while the rest of the building crumpled down and to the side, almost as if someone had smashed its theoretical kneecaps with a sledgehammer. The fireball died away quickly, it was only meant for show, the main damage came from the shaped charges placed by the expert. John wasn’t an *****. He knew Tucker should’ve killed him after the “failure” at the Dam, even though it required more time than Tucker was willing to give it to succeed. John didn’t trust Tucker, so he changed his part of plan, forcing the building to crumble away from him instead of straight down, just in case. John felt the thumb detonator lock up just before he pressed it. Tucker, he thought. John was not surprised, this was the reason he adjusted the charges, but no matter what, he knew that the next minute would have a very low success rate for him. He steeled himself and braced for the coming hell. A loud boom of the detonation made its way even through his earplugs and the force of the explosion threw him to the ground, he felt one of his ribs give and as he looked around, everything danced in and out of focus, he felt numb. Am I paralyzed? A moment later, he got a resounding NO! from his body as he felt the pain of the smoldering shirt on his back. He could already feel the blisters bubbling up as the searing heat from the fireball flew into the sky. Then he realized what was actually happening. He screamed out in pain, only for it to be choked off as the dust from the failing monument lodged itself in his throat. He crouched and covered his head as the remaining debris rained from above, turning his arms into a lattice of blood as it ran red down his body. He looked around quickly and saw a large piece of cement leaning precariously in his general direction, and with all the strength he could muster, he threw himself out of the way of the now falling cement and used the subsequent smoke from the second explosion of dust to start his slow exit. It didn’t matter though, he was not the focus of attention right now. Everyone was staring at the place where a clock once was. John vaguely registered the muted sound of two shots, which only served to increase the bells ringing in his head to a near deafening roar. He ripped out his ear plugs, the pressure in his head was too much to bear, anything would help. He was wrong. The muted sound of pain transformed into the roar of the cacophony of screams of pain, shock, and the tritone of more police coming on the scene, and the sirens of the ambulance dared to deafen his already fragile ears. He fumbled around to find the plugs again, desperately wanting to return to the muted world he threw away, he wanted to make the pain bearable again. Tucker didn’t even watch what was happening, he didn’t need to. He already received the fifty percent down payment, and while that needed to be split and pay for costs, he was the sole proprietor of the remaining money, the sum of seventy-five million was no small number. It would be more than enough to live the rest of his life comfortably. He opened the door of the safe house, ignoring the man in the burnt shirt walking towards the house, after all, he was a ways away, and Tucker didn’t care anymore, he was done with this type of life. The stress of making world headlines for the chaos you caused does not rest easy on most people, and despite his facade, Tucker was disturbed by what he had done the past thirty-five years, but the guilt had always outweighed by the money. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly through his nose. It was time for the self-proclaimed recent lottery winner to go home and finally live the life he had always wanted: in the middle of nowhere with his wife, enjoying life for the first time in thirty years. Tucker climbed into the car, threw his fake license outside the car, and Anthony drove away. John barely made it to the safe house before blacking out. It didn’t register in his mind that the lights were still on, he just stumbled over to the couch, and collapsed onto it. The pain didn’t matter right now, all that mattered was the twenty million in his bank account and the need for sleep. Sleep came quickly, and John let himself be enveloped in the darkness as he drifted away. This would be the last time in many months that John would sleep well.

I'm from the epic (l)onl(e)y group

Welcome to the AWS! It is always nice to see new writers around here, though your first attempt does need a little bit of work. Most importantly, I'd recommend that you try to add some more imagery to your writings, to borrow the cliche: show, don't tell. For example you wrote " Little Underdog saw it and raced for it. His little Wasp was about to get it when a Shaft sniped him down." Personally, I would add imagery like this "Little Underdog saw it hiding away in a corner and raced towards it as fast as his little engine would let him. However, as he approached the zone, he saw the laser of the a shaft hunting him down. Just a few more meters, he thought, he begged. Then his momentum stopped and he viewed his rusty tank: he failed again" That is just what I did on the fly, but adding more details would really take you writing to the next level, good luck mate.

Tis a specialty of mine.

Man, I remember canadarules from my early days on the forum, I used to hate his guts. Over time I realized what he was doing, and while I never really got to know, I think he was one of most disrespected forumers for a long time; only a select few realized he was just having fun at the expense of people younger than him.

Seeing D4T alive