Okay, I typed in "Ristar" into the search bar and clicked on the second result, took me 5 seconds.

Now, as a humongous Ristar fan, I of course will be going through this story with a fine nitpick-details comb. Thought you'd might like to know that, before YOUR SOUL IS CRUSHED. Whoa, where did that come from?

(picture my handsome face raising an eyebrow)

I have always said it time and time again-if there is one point that fan fiction can claim over any other medium, it's that it's written by fans for fans. So why is it that you feel a need to explain the vivid world of Earth when the only people who have the slightest interest in reading have already played it? Face it, exclusive readers of Looney Tunes fan fiction aren't spontaneously going to come to you and read your story!

Well, to your credit, reading about Ristar being awesome and your personal reflections on what was happening in the game does give it some justification to exist, but it’s ultimately pointless and we'd (and the story) be no worse for it.

And man, this is a weird perspective you're telling the story from! I know that the 3rd-person POV is often described as omniscient, but this is taking it a step too far!

When I read this, I feel like I'm playing The Sims (as I imagine I would be playing it), looking down on the dollhouse, watching the little characters act out their lives and scurry about, portraying their emotions with flailing gestures and huge signs. It makes it really hard to get invested and sink my teeth into the world you've decided to dump me into. With the God perspective, everything is so to the point and brief; I don't spend any amount of time appreciating the thoughts or emotions or motivations coming out of the characters. Being succulent is one thing, this is just borderline boredom.

And why is Ristar living on a planet? I know that they never really say where he lives and that tiny capsule they show in the intro can't really claim to be his entire house, but still! Something to explain!

And why does Ristar now have the ability to essentially fly whenever he wants? In the original game, you had to swing continuously on special poles to even get a chance to fly! Seems like an odd thing to change, but I guess you need some flexibility for story purposes, so I'll let it slide.

All in all, Ri Star: A Brother's Issues is...well, a wash. So far, it's so short that it won't matter taking the necessary time out of someone's schedule to read it, it didn't make me want to bang my head against a wall, and I can still like the ideas and the events themselves, so it's got that going for it. But ultimately, it's unimpressive and leaves you with wanting so much more.

You know, I think I get why it's written like this. Ristar goes for a pretty minimalistic and straightforward method of telling its plot, predating Valve's Half-Life by 3 years and even predated itself by Super Metroid and Sega's own Sonic 3 & Knuckles; so the text tries to emulate that simple feel. But just like how some things that work for the movies don't work for comic books or books in general, some things in video games don't work with the written word.

Don't give up, though. I still want to know what happens next, and you intrigue me. After all, the reason I'm telling you all this is in the hopes you'll learn and improve and become something great. And I think you can be something great. This story tells me that much.

I could grant people's wishes too, if I could just get a license. - Penutsonfire