Let's Play: Inside Woman by Andy Phillips (now complete!)

Part 8 - Lovely pizza for all the family

Our current sub-goal in our mission to infiltrate the Arcology and find out what’s up with their sinister research project is to earn some money, and the only likely remaining candidate for where to do it is the food court. So let’s…

>ENTER GATE 17
As you approach the access tunnel for level 17, a USF guard scans you with an electronic handheld device. After a series of beeps, an LED on the scanner turns green, and the trooper waves you through into the elevator tube. A short and exhilerating ride later, you arrive at your destination.

>S

Mess Hall
The hall’s not really such a mess when you take into account the number of people who pass through here. The cafeteria is the skyway service station idea expanded to cater for tens of thousands; to the south, serving bots work day and night to clear resuable cartons from seemingly endless rows of plastic tables. Citizens may purchase food from a selection of outlets to the east and west.

For those that can’t be bothered to browse the less than tasty morsels on display, there’s a vending machine by the entrance.

Someone has ditched their carrier bag under a table, but the security patrols don’t seem concerned about a potential bomb threat. Perhaps the mess hall isn’t high on Utopia’s list of potential targets.

Your guidebot trails a few metres behind you.

>X BAG
Not to be confused with the plastic throwaways still handed out in supermarkets, this is a large black holdall with miniature antigravity generators sewn into its lining. With the resultant weight loss, the bag’s substantial capacity and your lifting strength, you should be able to carry just about anything.

So in the retirement home we found a “prongkey”, which turns out to be exactly what we’d recognise nowadays as a regular key, but the nomenclature apparently changed in the last century and a half with the proliferation of electronic keys. This is the reverse: something which goes by the completely familiar name of “carrier bag”, but is actually something completely different. Although apparently the old kind of plastic carrier bag also still exists, which means that this double meaning must be just as confusing to the people of Utopia as it is to us.

It was the vogue in parser games for a while to limit the number of items the player can carry (for realism?) but provide them with a portable container of infinite capacity to avoid having to actually worry about tedious inventory management. I don’t think I’ve seen so much of this recently, although I know that Inform 7 at least still has support for it. In any case, it looks like that’s what we’ve found here, so hopefully we won’t need to see any more “you’re carrying too many things already” messages from now on.

>TAKE IT
You’re carrying too many things already.

>PUT ALL IN BAG
painted steel rose: Done.
fake antiviral inhaler: Done.
calendar: Done.
member’s pass: Done.
cashcard: Done.

>TAKE BAG
Taken.

Now, what’s up with this vending machine?

>X MACHINE
It reminds you of a stupid riddle you heard at school. What has a body temperature of ten degrees Celsius, stands on four wobbly legs, has credits for lunch and never grows old? Answer: a vending machine. There’s a selection of snacks and soft drinks on display behind a glass window, all ridiculously expensive and none worth paying for.

>FOCUS MACHINE
A credit sucker, placed in close proximity to the entrance where it will do most damage. Utopia are masters of financial strategy.

Nanci seems terribly impressed by this, but of all of the sinister machinations we’ve seen so far from our corporate overlords, “they know not to tuck the vending machine away in a corner of the mess hall where no-one ever goes” is not the one that worries me the most.

Looking inside the machine, searching the machine or examining the snacks all just repeat the description of the machine itself.

>PUSH MACHINE
The vending machine shakes to and fro, and you hear something roll about inside.

>REACH INSIDE MACHINE
It doesn’t feel very cold.

>LOOK UNDER IT
Nothing but dust.

Ok, well, the stereotypical way to get something out of a vending machine when you know it’s in there but it won’t come out is …

>HIT IT
You give the vending machine a powerful kick to the side. Stationary and poorly balanced, it’s an easy target for someone well versed in martial arts. The dispenser rocks on two legs, almost toppling over completely before you’re able to steady it. From inside you hear several loud bumps, metal repeatedly clanging against metal. A can of Tricola bounces through the opening, rolls across the floor, and comes to rest by your feet. Citizens give you frightened glances, but they’re too scared to send for the USF. Either that or they can’t be bothered.

>TAKE COLA
Taken.

[Your score has just gone up by three points.]

>X IT
Three times the energy, three times the satisfaction, and three times the cola. Invented in Georgia, improved in France, perfected by Utopia – if you believe the blurb.

Does this description imply that it’s just a can of normal cola that’s three times larger than usual? Is the cola both triple-concentrated and triple the volume, such that it’s actually nine times as potent as a regular cola? Or is it three times the volume of regular cola but forced into a normal-sized can under extreme pressure?

>FOCUS IT
Why do all these colas taste the same? I know Utopia own all the beverage companies, but still…

Ok, that appears to be everything of interest in the starting area, so let’s explore the available eateries.

>W

Cheap (Faux) Chinese
No wonder prices are so low – the “food” on sale here is watered down junk kept warm in a microwave counter. Utopia musn’t employ health inspectors or (more likely) want to keep down running costs. The vegetables look undercooked, the rice rock hard, and the meat drowned in unappetising pastes that pass for oriental sauces. Cheap it may be, but you won’t insult your country by calling it Chinese.

Heck, even the woman staffing the counter isn’t Chinese.

The guidebot floats after you, never far behind.

>X FOOD
You can’t bear to look any more.

>FOCUS IT
Looks Chinese to me.

Nanci—or rather, the intelligence officer operating the NANCI communications suite—is Chinese, right? His comments have definitely been trending towards snark over substance lately, but this is the second time (after the forged pass) where I’m genuinely starting to wonder if he’s even seeing the same things as we are.

>X WOMAN
An ebony skinned, African American of middle age. She wears a grease stained “Cheap Chinese” apron over her bodysuit to hide her rank, but she can’t be high up food chain. No self respecting woman would take a job like this unless she was desperate for cash.

>ASK WOMAN ABOUT WORK
“Forget it. I work by myself, sister.”

Well, that’s our main reason for being here quickly shot down, but I wonder if there’s anything else we can do with the dubious wares on offer here?

>ASK WOMAN ABOUT FOOD
“Do I look like an information booth, sweetie?”

She’s similarly unforthcoming on any other topics.

>BUY FOOD
You have no money.

>TAKE CASHCARD
Taken.

>BUY FOOD
The serving woman takes your cashcard and glances at the balance.

“You a newbie here?” she asks, somewhat rhetorically. “There’s nothin’ here you can afford apart from a starter for ten, so that’s what you’re gettin’. You need to find yourself a job, sweetheart.”

She returns your cashcard (now displaying a big, fat zero credits in your account) and hands you what is allegedly a prawn cracker, though you beg to differ. Maybe the lady does have a point.

“Starter for ten” is from the British quiz show University Challenge, but has apparently stuck around as a phrase for the last hundred and fifty years sufficiently far divorced from its original usage that here it literally means a starter (aka appetizer or entree) that costs ten credits? In the UK, prawn crackers are a couple of inches across and a helping of them is often served as a side dish with Chinese takeaway food, so I find the idea of a meal that consists of a single, huge one hilarious. But a bit of reading suggests that in Indonesian cuisine (which I think is where prawn crackers originate), a big cracker like this might be more normal?

My, that looks so delicious. Save some for me, won’t you? Understand you keeping up appearances and all, but Earth to Alice – you’ve been modified, remember? You’ve got this nutrition generator in your stomach. No food or water intake required apart from supplements. Looking at the rubbish they serve here, somebody did you a big favour.

[Your score has just gone up by three points.]

We’ll take the extra-diegetic hint here that getting three points for buying the cracker means we probably didn’t just waste all of our money on a pointless action.

>X CRACKER
Yuck! A fried, circular piece of cardboard would be more appealing. In fact, that’s what it probably is.

>FOCUS IT
Please! Just looking at it gives me indigestion.

>EAT IT
You take a bite from the prawn cracker, a task far more difficult than it sounds. After gnashing your teeth and chewing away for a whole minute, a piece comes free. Needless to say, it tastes horrible. What an absolute waste of ten credits. You’ve a good mind to take it back.

>GIVE CRACKER TO WOMAN
“What’s up? Too tough for you? Don’t you come here moanin’. My twin sister’s ill so I been workin’ overtime. Twenty four hours a day non-stop on adrenalin meds. And now you’re complainin’? You think you could do better honey?”

Those of us who’ve played Adventure recognise when a rhetorical-sounding question secretly isn’t rhetorical, right?

>SAY YES TO WOMAN
The woman snatches the prawn cracker from you in disgust.

“Why! You ignorant jerk! I toil away in here, and you come to me with your cheek. I try to do a new girl a favour, and all you do is spit it back in my face. You wanna prove yourself, honey? Go to Luigi’s across the way. I heard he was lookin’ for a chef, and he’s usually around for the evening shift. Don’t think you’re gettin’ any credits back off me, cause you’re not.”

[Your score has just gone up by two points.]

So in exchange for having to take a bite out of a disgusting prawn cracker, we have that lead on finding work for ourselves after all! We head back to the mess hall and then to the east, and arrive at …

Luigi’s Pizza
Wherever there’s a food court, there’s a pizza joint. From takeaways to fine Italian cuisine, they’ve been a crowd favourite for as long back as anyone can remember. This particular outlet may have an authentic, Italian sounding title and a canopied, open air dining area, but it’s the meals that matter and frankly, they’re not very good. According to an electronic board, today’s special is Mama’s Garden, a fancy name for what’s essentially a sloppy, cheese swamped pile of goo.

Someone obviously didn’t care for the food – there’s a printed menu lying face down on the floor.

The guidebot floats after you, never far behind.

>X DINING AREA
That’s not important to your mission.

>X BOARD
You see nothing special about the “special” board.

>FOCUS BOARD
I don’t see anything special about it.

Poor Nanci lacks the medium-awareness to realise that he’s just made exactly the same joke as the game’s text already made.

>READ IT
Today’s special is Mama’s Garden.

>TAKE MENU
Taken.

>X IT
Printed on cream card, this menu lists the limited range of “delicacies” served at Luigi’s Pizza, complete with exorbitant prices.

LUIGI’S PIZZA - LITTLE ITALY COMES TO BIG UTOPIA

Margarita (Extra Cheese) – 15c
Corny Chick (Chicken & Sweetcorn) – 25c
Feasty Meaty (Ham, Chicken & Pepperoni) – 30c
Firy Luigi (Pepperoni & Chilli) – 25c
Mama’s Garden (Onion, Sweetcorn & Mushroom) – 20c

Soft Drinks (cola, lemonade) – 5c
Hot Drinks (coffee, tea) – 10c

SPECIAL PROMOTION: Order the special and get a drink FREE

>FOCUS IT
So many options to pick from.

The woman at Cheap Chinese told us that Luigi is usually around for the evening shift, which, having memorised the contents of our new citizen’s guidebook, we know means from 18:00. So let’s deploy our super waiting skills once more.

>WAIT 30 MINUTES
Time passes.

Et cetera, et cetera …

The pizza shop owner steps out to start his evening supervisory shift.
Luigi calls out to nobody in particular. “Today’s special is Mama’s Garden,” he shouts. “Buy special, get a free drink!”

Luigi calls out to nobody in particular. “Today’s special is Mama’s Garden,” he shouts. “Buy special, get a free drink!”

>ASK LUIGI ABOUT WORK
“Who told you? I bet it was that woman over at Cheap Chinese. She should keep her nose out of my affairs, but she’s right. Business has been slow. I do need someone to help with the cooking. Don’t worry if you’ve never done it before. No experience, no problem. Come back tonight at 2200 hours. I’ll have work for you then.”

Luigi points out the special board to potential customers.

[Your score has just gone up by two points.]

Although Luigi’s dialogue suggests that he’s only guessing that the woman at Cheap Chinese tipped us off to his need for a cook, he won’t respond if you ask him about “work” before you hear about it from her, so we did actually need to do all that business with the prawn crackers. Anyway, Luigi probably expects us to go away, do something else productive for the next four hours, and then return to meet him at 22:00 as requested, but Alice Ling has other ideas and will simply stand motionless outside his restaurant until the allotted hour. Luigi, to his credit, is a consummate professional and continues with his promotional spiel.

>WAIT 30 MINUTES
Time passes.

“Pizza! Lovely pizza for all the family.”

Luigi calls out to nobody in particular. “Today’s special is Mama’s Garden,” he shouts. “Buy special, get a free drink!”

Luigi points out the special board to potential customers.

“Pizza! Lovely pizza for all the family.”

And after four hours of listening to Luigi hawking his wares (edited significantly for brevity):

“Follow me miss, into the wonderful world of Luigi’s pizza.”

The owner escorts you into his restaurant, through the indoor eating area, and into the kitchen at the back.

Kitchen
Things are really starting to heat up now; the open fronted oven is on full blast and there’s no air conditioning. Plus you’re a total amateur when it comes to cooking. But how hard can it be? You’ve got everything you need: a cooler fully stocked with ingredients, a drinks dispenser, a credit register, and a trash receptacle in case you screw up. Should you ever feel like quitting, the exit’s to the south.

A serving bot is on hand to deliver your vile concoctions to Luigi’s customers.

“Your job is simple,” says Luigi, which does little to set you at ease. “Fulfill customers orders. Put pizza, drink and the bill on the tray. Make sure you get it absolutely right enough times, and there’ll be a bonus for you at the end. Screw up and there’ll be nothing. See you later. Ciao.”

Luigi exits to the south, leaving you alone with serving bot.

The guidebot floats after you, never far behind.

[Your score has just gone up by two points.]

It is a truth universally acknowledged that any adventure of sufficient complexity or length must be in want of a cooking mini-game, so here we are. Fortunately, we brought the menu with us, so we should be able to figure out what we’re supposed to be making.

>X MENU
Printed on cream card, this menu lists the limited range of “delicacies” served at Luigi’s Pizza, complete with exorbitant prices.

LUIGI’S PIZZA - LITTLE ITALY COMES TO BIG UTOPIA

Margarita (Extra Cheese) – 15c
Corny Chick (Chicken & Sweetcorn) – 25c
Feasty Meaty (Ham, Chicken & Pepperoni) – 30c
Firy Luigi (Pepperoni & Chilli) – 25c
Mama’s Garden (Onion, Sweetcorn & Mushroom) – 20c

Soft Drinks (cola, lemonade) – 5c
Hot Drinks (coffee, tea) – 10c

SPECIAL PROMOTION: Order the special and get a drink FREE

An assistant chef enters the kitchen, hands you a pre-prepared pizza base, and heads for the exit. Before he leaves, he barks a hurried instruction over his shoulder. “Corny Chick pizza with lemonade.”

>X COOLER
The ingredients are kept refridgerated in an open topped cooler, each stored in an individual compartment – and labelled, which is a good for a novice such as yourself. Take your pick from ham, chicken, pepperoni, sweetcorn, onions, chilli, mushrooms or cheese.

>X BASE
(the pizza base)
A circular cut, self-rising, dough base topped with tomato sauce.

Ok, I’m not exactly a professional chef, but I’m pretty sure I know how pizza works. Looks like we need to add some cheese, then whatever toppings the customer ordered, then just stick it in the oven, right?

>TAKE CHEESE
You scoop a handful of cheese from the cooler.

>PUT IT ON PIZZA
You add the cheese to the pizza, spreading the topping evenly over the tomato base.

>TAKE CHICKEN
You scoop a handful of chicken from the cooler.

>PUT IT ON PIZZA
You add the chicken to the pizza, spreading the topping evenly over the tomato base.

>TAKE SWEETCORN
You scoop a handful of sweetcorn from the cooler.

>PUT IT ON PIZZA
You add the sweetcorn to the pizza, spreading the topping evenly over the tomato base.

>PUT PIZZA IN OVEN
You put the pizza base into the oven.

Ok, that’s that dealt with, now for the drink.

>X DISPENSER
Simplified for the lowest common denominator, operating this machine requires no culinary or technical skills and very little in the way of intelligence. There are four buttons to press (lemonade, cola, coffee and tea) and a revolving holder for dispensing the end product.

The revolving holder is empty.

>PRESS LEMONADE BUTTON
The machine responds by whirring, buzzing, hissing, coughing, and finally splurting. Its holder revolves through a half turn, and there is a loud ping. All that to dispense a ceramite cup of lemonade.

>TAKE CUP
You take the cup of lemonade from the drinks dispenser.

>PUT IT ON TRAY
You place the cup of lemonade on the serving bot’s tray.

>X REGISTER
Where would a capitalist corporation like Utopia be without money? Who knows, but you don’t want to be found wanting when the credit collector comes to plunder your cashcard. This is where “requests” for payment at Luigi’s are printed: an electronic register with a numeric keypad for typing in the desired amount.

Ok, a Corny Chick is 25 credits, a lemonade is 5 …

>TYPE 30 ON REGISTER
You type on the keypad. A few seconds later the credit register prints out a bill for 30 credits, which you promptly collect.

>PUT BILL ON TRAY
You place the bill for 30 credits on the serving bot’s tray.

>X PIZZA
A circular cut, self-rising, dough base topped with tomato sauce. You’ve added cheese, chicken and sweetcorn to the mix. The pizza needs further cooking before its ready.

Since Luigi’s dismal restaurant only appears to be capable of attracting a single customer at once, we stand here staring at the pizza for a few more turns until the description says that it’s ready to serve. Then:

>TAKE PIZZA
Taken.

>PUT PIZZA ON TRAY
You place the cooked pizza on the serving bot’s tray.

The serving bot trundles through the exit. A minute later, it returns to the kitchen carrying an empty tray.

And now we sit back and bask in the glory of a simple job well done …?

>Z
Time passes.

>Z
Time passes.

Luigi storms into the kitchen, makes a brief stab at clearing everything away, then ushers you outside.

Luigi’s Pizza

Luigi shakes his head, raising his arms in despair.

“I knew I shouldn’t have hired you. You completely messed up the order! Don’t expect a credit from me for that path-- Look, I know this is new to you, I need the help, and you need the money. So why not drop by tomorrow? Same time, same place, and give it another go.”

“Pizza! Lovely pizza for all the family.”

Huh. I’ll spare you the repeated attempts at making the pizza which I went through to figure this out, but it turns out that (despite the pictures depicting Luigi’s wares as “cheese-swamped piles of goo”), we’re only supposed to add the ingredients listed on the menu, which doesn’t include any cheese.

While retrying this, I accidentally arrived one time at 22:01 instead of 22:00, and:

“Where were you?” demands Luigi. “I needed you here on time. You expect me to employ you? Well, I just might. Only because I’m desperate. Be here tomorrow at 2200 hours, and we’ll see.”

Nice to know that Luigi isn’t even bothering to make a pretense of having standards for his employees. Anyway, we restore our save file again and manage to make it to Luigi’s at the right time, and the cooking mini-game begins again.

An assistant chef enters the kitchen, hands you a pre-prepared pizza base, and heads for the exit. Before he leaves, he barks a hurried instruction over his shoulder. “Corny Chick pizza with lemonade.”

We got this. Chicken, sweetcorn and nothing else.

>TAKE CHICKEN
You scoop a handful of chicken from the cooler.

>PUT IT ON PIZZA
You add the chicken to the pizza, spreading the topping evenly over the tomato base.

>TAKE SWEETCORN
You scoop a handful of sweetcorn from the cooler.

>PUT IT ON PIZZA
You add the sweetcorn to the pizza, spreading the topping evenly over the tomato base.

>PUT PIZZA IN OVEN
You put the pizza base into the oven.

>PRESS LEMONADE BUTTON
The machine responds by whirring, buzzing, hissing, coughing, and finally splurting. Its holder revolves through a half turn, and there is a loud ping. All that to dispense a ceramite cup of lemonade.

>TAKE CUP
You take the cup of lemonade from the drinks dispenser.

>PUT IT ON TRAY
You place the cup of lemonade on the serving bot’s tray.

>TYPE 30 ON REGISTER
You type on the keypad. A few seconds later the credit register prints out a bill for 30 credits, which you promptly collect.

>PUT BILL ON TRAY
You place the bill for 30 credits on the serving bot’s tray.

After an appropriate amount of waiting:

>X PIZZA
A circular cut, self-rising, dough base topped with tomato sauce. You’ve added chicken and sweetcorn to the mix. The pizza looks ready to serve.

>TAKE PIZZA
Taken.

>PUT IT ON TRAY
You place the cooked pizza on the serving bot’s tray.

The serving bot trundles through the exit. A minute later, it returns to the kitchen carrying an empty tray.

[Your score has just gone up by two points.]

Hopefully, the fact that our score went up this time is the universe telling us that we did in fact prepare the pizza correctly.

>Z
Time passes.

An assistant chef enters the kitchen, hands you a pre-prepared pizza base, and heads for the exit. Before he leaves, he barks a hurried instruction over his shoulder. “Something for a vegeterian with at least two toppings, and a coffee to drink.”

The only thing on the menu that fits is Mama’s Garden, so we get right down to making that:

>TAKE ONION. PUT IT ON PIZZA
You scoop a handful of onions from the cooler.
You add the onions to the pizza, spreading the topping evenly over the tomato base.

>TAKE SWEETCORN. PUT IT ON PIZZA
You scoop a handful of sweetcorn from the cooler.
You add the sweetcorn to the pizza, spreading the topping evenly over the tomato base.

>TAKE MUSHROOM. PUT IT ON PIZZA
You scoop a handful of mushrooms from the cooler.
You add the mushrooms to the pizza, spreading the topping evenly over the tomato base.

>PUT PIZZA IN OVEN
You put the pizza base into the oven.

>PRESS COFFEE BUTTON
The machine responds by whirring, buzzing, hissing, coughing, and finally splurting. Its holder revolves through a half turn, and there is a loud ping. All that to dispense a ceramite cup of coffee.

>TAKE COFFEE. PUT IT ON TRAY
You take the cup of coffee from the drinks dispenser.
You place the cup of coffee on the serving bot’s tray.

>TYPE 30 ON REGISTER
You type on the keypad. A few seconds later the credit register prints out a bill for 30 credits, which you promptly collect.

>PUT BILL ON TRAY
You place the bill for 30 credits on the serving bot’s tray.

Then wait a few minutes until:

>X PIZZA
A circular cut, self-rising, dough base topped with tomato sauce. You’ve added onions, sweetcorn and mushrooms to the mix. The pizza looks ready to serve.

>TAKE PIZZA. PUT IT ON TRAY
Taken.
You place the cooked pizza on the serving bot’s tray.

The serving bot trundles through the exit. A minute later, it returns to the kitchen carrying an empty tray.

At this point I realise that we’ve made a terrible mistake. Mama’s Garden is today’s special, so we shouldn’t have charged for the coffee.

>Z
Time passes.

>Z
Time passes.

But it’s okay. Apparently, Luigi doesn’t mind us overcharging his customers.

An assistant chef enters the kitchen, hands you a pre-prepared pizza base, and heads for the exit. Before he leaves, he barks a hurried instruction over his shoulder. “One special with cola.”

Who is this assistant chef whose job seems to consist solely of fetching pizza bases for us and then leaving us to do the rest of the work? Given that Luigi seems to attract so few customers, he could probably get by with the staff he already has, if he only got them to actually do some of the cooking. Anyway, we already made one Mama’s Garden, so this ticket should be straightforward too, right?

>TAKE ONION. PUT IT ON PIZZA
You scoop a handful of onions from the cooler.
You add the onions to the pizza, spreading the topping evenly over the tomato base.

>TAKE SWEETCORN. PUT IT ON PIZZA
You scoop a handful of sweetcorn from the cooler.
You add the sweetcorn to the pizza, spreading the topping evenly over the tomato base.

>TAKE MUSHROOM. PUT IT ON PIZZA
You scoop a handful of mushrooms from the cooler.
You add the mushrooms to the pizza, spreading the topping evenly over the tomato base.

>PUT PIZZA IN OVEN
You put the pizza base into the oven.

>PRESS COLA BUTTON
The machine responds by whirring, buzzing, hissing, coughing, and finally splurting. Its holder revolves through a half turn, and there is a loud ping. All that to dispense an empty ceramite cup.

Et voila – a mug of thin air. Why are things never straightforward?

Of course there had to be a twist. If we try to leave the kitchen to find Luigi and tell him the dispenser is out of cola, he assumes we’re giving up, berates us for being a quitter, and then immediately backtracks and invites us to come and try again tomorrow, because he’s desperate. Fortunately, though, we already have a backup source of cola in our possession:

>OPEN TRICOLA
You break the can’s seal, opening the floodgates. Shaking up a fizzy drinks can is never a good idea, and its bumpy ride through the vending machine left you with a Tricola bomb waiting to go off. And go off it does, spraying half the contents in your face. You soon dry out thanks to your bodysuit’s inbuilt heater, but the bad taste in your mouth hasn’t gone away.

>PUT TRICOLA IN CUP
You pour the Tricola into the ceramite cup, then throw the empty can into the trash receptacle. Since Utopia has cornered the cola market, the customer will probably never know the difference.

>TAKE CUP
You take the cup of cola from the drinks dispenser.

>PUT CUP ON TRAY
You place the cup of cola on the serving bot’s tray.

>TYPE 20 ON REGISTER
You type on the keypad. A few seconds later the credit register prints out a bill for 20 credits, which you promptly collect.

This customer actually ordered the special, so they probably know that the drink is supposed to be free.

>PUT BILL ON TRAY
You place the bill for 20 credits on the serving bot’s tray.

>X PIZZA
A circular cut, self-rising, dough base topped with tomato sauce. You’ve added onions, sweetcorn and mushrooms to the mix. The pizza needs further cooking before its ready.

>G
A circular cut, self-rising, dough base topped with tomato sauce. You’ve added onions, sweetcorn and mushrooms to the mix. The pizza looks ready to serve.

>TAKE PIZZA
Taken.

>PUT PIZZA ON TRAY
You place the cooked pizza on the serving bot’s tray.

The serving bot trundles through the exit. A minute later, it returns to the kitchen carrying an empty tray.

>Z
Time passes.

>Z
Time passes.

Luigi walks into the kitchen, spreads his arms wide, and embraces you with an unrequested and quite unwelcome hug.

“You are my darling girl. You are my angel from heaven. I transferred 95 credits to your account as a token of my appreciation. Let us go outside and celebrate, yes?”

Cause for celebration indeed, because earning money was a necessary step towards both available ways of achieving our current objective. Also, I didn’t notice this while I was playing, but Luigi just paid us 95 credits for selling 80 credits worth of pizza. This might go some way towards explaining why he seems to be having trouble with his business.

Luigi’s Pizza

“You come to save me in my hour of need. Luigi cannot tell you how grateful he is. Thank you. Thank you ever so much.”

You just know there’s a “but” coming here.

“But unfortunately, I have to let you go. Now business has picked up, I have purchased a new serving bot, one which will assist me greatly. But it was all thanks to you. You and your wonderful, special cooking. Now we’re done, how about a pizza?”

Cheer up. At least you got paid, and it was great watching a hot woman in action.

Is Nanci trying to make a pun about how hot it is in the kitchen while the pizza oven is on, or just being a creep? Things could get problematic if he starts being inappropriate with us, given that we don’t have any options for contacting anyone else back at Bai Lihong.

[Your score has just gone up by four points.]

>X CASHCARD
Utopia’s economy has become so dominant most of the world’s nations have now adopted the credit as their official currency. No coins or paper money are in circulation; everything these days is done electronically. All transactions are handled through cashcards, with costs deducted and rewards applied instantly. A digital counter lets you know exactly how close you are to the poverty line.

Your account balance is 95 credits.

Ok, we’ll break here; we’re only 19% of the way to the 500 credits we need to earn to be recognised as a citizen, but in the next installment, we’re going to head back to the paranoid homeless guy in the Free Market and see if our 95 credits is good enough to get help with hacking our guidebot.

Luigi calls out to nobody in particular. “Today’s special is Mama’s Garden,” he shouts. "Buy special, get a free drink!”

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You may have discovered this already, but one of the frustrated quirks of the carrier bag is if you put the open inhaler in the carrier bag, the inhaler spills off all its contents. Since most of the things stored in the inhaler prevent you from travelling past checkpoints, and since the carrier bag can’t be closed, this has lead to some frustration during my plays.

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I did discover that (I’m replying in cleartext because anyone who’s read this far in the thread already knows that the inhaler can be used to smuggle small contraband items through security, and I don’t think explaining the interaction between the inhaler and the carrier bag is a spoiler). I generally keep the inhaler closed most of the time, so the main occasion where this gets me is when I open the inhaler without noticing that it’s in the bag, not in my hands. Of course, I’ve only had to use the inhaler to hold the morphtool and the cyberjack so far; if you’ve got further in the game and discovered more gadgets to conceal it it, I can see how this gets more fiddly.

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Part 9 - Can you jam with the console cowboys in cyberspace?

We’ve finally got our hands on some cash, so now it’s time to head back to the Free Market and see if the bum who implied he might be able to help us with access to cyberspace is interested in taking our money. We ditch the menu from Luigi’s Pizza (which we’re not allowed to take through the transporter ring) and head to:

Trash City

Rubbish has been cleared from an area ten metres square. A barrel of trash burns in the centre, watched over by a homeless man.

The guidebot floats after you, never far behind.

>ASK MAN ABOUT JACK
“I told you. Find Jack if you want to cut corners.”

Just to be certain, are we talking about …

>ASK MAN ABOUT CYBERJACK
“I told you. Find Jack if you want to cut corners.”

Is he willing to take our payment?

>SHOW CASHCARD TO MAN
“Your friend over there’s got six eyes. Can’t you be more subtle?”

Earlier the man mentioned to us that he wants to avoid “photos of money changing hands”. So how do we do this?

>DROP CASHCARD
Dropped.

No reaction.

>TAKE IT
Taken.

“I thought you Chinese were rich. What happened? Did your income go up in flames?”

>ASK MAN ABOUT PAYMENT
“I may have been here a while but I don’t know everything.”

I will admit, this is one of the puzzles where I had to turn to the hints during my first playthrough (close to the last one, in fact; we’re catching up to the point where I left off, so I’ll be back to stumbling around blindly pretty soon). Our “deniable” way of paying him off is this:

>THROW CASHCARD IN BARREL
Perhaps unadvisedly, you dump your cashcard into the burning barrel of trash. The homeless man snatches it from the air before it falls into the flames. He glances eagerly at the account balance.

“Not the healthiest of balances, but times are hard. You’ve done your good deed for the day. Now go home, chill out, and have a good rest.”

The homeless man hobbles through the trash, disappearing from sight round a pillar.

Hey! That guy just stole your money! Didn’t he?

[Your score has just gone up by three points.]

I do appreciate that the game awards us points when we do things that look like they were a terrible idea to reassure us that we’re on the right track (and I’ll continue to appreciate it until and unless it turns out we’ve earned points for something we shouldn’t actually have done).

Anyway, “go home, chill out and have a good rest” sounds like a coded instruction, so we head back to the apartment. By the time we get there it’s shortly before midnight, and since our designer biology means we don’t actually need sleep, a couple of hours should be plenty:

>SET BED TO 02:00
You set the cryobed’s wakeup time to 02:00. As soon as you’re done, an internal alarm begins to beep, the tones becoming increasingly frequent.

>GET IN BED
You climb into the cryobed and lie flat on your back.

The cryobed slides closed, leaving you in darkness. You feel freezing cold liquid pour through your legs and brush over your face. The drop in body temperature is followed by paralysing, ice cold numbness in your limbs, then unconsciousness. The next things you’re aware of are a beeping alarm, a blast of warm air and the ability to move again. According to your watch, the time is now 02:00.

>LOOK

Standard Apartment FW-2815 (in the cryobed)
Good job you’re not allergic to small rooms. Everything is ludicrously compact, with hemmed in walls, a quarter of the available floorspace taken up by a droid recharge pod, and a ceiling so low you have to continually crouch to avoid banging your head on the light fixture. The air in here is warm and humid; either there’s no ventilation at all or Utopia have invented airducts invisible to the human eye. Thankfully, you can always cool off in the cryobed.

In these cramped conditions, the open storage drawer could be considered a hazard.

On the recharge pod is a guidebot in standby mode.

You can also see a new citizen’s guidebook, some useless pieces of broken glass and a fried component here.

In the cryobed you can see a cashcard and a blue capsule.

Nothing like waking up and finding that someone has delivered the goods you were expecting … directly into your bed?

>TAKE CARD
Taken.

>X IT
Utopia’s economy has become so dominant most of the world’s nations have now adopted the credit as their official currency. No coins or paper money are in circulation; everything these days is done electronically. All transactions are handled through cashcards, with costs deducted and rewards applied instantly. A digital counter lets you know exactly how close you are to the poverty line.

Your account balance is 0 credits.

So much for our 95 credits. Easy come, easy go, right?

>TAKE CAPSULE
Taken.

[Your score has just gone up by three points.]

>X IT
Identical to the tablet you swallowed in the General’s Hong Kong office, except this one’s blue in colour. Also, there’s no label to tell you what it is.

>FOCUS IT
Hey – it’s my twin brother! So Alice, are you going to choose the red pill or the blue pill? Or you could be greedy and take both.

Nanci’s line doesn’t exactly make sense here given that we’ve already swallowed the red capsule. I have to say I enjoyed seeing this Matrix reference crop up more before the term “red pill” was co-opted by MRAs and misogynists.

>EAT CAPSULE
You take a deep breath then swallow the blue capsule. Apart from a touch of indigestion and a slight tingling sensation in your fingertips, you feel normal.

Ok, so pretty much everything up to this point was to get hold of the blue capsule and the cyberjack, so let’s find out whether all that work has actually paid off.

>OPEN INHALER
You open the fake antiviral inhaler, revealing an octagonal headed cyberjack and a shiny black morphtool.

The contents of the inhaler fall out into the carrier bag.

>OPEN PANEL WITH TOOL
(first taking the morphtool)
You’ll need to get out of the cryobed first.

>OUT
You get out of the cryobed.

>OPEN PANEL WITH TOOL
As the morphtool comes into contact with the bolts, the screwdriver head changes shape to a hexagonal shaped wrench then resolidifies. You soon have the guidebot’s access panel open. Besides circuitry and wiring that would take a PhD in electrical engineering to understand, you see a power cell and an octagonal shaped interface port.

>WEAR CYBERJACK
(first taking the octagonal headed cyberjack)
You slide the octagonal headed cyberjack onto one of your fingers.

>PUT JACK IN PORT
You insert the octagonal headed cyberjack into the access port. An electrical tingle runs up your wrist, spreading all the way up your arm to your forehead. Everything blurs to pure, brilliant white, blinding you. When the light fades, you’re an avatar in cyberspace.

Firewall
Cyberspace architects do like to amuse themselves. Almost all non-public zones are protected from unauthorised net activity, but the guidebot has a literal firewall to deter potential hackers. Or eight of them to be exact: a series of floor vents along a north/south bridge that vomit red-hot gas at regular intervals. If you’re not careful, you’ll get burned.

Towering walls of fire erupt from the second, third, sixth and eighth vents.

[Your score has just gone up by two points.]

Here we are in cyberspace at last! Looks like there’s a puzzle here, and while it makes zero sense that anyone would actually secure a computer system this way, I’m willing to suspend disbelief for the sake of an accessible game rather than expecting the player to mess with nmap or something.

>X ME
You see a white silhouette of yourself, as if you were looking at your own ghost. Sure hope you’re not dead – this must be your cyberspace avatar.

Towering walls of fire erupt from the first, fourth, fifth and seventh vents.

>X FIREWALL
Extremely dangerous… flaming… gas… vents… Isn’t that enough for you?

Towering walls of fire erupt from the first, third, sixth and eighth vents.

>FOCUS IT
No reply. Looks like you made the journey to cyberspace alone.

Towering walls of fire erupt from the second, fourth, seventh and eighth vents.

>I
You are carrying nothing.

Towering walls of fire erupt from the second, third, sixth and eighth vents.

At this point we notice that the pattern of flames is the same as the one from four turns ago. It might be reasonable to assume that they’re on a four-turn cycle; if that’s the case then we’ve got to wait out the next two turns anyway because we can’t safely step on the first vent yet.

>Z
Time has no meaning in cyberspace.

Towering walls of fire erupt from the first, fourth, fifth and seventh vents.

I worry briefly that “time has no meaning” means it’s impossible to wait, which would complicate this puzzle somewhat, but actually the vents have advanced through their pattern anyway. (The time has disappeared from the status bar though.)

>Z
Time has no meaning in cyberspace.

Towering walls of fire erupt from the first, third, sixth and eighth vents.

I mapped this out on paper; we should be safe to step forwards now.

>N
You step forward to the first flame vent.

Towering walls of fire erupt from the second, fourth, seventh and eighth vents.

If we step forwards again too soon, we’ll get crisped, though, so we wait it out again:

>Z
Time has no meaning in cyberspace.

Towering walls of fire erupt from the second, third, sixth and eighth vents.

>N
You step forward to the second flame vent.

Towering walls of fire erupt from the first, fourth, fifth and seventh vents.

>Z
Time has no meaning in cyberspace.

Towering walls of fire erupt from the first, third, sixth and eighth vents.

>N
You step forward to the third flame vent.

Towering walls of fire erupt from the second, fourth, seventh and eighth vents.

>N
You step forward to the fourth flame vent.

Towering walls of fire erupt from the second, third, sixth and eighth vents.

>S
You step back to the third flame vent.

Towering walls of fire erupt from the first, fourth, fifth and seventh vents.

The pattern of flames is contrived to force us to step backwards in a couple of places; the flames from the fourth and fifth vents here mean that we couldn’t have stayed still or moved forwards.

>N
You step forward to the fourth flame vent.

Towering walls of fire erupt from the first, third, sixth and eighth vents.

>N
You step forward to the fifth flame vent.

Towering walls of fire erupt from the second, fourth, seventh and eighth vents.

>Z
Time has no meaning in cyberspace.

Towering walls of fire erupt from the second, third, sixth and eighth vents.

>N
You step forward to the sixth flame vent.

Towering walls of fire erupt from the first, fourth, fifth and seventh vents.

There are two turns out of four in the pattern where we can be safely standing on the sixth vent, but this is the wrong one because if we go forwards from here we’ll end up trapped next turn.

>S
You step back to the fifth flame vent.

Towering walls of fire erupt from the first, third, sixth and eighth vents.

>N
You step forward to the sixth flame vent.

Towering walls of fire erupt from the second, fourth, seventh and eighth vents.

>N
You step forward to the seventh flame vent.

Towering walls of fire erupt from the second, third, sixth and eighth vents.

>N
You step forward to the eighth flame vent.

Towering walls of fire erupt from the first, fourth, fifth and seventh vents.

And we can breathe again.

>N
You step off the last vent and proceed north to the…

Guidebot’s Brain
Artifical intelligences can be complex machines, and the guidebot certainly fits that description. Cybermapping the droid’s brain would be a cartographer’s nightmare. Information flows through a myriad of neural pathways, processors, diagnostic nodes and logic gates. There’s no room for emotions, intuition or creativity. Ah, the wonders of cognitive science.

A contender for world’s biggest emerald floats in mid-air, above two vertical, clear plastic tubes (one tall and the other short).

[Your score has just gone up by two points.]

>X EMERALD
Too bad this dark green, multifaceted jewel is a cyberspace construct, otherwise you’d be rich. The emerald sparkles in the light, almost beckoning you to touch it.

Well, how can we resist?

>TOUCH IT
As you touch it, the emerald glows brightly, then just as quickly dulls down again.

Ok, that’s clearly something we need to do at some point, but what’s this other stuff?

>X TALL TUBE
The tall tube has no markings other than a capital green letter C – the symbol used to represent the Utopian credit.

From top to bottom, the tall tube contains the numbers 0, 9 and 5.

>X SHORT TUBE
The only remarkable feature of the short tube is an hourglass symbol etched on its surface.

In the short tube is a number 2.

We were warned that the guidebot would be tracking our economic activity, and that we needed to earn at least 500 credits and work for at least 8 hours to qualify for Level 3 Citizen status. It looks like this is the cyberspace representation of where that information is stored, since the number in the tall tube (095) is our credits earned so far and the number in the short tube (2) is approximately the number of hours we spent working for Luigi. Through the happiest of coincidences, we can rearrange the digits to meet the requirements of our induction:

>TAKE ALL FROM TALL TUBE
number 0: Removed.
number 9: Removed.
number 5: Removed.

>TAKE 2
Taken.

>PUT 0 IN TALL TUBE
The number 0 sinks to the bottom of the tall tube.

>PUT 2 IN TALL TUBE
You deposit the number 2 on top of the number 0.

>PUT 5 IN TALL TUBE
You deposit the number 5 on top of the number 2.

>PUT 9 IN SHORT TUBE
You put the number 9 into the short tube.

Et voilà, nine hours worked and five hundred and twenty credits earned. Now let’s see what happens when we …

>TOUCH EMERALD
As you touch it, the emerald glows brightly. The colour drains from the stone and transfers to your avatar. Miss White just turned green. You barely have time to take in your transformation before you’re kicked out of cyberspace.

Standard Apartment FW-2815
Good job you’re not allergic to small rooms. Everything is ludicrously compact, with hemmed in walls, a quarter of the available floorspace taken up by a droid recharge pod, and a ceiling so low you have to continually crouch to avoid banging your head on the light fixture. The air in here is warm and humid; either there’s no ventilation at all or Utopia have invented airducts invisible to the human eye. Thankfully, you can always cool off in the cryobed.

In these cramped conditions, the open storage drawer could be considered a hazard.

On the recharge pod is a guidebot in standby mode.

You can also see a new citizen’s guidebook, some useless pieces of broken glass and a fried component here.

Your bodysuit’s jewels glow, changing colour from white to green.

“Congratulations,” says the guidebot. “You have fulfilled the requirements for advancing to class three citizen status. Since you are no longer an inductee, I am not required to guide or accompany you further. Progress to class two status is encouraged. More information can be obtained from the University of Utopia on Arcology education level twenty five.”

The droid returns to standby mode. Maybe now you’ll finally have some privacy.

So you’re a citizen now. You’re going up in the world. On a serious note, your increased status has opened up some new areas of the Arcology. With Big Brother sleeping, you’ll be able to contact our undercover agents. Start looking for public meeting places.

[Your score has just gone up by four points.]

Alright! According to the guidebook, we’re now permitted access to the Arcology’s education levels, which is a sizeable new area to explore, so we remove the cyberjack from our finger, remember (for once) to stash our illegal tools inside the inhaler, and hot-foot it to:

Transporter Ring

In case you get lost – a strong possibility in such a mammoth construction – information points are located every hundred metres.

When we browsed the floor directory the first time we got here, I noted that the education levels are 21 through 25:

>LOOK UP 21
(in the level directory)
Arcology Level 21 – EDUCATION – Sylvia’s Boarding School

>LOOK UP 22
(in the level directory)
Arcology Level 22 – EDUCATION – Great Library of Utopia

>LOOK UP 23
(in the level directory)
Arcology Level 23 – EDUCATION – Museum of Utopian Achievement

>LOOK UP 24
(in the level directory)
Arcology Level 24 – EDUCATION – Holy Citadel

>LOOK UP 25
(in the level directory)
Arcology Level 25 – EDUCATION – University of Utopia

So many exciting possibilities! Where shall we check out first?

  • Level 21 (Sylvia’s Boarding School)
  • Level 22 (Great Library of Utopia)
  • Level 23 (Museum of Utopian Achievement)
  • Level 24 (Holy Citadel)
  • Level 25 (University of Utopia)
0 voters
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I’m glad to understand there was some logic to that puzzle. I solved it by pure trial and error, hitting the correct sequence on my eighth try.

Similarly, I solved the firewall maze with judicious use of the undo command.

However, the sequence of puzzles we solved to enter cyberspace were most rewarding!

3 Likes

Currently topping the poll is the University of Utopia, so let’s go check it out!

>ENTER GATE 25
As you approach the access tunnel for level 25, a USF guard scans you with an electronic handheld device. After a series of beeps, an LED on the scanner turns green, and the trooper waves you through into the elevator tube. A short and exhilerating ride later, you arrive at your destination.

>S

University Of Utopia Campus
They say people change with the times, but student demographics have remained constant. Wandering around the vast gardens, buildings and paths that make up the UoU campus you see bearded academics, slackers watching holovids and cheerleaders practicing a dance routine for an upcoming soccer tournament. Just south of the transporter ring, there’s a cafeteria on the west side that appears to be the local chill zone. Literally – that’s its name.

The campus is itself a maze within the maze that is the Utopia Arcology. Holomaps are provided at every junction for the benefit of UoU students – and yourself.

This seems—okay? Most of the Arcology so far has been an authoritarian hellhole, but apparently the university somehow manages to persist in looking much like universities did in the early 21st century.

None of the various characters populating the campus are deemed important enough to our mission to interact with them, although if we ask Nanci about the students then we get:

Living the life without a care in the world. Why did I ever give up the student life?

This perturbs me slightly, as it suggests that we should be asking Nanci about things even if we get the default “that’s not important to your mission” message when we try to interact with them ourselves; hopefully we’ve not missed anything important this way. Anyway:

>X HOLOMAP
Three dimensional, rotating holographic maps showing the topography of the campus. Your position is highlighted by a glowing icon and all buildings are labelled, making a particular department easy to find.

>W
The cafeteria doors are locked. A sign reads:

THE CHILL ZONE

Run by UoU students, for UoU students.

OPENING HOURS 18:00 TO MIDNIGHT

Guess they’re too busy chilling right now.

We have no idea where we ought to be going in the University, but we can hazard a guess at the sort of locations that might be signposted, right?

>LOOK UP SCIENCE DEPARTMENT IN MAP
Be honest here. You have no idea what to look for, do you?

Ok, that sounds like a pretty clear hint that when we have to look something up in here, we’ll know. We can’t wander around the campus at will:

>S
It’d be easy to get lost if you don’t know where you’re going.

>E
It’d be easy to get lost if you don’t know where you’re going.

So it’s going to have to be the cafeteria. It’s currently a little after 02:00, so we pop back to our apartment, hop in the cryobed for sixteen hours, and then return.

>W

The Chill Zone
Taking its name to heart, the student cafeteria oozes coolness; low temperature is a running theme from the chilled soft drinks on sale to the igloo shaped booths. Apparently, someone forgot to tell the manager the polar ice caps melted decades ago. Social cliques gather in their distinct, isolated groups. Conversation topics include what happened on last night’s UTN soaps, bad dating experiences and sports results – nothing of life shattering importance.

One especially laid back student sits alone, talking to his computer.

The slacker punches the computer’s voice recognition microphone in frustration. “Stupid thing!” he yells. “Why won’t you listen to me? What have they done to you? I’ll never finish my portfolio now.”

The drinks, booths, etc. are all “not important to your mission”.

>LISTEN
Less than riveting stuff.

>X SLACKER
Keeping up appearances he ain’t. The guy’s a total slacker. He can’t have shaved, washed or cut his hair in ages. As for dress sense, he’s wearing a ketchup stained, sleeveless UoU vest and a Utopia Freedom cap with a cracked blue visor. The only item of clothing that’s not dirty is his Utopia bodysuit, and that’s only because it’s doing the cleaning for him.

“I need class two citizenship so I can watch the Freedom play. I gotta get it before the big game.”

“Utopia Freedom” is the name of a football team, one of whose players we found in Subbuteo form earlier. It’s not clear whether they’re Utopia’s only football team (in which case I guess they’d be playing against rival corpo-states?) or whether they’re competing in some sort of league against Utopia Justice, Utopia Plenty, etc.

>FOCUS HIM
My type of guy-- er, I mean he’s… never mind.

Thanks, Nanci, you’re meant to be our ace in the hole on this life-threatening espionage mission, we’re really enjoying hearing how you’d much rather be slacking off.

The student pulls what looks like a circular headed cyberjack from his vest, tries it on the computer, moans when it doesn’t work, then puts it away again.

>ASK SLACKER ABOUT COMPUTER
“My pride and joy. Even the Freedom come second to it.”

“Why’s it not working? Curse that Utopia woman!”

>X COMPUTER
Since their invention in the 1900s, computers have reduced in size and grown in power. The technical ceiling may finally have been reached with this model, Utopia’s UPC-999, a machine as thin as five sheets of paper controlled solely by voice commands. The absence of a keyboard leaves plenty of room for a circular interface port.

“Why’s it not working? Curse that Utopia woman!”

>FOCUS IT
But that’s… that’s… top of the range, and it belongs to a student!?

>ASK SLACKER ABOUT CITIZENSHIP
“I got nothing to say about that.”

“I need class two citizenship so I can watch the Freedom play. I gotta get it before the big game.”

>ASK STUDENT ABOUT CYBERJACK
“It’s stopped working. I think Utopia took away my access.”

“Why’s it not working? Curse that Utopia woman!”

>ASK STUDENT ABOUT WOMAN
“Ivory Worm’s one of Utopia’s executives. They say she’s hooked up day and night, prowling C-space for hackers. It was her that screwed up my data.”

Ivory Worm? We’ve already run into an Amber Bear, so I sense a theme naming of Utopia’s big guns here.

>ASK STUDENT ABOUT HACKING
“I got nothing to say about that.”

>ASK STUDENT ABOUT DATA
“Utopia’s cyberhacks usually leave a personal signature behind. Bet she left her name in there, the witch.”

“Why’s it not working? Curse that Utopia woman!”

We’re clearly meant to do something to help this guy. (Why? Because he’s here and implemented in a sufficient level of detail, of course.) But he’s not actually asking us to do anything, so how are we supposed to know how to help him?

On the other hand, we’ve seen him handling something that we’d love to keep for our nefarious purposes, so maybe we can just …

>ASK STUDENT FOR CYBERJACK
“Why not? I can’t use it. My friend Steve gave it to me. He told me it would help me deal with the worm that’s been eating my data. But what good is that if I can’t hook up? I think that exec of Utopia’s, that Ivory Worm woman, took away my logon privileges. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, the jack.”

He takes out his circular headed cyberjack and throws it to you.

[Your score has just gone up by three points.]

This cyberjack appears to be identical for all intents and purposes to the one we already have, except that it’s circular instead of octagonal.

I was ready to leave at this point, thinking that at least we’ve taken advantage of this guy’s poor luck to relieve him of something we can use for ourselves, when it occurs to me that now we do have an obvious means of helping him:

>WEAR CYBERJACK
You slide the circular headed cyberjack onto one of your fingers.

>PUT JACK IN PORT
You insert the circular headed cyberjack into the access port. An electrical tingle runs up your wrist, spreading all the way up your arm to your forehead. Everything blurs to pure, brilliant white, blinding you. When the light fades, you’re an avatar in cyberspace.

Corrupted Data
To someone who always found computer error messages about frustrating, this your chance to witness the true horror of a damaged file structure up close. A garbled mess of flashing green letters, numbers and ASCII characters float past; there’s no pattern, only endless strings of junk text. The corruption is so extensive it can only be deliberate.

A fire breathing, scaly red dragon flies overhead. And yes, it does look out of place.

The dragon flaps its wings, circling to make an attack run.

>X DATA
That’s not important to your mission.

>X DRAGON
Whoever messed up this code must love fantasy holovids. The avatar takes the form of a huge, red dragon protected from tail to claw by thick scales. And it would have to breathe fire, wouldn’t it? Unimaginative or not, the beast is a threat to your presence in this sector of cyberspace.

The dragon swoops low, opening its mouth.

I get the sense we need to do something about this dragon, and relatively quickly. Unfortunately, we know that our inventory doesn’t travel into cyberspace with us, and we also don’t have an obvious way of getting out—last time we were automatically ejected from the guidebot’s brain after we completed our objective.

>HIDE
(in the scaly red dragon)
The dragon’s flying, and you can’t reach that far!

Ok, parser, that would be an ambitious way to evade its notice.

Breathing hot fire, the beast closes in for the kill.

>KILL DRAGON
Nothing happens! Your avatar must have an anti-violence program installed.

The dragon breathes fire over you. It keeps coming, an endless plume of yellow and orange. Your cyberspace avatar turns black, consumed in the flames.

The Chill Zone
Taking its name to heart, the student cafeteria oozes coolness; low temperature is a running theme from the chilled soft drinks on sale to the igloo shaped booths. Apparently, someone forgot to tell the manager the polar ice caps melted decades ago. Social cliques gather in their distinct, isolated groups. Conversation topics include what happened on last night’s UTN soaps, bad dating experiences and sports results – nothing of life shattering importance.

One especially laid back student sits alone, talking to his computer.

Ok, good to know that dying in cyberspace doesn’t also kill you in real life.

The student looks at you, perplexed. “You were really shaking,” he says. “Like something bad went on in C-space. What happened in there?”

>TELL SLACKER ABOUT DRAGON
“Must be a sentinel sent by Utopia. What can-- I know. We’ll use a kill program. Jack in again, and I’ll upload one.”

[Your score has just gone up by two points.]

>PUT JACK IN PORT
You insert the circular headed cyberjack into the access port. An electrical tingle runs up your wrist, spreading all the way up your arm to your forehead. Everything blurs to pure, brilliant white, blinding you. When the light fades, you’re an avatar in cyberspace.

Corrupted Data
To someone who always found computer error messages about frustrating, this your chance to witness the true horror of a damaged file structure up close. A garbled mess of flashing green letters, numbers and ASCII characters float past; there’s no pattern, only endless strings of junk text. The corruption is so extensive it can only be deliberate.

A fire breathing, scaly red dragon flies overhead. And yes, it does look out of place.

The dragon flaps its wings, circling to make an attack run.

Do we have this promised “kill program” then?

>I
You are carrying:
 a razor edged shuriken

The dragon swoops low, opening its mouth.

>X SHURIKEN
You were expecting Saint George from English legend or at worst a sword. Instead, the student’s “kill” program takes the form of a ninja throwing star. By nature, it’s a one shot weapon. Miss, and you’re toast.

This is slightly disappointing—I was briefly hopeful that we’d get to keep the kill program afterwards for our own use, and that would be our reward for helping a careless hacker get his data back, a course of action we’ve otherwise found little incentive for. But anyway, let’s do the obvious:

Breathing hot fire, the beast closes in for the kill.

>THROW SHURIKEN AT DRAGON
Doing your best Bruce Lee impression, you take a step back, take aim and throw the shuriken at the dragon’s neck. All your worries were unfounded. The kill program automatically seeks out the beast and eliminates the threat, shattering the dragon into red shards. For a fleeting, you see a silver suited blonde woman wearing an ivory worm choker, then she disappears into the void.

With the dragon gone, two lines of text change colour. At the same time, two lettered spinners – one yellow, the other white – appear in front of you.

[Your score has just gone up by one point.]

>X LINES
Two short lines of text are highlighted, one above the other, differing from the floating green masses in font type and colour – the top line is yellow, the bottom white. The two lines read:

EFM PZW’C XKVB SGFN CXB BDBPMCKQB FS PEHBGYJZPB – KQFGE LFGN
EFM PZW’C XKVB SGFN CXB BDBPMCKQB FS PEHBGYJZPB – KQFGE LFGN

Puzzle time!

>X SPINNERS
You’ll have to refer to the spinners individually.

>X YELLOW SPINNER
An axled spinner with twenty six segments containing the letters of the alphabet A to Z in sequence, and an arrow that can be turned (currently pointing at A). Except for colour, the spinner is identical to its counterpart.

>SET YELLOW SPINNER TO B
You rotate the yellow spinner’s arrow to point at the letter B.

>X TEXT
Two short lines of text are highlighted, one above the other, differing from the floating green masses in font type and colour – the top line is yellow, the bottom white. The two lines read:

EFM PZW’C XKVB SGFN CXB BDBPMCKQB FS PEHBGYJZPB – KQFGE LFGN
EFM PZW’C XKVB SGFN CXB BDBPMCKQB FS PEHBGYJZPB – KQFGE LFGN

I was wondering if changing the spinner would change the text in some way, and we just needed to spin them back and forth until the message is revealed. But since the text hasn’t changed, I guess that the message is there to tell us what we need to set the spinners to?

This looks like a cryptogram; it doesn’t appear to be anything obvious like ROT13 or reverse-alphabet, but we have the spacing, a usefully-placed apostrophe and what I’m relatively certain is the signature “Ivory Worm” at the end. I haven’t yet made a serious attempt to solve it, so if anyone wants to take a crack at it, be my guest! Otherwise, that’ll be the first task for my next play session.

3 Likes

Looks like YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM THE EXECUTIVE OF CYBERSPACE – IVORY WORM. That signature’s very helpful!

Since (for example) K corresponds to I, maybe set yellow to K and white to I, or vice versa? But if that’s how the puzzle worked, I would expect the cryptogram to be symmetric, so that K = I and I = K. And it’s not. (For example, B means E, but E means Y.)

2 Likes

I’ve always had a fondness for cryptograpms. This one has an unusual letter distribution (lots of uncommon letters) but both the beginning and end words are easily guessible.

The method for telling the computer you’ve solved it will be clear also, once you start twiddling the dials.

3 Likes

I’m loving this Let’s Play. I played Inside Woman a few years ago, following the hints quite a lot. Although if I remember rightly, I made it to the retirement home without them.
The pizza place stumped me because I didn’t think of checking the vending machine before getting a job.
I’d be interested to read some other Andy Philips ones, particularly Heroine’s Mantle and Time All things Come To an End. The latter has a puzzle that I don’t have the patience to figure out regarding a randomly generated combination lock.

3 Likes

I think Time All Things Come To An End was the first game, so it’s not quite as polished as the others (but has a lot of his first most enthusiastic ideas).

This was very funny, thank you!

I was going to say, ‘That’s not true! I wrote a big game and…oh, yeah, it did have a cooking puzzle. But my second largest game…oh yeah, that was actually mostly food puzzles. But my third largest game…hmm, you have to microwave popcorn.’ Okay, I think you win here.

4 Likes

I wasn’t actually thinking about any specific IF games when I wrote that comment (more about action RPGs like Zelda and open-world type games) but of the long (8+ hours) parser games I’ve played recently, only Curses doesn’t have any kind of cooking or other kitchen-themed activity. Never Gives Up Her Dead has a cooking section and a distilling puzzle (even if the thing you end up distilling isn’t food or drink), Lydia’s Heart requires you to make cocoa (and doctor it with sleeping pills) and Finding Martin has both a microwave (which is really part of a time machine) and an automatic food-preparation machine.

5 Likes

Part 11 - A most educational evening

In which we do a lot of exploring and get ourselves stuck in a bit of a hole.

So last time I was a bit quick to say that moving the spinners didn’t do anything, because if we play with them a little more, then:

>SET YELLOW TO B
The yellow spinner’s arrow is already pointing at the letter B.

>SET WHITE TO B
You rotate the white spinner’s arrow to point at the letter B. The two lines of text flash. You take another look:

EFM PZW’C XKVB SGFN CXB BDBPMCKQB FS PEHBGYJZPB – KQFGE LFGN
EFM PZW’C XKVB SGFN CXB BDBPMCKQB FS PEHBGYJZPB – KQFGE LFGN

Something is meant to have happened, but we don’t see any visible difference. Maybe it’s because we set the two spinners to the same letter? We have a notion about the plaintext which should correspond to this cyphertext, so let’s put in the first pair:

>SET YELLOW TO E
You rotate the yellow spinner’s arrow to point at the letter E.

>SET WHITE TO Y
You rotate the white spinner’s arrow to point at the letter Y. The two lines of text flash. You take another look:

EFM PZW’C XKVB SGFN CXB BDBPMCKQB FS PEHBGYJZPB – KQFGE LFGN
YFM PZW’C XKVB SGFN CXB BDBPMCKQB FS PYHBGYJZPB – KQFGY LFGN

And there we go, a tiny change in the second line of text. It looks like this is actually intended as a tool for helping you to solve the cryptogram, because you can put in each letter as you find out and see what’s left. @Draconis has already solved the whole thing for us, though, so we start entering it, letter by letter:

>SET YELLOW TO F
You rotate the yellow spinner’s arrow to point at the letter F.

>SET WHITE TO O
You rotate the white spinner’s arrow to point at the letter O. The two lines of text flash. You take another look:

EFM PZW’C XKVB SGFN CXB BDBPMCKQB FS PEHBGYJZPB – KQFGE LFGN
YOM PZW’C XKVB SGON CXB BDBPMCKQB OS PYHBGYJZPB – KQOGY LOGN

many lines later:

>SET YELLOW TO L
You rotate the yellow spinner’s arrow to point at the letter L.

>SET WHITE TO W
You rotate the white spinner’s arrow to point at the letter W. The two lines of text flash. You take another look:

EFM PZW’C XKVB SGFN CXB BDBPMCKQB FS PEHBGYJZPB – KQFGE LFGN
YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM THE EXECUTIVE OF CYBERSPACE – IVORY WORM

With the text unravelled, the rest of the data follows suit, changing into words-- no, whole paragraphs that you can actually read. Maybe this kid isn’t such a slacker after all; he’s written a novel length article on Utopia. Makes you wonder why the company sent Ivory Worm after him, unless he hacked into a secure server and stole the data. Yeah, that’s probably it. A job well done, you jack out of cyberspace.

So if you cross Amber Bear, she will find you and break your neck with one hand. If you cross Ivory Worm, she’ll deface your files with a taunting message like a 1990s-era script kiddy. If we have to pick one of these people to upset later in the game, I think I know which choice I’m making.

There is some foreshadowing here that we might not have the full story on exactly what the slacker did to upset Ivory Worm in the first place, but as we’ll see shortly, it doesn’t look like this is the last we’ll see of him in any case.

The Chill Zone

“Wow!” exclaims the student, smiling brightly as he watches his data reconstruct in real time. “You’re awesome! Hey, I know it’s asking a lot, but could you help me with my portfolio?”

Don’t know what you did in there, but you got yourself a fan, Alice.

“I need class two citizenship so I can watch the Freedom play. I gotta get it before the big game.”

[Your score has just gone up by four points.]

Our corporate masters at Bai Lihong definitely invested all that time and money sending us here just so that we could do random jobs for university students:

>ASK STUDENT ABOUT PORTFOLIO
“So will you help me? Yes or no?”

Commit without any idea of what it is that he actually wants us to do? What could go wrong?

>SAY YES TO STUDENT
“Great. Here’s the deal. I’ve cop-- written an essay on Utopia for the portfolio, which I need to get class two citizen status, which I need to go watch the Freedom play. Problem is it’s all text, no images. And I need some pictures. Three of them: something to show Utopia’s subsidiary companies around the world, one of the Arcology, and another of the director. Last two are kinda tricky, so you might have to improvise. You’ll need this.”

The student hands you a datastick for storing photographic images.

“No camera though. Mine kinda broke on me when I tried to alter its functional capacity. And the datastick works, but I wiped its memory of, shall we say dodgy images you might not approve of. But when I did that, I screwed up the file structure, so you only got room for three images. But you don’t need to bring me all three at once. You can, but one or two at a time is cool with me.”

You know something, the people here in this Arcology. They really need help.

[Your score has just gone up by three points.]

The alternative future of this game clearly diverged from reality some time in the 2010s, since there’s apparently no generative AI image sources that this hapless student can slap onto his plagiarised essay. It’s a little surprising that he can’t find any images to use, although I guess in this ultra-capitalist nightmare, maybe clicking “save as” on a webpage image without checking the license terms is the sort of thing that leads to the copyright holder asserting their rights with lethal prejudice?

Anyway, receiving this data stick is good news, because we’ve already seen the camera that we need to use it with (in Pete’s shop). We won’t go pick it up yet, because we don’t know which of our trinkets it’s best to swap it for, so we might as well wait until we’ve found whatever it is we’re going to photograph.

>X DATA STICK
A circular edged, lipstick sized tube for storing electronic data. There’s a multipronged connector on one end of the aluminium casing.

>FOCUS IT
A storage device from the cheap end of the spectrum, but better than nothing.

“What are you doing here? Go get the portfolio photos! Remember, I still need photographs of Utopia’s subsidiary companies, the Director and the Arcology.”

Jeez, dude, the person who just saved your neck by restoring your corrupted data and is now offering to finish your university assignment for you in exchange for absolutely nothing isn’t moving quickly enough for you? It hasn’t exactly been explained what this “portfolio” is about, but it seems to be something to do with reaching level 2 citizen status, which sounds useful, even if we’re currently doing it on someone else’s behalf.

At this point it looks like we’ve found the new overarching objective for this series of Arcology levels, so we should probably start exploring some more to figure out where we might find the photos the slacker needs. At the time of writing, the second-highest-rated choice on the poll is the Great Library, so we return to the transporter ring and:

>ENTER GATE 22
As you approach the access tunnel for level 22, a USF guard sees the circular headed cyberjack.

“What have you got there? Arrest this woman immediately! Take her to holding.”

The guard and her fellow squaddies close in. You attempt to fight them off, but there are too many. One can only endure so much pain, and you inevitably succumb to their repeated blows. When you awake, you find yourself in a containment field with no hope of completing your mission.

I think we managed one update at some point where this didn’t happen, right?

> UNDO
Transporter Ring
[Previous turn undone.]

We stash all of our contraband in the inhaler and then …

>ENTER GATE 22
As you approach the access tunnel for level 22, a USF guard scans you with an electronic handheld device. After a series of beeps, an LED on the scanner turns green, and the trooper waves you through into the elevator tube. A short and exhilerating ride later, you arrive at your destination.

>S

Great Library Of Utopia
Inspired by the Ancient Greeks and Alexandria, the corporation has constructed its own mini palace of literary material. Apart from the northern exit and a reading room to the southeast, half kilometre high shelves fan out in all directions. The Library’s stock includes parchments, leather bound encyclopaedias, novels both fiction and none, as well as more up to date storage devices: holovids, optical discs and datacubes.

Browsing the titles would take several months. Handily, there’s a librarian droid to do the tedious flywork for you.

>X SHELVES
Maintained by less than magnificient flying machines, Utopia’s Great Library is open all day long. Antigrav drives are essential attachments; much of the material is hundreds of metres in the air. Other droids stock, clean and catalogue, leaving the librarian to look up titles and authors in its databank.

>FOCUS SHELVES
Bet you feel like royalty with all these servants. That makes what – three you’ve had now?

Unless I’ve forgotten about a droid or other “servant” somewhere, Nanci’s counting the guidebot, the librarian we’ve just encountered and … himself?

None of the parchments, novels, encyclopaedias, holovids and datacubes seem to produce any interesting responses. We also get the same description of the shelves when we examine the librarian:

>X LIBRARIAN
Maintained by less than magnificient flying machines, Utopia’s Great Library is open all day long. Antigrav drives are essential attachments; much of the material is hundreds of metres in the air. Other droids stock, clean and catalogue, leaving the librarian to look up titles and authors in its databank.

We don’t know of any particular titles we need to look up, but let’s give the droid something to search for to figure out how it works:

>ASK LIBRARIAN ABOUT 1984
“That is not my function, citizen.”

Might be a bit on-the-nose for this dictatorship, so let’s try another:

>ASK LIBRARIAN ABOUT OLIVER TWIST
“That is not my function, citizen.”

>ASK LIBRARIAN ABOUT NOVELS
“That is not my function, citizen.”

I think we must be getting the syntax wrong. Let’s try something else.

>LOOK UP 1984 IN LIBRARIAN DROID
You’ll have to ask the librarian to do that.

Oh, maybe it should be this way:

>LIBRARIAN, LOOK UP 1984
The librarian droid scans its databank. After an extensive, half second search it comes up empty. “Item does not exist, citizen,” it states in a flat, abrupt tone that leaves no room for argument.

Maybe our corporate overlords didn’t want to keep that one around while repressing the populace. What might they have been more keen on?

>LIBRARIAN, LOOK UP ATLAS SHRUGGED
The librarian droid scans its databank. After an extensive, half second search it comes up empty. “Item does not exist, citizen,” it states in a flat, abrupt tone that leaves no room for argument.

I’m getting the sense that we should come back here once we actually know the name of s book we want to look up. In the meantime, there’s only one other area to explore from here:

>SE

Reading Room
You were wondering where all the citizens had gone. Here they are, in a long, sprawling annex southeast of the main Library. Reading tables are there for those who want them, while others prefer to browse their chosen book standing. It’s deathly silent, a rule the patrolling USF goons ensure visitors strictly adhere to.

>X GOONS
Your average USF thugs: strong, muscular men and women dressed in the all-black outfits reserved for Utopia’s secret police-- sorry, security force. As ever, their faces are concealed behind opaque visors.

>FOCUS GOONS
Great. More police to avoid. Just do me a favour and be extra careful with these guys around. Okay?

Do you a favour, Nanci? Exactly which of us do you think is getting executed if we screw this up?

>X CITIZENS
Their eyes are so dead you’re surprised they can even read.

>FOCUS CITIZENS
Where did Utopia get all these zombies from? Resident Evil XLII?

Nice to know that franchise is still going. That’s, what, roughly a game every three to four years? I’m not into RE heavily enough to know if that’s a realistic release schedule.

Anyway, there doesn’t seem to be much to do here. I guess we should probably come back once we have a book to look up or a goal in mind related to the library.

>NW

Great Library Of Utopia

Browsing the titles would take several months. Handily, there’s a librarian droid to do the tedious flywork for you.

We also try telling the librarian to look up “Arcology”, “Director” and “Gustav Ernst” just in case there’s anything filed under any of those titles, but no joy.

>N

Transporter Ring

In case you get lost – a strong possibility in such a mammoth construction – information points are located every hundred metres.

Working out way down the list, the next one is level 23, the Museum of Utopian Achievement.

>ENTER GATE 23
As you approach the access tunnel for level 23, a USF guard scans you with an electronic handheld device. After a series of beeps, an LED on the scanner turns green, and the trooper waves you through into the elevator tube. A short and exhilerating ride later, you arrive at your destination.

>S

Museum Of Utopian Achievement
And the corporation has so much to be proud of: all-conquering capitalism, brainwashing and eroding the will of its citizens, executing those who get in the way. None of that is mentioned here, of course – just information about key exhibits on display to the east. There’s a heavy USF presence to quell potential dissenters; their local base of operation is to the west, and there are unguarded passages leading north and south.

An armed security guard stands by the entrance, holding a portable gamma ray scanner.

>X GUARD
(the USF guard)
The guard carries two items you need to be aware of: a scanner programmed to detect irradiated museum artifacts and a plasma pistol. One goes off, and so does the other.

>FOCUS GUARD
(the USF guard)
That’s not a contraband scanner. It’s designed to detect gamma rays.

So Utopia have a lot of issues with people smuggling radioisotopes into the museum? Or stealing radioactive exhibits?

Walking brazenly into that guard post to the west sounds like a good way to reduce our life expectancy, but Alice Wei Ling’s curiosity is insatiable:

>W
“Halt!” says one of the USF guards. “You don’t have clearance to go in there, citizen. Unless you got special permission from the Director, and I’d know about that.”

Hm, ok. Maybe another time.

>E

Exhibit Hall
Note the singular – whereas the museums you’ve visited previously have featured multiple rooms, Utopia’s entire collection is showcased within this one chamber. The marble pillared hall stretches on for two kilometres or more, with aisles between the exhibits to accommodate citizens gawping at relics from Old San Francisco, wartime correspondence datacubes, the Director’s childhood toys, or whatever happens to be on display.

Many items were donated, including the Janie Rourke subbuteo piece on a pedestal fifty metres into the hall.

Who needs cameras, laser tripwires or pressure plates when you’ve got a gamma ray sensor? With top of the line security, the USF trooper on watch can afford to take it easy.

So the sensor is to prevent people stealing from the museum after all? Are the exhibits all radioactive?

The sensor emits a loud ping as a citizen leaves the museum. After an argument, the USF guard lets the woman pass. “This thing’s so darn sensitive,” he complains to himself. “Nowt but false alarms all day long. Twenty four hours of ping, ping, ping.”

Yawning, he leans back in his chair and goes to sleep.

When we saw the guard outside, Nanci gave us the distinct impression that we’d be shot dead if the guard got so much as an inkling that we might be carrying something which could trip the sensor. In fact, he seems significantly more relaxed than that.

Given that we’re in the ruins of San Francisco I’ve been assuming that the Utopians speak with what we’d broadly recognise as American accents, so I’m tickled to see this guard using a Yorkshire-ism like “nowt”. (Though if he were a true Yorkshireman, that “darn” should definitely be “bloody”.)

Anyway, we get dismissive responses to any attempt to interact with most of the museum exhibits, so let’s take a look at that one item that the game is clearly calling out for special attention:

>X JANIE
It’s a subbuteo piece, part of a set from a table soccer game. The five centimetre tall player is a very lifelike woman wearing a royal blue swimsuit. She’s Janie Rourke from the Utopia Freedom according to the text inscribed on the base.

>FOCUS JANIE
Who in their right mind would collect women in swimsuits?

I didn’t notice this the first time, but why are they playing football in swimsuits? (I guess the most likely answer is “shameless objectification in order to maximise profits”?)

>X PEDESTAL
A black marble slab on a cylindrical base. Alarm systems are curiously absent, as is a descriptive plaque. The subbuteo piece must be a recent addition to Utopia’s collection.

>FOCUS IT
It’s a chunk of rock. What do you want me to say?

Well, we’re clearly being invited to try, so let’s see what happens if we …

>TAKE JANIE
Taken.

>W
The gamma ray sensor emits a loud ping as you pass underneath. Alerted, the guard looks up. Seeing the Janie Rourke subbuteo piece in your hand, he points at the pedestal – a silent order to return what you’ve taken. When he’s convinced you no longer plan to leave, he drifts back to sleep.

A guard who is literally asleep at his post shouldn’t be that difficult to fool, surely?

>THROW JANIE WEST
I only understood you as far as wanting to throw the Janie Rourke subbuteo piece.

>THROW JANIE
Dropped.

>X SENSOR
The only way out is through a doorway lined with radiation sensors, and you know the reason why. Each and every museum exhibit is coated in a thin layer of radioactive chemicals. The dose is insufficient to kill a person but enough to set off the alarm – even through shielding.

Ok, so all the exhibits really are radioactive. This is probably a bad idea from a health perspective, but in the absence of any kind of government to legislate health and safety standards, I guess this is what you get.

>FOCUS SENSOR
Gamma rays have extreme penetration. Your inhaler won’t help you here.

>W
The alarm remains silent as you leave the hall.

Museum Of Utopian Achievement

An armed security guard stands by the entrance, holding a portable gamma ray scanner.

I can’t quite work out whether this is the same guard, or whether there’s an armed guard with a portable scanner here, and a second, dozing guard in the exhibit hall listening to the scanner built into the doorway. We’ll presumably need to figure it out if and when we decide to steal something from the museum (these Subbuteo pieces are probably important for something), but let’s wait until we have a reason to do so. Meanwhile, only one direction left to explore:

>S

(Splitting this update in two because I accidentally overran the character limit again …)

5 Likes

Ride Through Time
Utopia has jumped on the “education through entertainment” bandwagon, providing younger visitors with a makebelieve journey into the past. There’s not a soul abroad beside yourself – could be the kids are all in school, or it’s a rubbish and/or dangerous attraction. The aforementioned ride begins and ends at an elevated maglev platform.

It’s around half past seven in the evening, so I’m assuming the kids probably aren’t in school. The guidebook mentioned that Utopia operates a shift system for maximum economic efficiency, but if that’s the case there are an awful lot of places that are only open at certain times.

Encouragingly – or not, depending on your viewpoint – there’s an emergency exit door to the west.

A single person, open topped carriage christened “The Time Capsule” is ready for boarding.

>X CAPSULE
As you’d expect from a children’s ride, lots of purely cosmetic lights, dials and switches that serve absolutely no purpose besides filling space. One thing that’s not there for show is the safety harness.

>FOCUS IT
What? No DeLorean? Message for Utopia: if you’re gonna travel in time, do it in style.

Well, we clearly have nothing better to do, so:

>ENTER CAPSULE
You take a seat in the time capsule. Triggered by your entrance, the safety harness lowers over your head, its ring sliding into the belt buckle with a metallic click.

The car introduces herself to you. Yes, it’s a she, and apparently she talks. “Welcome, brave traveller,” she begins. “You are about to embark on a journey through time, where you will see the glories of ages past and present, the horrors of war, and the beginnings of Utopia Technologies. May I remind you that, for copyright reasons, photography is not permitted whilst onboard the time capsule. Any attempt to record images will result in failure. All set? Engaging temporal drive in three… two … one… Now!”

That disclaimer about photography surely means that we’re going to see something we’d like to photograph. I’m not exactly sure what “will result in failure” means here, but it sounds sinister. In any case, we haven’t picked the camera up yet, so we won’t be able to try it out right now, but let’s see what there is to see here first.

Time Rider. A shadowy flight into the dangerous world of Utopia. Alice Wei Ling: a young loner on a crusade to champion the innocent, the helpless, the powerless, the lazy, the insane, in a world of criminals who are the law.

Humming into life, the maglev’s magnetic field propels the capsule southeast, and you find yourself riding high above the streets of…

San Francisco (in the time capsule)
Addendum: after the Great Flood. Polluted seawater has come to America’s west coast by the gallon load, drowning Silicon Valley, Fisherman’s Wharf, Alcatraz Island and numerous other landmarks now consigned to the history books. Though it pains you to say it, Utopia’s downscaled recreation of the landscape pre-Arcology is quite astounding in accuracy and attention to detail.

Still above water, Coit Tower occupies the high ground on Telegraph Hill.

“The place, San Francisco,” the capsule’s voice informs you. “The year, 2065. Ignoring the warnings of experts for decades, the world’s nations did little to reduce pollution. Greenhouse gases, coupled with a nuclear submarine accident off the coast of Antarctica, led to a dramatic rise in sealevel. As citizens retreated inland, coastal cities were abandoned and population density reached breaking point.”

I don’t know about the nuclear submarine accident, but the rest of this seems entirely plausible.

>X COIT TOWER
An historic 1930s Art Deco building, remodelled using the same reinforced concrete as the original. Old style construction, but sturdy – lest you forget, the real thing survived the Great Flood.

>FOCUS TOWER
And this is where Utopia brags about being bigger and better. Our Arcology’s foundation pillars dwarf Coit Tower, ya know.

I’ve not heard of Coit Tower, but it seems to be—a big tower in San Francisco, basically? Anything else I should know about it?

The time capsule continues along the maglev track.

Colombian Wasteland (in the time capsule)
Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it. An old proverb, but humanity’s darkest hour – the Ricardo Zavor virus and the subsequent conflict that wiped out four billion lives – was World War I for the twenty first century. In spite of the intended audience, nothing is dumbed down or trivialised in this reconstruction: gas filled trenches, burnt down rain forests, corpse upon corpse piled in the mud. This is how your grandparents died, fighting a lost cause in a foreign land.

“April 2081. Resources grow increasingly scarce, especially in South America. Ricardo Zavor, a Colombian dictator, threatens world leaders with a newly developed biologal virus. Refusing to capitulate, the Western-Eastern alliance establishes a blockade. Zavor refuses to back down. Instead, he releases the virus, which quickly spreads beyond his borders. With the world densely populated, all attempts to quarantine the outbreak fail, and the Colombian war begins.”

Isn’t this supposed to be a kid’s ride? Geez. Lighten up a little.

>X TRENCHES
The trenches extend across the entire wasteland, forming a maze of dug out, distinctly unnatural pits. Through the smoke, you see an exit to the southeast and another in the opposite corner.

Hmm, this looks like there’s more that we could explore here, except that …

>OUT
The safety harness prevents you from leaving.

The time capsule continues along the maglev track.

California Archipelago (in the time capsule)
Things have changed quite a bit since 2065: the coastline has moved further east and the islands have shrunk to tiny patches of land surrounded by the oily black waters of the Pacific. Construction of the Utopia Technologies Arcology is complete, and the huge towering, megastructure casts a shadow that reaches the faraway mainland. It’s exactly the same view you saw from the transport shuttle – that seems like months ago, now.

“Thanks to the efforts of Utopia’s biological research, the Zavor virus is contained and eventually eliminated. To reclaim lost territory and restore humanity to its former glory, the Director begins a project of unprecedented magnitude. In 2128, the Arcology is completed, reducing overcrowding and providing a much needed beacon of hope.”

Yeah, yeah. Enough of the Utopia saves the world nonsense, okay?

The Arcology accommodates a million people, right? I mean, it’s a lot to fit inside a single structure, but if that’s made a significant impact on population density, there are a lot fewer people left alive in 2165 than there are nowadays.

>X ARCOLOGY
How can you not recognise it? A scale model of the mammoth building you’re in, with all the bells and whistles included: foundation pillars, the USF Black Tower, a millimetre high replica of Alice Wei Ling looking back at you – only kidding.

>FOCUS IT
Rather pointless, since you have to come to the Arcology in the first place to visit this museum. Unless you were born here and have never been outside-- yeah, this is one for the kids I suppose.

The time capsule continues along the maglev track, returning to its starting point.

The capsule’s safety harness rises into the open position.

Ok, so there are two things of interest here: the model of the Arcology which we’d like to photograph, and the possibility of additional areas to explore if we could only get out of the capsule while the ride is in motion (kids, do not get out of the capsule while the ride is in motion).

>OUT
You get out of the time capsule.

Ride Through Time

Encouragingly – or not, depending on your viewpoint – there’s an emergency exit door to the west.

A single person, open topped carriage christened “The Time Capsule” is ready for boarding.

>W
You can’t, since the emergency exit is in the way.

>OPEN DOOR
The emergency exit has no handle on this side.

Oh, wait, is this an exit from the ride? I was confused about which direction the maglev track went—it mentions that it starts off to the southeast, but maybe it loops around to the west?

>X HARNESS
A multibarred cage that comes down overhead and secures the rider in place. The locking mechanism is primitive: a metal loop that slots into a buckle. More effective safety measures must have been too costly for Utopia Technologies to waste money on.

Hmm, if we could jam the buckle somehow, perhaps we could prevent the harness from closing? And we do happen to be carrying something which is designed to fit into any kind of slot or fastening …

>OPEN INHALER
You open the fake antiviral inhaler, revealing two cyberjacks (a circular headed cyberjack and an octagonal headed cyberjack) and a shiny black morphtool.

>TAKE MORPHTOOL
Taken.

>PUT TOOL IN BUCKLE
You lodge the morphtool in the harness’ buckle.

>ENTER CAPSULE
You take a seat in the time capsule. Triggered by your entrance, the safety harness lowers over your head, its ring grinding into the buckle. Obstructed by the morphtool, the harness does not close properly. After an abortive attempt to lock in place, it returns to its former position. Despite a failed safety check, everything continues as normal.

I guess this time that absence of health and safety regulation is working in our favour.

The car introduces herself to you. Yes, it’s a she, and apparently she talks. “Welcome, brave traveller,” she begins. “You are about to embark on a journey through time, where you will see the glories of ages past and present, the horrors of war, and the beginnings of Utopia Technologies. May I remind you that, for copyright reasons, photography is not permitted whilst onboard the time capsule. Any attempt to record images will result in failure. All set? Engaging temporal drive in three… two … one… Now!”

Humming into life, the maglev’s magnetic field propels the capsule southeast, and you find yourself riding high above the streets of…

San Francisco (in the time capsule)
Addendum: after the Great Flood. Polluted seawater has come to America’s west coast by the gallon load, drowning Silicon Valley, Fisherman’s Wharf, Alcatraz Island and numerous other landmarks now consigned to the history books. Though it pains you to say it, Utopia’s downscaled recreation of the landscape pre-Arcology is quite astounding in accuracy and attention to detail.

Still above water, Coit Tower occupies the high ground on Telegraph Hill.

“The place, San Francisco,” the capsule’s voice informs you. “The year, 2065. Ignoring the warnings of experts for decades, the world’s nations did little to reduce pollution. Greenhouse gases, coupled with a nuclear submarine accident off the coast of Antarctica, led to a dramatic rise in sealevel. As citizens retreated inland, coastal cities were abandoned and population density reached breaking point.”

Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained, so:

>OUT
Unconstrained by the safety harness, you climb onto the edge of the time capsule. Bending your legs to prepare yourself for the fall, you jump down. The water cushions your fall, absorbing most of the impact. A polluted solution of oil, salt and sand fills your lungs. Strong updraft currents push you to the surface. Relieved to breathe fresh air once again, you empty your mouth. Above you, the time capsule continues on out of sight.

Ugh. You’ll need a good, clean shower after this. Can’t blame a guy for hoping.

Grow up, Nanci.

I had hoped that we could stay on the tracks somehow, but I guess maybe the way we had to exit the capsule prohibited it. So now we’re stuck in dirty water, somewhere we are clearly not supposed to be, with only the flimsiest of justifications for why we might want to be here, but better see if we can make the best of the situation.

>CLIMB TOWER
Since it got downsized, Coit Tower’s a little too small to balance on.

>CLIMB HILL
That’s not important to your mission.

>N
You swim around a little, but get nowhere fast.

>OUT
The water’s everywhere!

>SW
You swim around a little, but get nowhere fast.

If we can’t go up, can we go … down?

>DIVE
Inhaling deep, you dive below the oily surface. You don’t get far thanks to strong, pipe fed currents forcing you upwards. Before you surface, you see an adjustable valve wheel that controls the water inflow.

>TURN WHEEL
Taking a deep breath, you dive underwater and grab the valve wheel. Using your feet for leverage, you close off the inlet pipe. The oily seawater drains away until its waist deep, bringing to light what was arguably the most famous landmark of old San Francisco: the Golden Gate Bridge.

[Your score has just gone up by two points.]

Some poor sap spent months working on this replica of San Francisco without reading the part of the project brief that said that most of it it was going to be underwater.

>X BRIDGE
A ten metre long replica of the Golden Gate Bridge. All the features are present: red painted steel, suspension towers, connecting cables. A commendable job; pity none of the tourists got to see it.

>CLIMB BRIDGE
I don’t think much is to be achieved by that.

>X CABLES
Ten metres long, very thin, and highly flexible – qualities that make this cable more than mere decoration.

>FOCUS BRIDGE
You’re not here to gawp at the sights. Find a way out!

>TAKE CABLES
It’ll take more than that to shift the bridge.

Ok, so I guess we’re meant to use part of the bridge to fashion some sort of escape?

>PULL CABLES
The cable bends easily.

>HIT BRIDGE
Here goes nostalgia and historical preservation. You grab one of the steel cables, tense your muscles, and rip the wire free from the suspension pillars.

You must really work out. You’re a regular Godzilla, Alice.

[Your score has just gone up by three points.]

>TIE CABLE TO TOWER
Attaching the cable to Coit Tower will accomplish little.

>LOOK

San Francisco (in the polluted seawater)
Addendum: after the Great Flood. Polluted seawater has come to America’s west coast by the gallon load, drowning Silicon Valley, Fisherman’s Wharf, Alcatraz Island and numerous other landmarks now consigned to the history books. Though it pains you to say it, Utopia’s downscaled recreation of the landscape pre-Arcology is quite astounding in accuracy and attention to detail. From down here, you see something you couldn’t before: a ventilation duct high up in the west wall.

Still above water, Coit Tower occupies the high ground on Telegraph Hill.

The wreckage of the Golden Gate Bridge spans the bay.

Aha! I don’t think that duct was mentioned before now, but I guess that’s where we’re trying to get to.

>X DUCT
A ventilation shaft a half metre wide, but don’t get your hopes up just yet – it’s some distance above sealevel.

>THROW CABLE AT DUCT
Good idea, but the cable won’t catch on anything.

Can we tie something to it to make a hook?

>I
You are carrying:
 a flexible steel cable
 a datastick
 a fake antiviral inhaler (which is open)
  two cyberjacks:
   a circular headed cyberjack
 an octagonal headed cyberjack
 a cashcard
 a carrier bag
 a Waterline Club member’s pass
 this year’s calendar
 a painted steel rose
 a hi-tech digital wristwatch (being worn)
 a Utopia Technologies bodysuit (being worn)

The steel rose sounds like the only thing we’re carrying that might be shaped vaguely like a grappling hook.

>TIE CABLE TO ROSE
Attaching the cable to the painted steel rose will accomplish little.

Ok, if we’re not carrying anything useful, can we break off more of the diorama to use?

>HIT TOWER
The scale model’s every bit as sturdy as the original Coit Tower.

>X WATER
Take a room full of water, mix in several kilograms of salt, add a generous sprinkling of crude oil, and you’ve got the recipe for the Pacific Ocean, circa 2065.

Too much to hope that they would just have added some black dye, I guess? Or is this real Pacific seawater?

>FOCUS IT
You’re a dirty girl, you know that?

Grow up, Nanci.

>X BRIDGE
Have you finished wrecking famous landmarks?

I’m not sure if this is meant to be a rhetorical question, but let’s keep working on finding something we can tie to the cable:

>HIT IT
Since you’ve already wrecked the model bridge, you figure you may as well finish the job. You stamp down hard on a suspension pillar, weakening it with a powerful foot jab. A roundhouse kick and a sharp tug later, you’re holding the metal bar in your hand.

Look at her go! This is like watching the fifty foot woman. Gotta make a video of this for my collection.

[Your score has just gone up by three points.]

>TIE CABLE TO BAR
You wrap the steel cable around the broken suspension tower, tie a knot and pull it taut. Way to go – you’ve just made yourself a grappling hook.

Ok, is this our way out?

>THROW HOOK AT VENT
Good idea, but the support pillar is too big to fit inside the shaft.

>X HOOK
Ten metres long, very thin, and highly flexible – qualities that make this cable more than mere decoration.

That’s the same description of the hook from before we tied the cable to it.

>FOCUS HOOK
Is she Godzilla? Is she MacGyver? No, she’s Alice Wei Ling!

So if we can’t throw it into the duct, is there anything else up there we can hook it on?

>X TRACK
First there were roads, then railroads and now maglevs. The theory was around for decades before but this mode of transport only came into practice in the 2050s. Lifting train cars by strong magnetic fields, they eliminated friction and increased maximum travel speed twofold.

>THROW HOOK AT TRACK
You spin the broken pillar around and hurl it at the maglev track. It takes a couple of tries, but the H-shaped steel piece finally catches on the rail, leaving the attached steel cable dangling ten metres above your head.

I think my sense of scale was off here: if the track is a whole twenty metres above us, this space is vast. Also, throwing the hook at something which is so far away that the cable is too short to dangle down to us doesn’t sound like such a great idea any more. I note that we didn’t get any points for hooking the cable onto the track; I hope that doesn’t mean we’ve gone astray.

>CLIMB TOWER
Since it got downsized, Coit Tower’s a little too small to balance on.

>JUMP
That’s difficult right now.

>CLIMB HILL
That’s not important to your mission.

>CLIMB WRECKAGE
I don’t think much is to be achieved by that.

>CLIMB TRACK
You can’t reach the maglev rail from down here!

>SEARCH WATER
You don’t find anything in the water this time.

>SEARCH WRECKAGE
Admiring your handiwork?

>FOCUS TRACK
Uplifting, isn’t it?

>X DUCT
A ventilation shaft a half metre wide, but don’t get your hopes up just yet – it’s some distance above sealevel.

>FOCUS IT
There’s your way out baby!

Ok, so we’ve MacGyvered our way through what seems to be the first part of this puzzle, making a grappling hook and attaching it to the maglev track. But I can’t find any commands that let us make further progress from here. It’s possible that we’re stuck, and we shouldn’t have got ourselves into this position until we’d picked up something else from elsewhere, but all of the components we needed so far were right here in the room with us, so I’m hoping that we have everything we need to make our escape …

4 Likes

Oh, if anyone wants to investigate further for themselves, here are two save files, one at the point we left off and one just before entering the ride.

letsplay-11-ride-entrance.glksave.txt (6.7 KB)
letsplay-11-in-water.glksave.txt (6.8 KB)

2 Likes

I’ve been traveling, with limited internet time, so I just caught up, and let me belatedly say this is really fun! I admire your boldness in taking this epic task on, but it seems to be going well so far (my only idea for your current predicament is to turn the water back on so you can swim up to the cable, but not sure whether it’s possible).

Nobody else has taken the bait on the socio-political plausibility of the setup, so while I’m no Sinologist I’ll nonetheless opine that it seems plausible to me that China’s take on merging government with corporations would privilege the former rather than the latter (arguably this is how their economy currently works), and therefore they’d feel isolated from a western-led system that emphasizes the corporate side, but I’m very skeptical that they’d say that “freedom” was the distinguishing element of their approach - that’s a pretty clear indication the fame was written from an Anglosphere perspective IMO.

(Likewise, the “nowt” isn’t the only tell that the author is British - Subbotei isn’t really a thing here, we just call “sweetcorn” corn… Those kinds of details are hard to get right!)

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The pizza droid too, right?

Maybe they’re doing some sort of isotopic labelling?

I’m also curious what exactly jumping into the ocean exhibit is going to accomplish. It seems like a lot of work for no obvious reward (except gaining points).

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Oh yeah, and on smuggling stuff out of the museum: upon being told everything’s covered in a thin radioactive coating, but it isn’t enough to be dangerous, am I the only one thinking “hey, finally LICK OBJECT is the solution”?

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I wonder how the guards would react to gamma rays coming from inside our stomach!

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Oh, yeah, that makes more sense. Although the pizza droid’s successor took our job, so it wasn’t exactly subservient for long.

Tragically, the verb LICK is not implemented.

This gets us another step further: if you re-flood the exhibit, you can reach the cable, but now your hands are too wet to climb it.

2 Likes

I unfortunately have no ideas about the current puzzle; I just want to note that I’m laughing at your repeated failures to hide your contraband, but in the slightly pained way where I know that would be me if I were the one playing this game. I kind of feel like once the player has demonstrated they know how to do it, the game should attempt it automatically whenever you move between floors.

7 Likes