Start of a transcript of The Blossom An uncanny diary by Olaf Nowacki Release 0 / Serial number 230731 / Inform 7 build 6M62 (I6/v6.34 lib 6/12N) IntroComp 2023 version - work in progress. Preface This IF is neither finished nor polished. The story is not going anywhere yet. (But if it feels like it is: Even better.) Many commands lack the right feedback. There are bugs. Still, the basic idea should become clear and whether it's worth pursuing further I leave to your judgment. The form of the game is a diary. Each round is one day long. This results in a few differences to other parser-based IF: You don't walk around as usual. Instead, the following form is used: GO TO or VISIT . Also, you don't pick up or drop objects, because that wouldn't fit the diary format either, so that happens automatically. Repetitions and anything that breaks the fourth wall should be masked or avoided to preserve the form. This is probably not entirely possible, but I want to push it as far as I can. I would like to take this opportunity to thank Daniel Stelzer and Drew Cook! With their advice on intfiction.org, they have given me the basis on which all the standard feedback is intercepted. You'll do me a big favor if you type "script" first and send me your transcript (along with any feedback and ideas you may have) to olaf.nowacki@gmail.com! Please press SPACE to continue. Identification number: //2A06F5FD-44AB-40F1-AA0C-0D5F7CB602EB// Interpreter version 1.3.5 / VM 3.1.2 / Library serial number 080126 Standard Rules version 3/120430 by Graham Nelson Absolute Standards by Olaf Nowacki June 26 ? My dear diary, I am so glad that I can write down my thoughts and everything I experience in you - it is like making a transcript of my life. For sure I will love to read in you later! >*nice, even transcript gets a message (Noted.) >l June 26 ? I spent the entire day exploring my room in Mrs. Unbehagens house. It is very small and sparsely furnished. There is a small window facing the street. Below it is a desk and in front of it is a chair. On the wall opposite is a bed against the bare wall. There is no other furniture, only the door that leads to the staircase. I am sitting at my desk, in front of me my diary (in which I'm currently writing), an inkwell in which I regularly refill my quill and a stack of blank paper on which I will set down my novel. Also there is the carafe with water. I should say everything is well prepared so I can start writing my novel. Someone upstairs is playing the piano, or something like that. I probably shouldn't listen so closely so as not to distract myself from my work. >write novel June 27 ? Today I was finally ready to start writing. I had thought of an excellent opening sentence and was just about to dip the quill into the inkwell when there was a knock at the door. It couldn't be Mrs. Unbehagen, because at this time she always does her purchases. Besides, she never knocks before entering the room. After a moment's hesitation, I rose to open the door. In the narrow hallway stood Valerie with a potted plant in her hands. I was so overwhelmed that I couldn't express my joy adequately. She set the plant down on my desk and let her eyes roam over my sparse room. Finally, she looked me in the eye and said, "I bought this at the harbour from a sailor overseas. He said it was an extraordinary plant from the other side of the globe. I don't know if he was telling the truth, but I've never seen such a plant. Hopefully it will inspire your writing." I would rather have had a photo of her for inspiration, but of course I didn't say that. I grabbed her hand and wanted to caress it, but she shyly withdrew, saying she had to leave before the landlady came back. I asked her if she was coming to see me again, but she avoided my gaze and just murmured, "Maybe." Then she was gone again, leaving me alone with the plant. A little later, Mrs. Unbehagen entered my room and asked if I had received any lady visitors. That was strictly forbidden. I lied and claimed that my cousin had brought me my beloved potted plant, which I needed for writing. She replied that she hoped I did not intend to smoke the plant. That too, she said, was strictly forbidden. I tried to appease her by saying that I would never smoke plants, only tobacco. She then parted with a sceptical look and narrowed eyes. I sat down at my desk again and reached for the quill. My brilliant opening sentence I had forgotten by then. When I sit at my desk, I constantly have the feeling that something is moving outside and when I look up there is no one there. >write June 28 ? I sat at my desk for a long time today thinking about what my brilliant opening sentence has been. I thought of a few others, but none were nearly as good as the original one, which unfortunately didn't come back. Sometimes I thought it was within reach. A feeling, an idea, a memory of it that brings it back in its entirety. But it was always like trying to catch mist with a butterfly net. Suddenly I have doubts about whether I am at all suited to writing. Today I saw someone in the house across the street peering over at me. The curtain was moved a bit to the side and I saw binoculars flashing. What is this? >x house June 29 ? Today an unusual mantra came to my mind: "X HOUSE". I repeated it until it lost all meaning. "X HOUSE ... X HOUSE ... X HOUSE" What is that supposed to be anyway? If it's really important, I'm sure it will come back to me. >open curtain June 30 ? Today an unusual mantra came to my mind: "OPEN CURTAIN". I repeated it until it lost all meaning. "OPEN CURTAIN ... OPEN CURTAIN ... OPEN CURTAIN" What is that supposed to be anyway? If it's really important, I'm sure it will come back to me. I feel a bit buoyant today, like I've had a bit of schnapps. >drink water July 1 ? As usual, I drank water from the carafe today, but this time very consciously. I find it has a very metallic taste and I wonder if its quality has changed, or if I haven't noticed it before. I will drink more consciously in the future and pay attention to the taste of it. It is said that metallic water is very healthy, so this is a good thing and I hope it stays this way. Something is moving in the house across the street. I often see the curtains shaking. >visit house July 2 ? I would love to visit someone sometime, but I can't think of that many options. Of course, I would love to visit Valerie at her parents" house, but that's not that easy as long as we're not engaged. Maybe I should just stop by the neighbor across the street? The plant I got from Valerie looks dead. >visit house across the street July 3 ? Today I wanted to introduce myself to the neighbor across the street. I knocked on his door for quite a long time, because I had the feeling that someone was home, but no one opened. When I returned, out of the corner of my eye I saw the curtains move, but I couldn't see anyone. The plant I got from Valerie continues to look dead. >water plant July 4 ? Today an unusual mantra came to my mind: "WATER PLANT". I repeated it until it lost all meaning. "WATER PLANT ... WATER PLANT ... WATER PLANT" What is that supposed to be anyway? If it's really important, I'm sure it will come back to me. >visit valerie July 5 ? My desire to see Valerie is very strong. If it were possible, I would pay her a visit at her family's home, but alas, alas, etiquette forbids it as long as we are not engaged. I should certainly try to use my longing for her to finish my novel. >pour water on plant July 6 ? Today an unusual mantra came to my mind: "POUR WATER ON PLANT". I repeated it until it lost all meaning. "POUR WATER ON PLANT ... POUR WATER ON PLANT ... POUR WATER ON PLANT" What is that supposed to be anyway? If it's really important, I'm sure it will come back to me. Sometimes my thoughts go in strange directions. >sleep July 7 ? I am well aware that I should be sitting at my desk writing most of the time. But writing requires a lot of thinking, and thinking requires an ideal supply of blood to the brain, which is ensured when the blood can flow easily into the head. Therefore, I need to lie down to think and the best place for that, in my small chamber is on the bed. Therefore, I probably spend 12 hours on the bed every day. So in total, that is together with my nightly sleep, that is a good 20 hours in a lying position. No wonder writing is so popular among the artistically talented population. The plant I got from Valerie continues to look dead. >fix plant July 8 ? Today an unusual mantra came to my mind: "FIX PLANT". I repeated it until it lost all meaning. "FIX PLANT ... FIX PLANT ... FIX PLANT" What is that supposed to be anyway? If it's really important, I'm sure it will come back to me. I would say that strange thoughts are probably normal and good for a novelist. >write July 9 ? There's no point in continuing to try to remember my old opening sentence. I need to think of a new one before I can start writing. >think July 10 ? Today I was very productive, I thought about my novel all day. I imagined many of its facets in my mind: ? magnificent gardens, ? delicate works of art and ? fantastic artists. All this will somehow become part of the story. I just have to put the pieces together. Constantly yapping dogs in the neighborhood, it sounds like a whole pack. I can then hardly grasp a clear thought. >visit unbehagen July 11 ? In my search for variety and inspiration, I came up with the idea that I could pay a visit to my landlady. Naive me. I knocked on her door, entered and wished her a good day. Horrified, she looked at me and immediately began to clamor; that I "really couldn't complain", what "came into my head to attack her like that?", that "she had it hard enough anyway" and that my rent was "anything but too high". Mumbling incoherent excuses, I stumbled backwards out of her parlor. I was so ashamed that I had to remain in the stairwell for a good while until I had regained my composure. >visit valerie July 12 ? Today I wanted to write something about visiting "valerie". Luckily I browsed through my previous entries again and saw that I had already written something about it 5 days ago. That would have been embarrassing if I had written the same thing again! The plant I got from Valerie continues to look dead. >throw away plant July 13 ? Today an unusual mantra came to my mind: "THROW AWAY PLANT". I repeated it until it lost all meaning. "THROW AWAY PLANT ... THROW AWAY PLANT ... THROW AWAY PLANT" What is that supposed to be anyway? If it's really important, I'm sure it will come back to me. I feel like lighting something, and not just my pipe. >burn plant July 14 ? Strange thoughts creep up on me sometimes. For example: burning the strange plant I got from Valerie, would that make sense? Is it even possible? If so, would it also be desirable? Then I think about it a lot and always come to the same conclusion: I just don't know. I could try to find out if I didn't have a clear task ahead of me: writing my novel. I already like my life as a writer and I can easily get used to this pace of work. Mrs. Unbehagen told me about her other tenant. His name is Herr Oskar Sala. I haven't seen him yet, but he hasn't seen me either. >write July 15 ? There's no point in continuing to try to remember my old opening sentence. I need to think of a new one before I can start writing. Creating a good story is tough work and not at all as romantic as I had imagined. Again these barking tykes. The landlady told me that there was a small park nearby where the residents let their dogs run free all day. >visit herr oskar July 16 ? Strange thoughts creep up on me sometimes. For example: visiting "herr oskar", would that make sense? Is it even possible? If so, would it also be desirable? Then I think about it a lot and always come to the same conclusion: I just don't know. I could try to find out if I didn't have a clear task ahead of me: writing my novel. >visit park July 17 ? Today I wanted to have a look at the small park around the corner. I did not dare to enter it, because a pack of dogs has it in their power. They have turned the big lawn into a pigsty. In the middle of it there are pots with flowers. Obviously, they can't reach them, because they are not vandalized yet. >visit neighbors July 18 ? Strange thoughts creep up on me sometimes. For example: visiting "neighbors", would that make sense? Is it even possible? If so, would it also be desirable? Then I think about it a lot and always come to the same conclusion: I just don't know. I could try to find out if I didn't have a clear task ahead of me: writing my novel. The plant I got from Valerie continues to look dead. >visit house across the street July 19 ? Today I wanted to write something about visiting "house across the street". Luckily I browsed through my previous entries again and saw that I had already written something about it 12 days ago. That would have been embarrassing if I had written the same thing again! The plant I got from Valerie continues to look dead. >l July 20 ? Today I wanted to write something about looking. Luckily I browsed through my previous entries again and saw that I had already written something about it 18 days ago. That would have been embarrassing if I had written the same thing again! >write July 21 ? There's no point in continuing to try to remember my old opening sentence. I need to think of a new one before I can start writing. >i July 22 ? I don't own many things. There is the suit that I wear. Then there are the strange plant I got from Valerie, my diary, a pile of paper, an inkwell with a quill and a carafe of water. That's really all there is. And oh yes, I forgot my second set of underwear, which is just with Mrs. Unbehagen. >drink water July 23 ? The water still tastes very metallic, possibly even more so than before. That is very good. However, I should not clutter up my fine diary with information like this. The plant I got from Valerie continues to look dead. >look at plant July 24 ? A bare stem rises from the centre of the pot, at the base of which are a few misshapen leaves. There is no flower at the top of the stem. Possibly it has fallen off or the plant never intended to sprout a flower. While feeling the crippled tip of the dead stem, I must have cut or pricked myself, because suddenly there was a drop of blood on my finger. It dripped onto the plant and ran down the stem into the dry soil of the pot. This plant is unimpressive, although it is very ugly, and still attracts far too much of my attention. I fear Valerie has been deceived. Why was Valerie at the harbour in the first place? That is not an appropriate environment for her! And then she lets herself be approached by a strange sailor! Or did even she approach him? I can't get my head around it. >touch plant July 25 ? The plant has not changed, still looks dead. >look at plant July 26 ? The plant is dead. I'm wasting my time looking at it. >feed plant (to myself) (first taking the strange plant I got from Valerie) July 27 ? The plant is dead. I'm wasting my time looking at it. >write July 28 ? There's no point in continuing to try to remember my old opening sentence. I need to think of a new one before I can start writing. Will I even get my novel finished some day? >touch plant July 29 ? The plant is dead. I'm wasting my time looking at it. >help July 30 ? Today an unusual mantra came to my mind: "HELP". I repeated it until it lost all meaning. "HELP ... HELP ... HELP" What is that supposed to be anyway? If it's really important, I'm sure it will come back to me. >quit Are you sure you want to quit? y