Start of a transcript of Cragne Manor An Anchorhead tribute by various authors Release 10 / Serial number 181208 / Inform 7 build 6M62 (I6/v6.33 lib 6/12N) Identification number: //1A586AF4-661C-4879-ADFF-7DDE35836AF1// Interpreter version 1.3.5 / VM 3.1.2 / Library serial number 080126 Standard Rules version 3/120430 by Graham Nelson Cragne Suite version 2 by Ryan Veeder (including Basic Screen Effects and Modified Exit by Emily Short, as well as modifications by Andrew Plotkin of Epistemology and Conversation Framework by Eric Eve) Plus modified versions of: Optimized Epistemology by Andrew Plotkin Conversation Framework by Eric Eve >restore Ok. >l Town square, Backwater, VT (Marco Innocenti) The large, hexagonal-shaped square is paved with big, white stones, polished by rain and wind over the decades; around it, low red-brick buildings look like watching peasants. One single street leaves the square to the north, while less accommodating paths lead west, in the direction of a towering church, and southwest. Due east, an iron bridge crosses the river, and southeast, a walkway leads down to its bank. The swollen, slate-colored clouds that blanket the sky are reflected in the shiny, circular shape embellishing the center of the square, muttering ominous portents amongst themselves. >* Lots of potential exits, but let's try heading north to see if we can link up with the shack >n Outside the Library (Gavin Inglis) A short street terminates here. To the south it opens into the town square. To the east, a few worn steps rise to the entrance of the public library, and to the west you can see a real estate office. A gloomy path leads northwest, towards the woods. You can see a notice board here. >* This game has a library? 10/10 >* Gavin Inglis has a pretty broad gameography per IFDB; a ChoiceScript game, a Twine one, and a bunch of Fallen London stories >* Actually two ChoiceScript games. Many with a sort of haunted or undead theme, so I guess we'll see how this plays out! >* Also, a real estate office? Eek, now I'm definitely having Anchorhead flashbacks >* Let's just confirm that NW path goes where I think it should >nw Shack Exterior (Michael Lin) A clearing, outside a wooden shack. A clockwork doll sits here, utterly incongruous at the edge of the woods. The woods are to the northwest, while that godforsaken town is to the southeast. >se Outside the Library (Gavin Inglis) A short street terminates here. To the south it opens into the town square. To the east, a few worn steps rise to the entrance of the public library, and to the west you can see a real estate office. A gloomy path leads northwest, towards the woods. You can see a notice board here. >* Great, the map's connected again. >* Not much here besides the board, looks like >x street Well maintained. >x square Some distance away. >x steps Neoclassical columns frame a grand entrance. A wheelchair ramp has been constructed beside the steps. >x library Neoclassical columns frame a grand entrance. A wheelchair ramp has been constructed beside the steps. >* Thoughtful! >x ramp Crudely installed, but solid enough. Perhaps a little steep for its purpose. >climb ramp Backwater Public Library (Carl Muckenhoupt) This is unusually spacious for a small-town library. You think you remember something about it being a national historical site? That would explain the decor, at least. It's half rustic colonial, half modern budget-strapped public service, with a meager collection of creaky shelves standing in the middle of an old plank floor. A small display case stands prominently near the entrance, and some weird chairs are scattered around for the comfort of the patrons, none of whom are here at the moment. The sole exit is back to the west. A fleece jacket is draped over the back of one of the chairs. A librarian stands behind a counter. >undo Outside the Library (Gavin Inglis) [Previous turn undone.] >*oops, not ready for that yet! >x office Oddly featureless. >x path A narrow access between buildings, its flaking plaster familiar from photographs of random crime scenes. >x woods Distant, dark foliage. >* welp, that was a ~18ish hour pause occasioned by finding out my mother in law has COVID -- we'd been hanging out almost immediately before >* Everyone's vaxxed so hopefully no further COVID-related updates will be coming to this playthrough >* I think we'd checked out everything save the notice board? >x board A weatherbeaten community notice board outside the library. Behind glass you can see a community events schedule, a ripped newspaper headline, and the winning stories from a children's writing competition. >* ooh, stories! >x stories There are a few stories on the board. You choose one at random to read. "Underneath cars is a good place to hide. Sometimes you jump out and surprise the neighbors but sometimes you just lie there and wait where no-one can see you. You can tell when they get in the car because it comes a bit closer to your face and when they switch it on you sometimes cough. If you hold on to the metal stuff you can sometimes get a free ride but watch out because it burns your hands." >* Umm >* Are these children Spider-Men? >x stories There are a few stories on the board. You choose one at random to read. "One night I was coming home from school. It was dark. Then I saw a light in the sky. It was a space alium. A light shone down on me and I went on the space ship. They gave me cookies but the chocolate chips were bugs. I was scared. They wanted to take me to their planut but I said I had to be home at 6.30 for dinner. The aliums seemed angry and they dropped me in a pond. My school books got wet. The end." >* This child was abducted by superevolved garlic? They weren't kidding about the evil plants warning >x stories There are a few stories on the board. You choose one at random to read. "Benjamin Jefferson was not just the presedent he was also a cowboy. He had a horse named Woodrow and he lived in a coffin with wheels. On Friday he would have a gun fight and he nearly always won. One time he met Doctor Abrhaham and they decided to build doge City. They got help from a friendly beaver." >* I'm pretty sure the Supreme Court relied on this bit of history in their decision last week saying guns have more rights than women >* (Or beavers, for that matter) >x stories There are a few stories on the board. You choose one at random to read. "One day I was mixing paint and I made a new color! It was red and green and pink and all the colors at one time! I painted it on a painting and it made a hole with glowy edges! I tried it on the back of my door and it made a bigger hole! But when I looked through it was not our upstairs but another person's house with different colored walls and leg stuff hanging from the ceiling! I am going to climb through and see if it is an adventure!" >* "leg stuff"? >x stories There are a few stories on the board. You choose one at random to read. "I hate chores. Mom makes me empty the trash and sweep the yard and get rid of the dead birds that Misty brings in. I cut off the wings and hide them in the crawlspace and stitch them together. Sometimes I catch butterflies and moths and use their wings too. When I am done I will have two sets of wings and find out which one is better. The bird one I will call SuperSwallow and the butterfly one I will call BeeHaMoth. I will fly over Robert Sutherland's house and shit on it." >x stories There are a few stories on the board. You choose one at random to read. "I have a friend at home she is called Bertrande. She does not go to school. When mom comes in she hides beneath the bed or in the closet and sometimes she makes a joke with a kitchen knife. Bertrande is from France in the sixteenth century where she was a pleasant girl. She was murdured by a noble man and she says if she can collect the bud of an entire family she can travel back in time for revenge. I like her hair." >x stories There are a few stories on the board. You choose one at random to read. "My father is a member of the Vermont Cheesers. They are a secret society so I am not allowed to talk about them. They meet in The Creamery and they do not allow girls to join. Sometimes I have to wait in the anti-room so I sneak up on the balcony and watch. Every day they bet on a cheese in a sack and if they do not get it right they have to eat the cheese. One man always talks about Maple Smoked Gouda and another man always talks about The Cheese Trail and sometimes they put the cheese down their trousers. They all smile all the time but you can see in their eyes that they are scared." >* Ominous! >x stories There are a few stories on the board. You choose one at random to read. "I am in a band. I play guitar and Stuffy plays guitar and Richard plays guitar and Marie plays drums although she has only got one and Ermentrude sings. Sometimes Ermentrude plays guitar too. We are going on tour in the fall but for now we play live at different places in Backwater. When they catch us they throw us out but we are good at hiding. Our record is thirty-four minutes." >x stories There are a few stories on the board. You choose one at random to read. "My uncle showed me a trick where you unscrew a salt cellar in the diner and then the next person gets salt all over their food. I did it a couple of times and stayed around to watch through the window. It was funny. I like to make things better so I swapped the salt for sugar and then for the white stuff from the laundry. If you find a salt cellar with a big enough hole you can also put broken glass in there." >x stories There are a few stories on the board. You choose one at random to read. "My dad always takes me to see jazz. It is crap. He says it is the only true American art form. I pretend to listen but I actually try to use psychic powers to make the jazz people explode. I have tried about a hundred times. One time the trumpet man played a wrong note although it is difficult to tell with jazz. Then blood came out the end of his trumpet. Then he fell over. I got ice cream on the way home." >x stories There are a few stories on the board. You choose one at random to read. "Benjamin Jefferson was not just the presedent he was also a cowboy. He had a horse named Woodrow and he lived in a coffin with wheels. On Friday he would have a gun fight and he nearly always won. One time he met Doctor Abrhaham and they decided to build doge City. They got help from a friendly beaver." >x stories There are a few stories on the board. You choose one at random to read. "I am in a band. I play guitar and Stuffy plays guitar and Richard plays guitar and Marie plays drums although she has only got one and Ermentrude sings. Sometimes Ermentrude plays guitar too. We are going on tour in the fall but for now we play live at different places in Backwater. When they catch us they throw us out but we are good at hiding. Our record is thirty-four minutes." >x stories There are a few stories on the board. You choose one at random to read. "I have a friend at home she is called Bertrande. She does not go to school. When mom comes in she hides beneath the bed or in the closet and sometimes she makes a joke with a kitchen knife. Bertrande is from France in the sixteenth century where she was a pleasant girl. She was murdured by a noble man and she says if she can collect the bud of an entire family she can travel back in time for revenge. I like her hair." >x stories There are a few stories on the board. You choose one at random to read. "My uncle showed me a trick where you unscrew a salt cellar in the diner and then the next person gets salt all over their food. I did it a couple of times and stayed around to watch through the window. It was funny. I like to make things better so I swapped the salt for sugar and then for the white stuff from the laundry. If you find a salt cellar with a big enough hole you can also put broken glass in there." >* Looks like that's our lot >x schedule Monday: Poetry reading. Tuesday: Poetry reading. Wednesday: Cross-stitch. NO GUNS. Thursday: Poetry reading. Friday: Alcoholics Anonymous. Saturday: Poker. Sunday: CLOSED. >* Ah, but you see, one time Benjamin Jefferson did cross-stitch on a Friday in addition to his gun fight, therefore Wednesday's restriction is a 2nd Amendment violation >* Apologies, folks, I've been in a bit of a mood >take schedule That's hardly portable. >take stories That's hardly portable. >take board That's fixed in place. >* I guess we'll be able to figure out what day it is based on what's going on in the library? >x headline "Vicious Animals Are Dismembered In Gory Nightly Excess, Pumped High On Drugs" >take it That's hardly portable. >x headline "Vicious Animals Are Dismembered In Gory Nightly Excess, Pumped High On Drugs" >* Interesting initials there... >x office Oddly featureless. >open it It isn't something you can open. >w You pause at the entrance of the real estate office to reread the telegram in your pocket, scanning the curt missive for any additional clues as to what the hell your husband hosed up this time. No dice. A wave of sheer black terror washes up into your pharynx, and you fight it back down. It's fine. It'll be fine. You saved his ass that time with the vampire yacht (stupid), you got him and yourself out of the sentient wax museum (so careless), you even... it is not worth thinking about the guy with the drill hands right now. It is never worth thinking about the guy with the drill hands. It's fine. It'll be fine. Your solid gold instincts have led you to this office, which means there's something you need to steal from inside of it, so you tell your brain to shut its trap, adjust your backpack on your shoulder, and push firmly through the door into the stale chill of the air conditioning. The woman behind the desk jerks her head up from a pile of papers as you enter, clearly surprised to have a customer. "Oh, hello!" she says. "Can I facts you about a house? Ugh, I mean, are you interested in a Forthright & Rotier property? I mean, they're all our -- we're the only realtor in -- hello!" Estate Agent's Office (Jenni Polodna) The space is dominated by the unexpectedly symbiotic combination of a giant desk and a tiny woman, who together give the impression of being one complete single entity, like a centaur. The surface of the desk is invisible underneath a loose pile of glossy architectural magazines, manila folders, and real estate listings pamphlets. Behind it, a gunmetal-grey filing cabinet lurks unattractively in the far corner. The exit back out to the street is east. A tiny woman is here waiting to answer all of your Backwater real estate questions. >* Umm. >undo Estate Agent's Office (Jenni Polodna) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Outside the Library (Gavin Inglis) [Previous turn undone.] >* We're gonna need to Yes And this the way we do every twist and turn we come across, but not gonna lie, that was A LOT and I'm not sure it'll be easy to reconcile our Nitocris with all of [gestures vaguely] >* Let's check the coffee and do the library first, at least >x coffee The clouds in your cup form -- weird, they've entirely dissipated. Lack of a symbolic image means that you have accomplished everything you must in your current environment and should move on to find new challenges in order to grow as a person. >* OK, easy enough >e Backwater Public Library (Carl Muckenhoupt) This is unusually spacious for a small-town library. You think you remember something about it being a national historical site? That would explain the decor, at least. It's half rustic colonial, half modern budget-strapped public service, with a meager collection of creaky shelves standing in the middle of an old plank floor. A small display case stands prominently near the entrance, and some weird chairs are scattered around for the comfort of the patrons, none of whom are here at the moment. The sole exit is back to the west. A fleece jacket is draped over the back of one of the chairs. A librarian stands behind a counter. >* Cark Muckenhoupt is a longstanding IF figure, probably best known for The Gostak, a game that's basically one big language meta-puzzle, and for creating Baf's Guide, which was a sort of one-man predecessor to the IFDB >* Also, yay, library! Yay, books! >x decor Backwater Public Library (Carl Muckenhoupt) This is unusually spacious for a small-town library. You think you remember something about it being a national historical site? That would explain the decor, at least. It's half rustic colonial, half modern budget-strapped public service, with a meager collection of creaky shelves standing in the middle of an old plank floor. A small display case stands prominently near the entrance, and some weird chairs are scattered around for the comfort of the patrons, none of whom are here at the moment. The sole exit is back to the west. A fleece jacket is draped over the back of one of the chairs. A librarian stands behind a counter. >x furniture You can't see any such thing. >x shelves The books don't seem to be in any particular order. You can browse if you like, but good luck finding anything specific. >x floor Backwater Public Library (Carl Muckenhoupt) This is unusually spacious for a small-town library. You think you remember something about it being a national historical site? That would explain the decor, at least. It's half rustic colonial, half modern budget-strapped public service, with a meager collection of creaky shelves standing in the middle of an old plank floor. A small display case stands prominently near the entrance, and some weird chairs are scattered around for the comfort of the patrons, none of whom are here at the moment. The sole exit is back to the west. A fleece jacket is draped over the back of one of the chairs. A librarian stands behind a counter. >* Hmm, lots of the scenery redirects to the room description, which I'm not used to >x case In the display case are a plaque and a big black book. The librarian nods at you curtly. >x plaque DE VERMIBUS LACERIS In 1630, the eccentric scholar and polymath Henry Danton Gules came to America to study the superstitions of the Abenaki people, who he was convinced held "the secrets of the earth". He spent much of the next eight years living among them, learning their language and folklore. Or so he claimed; his accounts of his experiences range from the highly exaggerated to the outright fabricated. "The native storytellers have shown me wondrous things. Under the mountains are caverns without limit, where great beasts roam, and feed upon the buried dead..." (Letter from Gules to a colleague) During this time, he wrote two books, under the pseudonym "Azban" (a trickster figure from Abenaki legend). One, now lost, was a text on a language that he called "Adamic", which he claimed was the original language spoken before the fall of the Tower of Babel. The other, displayed here, is De Vermibus Laceris, which he described as "completing the known principles of ritual magic by reuniting them with the forgotten wisdom of the ancients". Most of the book is written in a mix of Latin and English, but some of the more theoretical passages, including several entire chapters, are in Adamic, and have not been translated. In order to publish these books, Gules helped to finance the first printing press in New England in 1638. However, he never saw them printed, due to his disappearance in the great New Hampshire earthquake later that year. The few copies that had been made were declared "blasphemous" by Massachusetts Bay Colony governor John Winthrop, who ordered them destroyed. It was believed that no copies survived until 1986, when the volume displayed here was discovered concealed in a wall of the Backwater Public Library during renovations. >* this is quite the backstory! >* Sort of a riff on De Vermis Mysteriis by Ludvig Prinn, which was Robert Bloch's (writer of Psycho) contribution to the evil-mythos-tome genre >* I think the Abenaki are occasionally mentioned in Lovecraft; they're an Algonquin nation from the northeast, so that checks out >* As for the Latin, "vermibus" is the dative or ablative of "vermis", or worm, while "laceris", as best I can make out, is, "that entice you" -- so, "of the worms that entice you"? >* (Using the dative/ablative form of vermis is I think more correct here than Bloch's attempt to render "Of the Mysteries of the Worm" into Latin, which literally might be closer to "Of the Worm of Mystery") >* (I dunno, though, it's been a long time since I took Latin!) >x tome (the shabby journal) A shabby looking leather volume with uneven pages. The letters "LVPB" have been burned onto the spine, under the insignia for The Backwater Public Library, which features two back to back crescent moons joined by a downward looking eye. This appears to be what's known as a commonplace book. It's a place for a writer to jot down ideas and fragments. There's really no order to it, but you could flip through it, if you wish. Frost lines the edges of the library insignia. The librarian catches your eye and points at the bookshelves. There's something odd about the way she moves. You can't quite put your finger on it. >* sorry, it's a big black book, not a tome >x big (the postcard of Big Ben) A faded postcard with a picture of Big Ben on it. You'd guess the picture dates from the first quarter of the century. >* Shakes fist >x big black book A massive tome, with ragged pages bound in badly-decayed black leather, laid open on a stand. The librarian nods at you curtly. >take it The display case isn't open. The librarian fusses about behind the counter. There's something eerie about how quietly she moves about the library. You can hardly take a step without a floorboard creaking. It's like she weighs nothing. >read it The grimoire in open on a page describing peeling open the way to someone lost, whether they be in this world or not. You gather from the prelimaries that the ritual involves the horn of a black goat and a cyst from a god, as well as the lost one's true star sign and their most treasured memento. How the ritual is actually performed is further in the book on the pages you currently cannot see. The librarian catches your eye and points at the bookshelves. >* Hmm, perhaps a way to find Peter? We'll need a *lot* of stuff though >open case It seems to be locked. The librarian sorts some books. It really seems like she doesn't blink enough. Or at all. >* maybe we can just check it out? >x librarian An old woman with severe features, primly dressed, with slate-gray hair tied up in a bun. She's almost a caricature, and seems as antique as the building. >greet her With whip-like speed, she raises a finger to her lips and shushes you vigorously, then points at a sign on the counter. You glance around. There's no one around who you could possibly be disturbing. >x sign QUIET PLEASE >take sign That's hardly portable. >* Good gag to get out of writing dialogue! >x shelves The books don't seem to be in any particular order. You can browse if you like, but good luck finding anything specific. >browse You take from the shelf a treatise on 18th-century agricultural techniques. It doesn't seem at all relevant to your situation, so you return it to its place. The librarian fusses about behind the counter. >* Given the density of evil plants around here, actually seems handy! >browse shelves A cursory search turns up an obsolete computer manual. Wondering why anyone thought it belonged here, you put it back where it was. The librarian disappears between the shelves for a bit, then returns. >browse shelves You blindly pick out a slim microwave cookbook. You don't have time for this, so you put it back. >browse shelves You come across the middle volume of a best-selling fantasy trilogy. Sighing inwardly, you place it back on the shelf. >browse shelves Browsing, you discover an already-solved book of crossword puzzles. You don't see how this is going to help you find Peter, so you return it to its place. >browse shelves You find a parody of some other book you've never heard of. It doesn't seem at all relevant to your situation, so you reshelve it. The librarian stamps something. You hadn't noticed before, but she doesn't ever seem to move her fingers. Her left hand is permanently in a pointing position, three fingers curled back. Her right is like a puppet's. She's probably a stroke survivor or something. You try not to stare. >browse shelves You randomly pull out the autobiography of an obscure political functionary. With an increasing sense of futility, you place it back on the shelf. The librarian disappears between the shelves for a bit, then returns. >browse shelves A cursory search turns up a dense and incomprehensible book of philosophy. Sighing inwardly, you put it back where it was. >browse shelves Your hand comes to rest on a self-published volume of mawkish poetry. You don't see how this is going to help you find Peter, so you place it back on the shelf. >* Well, it might help snap us out of feeling too sorry for ourselves >browse shelves You come across the manifesto of a political fringe group. With a shake of your head, you return it to its place. >browse shelves You randomly pull out a fad diet book. You don't have time for this, so you put it back where it was. >browse shelves A cursory search turns up a well-chewed picture book for children. With an increasing sense of futility, you reshelve it. The librarian nods at you curtly. >browse shelves You randomly pull out a phrasebook for translating a language you don't know into another language you don't know. It doesn't seem at all relevant to your situation, so you return it to its place. The librarian fusses about behind the counter. >browse shelves A cursory search turns up a B-list celebrity's memoir. With an increasing sense of futility, you place it back on the shelf. >browse shelves Something catches your eye, but it turns out to be a badly-damaged collection of old newspaper funnies. Sighing inwardly, you return it to its place. The librarian catches your eye and points at the bookshelves. >browse shelves You randomly pull out an obsolete computer manual. Disappointed, you put it back where it was. The librarian sorts some books. >browse shelves Browsing, you discover a trashy paperback romance. With a shake of your head, you reshelve it. The librarian catches your eye and points at the bookshelves. >browse shelves You take from the shelf the manifesto of a political fringe group. Sighing inwardly, you put it back. >* Ah well >* Hmm, that disambiguation issue above game me an idea... >give tome to librarian (the shabby journal to the librarian) She does something with it behind the counter that makes a "klonk-klonk" noise, then puts it on a cart for later reshelving. >* Hopefully that was good? >save Ok. >x cart A rusty-wheeled little convenience with bright floral contact paper wrapped around its carrying surfaces. On the cart is a shabby journal. >* not sure that accomplished too much >* and anyway not a cross-stitcher in sight >x coffee The clouds in your cup form an airplane. Modes of transportation mean that your current environment presents challenges that can only be overcome by seeking fresh perspectives elsewhere until you're ready to return. >* seems like we need to come back for the tome >take shabby Taken. You put shabby journal back on the cart. The librarian looks at you. >i You are carrying: The Dollmaker's Journal a repaired page a moldy, waterlogged journal a small, rectangular battery an antique locket (being worn and closed) a waterproof flashlight a faint chill (haunting you) a cast iron spire the diary of Phyllis Cragne a postcard of Big Ben a giant milkweed leaf (being worn as a mask) The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three a pull-string doll a glass jar containing an insect a half-full styrofoam coffee cup a label (being worn) a familiar gold wristwatch (being worn) >x cart A rusty-wheeled little convenience with bright floral contact paper wrapped around its carrying surfaces. On the cart is a shabby journal. >* something a little funny going on there >* I wonder if she'll take other books? The ice insignia makes me wonder whether there'll be others setting up some kind of elemental puzzle >give all to librarian You can't use multiple objects with that verb. >put all on cart The Dollmaker's Journal: The librarian indignantly picks The Dollmaker's Journal off the cart, then notices the library insignia. Klonk-klonk. On the cart it goes. repaired page: The librarian indignantly picks the repaired page off the cart and returns it to you. moldy, waterlogged journal: The librarian indignantly picks the moldy, waterlogged journal off the cart and returns it to you. small, rectangular battery: The librarian indignantly picks the small, rectangular battery off the cart and returns it to you. waterproof flashlight: The librarian indignantly picks the waterproof flashlight off the cart and returns it to you. cast iron spire: The librarian indignantly picks the cast iron spire off the cart and returns it to you. diary of Phyllis Cragne: The librarian indignantly picks the diary of Phyllis Cragne off the cart and returns it to you. postcard of Big Ben: The librarian indignantly picks the postcard of Big Ben off the cart and returns it to you. The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three: The librarian indignantly picks The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three off the cart and returns it to you. pull-string doll: The librarian indignantly picks the pull-string doll off the cart and returns it to you. glass jar containing an insect: The librarian indignantly picks the glass jar containing an insect off the cart and returns it to you. half-full styrofoam coffee cup: The librarian indignantly picks the half-full styrofoam coffee cup off the cart and returns it to you. >l Backwater Public Library (Carl Muckenhoupt) This is unusually spacious for a small-town library. You think you remember something about it being a national historical site? That would explain the decor, at least. It's half rustic colonial, half modern budget-strapped public service, with a meager collection of creaky shelves standing in the middle of an old plank floor. A small display case stands prominently near the entrance, and some weird chairs are scattered around for the comfort of the patrons, none of whom are here at the moment. The sole exit is back to the west. On the cart are a half-full styrofoam coffee cup, a glass jar containing an insect, a pull-string doll, The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three, a postcard of Big Ben, the diary of Phyllis Cragne, a cast iron spire, a waterproof flashlight, a small, rectangular battery, a moldy, waterlogged journal, a repaired page, The Dollmaker's Journal and a shabby journal. A fleece jacket is draped over the back of one of the chairs. A librarian stands behind a counter. >* Hmm, everything wound up on the cart despite that warning >take all from cart glass jar containing an insect: Taken. pull-string doll: Taken. The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three: Taken. postcard of Big Ben: Taken. diary of Phyllis Cragne: Taken. cast iron spire: Taken. waterproof flashlight: Taken. small, rectangular battery: Taken. moldy, waterlogged journal: Taken. repaired page: Taken. The Dollmaker's Journal: Taken. shabby journal: Taken. half-full styrofoam coffee cup: Taken. You put shabby journal back on the cart. You put The Dollmaker's Journal back on the cart. The librarian sorts some books. >x dollmaker's A simple leatherbound journal, daubed with wayward paint splotches. A sticker on the cover bears the insignia of the Backwater Public Library. Frost lines the edges of the library insignia. >x shabby A shabby looking leather volume with uneven pages. The letters "LVPB" have been burned onto the spine, under the insignia for The Backwater Public Library, which features two back to back crescent moons joined by a downward looking eye. This appears to be what's known as a commonplace book. It's a place for a writer to jot down ideas and fragments. There's really no order to it, but you could flip through it, if you wish. Frost lines the edges of the library insignia. >greet librarian She shushes you again and taps on the sign with a fingernail, then points at you and then at the bookshelves in the middle of the room. >ask librarian about insignia She shushes you again, sharply. It's a little strange how she doesn't purse her lips when she does that. She basically just holds a finger to her mouth and blows around it. >* worth a shot >l Backwater Public Library (Carl Muckenhoupt) This is unusually spacious for a small-town library. You think you remember something about it being a national historical site? That would explain the decor, at least. It's half rustic colonial, half modern budget-strapped public service, with a meager collection of creaky shelves standing in the middle of an old plank floor. A small display case stands prominently near the entrance, and some weird chairs are scattered around for the comfort of the patrons, none of whom are here at the moment. The sole exit is back to the west. On the cart are The Dollmaker's Journal and a shabby journal. A fleece jacket is draped over the back of one of the chairs. A librarian stands behind a counter. >x jacket Hey, isn't this Peter's jacket? Yeah, it totally is! It's got that worn-off section on the elbow from your bike trip together. I guess he must have been in the library recently and left it there. Only... how could anyone forget their jacket in this weather? In Peter's jacket is a library card. >* oh hey! >* we don't need to feel bad about yoinking this >take jacket A card flutters to the ground as you pick the jacket up. Almost involuntarily, you stoop and pick it up too. >wear it You put on Peter's jacket. >x card A battered beige rectangle with rounded corners, printed with the library insignia, and bearing the words: PETER CRAGNE CRAGNE MANOR is entitled to borrow books from BACKWATER PUBLIC LIBRARY Backwater, Vermont and is responsible for all books taken on this card Expires APRIL 1998 No 19078 A little metal dealy clips through the cardboard, with a mirror-reversed version of the ID number stamped into it. They really haven't upgraded their systems in a while. The librarian disappears between the shelves for a bit, then returns. >x insignia Two back-to-back crescent moons joined by an eye looking down at an open book. The librarian stamps something. >show card to librarian She takes the card from you and fusses with some machinery behind the counter. You hear the buzz of a dot-matrix printer, and then she gives you back the card along with a note. >x card A battered beige rectangle with rounded corners, printed with the library insignia, and bearing the words: PETER CRAGNE CRAGNE MANOR is entitled to borrow books from BACKWATER PUBLIC LIBRARY Backwater, Vermont and is responsible for all books taken on this card Expires APRIL 1998 No 19078 A little metal dealy clips through the cardboard, with a mirror-reversed version of the ID number stamped into it. >x note ATTENTION PETER CRAGNE This is your notification that your status with the Backwater Public Library is DELINQUENT due to NON-RETURNAL. You are NOT PERMITTED to check out books or to access special library materials until your status is cleared. To clear your status, you must return ALL books you currently have checked out: To Have, and To Have Knots: An Illustrated Guide Twin Hearts Between the Planes Backwater Personalities (1915-1925 edition) Tolerating An Asinine God The Lives of the Roman Emperors De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm Venator in Tenebris 'Pataphysical Approaches to Quantum Superfluids Legends of Lake Champlain and the Hudson River Valley A Rudimentary Taxonomy of Known Scent and Grotesque Reactions Life Beneath Nightmares Buried Tales of Old Vermont The Seven Gaunts New England and the Bavarian Illuminati ANCHORHEAD. A What-do-I-do-now Book Based on the Works of MICHAEL GENTRY >* Aha, here's the puzzle >* ...the two we've returned don't appear to be on the list >* Well, once we finish the book collectathon, then seems like we might be able to check out the grimoire and do the summoning/finding >* Endgame stuff, though -- long way to go yet, hobbits >thank librarian That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >l Backwater Public Library (Carl Muckenhoupt) This is unusually spacious for a small-town library. You think you remember something about it being a national historical site? That would explain the decor, at least. It's half rustic colonial, half modern budget-strapped public service, with a meager collection of creaky shelves standing in the middle of an old plank floor. A small display case stands prominently near the entrance, and some weird chairs are scattered around for the comfort of the patrons, none of whom are here at the moment. The sole exit is back to the west. On the cart are The Dollmaker's Journal and a shabby journal. A librarian stands behind a counter. >out The only exit is to the west. The librarian sorts some books. >w Outside the Library (Gavin Inglis) A short street terminates here. To the south it opens into the town square. To the east, a few worn steps rise to the entrance of the public library, and to the west you can see a real estate office. A gloomy path leads northwest, towards the woods. You can see a notice board here. >save Ok. >* Nothing for it but to brave the loathesome precincts of the real estate agent's office >w You pause at the entrance of the real estate office to reread the telegram in your pocket, scanning the curt missive for any additional clues as to what the hell your husband hosed up this time. No dice. A wave of sheer black terror washes up into your pharynx, and you fight it back down. It's fine. It'll be fine. You saved his ass that time with the vampire yacht (stupid), you got him and yourself out of the sentient wax museum (so careless), you even... it is not worth thinking about the guy with the drill hands right now. It is never worth thinking about the guy with the drill hands. It's fine. It'll be fine. Your solid gold instincts have led you to this office, which means there's something you need to steal from inside of it, so you tell your brain to shut its trap, adjust your backpack on your shoulder, and push firmly through the door into the stale chill of the air conditioning. The woman behind the desk jerks her head up from a pile of papers as you enter, clearly surprised to have a customer. "Oh, hello!" she says. "Can I facts you about a house? Ugh, I mean, are you interested in a Forthright & Rotier property? I mean, they're all our -- we're the only realtor in -- hello!" Estate Agent's Office (Jenni Polodna) The space is dominated by the unexpectedly symbiotic combination of a giant desk and a tiny woman, who together give the impression of being one complete single entity, like a centaur. The surface of the desk is invisible underneath a loose pile of glossy architectural magazines, manila folders, and real estate listings pamphlets. Behind it, a gunmetal-grey filing cabinet lurks unattractively in the far corner. The exit back out to the street is east. A tiny woman is here waiting to answer all of your Backwater real estate questions. >* So now Nitocris is kind of a feisty heisty woman of action! I like that characterization but not sure it fits what we've learned of her so far. >* Also we have a telegram and backpack! >* This agent doesn't seem very good at her job >* Jenni Polodna is of course one of the organizers, so I'm guessing this is an important location. And that the backpack is the convenience Hanon mentioned... >* Besides managing this gargantuan undertaking, she also wrote an installment in the 2012 They Might Be Giants tribute game jam, which is a thing I've heard of but never dug into >* (Outside of the Tiny Toons rendition of their take on Istanbul (Not Constantinople), and Anna Ng, TMBG are a mystery to me) >* A real estate agent's office featured in Anchorhead, of course -- breaking in was the first real puzzle. As I recall, the key to the mansion was in a filing cabinet... >l Estate Agent's Office (Jenni Polodna) The space is dominated by the unexpectedly symbiotic combination of a giant desk and a tiny woman, who together give the impression of being one complete single entity, like a centaur. The surface of the desk is invisible underneath a loose pile of glossy architectural magazines, manila folders, and real estate listings pamphlets. Behind it, a gunmetal-grey filing cabinet lurks unattractively in the far corner. The exit back out to the street is east. A tiny woman is here waiting to answer all of your Backwater real estate questions. >x backpack You bought this backpack specifically to do thefts with, and you love it. From the outside it's modestly sized and easy to carry, but the inside is surprisingly capacious -- you've used it to smuggle oil paintings, kayaks, and (best day of your life) the entire contents of a government warehouse in Roswell, New Mexico. In addition to the cavernous main pocket of the backpack itself, there's a key pocket for your keys, a book pocket for your books, a side pocket for your sidequests, and a trash pocket for your trash. Zippers on all of these pockets let you open and close them at will. In the Jansport backpack are a key pocket, a book pocket, a side pocket, a trash pocket and a backpack features guide. >x guide Welcome to the NEW 1998 Urban Adventurer Streetwarrior TRIPLE-REINFORCED Lifestyle Management System by Jansport! Incredible Updated Features: ** Separate zippable pockets let you hide things and reveal them at will! ** Brand new abbreviations: mp = main pocket, kp = key pocket, bp = book pocket, etc.! ** Time-saving upgrade for the adventurer on the go: LOOK IN or PUT [SOMETHING] IN a closed pocket without having to open it first! >* Further confirmation this is 1998 >put all books in bp moldy, waterlogged journal: Done. diary of Phyllis Cragne: Done. postcard of Big Ben: Done. The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three: Done. >put all keys in kp That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >x key You can't see any such thing. >* explains that >i You are carrying: a Jansport backpack (being worn and open) a key pocket (open but empty) a book pocket (open) The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three a postcard of Big Ben the diary of Phyllis Cragne a moldy, waterlogged journal a side pocket (open but empty) a trash pocket (open but empty) a backpack features guide a coded telegram a book list a library card Peter's jacket a half-full styrofoam coffee cup a repaired page a small, rectangular battery a waterproof flashlight a cast iron spire a pull-string doll a glass jar containing an insect an antique locket (being worn and closed) a faint chill (haunting you) a giant milkweed leaf (being worn as a mask) a label (being worn) a familiar gold wristwatch (being worn) >* wait we're not wearing the jacket anymore? >wear jacket You're already wearing that! >* hrm >put battery in side You can't see any such thing. >put battery in sp (the small, rectangular battery in the side pocket) You put the small, rectangular battery into the side pocket. >put book list in sp You put the book list into the side pocket. >i You are carrying: a Jansport backpack (being worn and open) a key pocket (open but empty) a book pocket (open) The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three a postcard of Big Ben the diary of Phyllis Cragne a moldy, waterlogged journal a side pocket (open) a book list a small, rectangular battery a trash pocket (open but empty) a backpack features guide a coded telegram a library card Peter's jacket a half-full styrofoam coffee cup a repaired page a waterproof flashlight a cast iron spire a pull-string doll a glass jar containing an insect an antique locket (being worn and closed) a faint chill (haunting you) a giant milkweed leaf (being worn as a mask) a label (being worn) a familiar gold wristwatch (being worn) >put spire in trash You can't see any such thing. >put spire in trash pocket You put the cast iron spire into the trash pocket. >put insect in trash pocket You put the glass jar containing an insect into the trash pocket. >put chill in trash pocket It's not quite so easy to rid oneself of a haunting presence. >* worth a go >x telegram NAOMI STOP FORGOT BROWN SHOES STOP PLEASE SEND BY EARLIEST POST STOP LOVE PETER In the secret code you worked out with your husband, "forgot brown shoes" means "the plan has gone dog-tits-up and I could not be deeper in the crap canal," while "please send by earliest post" means "invent a pretext and come extricate me immediately." So, here you are in Backwater, Vermont, with a missing husband and no idea what to do next. It's great. Everything's great. >* Confirmation that our cover identity is "naomi" >* So what was the plan wot has gone tits-up? >put telegram in tp You put the coded telegram into the trash pocket. >l Estate Agent's Office (Jenni Polodna) The space is dominated by the unexpectedly symbiotic combination of a giant desk and a tiny woman, who together give the impression of being one complete single entity, like a centaur. The surface of the desk is invisible underneath a loose pile of glossy architectural magazines, manila folders, and real estate listings pamphlets. Behind it, a gunmetal-grey filing cabinet lurks unattractively in the far corner. The exit back out to the street is east. A tiny woman is here waiting to answer all of your Backwater real estate questions. >x desk The surface of the desk is invisible underneath a loose pile of glossy architectural magazines, manila folders, and real estate listings pamphlets. >x magazines They've all got names like "SUPERIOR ABODE" and "SMUGLY MODERN" and "YURT FANCIER." You know what they mean by "yurt fancier" is "someone who fancies yurts," but you can't help feeling like they're implying the yurt is fancier than you are. (It is; it's made of cruelty-free faux beluga whaleskin and you, last time you checked, are not.) >* harsh >x folders A pile of manila folders covers the surface of the desk. None of them strikes you as particularly interesting. >x pamphlets On the corner of the desk nearest the door is a stack of pamphlets listing all the homes for sale in Backwater. You assume you can take one if you want one. >take one You can't see any such thing. >take pamphlet You take a pamphlet of home listings off of the stack. >read it On the corner of the desk nearest the door is a stack of pamphlets listing all the homes for sale in Backwater. You assume you can take one if you want one. >i You are carrying: a pamphlet of home listings a Jansport backpack (being worn and open) a key pocket (open but empty) a book pocket (open) The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three a postcard of Big Ben the diary of Phyllis Cragne a moldy, waterlogged journal a side pocket (open) a book list a small, rectangular battery a trash pocket (open) a coded telegram a glass jar containing an insect a cast iron spire a backpack features guide a library card Peter's jacket a half-full styrofoam coffee cup a repaired page a waterproof flashlight a pull-string doll an antique locket (being worn and closed) a faint chill (haunting you) a giant milkweed leaf (being worn as a mask) a label (being worn) a familiar gold wristwatch (being worn) >l Estate Agent's Office (Jenni Polodna) The space is dominated by the unexpectedly symbiotic combination of a giant desk and a tiny woman, who together give the impression of being one complete single entity, like a centaur. The surface of the desk is invisible underneath a loose pile of glossy architectural magazines, manila folders, and real estate listings pamphlets. Behind it, a gunmetal-grey filing cabinet lurks unattractively in the far corner. The exit back out to the street is east. A tiny woman is here waiting to answer all of your Backwater real estate questions. >take folder None of these folders strike you as worth messing with. >x cabinet If a filing cabinet's purpose is to hold files without being otherwise interesting or remarkable, then this one has achieved self-actualization and is free to ascend to filing cabinet nirvana. >open it If you want to look at any of the files in the cabinet, you could probably just ask the tiny woman. >x woman The upper half of her body consists mostly of hair, insufficiently restrained with a blue plaid scrunchie. Twin octagonal shimmers beneath the hair suggest a pair of glasses. Her torso wears a t-shirt advertising the 1996 Muddy Crayfish Charity Run/Walk, sponsored by Forthright & Rotier. The lower half of her body is obscured by the giant desk, but your brain evolved over millennia to handle exactly this kind of situation, so without even thinking about it you assume she has two human legs instead of, say, half a kraken. >ask woman if she's half-kraken You can't see any such thing. >ask woman about kraken The tiny woman looks confused. "Hello!" she says. "Can I interest you in any of our charming Backwater properties?" >tell woman about kraken She pulls out a yellow legal pad and what looks like a miniature golf pencil and starts taking notes. "Fascinating!" she says. "Okay, I'm bored from not talking for so long; ask me a question." >* worth checking >greet woman You are already talking to the tiny woman. >ask woman about cragne manor "Oh!" the woman exclaims. "You're the new wi-- I mean, you're Naomi Sparradew Cragne! Nice to meet you. I'm Bethany Tross." She boosts herself onto the desk to shake your hand. "I've got a huge file on Cragne Manor. It's absolutely fascinating. You're gonna love it." Lips slightly pursed, she surveys the mess on the desk. "Um. Just let me find it. Jeez. One sec." Bethany gathers all of the folders on the desk into her arms. "See, I'm getting a master's degree in local history, and this job is a gold mine for original documents," she explains. One by one she deposits each file into the cabinet, until only an empty-looking folder labeled CRAGNE MANOR remains. "Huh, it should be..." She flips it open, then with a disappointed look sets it on the desk in front of you. "Well, ratsack," she says. "I guess the Cragne Manor file's off being digitized. Ms. Rotier's been on this paperless office kick lately, which is weird, because we don't have a computer." Her expression brightens somewhat. "Any other buildings you want to know about? I'm not allowed to talk history at home anymore, not since the incident." Now that the desk is clean, you notice a paperback book that had been hiding underneath the folders. >x book A somewhat battered paperback whose lovingly fantasy-painted cover features a corseted steampunk woman embracing a Regency period nobleman -- who is also an anthropomorphic lion -- in space. "TWIN HEARTS BETWEEN THE PLANES," raised letters proclaim. "LEELAH VAUGHAN." Beneath the author's name, smaller text inside a sunburst informs you that this book was a 1981 Venus Rising nominee for "Best Sexual Tension." A shelving label for the Backwater Public Library covers the lower spine "[FIC / ERO / ANIMA / FELIS / YIKES]". This is it, your instincts whisper. This is the thing you need to steal. Also, look at it. It's amazing. Definitely steal that. >* oh, that's on the list I think >* I know what half those shelving notes mean, especially the YIKES >ask woman about book Bethany looks you straight in the eyes, radiating academic gravitas. "Okay, so, believe me when I say that I don't normally read sci-fi bodice rippers starring big handsome lion guys." You assure her that you did not have her pegged as a paranormal romance enthusiast, and she visibly relaxes before continuing. "It's research, sort of," she explains. "See, Leelah Vaughan is the pen name of Stella Archer Cragne, wife of Horace Cragne. This book was published in 1980 -- one year before Stella Archer Cragne (here Bethany drops her voice about two octaves) mysteriously vanished." >ask woman about leelah "Leelah Vaughan was the pen name of Stella Archer Cragne, who only wrote this one book before (Bethany drops into Outer Limits voice) vanishing mysteriously. Personally, I think Stella Archer Cragne is a much better nom de plume than Leelah Vaughan, but I guess if you gotta write books about anthropomorphic lion dong, you might as well do it under a dumb fake name. I've thought about what mine would be and it's Felix O'Toole." >ask woman about stella "Stella Archer Cragne disappeared on the third of May, 1981," Bethany tells you. "She told her husband she was going into town to buy a hat for Petunia Cragne's wedding. The ticket taker at the station confirmed that she boarded the 12:35 train to Montpelier, and after that (once again Bethany drops her voice into Unsolved Mysteries registers) nobody saw her again. Dead or alive." "Ask me about Stella again if you want to hear all the facts of the case; I'm supposed to practice getting consent before quote-unquote talking people's ears off. People care an awful lot about their ears around here, if you ask me." >ask woman about stella Holding up her fingers one by one, Bethany cheerfully enumerates the facts of the case. "Fact! Stella had no known enemies; the family liked her -- well, except Imelda Cragne, but she was a 102-year-old racist who croaked six months before Stella went missing, so it's unlikely she was involved." "Fact! By all accounts, Stella & Horace were one of those boring quiet couples that stay home a lot and don't have affairs. Fact! I really enjoy saying 'fact!' Fact!" "Fact! Stella left the house with just her wallet and keys. She wasn't the purse-carrying type, but she owned a couple good-sized bags she could have packed some underwear and a toothbrush in if she'd planned to run away." "Fact! The Backwater P.D. searched all of the possessions she'd left behind and none of it was more suspicious than a Jell-O mold. I saw the whole list and lemme tell ya, I have weirder stuff in my pockets right now, including one or two bird skulls." >ask woman about bird skullss "I'm sorry," Bethany says, "I have auditory processing disorder, and I only understood you as far as saying 'radio fat lump'. >ask woman about bird skulls "It's a funny story," Bethany says. You wait for her to tell it to you, but she doesn't. >ask woman about bird skulls "It's a funny story," Bethany says. You wait for her to tell it to you, but she doesn't. >ask woman about funny story "I'm sorry," Bethany says, "I have auditory processing disorder, and all I got from that was 'carcinomuffin'. >ask woman about stella Holding up her fingers one by one, Bethany cheerfully enumerates the facts of the case. "Fact! Stella had no known enemies; the family liked her -- well, except Imelda Cragne, but she was a 102-year-old racist who croaked six months before Stella went missing, so it's unlikely she was involved." "Fact! By all accounts, Stella & Horace were one of those boring quiet couples that stay home a lot and don't have affairs. Fact! I really enjoy saying 'fact!' Fact!" "Fact! Stella left the house with just her wallet and keys. She wasn't the purse-carrying type, but she owned a couple good-sized bags she could have packed some underwear and a toothbrush in if she'd planned to run away." "Fact! The Backwater P.D. searched all of the possessions she'd left behind and none of it was more suspicious than a Jell-O mold. I saw the whole list and lemme tell ya, I have weirder stuff in my pockets right now, including one or two bird skulls." >ask woman about leelah "Leelah Vaughan was the pen name of Stella Archer Cragne, who only wrote this one book before (Bethany drops into Outer Limits voice) vanishing mysteriously. Personally, I think Stella Archer Cragne is a much better nom de plume than Leelah Vaughan, but I guess if you gotta write books about anthropomorphic lion dong, you might as well do it under a dumb fake name. I've thought about what mine would be and it's Felix O'Toole." >ask woman about horace "So, at first, Horace Cragne spent a ton of money on private detectives to look for his wife," Bethany tells you. "Then, in June of 1983 -- well, no one knows what happened, but he fired his gumshoes and went around being cheerful in public all of a sudden. Complete 180 mood flip. Everyone thought he had a new lover, but I couldn't find any evidence of that, and you better believe I looked. I even... anyway." "This next part is sad," Bethany continues. "In September 1983 the Cragne Manor summerhouse burned down and Horace Cragne burned down with it. According to Backwater P.D. it wasn't arson, just some bad wiring in the heating unit. That fall was especially cold because... well, I'm not supposed to talk about gulf streams anymore, because apparently they bore people." She looks from left to right as though checking for spies, then leans forward conspiratorially. "But it was totally the gulf streams," she whispers. >ask woman about felix "I'm sorry," Bethany says, "I have auditory processing disorder, and as far as I can tell, you just said 'bedlam cube'. >ask woman about petunia "Did you know Petunia Cragne didn't call off the wedding after Stella went missing?" Bethany asks you. "She said she'd never get the Old Lantern booked again before November and she couldn't use the local church because her fiance -- Carl Jaspers, petroleum analyst -- was a Southern Free Divinarian and everyone in Backwater still worshipped Arga'agna'gath the Uncanny Symmetry. So there were some Scriptural differences. Mostly in Leviticus." "It turned into this whole family rift and Horace's siblings still aren't speaking to Petunia's siblings. Religion is wild." >ask woman about old lantern "I'm sorry," Bethany says, "I have auditory processing disorder, and what I just heard you say was 'tuna potato tree'. >* Reminds me of the time my grandma, trying to be cool with the fact that my uncle was going to marry a methodist, asked whether they worship false idols >* (She was Catholic, making this story all the funnier) >ask woman about carl "Carl and Petunia Cragne Jaspers got married, moved to San Antonio, then three years later she unexpectedly showed back up in Backwater by herself and opened a shelter for distressed birds," Bethany tells you. "Which doesn't sound like a real thing that would exist but man, the birds around here have a rough life. In 1985 the shelter burned down and Petunia moved to Burlington. I don't know what happened to Carl, but he's not local history, he's from Texas, so it's outside my jurisdiction and I don't care." >* whole lotta burning in this backstory >ask woman about imelda "I know the Historian's Code says you're supposed to dispassionately examine people's lives without forming emotional judgments, but Imelda Cragne was a real piece of work," Bethany tells you. "She liked to psychologically abuse the workers at the meatpacking plant. If you crossed her, she would -- I swear to God -- draw your face on a ham, dress it up in your clothes, hang it from the nearest meat hook, and -- I actually have no idea what she did next, because no one will talk about it." "This wasn't just at the plant, either; she hung meat hooks up in every room of the manor so she could make dangling ham effigies of the servants and her own kids and anyone who even looked at her. Messed. Up. Lady." >* Let's hope that's all cleared away by now That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >ask woman about edwin "I'm sorry," Bethany says, "I have auditory processing disorder, and the syllables I just heard you say were 'breaking up with Frito chili pie'. >* Ah, he's one of them secret Cragnes >ask woman about phyllis "I'm sorry," Bethany says, "I have auditory processing disorder, and I'm guessing you didn't really just say 'garbage burst'. >* Non-overlapping Cragnes, go figure >ask woman about peter "I'm afraid I haven't met your husband, no," Bethany says. "I only moved here a few years ago, and he moved away in -- I mean, as a historian, I know about -- what I mean is, the Cragne family basically is Backwater -- so-yes-I-know-a-lot-about-your-husband-and-I-hope-that-isn't-creepy." She coughs uncomfortably into some papers, avoiding your gaze. >ask woman about peter "When you say you know a lot about Peter," you ask Bethany, "you mean...?" She puts a fingernail between her teeth, looks past you at the far wall, looks down at her papers, then looks you directly in the eyes. "Your safeword is 'xyzzy,'" she says, then spends the next several seconds patting you on the back while you choke on the saliva you've inhaled. >ask woman about peter "So," you say, a little bit terrified but above all curious. "What else do you know about my husband? Besides our various joint sex fetishes, I mean." Bethany looks up at you, and you read amusement in the lines of her face. "I actually do know something about your husband that you don't," she says. "He's the real Peter Cragne. Which makes the two of you genuine co-owners of Cragne Manor. Wild, huh?" "What? But..." Your thoughts fall down various pits, each one bottomless. If Archie really is Peter Cragne, then this whole expedition never was a con job -- so why the hell did he send you a brown shoe telegram? What kind of trouble is he in? Bethany observes your reaction and nods. "Yeah, you're gonna have to ask him what his deal is," she says, "because I genuinely have no idea. I think it's hilarious that you didn't know, though. Classic rom-com situation!" >ask woman about peter "I think by now you know everything that I know about Peter Verlac Cragne, and more," says Bethany. >* So that's the Verlac connection >xyzzy That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >* huh >x me You are Naomi Sparradew Cragne, nurse practitioner, born (prematurely) in 1972 to Keith and Esperanza Sparradew of Flagstaff, Arizona, both now sadly deceased.* As a child, your family owned horses, and you definitely know how to ride them, but you injured your hip in a bad fall on some black ice in Boston so you don't anymore. These days you get your horse itch scratched by volunteering with Stable America, a non-profit that provides riding therapy to trauma survivors.* You are married to Peter Cragne -- entrepreneur, amateur philosopher, and tennis enthusiast -- recently returned to Backwater, Vermont after an absence of twenty-three years to inherit the family mansion (such as it is).* * As far as any of these rubes know. >* Some overlap with our real backstory(/ies)? >ask her about me (Bethany about yourself) "Presumably you know who you are much better than I do," Bethany tells you. There's something odd in her voice, and you suspect she could say more but isn't. >ask her about me (Bethany about yourself) Bethany stops shuffling papers around on the desk and looks hard at your face. "You really want to hear everything I know about you? Because... I could tell you, or we could just know that we both know what we know and leave it at that." >ask her about me (Bethany about yourself) Bethany takes a deep breath. "Okaaaaaay," she says. "If you really wanna go, we'll go." She makes a valiant but ultimately sad attempt to crack her knuckles before soldiering on. "You," she says, "are Lucy Claudine Venks, very good at obscuring her birth details, but my best guess is Prescott, Arizona, in June or July of 1971. Naomi Sparradew was your freshman year roommate in nursing school. She had tons of scholarships and was basically getting a free ride while you worked nights at the Waffle House." "What I still don't know," Bethany continues, "and maybe you can help me with this, is how she died." You stare at the tip of Bethany's nose, not entirely sure whether you're still breathing. "It was a freak accident," you say. "One of our bookshelves collapsed and she took a copy of Grey's Anatomy to the occipital lobe. I didn't kill her. I liked her. Even if I hadn't, I try not to kill people, mostly." Bethany nods vigorously, smiling wider than you feel is warranted by the current conversational topic. "That's perfect, that was my theory this whole time! You didn't kill her, you just took advantage of her death. Very clever. Someday you'll have to explain how you got away with it, because wow do I have questions." "Does that mean you're not gonna rat me out?" you ask, still tensed for a fight. "Nope!" Bethany shakes her head. "I'm gonna ask you for a favor instead. Like, the crime kind of favor. Not right now, 'cause I can tell you're already on a... job... mission? It'll be later, when you're all done with your... crime quest." You unclench the fist you hadn't exactly realized was clenched, wincing as sensation returns to your nail-bitten palm. "So, what, we're just gonna--?" "You're gonna keep asking me Backwater real estate questions, I'm gonna keep answering them, and it's gonna be exactly like we never had this conversation," Bethany answers. "As though this moment we just shared was an unsettable flag in an adventure game. Like tears in rain." "That... okay, that analogy was a weird place for a Blade Runner reference, but I agree to your terms," you reply. Still grinning, she hands you an IOU. >* I am very disconcerted right now! >x iou It reads: This coupon is good for one (1) crime to be committed at a time and place of the issuer's choosing. This message will self-destruct as soon as you swallow it, which you should basically do immediately. Have a nice day! Did she... when did she get this printed, exactly? And why? >swallow iou There's nothing suitable to drink here. >eat iou You tear the IOU into little bits and choke them down as best you can. It leaves you with a weirdly minty aftertaste, a phantom sensation of a lump in your esophagus, and a growing surge of irritation about suddenly having to eat a piece of paper implicating you in a crime you haven't even committed yet. Oh well, that's life sometimes, you guess. >* eh, seems unenforcable, I think we're fine >* void as against public policy >ask her about herself (Bethany about Bethany) "Bethany Tross, born November 19, 1975 in Barnes' Haven, Vermont," Bethany says. "Masters' student of local history at Squahonomie College. Grade point average 3.887. Single. Allergic to bee stings, but not enough to die, just enough to be really unhappy about having been stung. Paid eight dollars an hour by Forthright & Rotier Estate Agents to, basically, babysit these files, which suits my purposes just fine. High IQ, bad working memory, prefer Cryptoquote to Jumble, bullish on tapioca pudding." She looks you in the eyes and drops her voice slightly. "You want the short version of the Bethany Tross story, though?" she says. "After I die, only the Bethany Trosses of the world are gonna remember me. Which is why I remember everyone else. Oh, God, and I can't stand tuna fish. I forgot to mention that. I hate it so much; it's like doing mouth-based sex favors for the frigging ocean." >ask her about rotier (Bethany about Forthright & Rotier Estate Agency) "Great, I'll show you the folder for that!" Bethany says, turning to search through the filing cabinet. >take book Stealing the book while Bethany's got her back turned is definitely the right idea. When you play the scenario out in your mind, though, it goes something like this: [IMAGINARY SCENE] You slip the book into your pocket. Bethany turns around, ready to drop the folder on the desk, and spots that the book is gone. Her octagonal eyes glow red, and each unruly curl of her hair transmogrifies into a cobra, its eyes glowing red and its fangs dripping venom. "WHERE IS MY BOOK?" she roars, shaking the walls of the real estate office. The desk grows a mouth and chomps you in half somewhere around the lumbar spine. Your lower half bleeds out on the berber carpet as the desk masticates your torso and eyeballs and hands and other parts of your body you like a lot and use often. With a satisfied expression, Bethany retrieves the novel from the bloodsoaked pocket of your JNCOs. "Now I can finally confess my truth," she tells your exposed kidneys. "I think reading about lion sex is kind of nice actually."[END IMAGINARY SCENE] ...okay, clearly this town has got you in a real weird headspace. The point is, you'll have to find a way to steal the book without Bethany noticing you've stolen it, or things might get... uncomfortable. "Here's the folder!" Bethany drops the folder onto the desk near Twin Hearts Between the Planes. "Josiah Forthright was a master hypnotist whose specialty was getting people to desire things that no sane person would ever want," Bethany tells you. "Then, completely out of nowhere, he opened a real estate office in Backwater, Vermont. It's sad that he gave up on his dream like that, don't you think?" >* lol >* Also we're wearing JNCOs? >x jncos You can't see any such thing. >* thank god >i You are carrying: a pamphlet of home listings a Jansport backpack (being worn and open) a key pocket (open but empty) a book pocket (open) The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three a postcard of Big Ben the diary of Phyllis Cragne a moldy, waterlogged journal a side pocket (open) a book list a small, rectangular battery a trash pocket (open) a coded telegram a glass jar containing an insect a cast iron spire a backpack features guide a library card Peter's jacket a half-full styrofoam coffee cup a repaired page a waterproof flashlight a pull-string doll an antique locket (being worn and closed) a faint chill (haunting you) a giant milkweed leaf (being worn as a mask) a label (being worn) a familiar gold wristwatch (being worn) >x folder Which folder? Forthright & Rotier Estate Agency folder and Cragne Manor folder seem particularly interesting. >forthright That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >read forthright That's weird; the estate agency folder contains nothing but a single security camera photo of the room you are currently in, taken from a vantage point near the ceiling. You feel compelled to take a closer look. >x photo You look at the security camera photo in the estate agency folder. The space is dominated by the unexpectedly symbiotic combination of a giant desk and a tiny woman, who together give the impression of being one complete single entity, like a centaur. The surface of the desk is clear except for a tidy stack of glossy architectural magazines, manila folders, and real estate listings pamphlets. Behind it, a gunmetal-grey filing cabinet lurks unattractively in the far corner. The exit back out to the street is east. A taller, short-haired woman wearing JNCOs and black satin pajamas advances on the smaller woman with a bust of Robert Frost. You can't see her face, but... that can't be you, right? It looks like you... "Oh, hey, ignore that," Bethany tells you. "Our security camera got possessed a couple weeks ago and Ms. Rotier's been slacking on replacing it, that's all." >x cragne A small brown book with embossed letters on the front, mostly worn away, spelling "DIARY". Inside it's filled with spidery letters in faded ink. According to the name inscribed inside the cover, this belonged to Phyllis Cragne. You think you remember your husband speaking of a "Great Aunt Phyl," a sprightly old lady who haunted his earliest memories and always wore tartan trousers. >x cragne folder The Cragne Manor folder is thin enough to appear empty while closed. When you open it, you see that it contains nothing but a Post-It note with the words "BETHANY, TOOK THESE TO GET DIGITIZED. RECYCLE THIS NOTE PLEASE!!!" alongside a small drawing of an anthropomorphized Earth giving the thumbs-up. >take post-it You can't see any such thing. >give folder to woman (the unsorted manila folders to Bethany) (first taking the unsorted manila folders) Which folder? Forthright & Rotier Estate Agency folder and Cragne Manor folder seem particularly interesting. >forthright That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >take forthright This folder is not what you came here to steal. >give forthright to woman (first taking Forthright & Rotier Estate Agency folder) This folder is not what you came here to steal. >ask woman about rodier "I'm sorry," Bethany says, "I have auditory processing disorder, and as far as I can tell, you just said 'carcinomuffin'. >ask woman about rotier "Josiah Forthright was a master hypnotist whose specialty was getting people to desire things that no sane person would ever want," Bethany tells you. "Then, completely out of nowhere, he opened a real estate office in Backwater, Vermont. It's sad that he gave up on his dream like that, don't you think?" >x listing 18 F'tagn Court || 8 BR 1 BA || Quiet neighborhood! Completely redone with brand new floors and concrete-sealed basement. Hardly any muttering! 36 River Walk Drive || 3 BR 2 BA || Great river views and convenient for boating! Trawl for crayfish from the comfort of your living room. Entire upstairs still mostly above water! 23 Euclid Street || 2 BR 5 BA || An obelisk lover's dream! Extensive yard boasts a true infinity pool and an impressive collection of garden statuary, including twin sphinxes. Paradoxically nearby to everything! Underneath the description of 23 Euclid Street, someone has scrawled the words "JACKDAWS LOVE MY BIG SPHINX OF QUARTZ." >save Ok. >ask woman about euclid "Let me grab the folder for that!" Bethany says, turning to search through the filing cabinet. >put paperback in bp (first taking Twin Hearts Between the Planes) Stealing the book while Bethany's got her back turned is definitely the right idea. When you play the scenario out in your mind, though, it goes something like this: [IMAGINARY SCENE] You slip the book into your pocket. Bethany turns around, ready to drop the folder on the desk, and spots that the book is gone. Her octagonal eyes glow red, and each unruly curl of her hair transmogrifies into an individual tarantula with its own set of eight hairy legs. "WHERE IS MY BOOK?" she roars, shaking the walls of the real estate office. The desk grows a mouth and chomps you in half somewhere around the lumbar spine. Your lower half bleeds out on the berber carpet as the desk masticates your torso and eyeballs and hands and other parts of your body you like a lot and use often. With a satisfied expression, Bethany retrieves the novel from the bloodsoaked pocket of your JNCOs. "Now I can finally confess my truth," she tells your exposed kidneys. "I think reading about lion sex is kind of nice actually."[END IMAGINARY SCENE] ...okay, clearly this town has got you in a real weird headspace. The point is, you'll have to find a way to steal the book without Bethany noticing you've stolen it, or things might get... uncomfortable. "Another folder found!" Bethany drops the folder onto the desk, partially covering Twin Hearts Between the Planes. "Back in the 70s it was hip to build your pad on top of a transdimensional leyline nexus even though that plays hell with the electrical wiring," Bethany tells you. "It's a genuinely cool property, though. I've been over there a couple times to check the portals. One of the sphinxes and I get along great, the other one is all pissy with me because I solved all its riddles in three minutes." She sighs. "I offered to help it write new ones and, like, centralize a database? But now whenever it sees me it just rolls its eyes and makes fart noises, and I'm all, 'Real mature, sphinx.' It makes it super awkward chatting with the other one 'cause they're only ten feet apart from each other but the house is still really cool. There's an infinity pool and everything." >undo Estate Agent's Office (Jenni Polodna) [Previous turn undone.] >i You are carrying: a pamphlet of home listings a Jansport backpack (being worn and open) a key pocket (open but empty) a book pocket (open) The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three a postcard of Big Ben the diary of Phyllis Cragne a moldy, waterlogged journal a side pocket (open) a book list a small, rectangular battery a trash pocket (open) a coded telegram a glass jar containing an insect a cast iron spire a backpack features guide a library card Peter's jacket a half-full styrofoam coffee cup a repaired page a waterproof flashlight a pull-string doll an antique locket (being worn and closed) a faint chill (haunting you) a giant milkweed leaf (being worn as a mask) a label (being worn) a familiar gold wristwatch (being worn) "The folder-finding wizard has done it again!" Bethany drops the folder onto the desk, partially covering Twin Hearts Between the Planes. "Back in the 70s it was hip to build your pad on top of a transdimensional leyline nexus even though that plays hell with the electrical wiring," Bethany tells you. "It's a genuinely cool property, though. I've been over there a couple times to check the portals. One of the sphinxes and I get along great, the other one is all pissy with me because I solved all its riddles in three minutes." She sighs. "I offered to help it write new ones and, like, centralize a database? But now whenever it sees me it just rolls its eyes and makes fart noises, and I'm all, 'Real mature, sphinx.' It makes it super awkward chatting with the other one 'cause they're only ten feet apart from each other but the house is still really cool. There's an infinity pool and everything." > ask woman about river walk "Sure thing! Hold tight while I look for that folder," Bethany says, turning to search through the filing cabinet. >put paperback under desk That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >l Estate Agent's Office (Jenni Polodna) The space is dominated by the unexpectedly symbiotic combination of a giant desk and a tiny woman, who together give the impression of being one complete single entity, like a centaur. The surface of the desk is becoming cluttered with glossy architectural magazines, manila folders, and real estate listings pamphlets. Behind it, a gunmetal-grey filing cabinet lurks unattractively in the far corner. The exit back out to the street is east. The lion sex book lies on the desk, partially covered, waiting for you to steal it. "Soon, lion sex book," you whisper in your head. "It won't be long now." Bethany is digging through the folders in the filing cabinet, her back turned. "Here's the folder!" Bethany drops the folder onto the desk, partially covering Twin Hearts Between the Planes. "You know that ad where someone gets chocolate into someone else's peanut butter and someone else gets peanut butter into someone else's chocolate?" Bethany asks you. "That is basically what happened with 36 River Walk Drive except instead of a peanut butter cup you have a mostly underwater house and instead of being delicious it is soggy and bad." >undo Estate Agent's Office (Jenni Polodna) [Previous turn undone.] >throw paperback out window I only understood you as far as wanting to throw Twin Hearts Between the Planes. >throw paperback You haven't got that. "Time to cross finding this folder off of the to-do list!" Bethany drops the folder onto the desk, partially covering Twin Hearts Between the Planes. "You know that ad where someone gets chocolate into someone else's peanut butter and someone else gets peanut butter into someone else's chocolate?" Bethany asks you. "That is basically what happened with 36 River Walk Drive except instead of a peanut butter cup you have a mostly underwater house and instead of being delicious it is soggy and bad." >undo Estate Agent's Office (Jenni Polodna) [Previous turn undone.] >steal paperback Stealing the book while Bethany's got her back turned is definitely the right idea. When you play the scenario out in your mind, though, it goes something like this: [IMAGINARY SCENE] You slip the book into your pocket. Bethany turns around, ready to drop the folder on the desk, and spots that the book is gone. Her octagonal eyes glow red, and each unruly curl of her hair transmogrifies into an individual tarantula with its own set of eight hairy legs. "WHERE IS MY BOOK?" she roars, shaking the walls of the real estate office. The desk grows a mouth and chomps you in half somewhere around the lumbar spine. Your lower half bleeds out on the berber carpet as the desk masticates your torso and eyeballs and hands and other parts of your body you like a lot and use often. With a satisfied expression, Bethany retrieves the novel from the bloodsoaked pocket of your JNCOs. "Now I can finally confess my truth," she tells your exposed kidneys. "I think reading about lion sex is kind of nice actually."[END IMAGINARY SCENE] ...okay, clearly this town has got you in a real weird headspace. The point is, you'll have to find a way to steal the book without Bethany noticing you've stolen it, or things might get... uncomfortable. "Another folder found!" Bethany drops the folder onto the desk, partially covering Twin Hearts Between the Planes. "You know that ad where someone gets chocolate into someone else's peanut butter and someone else gets peanut butter into someone else's chocolate?" Bethany asks you. "That is basically what happened with 36 River Walk Drive except instead of a peanut butter cup you have a mostly underwater house and instead of being delicious it is soggy and bad." >ask woman about court Which do you mean, 18 F'tagn Court or a forbidden B.U.S.H. topic? >* hrm >ask woman about forbidden "I'm sorry," Bethany says, "I have auditory processing disorder, and all I got from that was 'Junelaska vacation'. >ask woman about forbidden B.U.S.H. topic "I'm sorry," Bethany says, "I have auditory processing disorder, and what I just heard you say was 'bedlam cube'. >* alas >ask woman about 18 "Let me grab the folder for that!" Bethany says, turning to search through the filing cabinet. >z Time passes. "Bam! Folder found!" Bethany drops the folder onto the desk, further covering Twin Hearts Between the Planes. "Some crazy stuff went down at 18 F'tagn Court," Bethany tells you. "In fact, there was this huge mess and we had to change the floors." "The floors?" you ask. "You see, his bl-- his blackyard blarbecue got a blit out of hand." She tightens her lips. "And it, uh, blurnt the floorbloards. So we had to change them." You quirk an eyebrow at Bethany and she deflates. "Sorry," she says, "I keep forgetting I'm supposed to lie about F'tagn Court, and wow am I really not great at it. Wanna know about any buildings where they didn't find a ton of faceless bodies?" >ask woman about 18 "Faceless bodies?" you ask Bethany. She tightens her lips and shakes her head vigorously. "Blarbecue! It was a very blad blarbecue. They blurnt the blatwurst and forgot the bluns. Also the potato salad had clams in it, yuck." You realize you're probably much happier not knowing, so you let it drop. >ask woman about river "You know that ad where someone gets chocolate into someone else's peanut butter and someone else gets peanut butter into someone else's chocolate?" Bethany asks you. "That is basically what happened with 36 River Walk Drive except instead of a peanut butter cup you have a mostly underwater house and instead of being delicious it is soggy and bad." >ask woman about crange "I'm sorry," Bethany says, "I have auditory processing disorder, and I'm guessing you didn't really just say 'tuna potato tree'. >ask woman about cragne Which do you mean, the diary of Phyllis Cragne, Cragne Manor folder, the Cragne family, Stella Archer Cragne or a forbidden B.U.S.H. topic? >folder "I'm sorry," Bethany says, "I have auditory processing disorder, and as far as I can tell, you just said 'latency pals'. >ask woman about cragne manor "Well, I really wanted to show you the file, but I can give you the Cliff Notes," Bethany says. "Deuteronomous Cragne commissioned the manor in 1799 for himself and his nameless bride. Originally, he hired a fancy New York architect named Flavius Crumb to manifest his grand vision, but the Crumb guy told Deuteronomous his grand vision was conceptually not even a house, plus it had way too many shacks." "Deuteronomous responded to this constructive criticism about as well as could be expected," she continues, "by which I mean he set Crumb on fire, ran him out of town on a horse which was also on fire, and stomped off to Europe to sulk for three months. When he came back, he brought along his new architect, a very weird guy named John Clove. Apparently he found Clove much more agreeable to work with, because the earliest incarnation of Cragne Manor had twenty-nine shacks arranged in the shape of an eye of Horus." "You won't see most of them now, because they burned down basically immediately upon being built." Bethany leans over to whisper at you. "I don't think they were very good shacks." >ask woman about flavius "Flavius Crumb only barely counts as Backwater history," Bethany says, "so all I really know about him is that he recovered really well after being set on fire. Also I guess it came out when he died that he was an international art thief or master forger or something? I don't know, if I started giving a crap about what anyone from New York did, I'd be here all dang day." >ask woman about clove "John Clove claimed to be Welsh, but was actually Bohemian, birth name Jan Lovec," Bethany says. "Six foot seven, with a big bushy beard and a genetic propensity to only blink about once a day, which really freaked people out. He dropped out of Charles University after a violent disagreement with the dean of the architecture college about how many hidden oubliettes belonged in the floor of a kitchen -- which, I would say the correct answer is none oubliettes, but my undergrad is not in architecture, so what do I know, I guess." "After that," she continues, "history loses track of Clove until he winds up in a Hungarian prison for conspiracy to commit acts against God and also, depending on the translation, cannibalism? Five years into Clove's sentence, Deuteronomous Cragne spent a massive amount of money to bail him out and sail him to Backwater as his new architect. A few months after construction started on Cragne Manor, Clove was unceremoniously manslaughtered in a brawl at the pub, which was and still is a fairly standard cause of death in this town." >ask woman about deuteronomous "Deuteronomous Cragne came from somewhere in the mid-1790s and founded the Backwater line of Cragnes. He's your husband's great-great-great-great-grandfather," Bethany tells you. "He had a lot of portraits commissioned of himself as this huge vampire-looking guy with bright red eyes and a twenty-hand-tall nightmare stallion, but I found some charcoal drawings of him as a teenager, and he's practically cherubic-looking. Like a Keebler Elf with fluffy sideburns. It's hilarious." >ask woman about horus "I'm sorry," Bethany says, "I have auditory processing disorder, and as far as I can tell, you just said 'tuna potato tree'. >ask woman about folders "I'm sorry," Bethany says, "I have auditory processing disorder, and I'm guessing you didn't really just say 'breaking up with Frito chili pie'. >ask woman about folder "I'm sorry," Bethany says, "I have auditory processing disorder, and as far as I can tell, you just said 'hose beast city'. >x coffee The swirls in your cup form a pair of dandelions. Botanical images mean that while there is much left to accomplish in the present situation, your immediate environment sustains you, and you have everything that you need. >i You are carrying: a pamphlet of home listings a Jansport backpack (being worn and open) a key pocket (open but empty) a book pocket (open) The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three a postcard of Big Ben the diary of Phyllis Cragne a moldy, waterlogged journal a side pocket (open) a book list a small, rectangular battery a trash pocket (open) a coded telegram a glass jar containing an insect a cast iron spire a backpack features guide a library card Peter's jacket a half-full styrofoam coffee cup a repaired page a waterproof flashlight a pull-string doll an antique locket (being worn and closed) a faint chill (haunting you) a giant milkweed leaf (being worn as a mask) a label (being worn) a familiar gold wristwatch (being worn) >x features Welcome to the NEW 1998 Urban Adventurer Streetwarrior TRIPLE-REINFORCED Lifestyle Management System by Jansport! Incredible Updated Features: ** Separate zippable pockets let you hide things and reveal them at will! ** Brand new abbreviations: mp = main pocket, kp = key pocket, bp = book pocket, etc.! ** Time-saving upgrade for the adventurer on the go: LOOK IN or PUT [SOMETHING] IN a closed pocket without having to open it first! >zip book pocket That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >zip bp That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >close bp You close the book pocket. >open bp You open the book pocket, revealing The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three, a postcard of Big Ben, the diary of Phyllis Cragne and a moldy, waterlogged journal. >l Estate Agent's Office (Jenni Polodna) The space is dominated by the unexpectedly symbiotic combination of a giant desk and a tiny woman, who together give the impression of being one complete single entity, like a centaur. The surface of the desk is becoming cluttered with glossy architectural magazines, manila folders, and real estate listings pamphlets. Behind it, a gunmetal-grey filing cabinet lurks unattractively in the far corner. The exit back out to the street is east. The lion sex book lies on the desk, partially covered, waiting for you to steal it. "Soon, lion sex book," you whisper in your head. "It won't be long now." Bethany looks at you expectantly. "Any real estate questions for me?" >ask woman about listings "I'm sorry," Bethany says, "I have auditory processing disorder, and all I got from that was 'gratitude jeans'. >ask woman about listing "I'm sorry," Bethany says, "I have auditory processing disorder, and I'm guessing you didn't really just say 'lemon sherbet camp'. >ask woman about library Bethany's features descend into a half-scowl. "Oh, it's just another boring Andrew Carnegie library, blah blah blah 1908, $5000 budget, snooze me a river of dreams. It's gross, all the books in there are gross, if you go in there you'll be gross too." This unenthusiastic description of a historic building seems out of character, so you cock an eyebrow at her quizzically. Bethany catches your look and deflates. "That crappy librarian is in league with the Badfinger University Shadow Historians," she explains. "She won't let me have jack. They've got some real good original mystical documents and I want a job there so bad." She meets your eyes again. "Right, I'll get the folder." >* ha, good joke! >put paperback in bp and close it I only understood you as far as wanting to put Twin Hearts Between the Planes in the book pocket. >put paperback in bp and close bp I only understood you as far as wanting to put Twin Hearts Between the Planes in the book pocket. >put paperback in bp. close bp (first taking Twin Hearts Between the Planes) Stealing the book while Bethany's got her back turned is definitely the right idea. When you play the scenario out in your mind, though, it goes something like this: [IMAGINARY SCENE] You slip the book into your pocket. Bethany turns around, ready to drop the folder on the desk, and spots that the book is gone. Her octagonal eyes glow red, and each unruly curl of her hair transmogrifies into a cobra, its eyes glowing red and its fangs dripping venom. "WHERE IS MY BOOK?" she roars, shaking the walls of the real estate office. The desk grows a mouth and chomps you in half somewhere around the lumbar spine. Your lower half bleeds out on the berber carpet as the desk masticates your torso and eyeballs and hands and other parts of your body you like a lot and use often. With a satisfied expression, Bethany retrieves the novel from the bloodsoaked pocket of your JNCOs. "Now I can finally confess my truth," she tells your exposed kidneys. "I think reading about lion sex is kind of nice actually."[END IMAGINARY SCENE] ...okay, clearly this town has got you in a real weird headspace. The point is, you'll have to find a way to steal the book without Bethany noticing you've stolen it, or things might get... uncomfortable. "The folder-finding wizard has done it again!" Bethany drops the folder onto the desk, further covering Twin Hearts Between the Planes. "Stupid sexy library," Bethany sighs. You close the book pocket. >open bp You open the book pocket, revealing The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three, a postcard of Big Ben, the diary of Phyllis Cragne and a moldy, waterlogged journal. >x library The Backwater Public Library folder is empty except for an index-card-sized note reading "Contents of this folder have been reclaimed as the rightful property of B.U.S.H. Any queries, complaints, and suggestions can be directed to the_uncaring_void_of_my_anal_canal@hotmail.com. Have a good rest of your SUCK IT LOSERS!!!". >ask woman about bush "Badfinger University is five miles up the river from Squahonomie, and their Shadow Historians have been our archrivals for almost a century and a half," Bethany explains. "Every September our grad students and theirs engage in ritualized academic combat to decide which school has jurisdiction over which historical topics. This year they got almost all of the Cragnes -- I was gunning hard for Stella, and I made sure we kept Deuteronomous -- but this guy Josh that I hate blew the rest of our points on Jedediah Beaverhat, who is not even real, he's a pancake house mascot. I kinda think Josh is a mole." >* ah, there's bush >ask woman about bush "Badfinger University is five miles up the river from Squahonomie, and their Shadow Historians have been our archrivals for almost a century and a half," Bethany explains. "Every September our grad students and theirs engage in ritualized academic combat to decide which school has jurisdiction over which historical topics. This year they got almost all of the Cragnes -- I was gunning hard for Stella, and I made sure we kept Deuteronomous -- but this guy Josh that I hate blew the rest of our points on Jedediah Beaverhat, who is not even real, he's a pancake house mascot. I kinda think Josh is a mole." >ask woman about beaverhat "One legend goes that Jedediah Beaverhat invented the pancake, then he wanted something sweet to go on top of it, so he went into the forest and seduced Maple Kate, who was the half-druid tribal chief of the -- ugh, I don't know why I'm telling you Jedediah Beaverhat stories." Bethany makes a disgusted face. "He's not real, okay? He's not even an authentic local myth, just something the Goldwater Restaurant Group made up in 1953 to trick motorists into stopping for corn syrup." >ask woman about railway station "Perfect! I'll just grab the folder for that," Bethany says, turning to search through the filing cabinet. >take book Stealing the book while Bethany's got her back turned is definitely the right idea. When you play the scenario out in your mind, though, it goes something like this: [IMAGINARY SCENE] You slip the book into your pocket. Bethany turns around, ready to drop the folder on the desk, and spots that the book is gone. Her octagonal eyes glow red, and each unruly curl of her hair transmogrifies into a cobra, its eyes glowing red and its fangs dripping venom. "WHERE IS MY BOOK?" she roars, shaking the walls of the real estate office. The desk grows a mouth and chomps you in half somewhere around the lumbar spine. Your lower half bleeds out on the berber carpet as the desk masticates your torso and eyeballs and hands and other parts of your body you like a lot and use often. With a satisfied expression, Bethany retrieves the novel from the bloodsoaked pocket of your JNCOs. "Now I can finally confess my truth," she tells your exposed kidneys. "I think reading about lion sex is kind of nice actually."[END IMAGINARY SCENE] ...okay, clearly this town has got you in a real weird headspace. The point is, you'll have to find a way to steal the book without Bethany noticing you've stolen it, or things might get... uncomfortable. "Who just found the folder she was looking for? This girl!" Bethany drops the folder onto the desk. Twin Hearts Between the Planes is now completely hidden from view. "Backwater didn't have a train station until 1968," Bethany tells you. "The local business owners were really pushing for one to be built, but the town council elders fought it tooth and nail, because they thought it would attract undesirables -- I think we both know what that's code for -- from the city. Then somebody pointed out the undesirables from the city, if you were nice to them and gave them shotguns, would be great allies in the constant war against the even-less-desirables who kept slithering out of the hills on their tentacle legs to steal babies. Backwater got noticeably less racist after that. Also fuller of babies." >* happy ending! >* Somebody tell Lovecraft >ask woman about shack "I'm sorry," Bethany says, "I have auditory processing disorder, and I only understood you as far as saying 'hose beast city'. >ask woman about bridge "I'm sorry," Bethany says, "I have auditory processing disorder, and what I just heard you say was 'freedom horse binge'. >ask woman about doll "I'm sorry," Bethany says, "I have auditory processing disorder, and the syllables I just heard you say were 'slurp baby cupcakes'. >ask woman about church "Absolutely! Let me find that folder," Bethany says, turning to search through the filing cabinet. >put paperback in bp. close bp. (first taking Twin Hearts Between the Planes) You utilize the skills you trained long and hard in the finest shopping malls of the greater Dallas-Fort Worth area. Moving like a rattlesnake (except without the rattling, obviously), you silently slide the lion sex book out from underneath the folders and slip it into the pocket of your JNCOs before Bethany has a chance to turn around. ~~Lion sex book GET.~~ You put Twin Hearts Between the Planes into the book pocket. "Another folder found!" Bethany drops the folder onto the desk. "Most people in town think Backwater Church changes religious affiliation once every seven years," Bethany says, "but guess what I found out? This whole time they've just been worshipping different incarnations of X'n'xa the Inevitable March Towards Death, which technically makes them Episcopalians. Religion is wild, huh?" You close the book pocket. >read church folder The church folder contains mostly receipts for the installation of various stained-glass windows. You spot one for $0.00 with a pen scrawl across the bottom reading "I refuse to depict Imelda Cragne as the Virgin Mary, may God have mercy on my soul." "Oh yeah," Bethany says, when you point it out, "I forgot to mention that most of the Cragnes commissioned church windows of themselves as religious figures, but I guess the idea of a saintly Imelda Cragne clutching a baby Jesus was too much for that stained-glass artist. They fled to Canada the same day that receipt was written, which was absolutely the right call." >read station folder The train station folder is incredibly thick. Flipping through it, most of its bulk appears to be schedules of arrivals and departures, and you're about to fall asleep when a folded page flutters out from between the timetables. You unfold it and take a look. "Oh, that thing is great," Bethany says. "It's a map of a proposed trolley system through Backwater, which wound up not getting built because it turned out the guy who sold it was secretly a bear, and no one knew what to do with that information. The trolley system would have been so cool though." >x map From what you've seen of Backwater, it's not that big, yet the trolley system on the map in your hands is extensive. A forest-green line runs into the woods, while a line as red as raw beef connects the downtown to the meatpacking plant. The church has its own line (gold), Cragne Manor has several (in various shades of purple -- also, why?), and Backwater itself is split into "Dangerous Backwater" (orange) and "Spooky Backwater" (blue). Apparently the real estate office is in Spooky Backwater, whatever that means. >* wow >x coffee The swirls in your cup form a blank, mirrored surface. Lack of a symbolic image means that you have accomplished everything you must in your current environment and should move on to find new challenges in order to grow as a person. >* Whew! That was a whole lot. >* Time to back away slowly >goodbye You say goodbye to Bethany. >out You can't go that way. >e Outside the Library (Gavin Inglis) A short street terminates here. To the south it opens into the town square. To the east, a few worn steps rise to the entrance of the public library, and to the west you can see a real estate office. A gloomy path leads northwest, towards the woods. You can see a notice board here. >save Ok. >* phew >x me You are standing in the middle of the road. >e Backwater Public Library (Carl Muckenhoupt) This is unusually spacious for a small-town library. You think you remember something about it being a national historical site? That would explain the decor, at least. It's half rustic colonial, half modern budget-strapped public service, with a meager collection of creaky shelves standing in the middle of an old plank floor. A small display case stands prominently near the entrance, and some weird chairs are scattered around for the comfort of the patrons, none of whom are here at the moment. The sole exit is back to the west. On the cart are The Dollmaker's Journal and a shabby journal. A librarian stands behind a counter. >x me Disheveled. Exhausted. Not crying yet. Glad to be in from the cold, if only for a little while. >* quite the range of self-images here! >* I think the only other places to go are off the town square >w Outside the Library (Gavin Inglis) A short street terminates here. To the south it opens into the town square. To the east, a few worn steps rise to the entrance of the public library, and to the west you can see a real estate office. A gloomy path leads northwest, towards the woods. You can see a notice board here. >s Town square, Backwater, VT (Marco Innocenti) The large, hexagonal-shaped square is paved with big, white stones, polished by rain and wind over the decades; around it, low red-brick buildings look like watching peasants. One single street leaves the square to the north, while less accommodating paths lead west, in the direction of a towering church, and southwest. Due east, an iron bridge crosses the river, and southeast, a walkway leads down to its bank. The swollen, slate-colored clouds that blanket the sky are reflected in the shiny, circular shape embellishing the center of the square, muttering ominous portents amongst themselves. >* let's try SW; we'll save the river for the next update >sw Drinking Fountain (Lucian Smith) A public drinking fountain is placed in a nook here, nearly overgrown with ivy. You can return to the town square to the northeast. >* Lucian Smith won the 1997 IFComp (the 3rd one!) and has only been intermittently active since -- a real blast from the past! >* This is maybe the shortest location description we've seen yet >x nook You can't see any such thing. >x ivy Thick ivy grows around the fountain, obscuring all but the bowl and spout. >x fountain An ornate brick drinking fountain, with a spout above a silver bowl, a button underneath, and surrounded by ivy. >take ivy You pull back the ivy from the side of the fountain, revealing, for some reason, a second fountain. >* Umm >* Is the reason RACISM? >* We're in Vermont, but "two water fountains" kinda creates a strong mental image >x second (the secondary fountain) The smaller fountain is nearly obscured by the disturbed ivy. Its bowl is filled with decaying leaves and crawling insects, and rust covers all its exposed metal. A crumbling sign is mounted in the brick above the spout. >x sign COLORED >* Oi >* From a historical point of view, this doesn't really make sense >* Like, Jim Crow laws were generally enacted in the last couple decades of the 19th centure and beginning of the 20th. In the 1900 census, Vermont had like 800 nonwhite people (out of a population of 343k) >* And it's almost the same numbers in 1960! >* The politics of Vermont were just totally alien to Jim Crow >* Like, there were no revanchist Southern Democrats sealing the gains of Redemption into law, nor were there racist northerners pushing back against significant Black migration to job centers > * And in the North you had things like housing discrimination and being barred from union membership rather than rules enforcing distinct social castes in shared public spaces, like in the South >* Unless the "colored" people are like "color out of space" people >* er, anyway > x spout (the secondary fountain) The smaller fountain is nearly obscured by the disturbed ivy. Its bowl is filled with decaying leaves and crawling insects, and rust covers all its exposed metal. A crumbling sign is mounted in the brick above the spout. >x bowl (the secondary fountain) The smaller fountain is nearly obscured by the disturbed ivy. Its bowl is filled with decaying leaves and crawling insects, and rust covers all its exposed metal. A crumbling sign is mounted in the brick above the spout. >x first bowl You can't see any such thing. >x first spout You can't see any such thing. >x spout (the secondary fountain) The smaller fountain is nearly obscured by the disturbed ivy. Its bowl is filled with decaying leaves and crawling insects, and rust covers all its exposed metal. A crumbling sign is mounted in the brick above the spout. >x leaves The smaller fountain is nearly obscured by the disturbed ivy. Its bowl is filled with decaying leaves and crawling insects, and rust covers all its exposed metal. A crumbling sign is mounted in the brick above the spout. >search second (the secondary fountain) You find nothing of interest. >search fountain (the secondary fountain) You find nothing of interest. >x fountain (the secondary fountain) The smaller fountain is nearly obscured by the disturbed ivy. Its bowl is filled with decaying leaves and crawling insects, and rust covers all its exposed metal. A crumbling sign is mounted in the brick above the spout. >x metal (the library card) A battered beige rectangle with rounded corners, printed with the library insignia, and bearing the words: PETER CRAGNE CRAGNE MANOR is entitled to borrow books from BACKWATER PUBLIC LIBRARY Backwater, Vermont and is responsible for all books taken on this card Expires APRIL 1998 No 19078 A little metal dealy clips through the cardboard, with a mirror-reversed version of the ID number stamped into it. >take dealy You already have that. >* Hrm >turn on fountain (the secondary fountain) The rusty button on the secondary fountain does nothing when you push it. >turn on main fountain You take a drink from the fountain. The water is lukewarm and vaguely brackish. >x main foutnain I only understood you as far as wanting to examine the fountain. >x main fountain An ornate brick drinking fountain, with a spout above a silver bowl, a button underneath, and surrounded by ivy. >x main spout An ornate brick drinking fountain, with a spout above a silver bowl, a button underneath, and surrounded by ivy. >x main bowl An ornate brick drinking fountain, with a spout above a silver bowl, a button underneath, and surrounded by ivy. >i You are carrying: a pamphlet of home listings a Jansport backpack (being worn and open) a key pocket (open but empty) a book pocket (closed) a side pocket (open) a book list a small, rectangular battery a trash pocket (open) a glass jar containing an insect a cast iron spire a backpack features guide a library card Peter's jacket a half-full styrofoam coffee cup a repaired page a waterproof flashlight a pull-string doll an antique locket (being worn and closed) a faint chill (haunting you) a giant milkweed leaf (being worn as a mask) a label (being worn) a familiar gold wristwatch (being worn) >put pamphlet in tp You put the pamphlet of home listings into the trash pocket. >* I'm a little stymied here. Do we need water for anything? Does the secondary fountain do anything besides creep up us out at nonfictional horrors? >use secondary You can't see any such thing. >x secondary (the secondary fountain) The smaller fountain is nearly obscured by the disturbed ivy. Its bowl is filled with decaying leaves and crawling insects, and rust covers all its exposed metal. A crumbling sign is mounted in the brick above the spout. >x insects The smaller fountain is nearly obscured by the disturbed ivy. Its bowl is filled with decaying leaves and crawling insects, and rust covers all its exposed metal. A crumbling sign is mounted in the brick above the spout. >x rust (the secondary fountain) The smaller fountain is nearly obscured by the disturbed ivy. Its bowl is filled with decaying leaves and crawling insects, and rust covers all its exposed metal. A crumbling sign is mounted in the brick above the spout. >clean secondary (the secondary fountain) You rub the secondary fountain. >take sign That seems to be a part of the secondary fountain. >push secondary (the secondary fountain) The rusty button on the secondary fountain does nothing when you push it. >x button Which do you mean, the rusty button or the round button? >rusty The smaller fountain is nearly obscured by the disturbed ivy. Its bowl is filled with decaying leaves and crawling insects, and rust covers all its exposed metal. A crumbling sign is mounted in the brick above the spout. >x coffee The clouds in your cup form a Viking longboat. Modes of transportation mean that your current environment presents challenges that can only be overcome by seeking fresh perspectives elsewhere until you're ready to return. >* OK, we can leave well enough along at least >ne Town square, Backwater, VT (Marco Innocenti) The large, hexagonal-shaped square is paved with big, white stones, polished by rain and wind over the decades; around it, low red-brick buildings look like watching peasants. One single street leaves the square to the north, while less accommodating paths lead west, in the direction of a towering church, and southwest. Due east, an iron bridge crosses the river, and southeast, a walkway leads down to its bank. The swollen, slate-colored clouds that blanket the sky are reflected in the shiny, circular shape embellishing the center of the square, muttering ominous portents amongst themselves. >i You are carrying: a Jansport backpack (being worn and open) a key pocket (open but empty) a book pocket (closed) a side pocket (open) a book list a small, rectangular battery a trash pocket (open) a pamphlet of home listings a glass jar containing an insect a cast iron spire a backpack features guide a library card Peter's jacket a half-full styrofoam coffee cup a repaired page a waterproof flashlight a pull-string doll an antique locket (being worn and closed) a faint chill (haunting you) a giant milkweed leaf (being worn as a mask) a label (being worn) a familiar gold wristwatch (being worn) >* Well, some progress! Across the river next time, methinks You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >save Ok. >sw Drinking Fountain (Lucian Smith) A public drinking fountain is placed in a nook here, nearly overgrown with ivy. You can return to the town square to the northeast. Behind the main fountain, mounted in the same pillar of brick, is a second, somewhat smaller fountain. >x me You're feeling tired, and your hair is a mess. >pull string The doll chirps, "I like the ivy! Yay!" There is a tinny sound of applause. >g The doll chirps, "I like the secondary fountain! Yay!" There is a tinny sound of applause. >g The doll chirps, "I like the secondary fountain! Yay!" There is a tinny sound of applause. >g The doll chirps, "I like the secondary fountain! Yay!" There is a tinny sound of applause. >g The doll chirps, "I like the fountain! Above! Yay!" There is a tinny sound of applause. >g The doll chirps, "I like the thing that isn't here! Yay!" There is a tinny sound of applause. >g The doll chirps, "I like the secondary fountain! Yay!" There is a tinny sound of applause. >g The doll chirps, "I like the ivy! Yay!" There is a tinny sound of applause. >turn head You rotate the doll's head. Its alternate face appears, scowling fiercely. >pull string The doll intones: "Beware the risk of the thing that isn't here!" >g The doll intones: "Flee the ivy!" >g The doll intones: "Shun the thing that isn't here!" >g The doll intones: "Flee the portent of the fountain! To see something above you suggests that you need to set your goals higher!" >g The doll intones: "Avoid the secondary fountain!" >g The doll intones: "Beware the portent of the secondary fountain!" >g The doll intones: "Flee the fountain! To see something above you suggests that you need to set your goals higher!" >g The doll intones: "Avoid the risk of the secondary fountain!" > x me You’re feeling tired, and your hair is a mess. >save Save failed. >ne Town square, Backwater, VT (Marco Innocenti) The large, hexagonal-shaped square is paved with big, white stones, polished by rain and wind over the decades; around it, low red-brick buildings look like watching peasants. One single street leaves the square to the north, while less accommodating paths lead west, in the direction of a towering church, and southwest. Due east, an iron bridge crosses the river, and southeast, a walkway leads down to its bank. The swollen, slate-colored clouds that blanket the sky are reflected in the shiny, circular shape embellishing the center of the square, muttering ominous portents amongst themselves. >save Ok. >