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 >* Time to check out the bridge, methinks >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. >* But first the walkway beneath it >se River Walk (Adam Whybray) A dirt path along the west bank of the Makaskuta - or Blackgourd - River. The air is motionless and sweltry, the urticariate heat drawing sweat profusely from your prickling glands. Just below you, to your side, the river burbles in vainglorious stupor, foaming in bright patches from the surfacants released from the rotting deposits of the red maples and poplars that line its banks. A single black ash, denuded of leaves, its corky bark blighted with the telltale signs of parasitic infection, quietly interrupts the Autumnal foliage of its deciduous cousins. The river's waters slith over rocks as lustrous-gray as seal skin, rending them freshly burnished for the mid-September sun, which casts Her rays in refulgent slats through the rust-honey colored trees. It is though Nature, in celebration of Her own fecundity, has chosen to offer Herself up in Equinoxical sacrifice - the rocks laid out before the blazing altar of the sun. There is a forbidding sign on the bank of the river. The way up to Backwater town square is northwest. Following the path north leads under the bridge. On the Makaskuta river is a buoy. You can also see a grimy rock, a long hooked pole, a dying crawfish and a soggy tome here. >* wow >* when "fecundity" doesn't even rate as an especially fancy word, you know someone's gussying up their prose >* I mostly like this, though of course it goes ~slightly~ over the top here and there >* I learned another word here -- "urticariate", which means it causes hives >* Also, now it's September, huh? >* Aday Whybray, besides having an awesome name, has written a Poe parody in Twine >* Haven't played it, but seems fun >* Lots to take in here >l River Walk (Adam Whybray) A dirt path along the west bank of the Makaskuta - or Blackgourd - River. The air is motionless and sweltry, the urticariate heat drawing sweat profusely from your prickling glands. Just below you, to your side, the river burbles in vainglorious stupor, foaming in bright patches from the surfacants released from the rotting deposits of the red maples and poplars that line its banks. A single black ash, denuded of leaves, its corky bark blighted with the telltale signs of parasitic infection, quietly interrupts the Autumnal foliage of its deciduous cousins. The river's waters slith over rocks as lustrous-gray as seal skin, rending them freshly burnished for the mid-September sun, which casts Her rays in refulgent slats through the rust-honey colored trees. It is though Nature, in celebration of Her own fecundity, has chosen to offer Herself up in Equinoxical sacrifice - the rocks laid out before the blazing altar of the sun. There is a forbidding sign on the bank of the river. The way up to Backwater town square is northwest. Following the path north leads under the bridge. On the Makaskuta river is a buoy. You can also see a grimy rock, a long hooked pole, a dying crawfish and a soggy tome here. >* OK no short-form description, this is just how we're going to roll. >x river The river's name is said to date back to the 17th century, Christened by a local Algonquian tribe after the peculiarly black coloration of the cucurbita pepo gourds that sprouted in the floodplains south of Backwater. Natives believed local Jesuit Ministers to use the gourds in Devil worship and to prevent these rituals from taking place would uproot the warty vegetables and "drown" them in the river. Across the 19th century, the Makaskuta became increasingly inhospitable to life due to the paper mills of Backwater discharging their untreated waste directly into its water - an industry that flourished in the period due to the competing demands of two local printing establishments which specialized in bound volumes of the letters, prayers and instructions of St. Ignatius of Loyola. By the 1870s the river was regularly running the color of strained tomato soup and, according to the 17th July 1874 edition of the Backwater Gazette, stank of "rank putrescence ... as though nothing borne of this Earth". Only the interventions of the mysterious philanthropist Dr. Elias Saltz, DDiv in the latter part of the 1960s were able to restore the Makaskuta to its once verdant glories. The good Doctor may also be thanked for the introduction of the C. Robustus genus of giant crawfish into the Makaskuta, for which it is now justly celebrated. The river babbles to itself complacently. On the Makaskuta river is a buoy. >* Wow p. 2 >* Strong Jesuit presence here, down to the printing presses >* Though I thought the local polluting industry was meatpacking, per some other notes? >listen to river You hear nothing unexpected. >listen You hear nothing unexpected. >* Ah well >x buoy A buoy the color of a Caucasian's flesh bobs uneasily upon the water. It certainly can't be for the sake of swimmers since the wooden sign makes it very clear this is prohibited. Perhaps some trappers are marking their catch? >x sign A wooden sign with a chunk missing from its bottom-right corner is embedded in the mud off the side of the path near the edge of the riverbank. Engraved in the sign is the message "Fishing and trapping allowed. Strictly no swimming." >* It is a forbidding sign! >x chunk You can't see any such thing. >take sign That's hardly portable. >swim (in the pamphlet of home listings) You are inclined to follow the edicts of the sign. Also, the buoy implies this stretch of the river is being used for freshwater lobster fishing. >* ...that is certainly a choice, parser >swim in river You are inclined to follow the edicts of the sign. Also, the buoy implies this stretch of the river is being used for freshwater lobster fishing. >swim in locket You are inclined to follow the edicts of the sign. Also, the buoy implies this stretch of the river is being used for freshwater lobster fishing. >swim in myself You are inclined to follow the edicts of the sign. Also, the buoy implies this stretch of the river is being used for freshwater lobster fishing. >swim in sky You can't see any such thing. >* Whew >l River Walk (Adam Whybray) A dirt path along the west bank of the Makaskuta - or Blackgourd - River. The air is motionless and sweltry, the urticariate heat drawing sweat profusely from your prickling glands. Just below you, to your side, the river burbles in vainglorious stupor, foaming in bright patches from the surfacants released from the rotting deposits of the red maples and poplars that line its banks. A single black ash, denuded of leaves, its corky bark blighted with the telltale signs of parasitic infection, quietly interrupts the Autumnal foliage of its deciduous cousins. The river's waters slith over rocks as lustrous-gray as seal skin, rending them freshly burnished for the mid-September sun, which casts Her rays in refulgent slats through the rust-honey colored trees. It is though Nature, in celebration of Her own fecundity, has chosen to offer Herself up in Equinoxical sacrifice - the rocks laid out before the blazing altar of the sun. There is a forbidding sign on the bank of the river. The way up to Backwater town square is northwest. Following the path north leads under the bridge. On the Makaskuta river is a buoy. You can also see a grimy rock, a long hooked pole, a dying crawfish and a soggy tome here. >x path You see nothing special about the dirt path. >x patches You can't see any such thing. >x leaves You can't see any such thing. >x trees The vermillion hue of the acer rubrum provides a startling contrast to the dreary environs of Backwater, like a feather boa round the neck of a New England clergyman. The surface of the dirt path is riven by tessellating layers of crisping leaves. The slender leaves of the populus balsamifera are shaped like the piques of a traditional suit of French playing cards and some are stained with an orange resin from which the "balm of Gilead" is derived. >x resin You can't see any such thing. >* Ah well, seems handy! >* Can we check out the ash tree? >x ash The scaly trunk of the black ash is marked by the signs of both fungal damage and the Emerald Ash Borer. Where sections of bark have flaked away from the trunk, weevil-wheedling paths of pale discoloration caused by the larval secretions of this virulent insect can be discerned. Epicormic shoots shamelessly sprout forth from this blighted trunk like unwanted fingers. >* Ash trees have a lot of mythological significance, of course -- Yggdrasil, the Norse world tree, is an ash, of course >* Plus the House in House of Leaves is on Ash Tree Lane, and also might be a world-axis >climb (the pamphlet of home listings) Little is to be achieved by that. >* Find someone who prioritizes you the way Nitocris prioritizes this pamphlet >climb ash Little is to be achieved by that. >* ah well, this game is big enough without trying to visit Muspelheim, or the Navidson's closets >l River Walk (Adam Whybray) A dirt path along the west bank of the Makaskuta - or Blackgourd - River. The air is motionless and sweltry, the urticariate heat drawing sweat profusely from your prickling glands. Just below you, to your side, the river burbles in vainglorious stupor, foaming in bright patches from the surfacants released from the rotting deposits of the red maples and poplars that line its banks. A single black ash, denuded of leaves, its corky bark blighted with the telltale signs of parasitic infection, quietly interrupts the Autumnal foliage of its deciduous cousins. The river's waters slith over rocks as lustrous-gray as seal skin, rending them freshly burnished for the mid-September sun, which casts Her rays in refulgent slats through the rust-honey colored trees. It is though Nature, in celebration of Her own fecundity, has chosen to offer Herself up in Equinoxical sacrifice - the rocks laid out before the blazing altar of the sun. There is a forbidding sign on the bank of the river. The way up to Backwater town square is northwest. Following the path north leads under the bridge. On the Makaskuta river is a buoy. You can also see a grimy rock, a long hooked pole, a dying crawfish and a soggy tome here. >take ash That's hardly portable. >x rocks The rocks glisten smugly. >x light A small flashlight, with a rubber ring where it screws together to keep the water out. >x rays You can't see any such thing. >x altar You can't see any such thing. >x metaphor You can't see any such thing. >* ah well >x rock A solitary rock squats at the edge of the river bank, sullenly surveying the fresh, water-slick countenances of its semi-subnautical brethren. >take it Taken. >i You are carrying: a grimy rock 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) >x grimy A solitary rock sat in the palm of your hand. >throw rock at buoy Futile. >* ah well >eat rock And get it stuck in your throat? >* fair >l River Walk (Adam Whybray) A dirt path along the west bank of the Makaskuta - or Blackgourd - River. The air is motionless and sweltry, the urticariate heat drawing sweat profusely from your prickling glands. Just below you, to your side, the river burbles in vainglorious stupor, foaming in bright patches from the surfacants released from the rotting deposits of the red maples and poplars that line its banks. A single black ash, denuded of leaves, its corky bark blighted with the telltale signs of parasitic infection, quietly interrupts the Autumnal foliage of its deciduous cousins. The river's waters slith over rocks as lustrous-gray as seal skin, rending them freshly burnished for the mid-September sun, which casts Her rays in refulgent slats through the rust-honey colored trees. It is though Nature, in celebration of Her own fecundity, has chosen to offer Herself up in Equinoxical sacrifice - the rocks laid out before the blazing altar of the sun. There is a forbidding sign on the bank of the river. The way up to Backwater town square is northwest. Following the path north leads under the bridge. On the Makaskuta river is a buoy. You can also see a long hooked pole, a dying crawfish and a soggy tome here. >x bridge The bridge cuts a dark arch through the space to the north where the trees are less thick. It looks as though its shadows could disclose secrets. >x shadows You can't see any such thing. >x crawish You can't see any such thing. >x crawfish A crawfish of unimaginable proportions skulks in a clump of weedy grass at the side of the path closest to the river. The fact that he is out of the water, just perceptibly twitching like a half-squashed insect and slowly drumming his spiny legs like an office worker pensively tapping his fingers on a desk, is a strong indication that under his hard carapace he is crawling with infection. He is broken, mouldering, no damn good despite his considerable size. As though sensing your judgment, the crawldad's antennae tremble ineffectually. >* can we get more specificty on the size here? >* Like a crayfish is usually what, like two inches? If it's a gargantuan 4, I can probably deal >* If it's like 4 feet, I'd prefer to know that context >greet crawfish You say hello to the dying crawfish. >ask crawfish about crawfish There is no reply. >* That went well >take it That's hardly portable. >touch it You feel nothing unexpected. >lick it That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >taste it You taste nothing unexpected. >* ...this is a very longsuffering crawfish >* Also see Chapter One's note about how lucky we are disease isn't really a thing >* Should we put it out of its misery? >kill crawfish You dare not attempt to put him out of his misery with your bare hands. >i You are carrying: a grimy rock 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) >kill crawfish with rock You raise the grimy rock high above your head and bring it crashing down upon the dying crawfish immediately splitting open its carapace revealing diseased creamy flesh the color of cooked chicken. Its eyestalks swivel wildly towards you and its periopods flicker like the eyelashes of a man trying desperately to awake from a nightmare. You bring the rock down again and again, smashing rostrum and cephalothorax to shribbons until all that remains are fragments of shell, with a tail and two front claws emerging from a pulped mound of rotting flesh. The stench is intolerable. While most of the shell of the dead crawfish is riven into tiny pieces, one especially sharp looking shard stands out from the rest. >x shard An especially sharp and vicious looking shard of shattered crawfish carapace. >take it You pluck the shard from the fishy mulch, being careful not to cut yourself. >* Oof. You do what you gotta do >* Off to the hot crustacean band in the sky >l River Walk (Adam Whybray) A dirt path along the west bank of the Makaskuta - or Blackgourd - River. The air is motionless and sweltry, the urticariate heat drawing sweat profusely from your prickling glands. Just below you, to your side, the river burbles in vainglorious stupor, foaming in bright patches from the surfacants released from the rotting deposits of the red maples and poplars that line its banks. A single black ash, denuded of leaves, its corky bark blighted with the telltale signs of parasitic infection, quietly interrupts the Autumnal foliage of its deciduous cousins. The river's waters slith over rocks as lustrous-gray as seal skin, rending them freshly burnished for the mid-September sun, which casts Her rays in refulgent slats through the rust-honey colored trees. It is though Nature, in celebration of Her own fecundity, has chosen to offer Herself up in Equinoxical sacrifice - the rocks laid out before the blazing altar of the sun. There is a forbidding sign on the bank of the river. The way up to Backwater town square is northwest. Following the path north leads under the bridge. On the Makaskuta river is a buoy. You can also see a shattered crawfish, a long hooked pole and a soggy tome here. >x shatttered You can't see any such thing. >x shattered (the shard of shattered carapace) An especially sharp and vicious looking shard of shattered crawfish carapace. >x shattered crayfish You can't see any such thing. >x shattered crawfish The giant crawfish is laid splayed and beaten before you, eyestalks rent from his pulverized body. The opaque milky whiteness of its flesh is a telltale sign of aphanomyces astaci aka "crayfish plague". The crawfish was clearly a member of some Old Order of crustacean patriarchs, grown huge over perhaps more than a century, year after year shedding his shell for a larger carapace until his metabolism was no longer a match for his hulking ambitions. >* We suddenly know quite a lot of Latin FYi >x pole (the long hooked pole) A long stick of wood with a rusted copper fishing hook of approximately six inches attached to the end of it with thickly knotted twine. This is known to New England lobster trappers as a "gaff". >take gaff Taken. >hook buoy That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >take buoy That's fixed in place. >* seems useful! >* We were pining for a pole before, but this is much better >x buoy A buoy the color of a Caucasian's flesh bobs uneasily upon the water. It certainly can't be for the sake of swimmers since the wooden sign makes it very clear this is prohibited. Perhaps some trappers are marking their catch? >* Yeah, there should be a lobster-pot tethered to the buoy >* (We vacationed in Cape Cod/Nantucket when I was a kid) >* Probably too far out to reach, even with the hook, though >* Do we need to cut anything? Can't think of what >i You are carrying: a long hooked pole a shard of shattered carapace a grimy rock 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) >cut chill Cutting him up would achieve little. >* he's a he? >kiss chill You move your hand into the chill, and feel a faint shudder before it fades again. >* oh, interesting! >hug chill You move your hand into the chill, and feel a faint shudder before it fades again. >take chill I don't suppose the faint chill would care for that. >rub chill You move your hand into the chill, and feel a faint shudder before it fades again. >push chill The faint chill might not like that. >pull chill The faint chill might not like that. >throw pole at chill (the long hooked pole at the faint chill) Violence isn't the answer to this one. >* This chill is weirdly anthropomorphized! >* anyway >l River Walk (Adam Whybray) A dirt path along the west bank of the Makaskuta - or Blackgourd - River. The air is motionless and sweltry, the urticariate heat drawing sweat profusely from your prickling glands. Just below you, to your side, the river burbles in vainglorious stupor, foaming in bright patches from the surfacants released from the rotting deposits of the red maples and poplars that line its banks. A single black ash, denuded of leaves, its corky bark blighted with the telltale signs of parasitic infection, quietly interrupts the Autumnal foliage of its deciduous cousins. The river's waters slith over rocks as lustrous-gray as seal skin, rending them freshly burnished for the mid-September sun, which casts Her rays in refulgent slats through the rust-honey colored trees. It is though Nature, in celebration of Her own fecundity, has chosen to offer Herself up in Equinoxical sacrifice - the rocks laid out before the blazing altar of the sun. There is a forbidding sign on the bank of the river. The way up to Backwater town square is northwest. Following the path north leads under the bridge. On the Makaskuta river is a buoy. You can also see a shattered crawfish and a soggy tome here. >x tome A water-damaged and mud-stained book left forgotten on the riverbank by some freshwater lobster fisherman. Emblazoned upon the cover of the soggy tome is the title Padoson's Rules of Crawfish: A Guide for Men of Maine. The volume appears to be a personal copy rather than a library book. Perhaps the owner had gleaned all he could from the work and made any necessary transformations following Padoson's advice. >take it Taken. >read it You open to the first page of the book and read... "Crawfish, crawldads, mountain lobsters, mudbugs, yabbies, or however you know these mighty members of the Astacoidea and Parastacoidea superfamilies, have long been kin to the men of the New England, forging communities of inviolable hierarchy below water, much as we build and sustain such communities above. As with men, dominance determines these bio-mythic structures..." You skip ahead. "Those crawfish stricken by the plague must invariably fall by the wayside much as the Spartans would throw weak and crippled newborn from the top of Mount Taygete, dashing the runts and striplings upon the rocks below." Rhetoric of this nature seems to continue for several pages. "My father and I would sit together at the bank of the river and while father told me of the venal deceits of his wife we would catch those smallest crawfish - invariably the females of the species - which attempted to escape from the exit hole of the parlor, and father would delight me by cracking them upon his great bony knees. Later, when confronted with the disappointments of my youngest son, I would imagine taking him as my father had done the runtish bints, cracking him with satisfaction upon my own knee." You flick ahead to the middle of the book. "By means of these simple hand-binding exercises you will be able to Set your Claws in Order. While the experience will be painful at first, you must NEVER INDUCE YOURSELF INTO THINKING THAT LIFE IS ANYTHING OTHER THAN PAIN." There follows pages of bewildering diagrams which seem to depict men with lobster appendages fighting the Swimmerets of Chaos. "... until the blood takes the form of a transluscent white gel, which you should then inject ... commercial fishing licences ... scream in the water like egg-burst women ... telomerase now in the DNA of your cells is the Chrysopoeia ... baptized by briny Neptune ... dying and molting and eating oneself in the charnel house of bloodied bones ... " From hereon in the words become incomprehensible. Intellectual stuff. >* erm >read it You open to the first page of the book and read... "Crawfish, crawldads, mountain lobsters, mudbugs, yabbies, or however you know these mighty members of the Astacoidea and Parastacoidea superfamilies, have long been kin to the men of the New England, forging communities of inviolable hierarchy below water, much as we build and sustain such communities above. As with men, dominance determines these bio-mythic structures..." You skip ahead. "Those crawfish stricken by the plague must invariably fall by the wayside much as the Spartans would throw weak and crippled newborn from the top of Mount Taygete, dashing the runts and striplings upon the rocks below." Rhetoric of this nature seems to continue for several pages. "My father and I would sit together at the bank of the river and while father told me of the venal deceits of his wife we would catch those smallest crawfish - invariably the females of the species - which attempted to escape from the exit hole of the parlor, and father would delight me by cracking them upon his great bony knees. Later, when confronted with the disappointments of my youngest son, I would imagine taking him as my father had done the runtish bints, cracking him with satisfaction upon my own knee." You flick ahead to the middle of the book. "By means of these simple hand-binding exercises you will be able to Set your Claws in Order. While the experience will be painful at first, you must NEVER INDUCE YOURSELF INTO THINKING THAT LIFE IS ANYTHING OTHER THAN PAIN." There follows pages of bewildering diagrams which seem to depict men with lobster appendages fighting the Swimmerets of Chaos. "... until the blood takes the form of a transluscent white gel, which you should then inject ... commercial fishing licences ... scream in the water like egg-burst women ... telomerase now in the DNA of your cells is the Chrysopoeia ... baptized by briny Neptune ... dying and molting and eating oneself in the charnel house of bloodied bones ... " From hereon in the words become incomprehensible. Intellectual stuff. >* Not a library book, huh? >x list 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 >* yeah we're just reading this for fun >* I assume there's something we gotta do with the buoy? >x coffee The clouds in your cup form a perfect fern, just like in a fancy latte. 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. >* OK, let's redouble our efforts >cut buoy Cutting it up would achieve little. >cut pole (the long hooked pole) Cutting it up would achieve little. >l River Walk (Adam Whybray) A dirt path along the west bank of the Makaskuta - or Blackgourd - River. The air is motionless and sweltry, the urticariate heat drawing sweat profusely from your prickling glands. Just below you, to your side, the river burbles in vainglorious stupor, foaming in bright patches from the surfacants released from the rotting deposits of the red maples and poplars that line its banks. A single black ash, denuded of leaves, its corky bark blighted with the telltale signs of parasitic infection, quietly interrupts the Autumnal foliage of its deciduous cousins. The river's waters slith over rocks as lustrous-gray as seal skin, rending them freshly burnished for the mid-September sun, which casts Her rays in refulgent slats through the rust-honey colored trees. It is though Nature, in celebration of Her own fecundity, has chosen to offer Herself up in Equinoxical sacrifice - the rocks laid out before the blazing altar of the sun. There is a forbidding sign on the bank of the river. The way up to Backwater town square is northwest. Following the path north leads under the bridge. On the Makaskuta river is a buoy. You can also see a shattered crawfish here. >cut crawfish Cutting it up would achieve little. >cut ash Cutting it up would achieve little. >cut sign Cutting it up would achieve little. >i You are carrying: a soggy tome a long hooked pole a shard of shattered carapace a grimy rock 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) >x pole (the long hooked pole) A long stick of wood with a rusted copper fishing hook of approximately six inches attached to the end of it with thickly knotted twine. This is known to New England lobster trappers as a "gaff". >gaff That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >hook That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >pull (the pamphlet of home listings) Nothing obvious happens. >pull buoy It is fixed in place. >pull buoy with gaff You can't see any such thing. >pull buoy with pole You can't see any such thing. >swim (in the pamphlet of home listings) You are inclined to follow the edicts of the sign. Also, the buoy implies this stretch of the river is being used for freshwater lobster fishing. >look under buoy You find nothing of interest. >search river On the Makaskuta river is a buoy. >search buoy You find nothing of interest. >i You are carrying: a soggy tome a long hooked pole a shard of shattered carapace a grimy rock 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) >eat tome That's plainly inedible. >* Ah well >eat crawfish You choke back vomit. >* Nicely implemented! Also ich >* ick >throw rock at buoy Futile. >throw pole at buoy (the long hooked pole at the buoy) Futile. >take buoy That's fixed in place. >swim to buoy That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >climb bridge Little is to be achieved by that. >l River Walk (Adam Whybray) A dirt path along the west bank of the Makaskuta - or Blackgourd - River. The air is motionless and sweltry, the urticariate heat drawing sweat profusely from your prickling glands. Just below you, to your side, the river burbles in vainglorious stupor, foaming in bright patches from the surfacants released from the rotting deposits of the red maples and poplars that line its banks. A single black ash, denuded of leaves, its corky bark blighted with the telltale signs of parasitic infection, quietly interrupts the Autumnal foliage of its deciduous cousins. The river's waters slith over rocks as lustrous-gray as seal skin, rending them freshly burnished for the mid-September sun, which casts Her rays in refulgent slats through the rust-honey colored trees. It is though Nature, in celebration of Her own fecundity, has chosen to offer Herself up in Equinoxical sacrifice - the rocks laid out before the blazing altar of the sun. There is a forbidding sign on the bank of the river. The way up to Backwater town square is northwest. Following the path north leads under the bridge. On the Makaskuta river is a buoy. You can also see a shattered crawfish here. >cut sign Cutting it up would achieve little. >out You can't go that way. >stand on rocks They're not something you can stand on. >stand on river That's not something you can stand on. >i You are carrying: a soggy tome a long hooked pole a shard of shattered carapace a grimy rock 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) >put all in river soggy tome: That can't contain things. long hooked pole: You fish the Makaskuta with the long hooked pole, thrusting it down into the water beneath the buoy, where it knocks against something heavy and - judging by the feel of its contact against the pole - wooden. You manage to manoeuvre the hook between what you presume to be two planks of wood and then, with considerable effort, pull the mysterious object to the riverbank. It is a freshwater lobster trap! shard of shattered carapace: That can't contain things. grimy rock: That can't contain things. library card: That can't contain things. repaired page: That can't contain things. waterproof flashlight: That can't contain things. pull-string doll: That can't contain things. half-full styrofoam coffee cup: That can't contain things. >* OK, didn't expect that to work and was just seeing if I could cause some mischief! >* I feel like that was a little guess-the-verb-y >x trap (the freshwater lobster trap) The trap looks rather like a rabbit hutch, approximately 600 mm in length, almost cuboid but slightly curved at the top edges so that its width is marginally more narrow at the top than at the bottom, where it measures around 300 mm. The framework of the trap seems to be made of slats of ash, which goes some way to explaining its weight. Along one side of the trap is a wire-frame mesh door attached to the body of the trap with copper "J Clip" hinges, long rusted. The door is held shut at the other end by two thin loops of twine, which are tied tight at a point two-thirds up and two-thirds down the length of the door, opposite the hinges. Along the other side of the trap is a funnel-shaped opening of netting, which grows narrower as it recedes into the trap. The kitchen (the funnel-shaped netting), the parlor (the trap's second chamber), and the bedroom (the trap's false exit) are all parts of the freshwater lobster trap. In the freshwater lobster trap are an employee ID card and an eggbound crawfish. >* OK, so far a standard lobster trap I think. But crawfish are kinda small to trap this way, aren't they? >* Also, ID card! Wonder if we can get into the railway lost and found that way >x crawfish (the shattered crawfish) The giant crawfish is laid splayed and beaten before you, eyestalks rent from his pulverized body. The opaque milky whiteness of its flesh is a telltale sign of aphanomyces astaci aka "crayfish plague". The crawfish was clearly a member of some Old Order of crustacean patriarchs, grown huge over perhaps more than a century, year after year shedding his shell for a larger carapace until his metabolism was no longer a match for his hulking ambitions. >x eggbound The eggbound crawfish is considerably smaller than the tragic, moldering specimen upon the bank - around six inches in length, but with antenna that resemble long curving tendrils, notably large for her size of body. She reposes in the trap's bedroom, occasionally skittering back and forth like an armor-plated insect. The crawfish's swimmerets are laden with eggs the size and color of tinned peas. The eggs sway back and forth like grapes upon a vine, wafted by their mother to ensure their aeration. >* still big! >take eggs You can't see any such thing. >take eggbound The freshwater lobster trap isn't open. >open trap (the freshwater lobster trap) Currently the trap is being held shut by two thin loops of twine. >cut twine (the thin loops of twine) Your fingernails are too blunt to cut through the twine. >cut twine with shattered (the thin loops of twine with the shard of shattered carapace) You cut through the twine with the sharp edge of the shard of the crawldad's shell. With the twine no longer securing the door of the trap, it swings open. >take eggbound With the door to the trap open the eggbound crawfish can leave if and when she she decides. Currently she is likely on guard after the disturbance of the trap being dredged to the surface. She will feed on the remains of the shattered crawldad if she needs to and later care for her young. >* The circle of life! >* Which involves cannibalism a little more frequently than the Lion King implied >* Not that the crawfish is eating people, it's just eating its own I mean >* I wish I knew whether there was a distinct word for that, but not hard enough to experiment with that kind of thing in my search history >take id (the employee ID card) Taken. >x it An employee ID card for Vermont Transit Authority, bearing a blurry ID photo and the name "Veeder, R." >* Ooooh >x photo It's... probably a human face? But the picture is so low-resolution that you can't tell for sure. >* I've heard Ryan Veeder is probably human, so that checks out >* Are we done here? >x coffee The clouds in your cup form no discernible pattern. 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. >* Yay! >save Ok. >* Let's check out the bridge undercarriage, then we'll tag back to the railway station before crossing the bridge >n Under the Bridge (Tenth) The path along the river gives way to a crumbling stone embankment as it passes below the arch of the old stone bridge. A rusty metal hatch is set into the ground opposite from the river, and towards the end of the embankment, a derelict payphone squats, forgotten, under the shadow of the bridge. To the south, the path continues to follow the river. >* "Tenth" is hard to find via IFDB or Google, as you might expect. A personage of mystery >x embankment A once proud part of Backwater's infrastructure, now crumbling into ruin. The decorative carvings along the sides have worn away to faint impressions, and much of the underside has been patched with lighter-colored concrete. >x carvings You can't see any such thing. >* They really are almost ruined! >x bridge A once proud part of Backwater's infrastructure, now crumbling into ruin. The decorative carvings along the sides have worn away to faint impressions, and much of the underside has been patched with lighter-colored concrete. >x hatch The humidity of the river has rusted the hatch to the color of dried blood, like an old scab on the embankment. Seemingly of the same vintage as the bridge, it lacks any modern logo, markings, or even a handle, though there is an odd rectangular indentation along one edge. >x indentation The indentation in the hatch is a little over an inch long, about half as wide, and seems too shallow to make a good handle, even if it didn't look like a jagged-edged tetanus-shot-waiting-to-happen... Which, for the record, it does. >pull it It is fixed in place. >pull hatch Years of neglect have left the hatch rusted shut, and there isn't even a good handhold you could use to force it open. (Especially not without more up-to-date immunizations...) >* Look, as I said previously, if I was afraid of tetanus I wouldn't be much of an adventure game protagonist >l Under the Bridge (Tenth) The path along the river gives way to a crumbling stone embankment as it passes below the arch of the old stone bridge. A rusty metal hatch is set into the ground opposite from the river, and towards the end of the embankment, a derelict payphone squats, forgotten, under the shadow of the bridge. To the south, the path continues to follow the river. >x shadow You can't see any such thing. >x path You can't see any such thing. >x river The river splashes fitfully against the crumbling stone of the embankment, dark and murky in the shadows. The wrinkled surface of the water yields a rough reflection, an animated expressionist painting of the bridge and sky above. Your eyes are drawn to a dark shape, silhouetted against the sky - While indistinct in in the reflection, it resembles a figure leaning over the railing of the bridge... >x shape You're not sure what you thought you saw in the reflection; A figure, almost like a woman in an old-fashioned hat? But looking up at the bridge, there doesn't seem to be a person or... anything, really, along the edge of the railing. >* huh >x payphone The payphone has been vandalized exhaustively over the years; The shelter is covered in graffiti, while the phone itself has been scratched, stained, spraypainted, and used as an ashtray, among other things. While there is a grievous wound where a large piece of the phone was torn out, there is still a coin slot in the upper right, a keypad in the center, next to the receiver, and a coin return in the lower right; Probably about as much of a phone as necessary to place a call. But you find yourself strangely reluctant to touch it, as if you would be disturbing a grave, or a shrine to some nameless Backwater god... >* ooh, a coin return! >x graffiti There's no obvious place to start reading; Every inch of the panels are inlaid with high school scrimshaw, but your eyes are initially drawn to a cartoon dagger (or acorn? green pepper?) and the inscription "I don't ever wanna feel, like I did that day..." >g You've already lost track of where you started, and find yourself looking at the phrase "Black Number ONE", surrounded by tiny skulls and... hearts? >* wait was that an Under the Bridge reference? Well played >x graffiti Adrift on a sea of outsider folk art, you briefly lock eyes with "LISA LOEB IS A HACK", and a careless scribble you'd politely describe as "genitals". >g Your eyes struggle to find purchase on the maze of scribbles, briefly settling on "For a good time CALL 911"... Sheesh. it doesn't really work as a prank, or a joke.. >g Maybe scrimshaw was the wrong metaphor... It's more like the phone went to prison and got all inked up with jailhouse tattoos, such as the letters "AC", an angry looking lightning bolt, and "DC". >* Yes, definitely the wrong metaphor >g You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >x graffiti It's like a message board for bored teens; You'd almost say "a fire hydrant for stray dogs", but that seems cruel, even given "PEARL JAM", followed by "Jeremy!" (crossed out), "Black?" (also struck out), and finally, "EVENFLOW" (underlined repeatedly for emphasis). >g It doesn't seem like there's a whole thesis here, but... at least an anthropology paper? You try to focus, finding yourself looking at "WINONA FOREVER", of which the "NA" has been cleverly scribbled over. >g If you've learned one thing from this phone, it's to not hang out under a bridge with a bunch of miscreants. That's how you end up inscribed with an enthusiastic but flawed "ASE OF BASE" logo inside a jagged polygon. >* I'm digging the mid-90s band references >x graffiti You must have read everything... Or so you thought, but then you find a whole extra column of scribbles, starting with the phrase "BADMOTORFINGER", presented boldly and without comment. >* WOW >x graffiti Trying to make sense of a knot of graffiti, you follow a trail of scribbled stars to the number 258-0987, flanked by loosely drawn stars. >* hrm >x graffiti The years have not been kind to this phone, nor was the person responsible for a crude horse, dog (or possibly alligator?) inexplicably labeled "SKANK". >x graffiti Your eyes can't help but glaze over as you continue to read the graffiti, like a broad, grinning skull, with "666" inscribed on its forehead. >x graffiti The writing on the panels all seems to run together, but you find "IT'S 4:20 SOMEWHERE", which, apostrophe usage aside, you can't really argue with. >x graffiti You continue to scan the writing on the panels, passing the letters STP, and below that, "SEX TYPE THING". >x graffiti The trackless maze of graffiti continues, with two halves of broken heart with "MARRY ME TORI" between them. >x graffiti You are in a maze of twisty little scribbles, all alike, including "Pretty Hate Machine" written in surprisingly beautiful cursive. >* another good gag! >x graffiti The writing on the panels all seems to run together, but you find a cartoony cerebrum which is "INSANE IN THA MEMBRANE", if the label is to be believed. >* Insane in tha brane! >x graffiti The trackless maze of graffiti continues, with "SEAN AND CHRISSY B" with hearts, "1989 TO 4 EVAH" (which begs the question of how many girls named Chrissy there were at Backwater high.) >x graffiti You are in a maze of twisty little scribbles, all alike, including "No one move a muscle as the dead come home", in an unsteady hand. >x graffiti The trackless maze of graffiti continues, with "FOR A GOOD TIME CALL 567-9820", raising pangs of sympathy for the owner of that number. >x graffiti Your eyes can't help but glaze over as you continue to read the graffiti, like the words "DIGITAL UNDAGROUND 1989" in a commendable graffiti-styled computer font. >x graffiti The trackless maze of graffiti continues, with "The" (symbol) "DANCE is your CHANCE", with said symbol resembling a sideways "Kilroy Was Here", or possibly a pair of buttocks. >x graffiti You continue to scan the writing on the panels, passing "LAZER." and below that, "ZEPPLIN." with remarkably emphatic periods. >x graffiti Your eyes can't help but glaze over as you continue to read the graffiti, like a cartoon poop, some "scent lines", and the caption "TEEN SPIRIT" >x graffiti The writing on the panels all seems to run together, but you find "Don't fear the reaper", above a grinning skull. >x graffiti You continue to scan the writing on the panels, passing "SEAN AND CHRISSY B" with hearts, "1989 TO 4 EVAH" >x graffiti The writing on the panels all seems to run together, but you find "LISA LOEB IS A HACK", and a careless scribble you'd politely describe as "genitals". >x graffiti You continue to scan the writing on the panels, passing a cartoony cerebrum which is "INSANE IN THA MEMBRANE", if the label is to be believed. >* These were great! >x phone (the the payphone) The payphone has been vandalized exhaustively over the years; The shelter is covered in graffiti, while the phone itself has been scratched, stained, spraypainted, and used as an ashtray, among other things. While there is a grievous wound where a large piece of the phone was torn out, there is still a coin slot in the upper right, a keypad in the center, next to the receiver, and a coin return in the lower right; Probably about as much of a phone as necessary to place a call. >x wound You examine the gaping wound in the payphone; A final, fatal insult after years of abuse. It seems as though a coin vault or lockbox once fit here, and the edges of the steel faceplate are bent and scraped to suggest it didn't go without a struggle. The financial motivation is obvious, but it feels like an almost medieval act of cruelty - As if someone tore out its heart, perhaps concerned that the phone might rise again as a vampire? >* aww, no more coins? >x slot Set into a slightly rounded recess in the phone's faceplate is a thin slot, about the height of a quarter, labeled "5-10-25" and "US COINS ONLY". >push slot Nothing obvious happens. >i You are carrying: an employee ID card a soggy tome a long hooked pole a shard of shattered carapace a grimy rock 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) >put all in slot employee ID card: The coin slot is closed. soggy tome: The coin slot is closed. long hooked pole: The coin slot is closed. shard of shattered carapace: The coin slot is closed. grimy rock: The coin slot is closed. library card: The coin slot is closed. half-full styrofoam coffee cup: The coin slot is closed. repaired page: The coin slot is closed. waterproof flashlight: The coin slot is closed. pull-string doll: The coin slot is closed. >open slot It isn't something you can open. >* huh >x receiver An old, battered black plastic handset, connected to the phone by a segmented metal cable that reminds you of a rat's tail. It is hanging from a metal lever, the unfortunately named "cradle", like an unpleasant piece of meat on a hook. >open it It isn't something you can open. >pull it Nothing obvious happens. >take it You lift the receiver off the cradle, trying to not to think too much about the associations of that word. >i You are carrying: a phone receiver an employee ID card a soggy tome a long hooked pole a shard of shattered carapace a grimy rock 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) >s You put the phone back where you found it, and hope it stays there. River Walk (Adam Whybray) A dirt path along the west bank of the Makaskuta - or Blackgourd - River. The air is motionless and sweltry, the urticariate heat drawing sweat profusely from your prickling glands. Just below you, to your side, the river burbles in vainglorious stupor, foaming in bright patches from the surfacants released from the rotting deposits of the red maples and poplars that line its banks. A single black ash, denuded of leaves, its corky bark blighted with the telltale signs of parasitic infection, quietly interrupts the Autumnal foliage of its deciduous cousins. The river's waters slith over rocks as lustrous-gray as seal skin, rending them freshly burnished for the mid-September sun, which casts Her rays in refulgent slats through the rust-honey colored trees. It is though Nature, in celebration of Her own fecundity, has chosen to offer Herself up in Equinoxical sacrifice - the rocks laid out before the blazing altar of the sun. There is a forbidding sign on the bank of the river. The way up to Backwater town square is northwest. Following the path north leads under the bridge. On the Makaskuta river is a buoy. You can also see a freshwater lobster trap (in which is an eggbound crawfish) and a shattered crawfish here. >undo Under the Bridge (Tenth) [Previous turn undone.] >x keypad A fairly standard telephone keypad. The buttons, once silver, and now more of a muted, nicotine-stained gray, include the first nine digits, in rows of three, followed by a final row containing the star, zero, and pound keys: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 * 0 # Twelve silver keys - Wasn't that an Elizabethan-era occult thing? Something to do with John Dee, Enochian angels, and other nonsense... >* Hmm, not that I recall, and I've read a book about Dee's system... >* (It was for a novel I was contemplating writing. But turns out real-life occultism is boring) >* Silver keys are definitely Lovecraftian, though >dial 867-5309 The phone hisses and sputters with static, and then, as if from a great distance, a faint voice growls "Please zzZRrt twenty-fiiIEERrve cents before continuUURRRRrroo dial your numMMRRrrrrzzzCHRRt." >* probably not gonna be able to swing that >x return A narrow, grimy metal flap, stamped with the words PUSH FOR COIN, protecting the small chamber where your change should end up after making a call (though you have your doubts, given the condition of the phone). >push (the pamphlet of home listings) Nothing obvious happens. >* LOL >push return You press on the coin return with your finger, meeting some resistance, but it finally swings inwards with a soft crunch. Something dry and hard tumbles under your fingertip (it's not a tooth, why the hell would there be a tooth...) but as you jerk away your hand in revulsion, you also manage to fling an old quarter into your palm. >* yay, quarter! >* We can try to call with this, I guess, but might also get us the eyepiece >put quarter in slot The coin disappears into the slot, and down some tiny stairs, by the sound of it. Deep inside, something rattles into place, and the receiver begins to hiss softly with static. >dial 867-5309 The phone growls and hisses, then plays three off-key, piping notes. "The nnNNURRRBRROo have dialed," a female voice shrieks through the static, "cannot be rrRRAARrrgt this time. Please hang up and trRRAAGRPhd." >dial 567-9820 There is a murky, rumbling buzz, like a phone ringing underwater, and then a garbled female voice croaks "zzZZlease insert twenty-five cenZZzhhssHHHfore continuing to dial yourrRZZzumber. Thank you." >push return You depress the return flap just far enough to confirm that there's no quarter inside. (If there's anything else, you don't want it.) >* ah man >undo Under the Bridge (Tenth) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Under the Bridge (Tenth) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Under the Bridge (Tenth) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Under the Bridge (Tenth) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Under the Bridge (Tenth) [Previous turn undone.] >push return You depress the return flap just far enough to confirm that there's no quarter inside. (If there's anything else, you don't want it.) >undo Under the Bridge (Tenth) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Under the Bridge (Tenth) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Under the Bridge (Tenth) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Under the Bridge (Tenth) [Previous turn undone.] >push return You press on the coin return with your finger, meeting some resistance, but it finally swings inwards with a soft crunch. Something dry and hard tumbles under your fingertip (it's not a tooth, why the hell would there be a tooth...) but as you jerk away your hand in revulsion, you also manage to fling an old quarter into your palm. >i You are carrying: an old quarter a phone receiver an employee ID card a soggy tome a long hooked pole a shard of shattered carapace a grimy rock 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) >l Under the Bridge (Tenth) The path along the river gives way to a crumbling stone embankment as it passes below the arch of the old stone bridge. A rusty metal hatch is set into the ground opposite from the river, and towards the end of the embankment, a derelict payphone squats, forgotten, under the shadow of the bridge. To the south, the path continues to follow the river. >* Can we lose the quarter forever? Let's save That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >save Ok. >put coin in slot You send the coin clattering into the innards of the phone. Something stirs down in the guts of the mechanism, and the receiver begins to make a rushing sound like labored breathing. >dial 567-9820 The phone growls and hisses, then plays three off-key, piping notes. "The nnNNURRRBRROo have dialed," a female voice shrieks through the static, "cannot be rrRRAARrrgt this time. Please hang up and trRRAAGRPhd." >undo Under the Bridge (Tenth) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Under the Bridge (Tenth) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Under the Bridge (Tenth) [Previous turn undone.] >i You are carrying: an old quarter a phone receiver an employee ID card a soggy tome a long hooked pole a shard of shattered carapace a grimy rock 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) >* Oh well >* I think let's try in the vending machine before we dial more random numbers >x coffee The clouds in your cup form a sharknado. Images of strange hybrids mean that some challenges in your current environment can be defeated with what you already possess, while others will require outside assistance. >* Oh, we haven't seen that before! >* Probably means we should stick around and make some calls, but I'm curious >s You hang up the receiver, wishing you could just hang up on this phone, as a whole. [Later revisiting of this location pasted here, to make for easier flow] >se River Walk (Adam Whybray) A dirt path along the west bank of the Makaskuta - or Blackgourd - River. The air is motionless and sweltry, the urticariate heat drawing sweat profusely from your prickling glands. Just below you, to your side, the river burbles in vainglorious stupor, foaming in bright patches from the surfacants released from the rotting deposits of the red maples and poplars that line its banks. A single black ash, denuded of leaves, its corky bark blighted with the telltale signs of parasitic infection, quietly interrupts the Autumnal foliage of its deciduous cousins. The river's waters slith over rocks as lustrous-gray as seal skin, rending them freshly burnished for the mid-September sun, which casts Her rays in refulgent slats through the rust-honey colored trees. It is though Nature, in celebration of Her own fecundity, has chosen to offer Herself up in Equinoxical sacrifice - the rocks laid out before the blazing altar of the sun. There is a forbidding sign on the bank of the river. The way up to Backwater town square is northwest. Following the path north leads under the bridge. On the Makaskuta river is a buoy. You can also see a freshwater lobster trap (in which is an eggbound crawfish) and a shattered crawfish here. >n Under the Bridge (Tenth) The path along the river gives way to a crumbling stone embankment as it passes below the arch of the old stone bridge. A rusty metal hatch is set into the ground opposite from the river, and towards the end of the embankment, a derelict payphone squats, forgotten, under the shadow of the bridge. To the south, the path continues to follow the river. >* Let's see, we had unfinished business here >x coffee The clouds in your cup form a turducken. Images of strange hybrids mean that some challenges in your current environment can be defeated with what you already possess, while others will require outside assistance. >* yup >* Let's make sure we've got our head wrapped around everything here >take all phone receiver: You reach towards the phone, as you would towards a spider that seems almost certaintly dead, but might not be, before finally taking it - You bring it up to the side of your head in much the same way. >pull string The doll intones: "Shun the rectangular indentation! A thing may look rectangular but assume - in another dimension - a horrid amorphous aspect! It is longer than it might appear!" >g The doll intones: "Beware the peril of the old stone bridge! Crossing a bridge means you will not return! Stone signifies that which is older than human history!" >x old You can't see any such thing. >x stone (the grimy rock) A solitary rock sat in the palm of your hand. >x bridge A once proud part of Backwater's infrastructure, now crumbling into ruin. The decorative carvings along the sides have worn away to faint impressions, and much of the underside has been patched with lighter-colored concrete. >pull string The doll intones: "Beware the trouble of the the rusty metal hatch! Metal means greater than mortal strength!" >pull string The doll intones: "Avoid the the water! Stone suggests that which is older than human history! Water symbolises a thirst that cannot be assuaged!" >pull string The doll intones: "Guard against the rectangular indentation! It is longer than it may seem! A thing may look rectangular but assume - in another dimension - a horrid amorphous aspect!" >pull string The doll intones: "Guard against the trouble of the the rusty metal hatch! Metal represents supernatural strength!" >pull string The doll intones: "Beware the portent of the the rusty metal hatch! Metal bespeaks supernatural strength!" >pull string The doll intones: "Guard against the risk of the the payphone!" >pull string The doll intones: "Beware the threat of the the payphone!" >pull string The doll intones: "Shun the peril of the the water! Water indicates a thirst that cannot be assuaged! Stone signifies that which is older than human history!" >pull string The doll intones: "Avoid the the water! Stone symbolises that which is older than human history!" >x water The river splashes fitfully against the crumbling stone of the embankment, dark and murky in the shadows. The wrinkled surface of the water yields a rough reflection, an animated expressionist painting of the bridge and sky above. >* OK, nothing new there >x indentetation You can't see any such thing. >oops indentation The indentation in the hatch is a little over an inch long, about half as wide, and seems too shallow to make a good handle, even if it didn't look like a jagged-edged tetanus-shot-waiting-to-happen... Which, for the record, it does. >put pole in indentation (the long hooked pole in the rectangular indentation) Even if you could fit it in there, that doesn't seem like a good use of your resources. (At best, it would get rusty - at worst, it might end up somewhere below the rusty old hatch you haven't managed to open yet. >x indentation The indentation in the hatch is a little over an inch long, about half as wide, and seems too shallow to make a good handle, even if it didn't look like a jagged-edged tetanus-shot-waiting-to-happen... Which, for the record, it does. >* I thought we could like get the hook in there and pull >pull haatch You can't see any such thing. >oops hatch Years of neglect have left the hatch rusted shut, and there isn't even a good handhold you could use to force it open. (Especially not without more up-to-date immunizations...) >i You are carrying: a phone receiver a wad of cash a golden eyepiece a moldy, waterlogged journal a plastic bubble (open but empty) a brass winding key a suitcase (open but empty) an old quarter an employee ID card a soggy tome a long hooked pole a shard of shattered carapace a grimy rock a Jansport backpack (being worn and open) a key pocket (open but empty) a book pocket (open) Twin Hearts Between the Planes The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three a postcard of Big Ben the diary of Phyllis Cragne a side pocket (open) a book list 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) >open hatch with pole (the long hooked pole) That doesn't seem to fit the lock. >* Ok, we're just saying it's locked >* Probably it's the phone that we can make headway on >push return You depress the return flap just far enough to confirm that there's no quarter inside. (If there's anything else, you don't want it.) >i You are carrying: a phone receiver a wad of cash a golden eyepiece a moldy, waterlogged journal a plastic bubble (open but empty) a brass winding key a suitcase (open but empty) an old quarter an employee ID card a soggy tome a long hooked pole a shard of shattered carapace a grimy rock a Jansport backpack (being worn and open) a key pocket (open but empty) a book pocket (open) Twin Hearts Between the Planes The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three a postcard of Big Ben the diary of Phyllis Cragne a side pocket (open) a book list 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) >x graffiti Your eyes can't help but glaze over as you continue to read the graffiti, like the phrase "Black Number ONE", surrounded by tiny skulls and... hearts? >g The trackless maze of graffiti continues, with "For a good time CALL 911". >call 911 There is a murky, rumbling buzz, like a phone ringing underwater, and then a garbled female voice croaks "zzZZlease insert twenty-five cenZZzhhssHHHfore continuing to dial yourrRZZzumber. Thank you." >* That shuldn't take a quarter! >save Ok. >put quarter in slot (the coin slot) The coin clatters down into the depths of the machine. There is a buzzing and rattling deep inside, before a faint hiss of static becomes audible from the receiver. >dial 911 There is an odd squawk of static on the line, followed by a few seconds of quiet hissing, before a distorted male voice begins to crackle through the speaker. It's... hard to make out, with gaps of silence and bursts of static, but you're fairly certain it's telling you that Emergency Services are not currently available on this exchange, and to try your call again shortly... Or that "the throne of heaven sits empty?" Something like that. >hang up (the phone receiver) You drop the phone back into place, and try to shake some of the "yuck" off of your hand. There is a solemn clunk from the heart of the phone, and something clatters to (an upsettingly crunchy) stop inside the coin return. >take quarter You can't see any such thing. >push return You take a deep breath, and gingerly poke the coin return with your finger, deftly scooping out the quarter without touching... anything else. >* Phew >put quarter in slot (the coin slot) The phone swallows the coin, jingling in satisfaction. Deep inside, something rattles into place, and the receiver begins to hiss softly with static. >i You are carrying: a wad of cash a golden eyepiece a moldy, waterlogged journal a plastic bubble (open but empty) a brass winding key a suitcase (open but empty) an employee ID card a soggy tome a long hooked pole a shard of shattered carapace a grimy rock a Jansport backpack (being worn and open) a key pocket (open but empty) a book pocket (open) Twin Hearts Between the Planes The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three a postcard of Big Ben the diary of Phyllis Cragne a side pocket (open) a book list 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) >x soggy A water-damaged and mud-stained book left forgotten on the riverbank by some freshwater lobster fisherman. Emblazoned upon the cover of the soggy tome is the title Padoson's Rules of Crawfish: A Guide for Men of Maine. The volume appears to be a personal copy rather than a library book. Perhaps the owner had gleaned all he could from the work and made any necessary transformations following Padoson's advice. >x card Which do you mean, the employee ID card or the library card? >llibrary You can't see any such thing. >x library You can't see any such thing. >x 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. >x employee An employee ID card for Vermont Transit Authority, bearing a blurry ID photo and the name "Veeder, R." >x graffit You can't see any such thing. >x graffiti Your eyes can't help but glaze over as you continue to read the graffiti, like "No one move a muscle as the dead come home", in an unsteady hand. >g The trackless maze of graffiti continues, with "For a good time CALL 911". >g The writing on the panels all seems to run together, but you find the phrase "BADMOTORFINGER", presented boldly and without comment. >g You are in a maze of twisty little scribbles, all alike, including "PEARL JAM", (redacted) "EVENFLOW" (underlined repeatedly for emphasis). >g You continue to scan the writing on the panels, passing the letters STP, and below that, "SEX TYPE THING". >g Your eyes can't help but glaze over as you continue to read the graffiti, like "SEAN AND CHRISSY B" with hearts, "1989 TO 4 EVAH" >g The writing on the panels all seems to run together, but you find a crude horse, dog (or possibly alligator?) inexplicably labeled "SKANK". >g Your eyes can't help but glaze over as you continue to read the graffiti, like "For a good time CALL 911". >g The trackless maze of graffiti continues, with "LAZER." and below that, "ZEPPLIN." with remarkably emphatic periods. >g Your eyes can't help but glaze over as you continue to read the graffiti, like a cartoony cerebrum which is "INSANE IN THA MEMBRANE", if the label is to be believed. >g The writing on the panels all seems to run together, but you find "Don't fear the reaper", above a grinning skull. >g Your eyes can't help but glaze over as you continue to read the graffiti, like the phrase "BADMOTORFINGER", presented boldly and without comment. >g You continue to scan the writing on the panels, passing the number 258-0987, flanked by loosely drawn stars. >g You are in a maze of twisty little scribbles, all alike, including "No one move a muscle as the dead come home", in an unsteady hand. >undo Under the Bridge (Tenth) [Previous turn undone.] >put quarter in slot You can't see any such thing. >put quarter in phone You can't see any such thing. >i You are carrying: a wad of cash a golden eyepiece a moldy, waterlogged journal a plastic bubble (open but empty) a brass winding key a suitcase (open but empty) an employee ID card a soggy tome a long hooked pole a shard of shattered carapace a grimy rock a Jansport backpack (being worn and open) a key pocket (open but empty) a book pocket (open) Twin Hearts Between the Planes The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three a postcard of Big Ben the diary of Phyllis Cragne a side pocket (open) a book list 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) >push return You depress the return flap just far enough to confirm that there's no quarter inside. >i You are carrying: a wad of cash a golden eyepiece a moldy, waterlogged journal a plastic bubble (open but empty) a brass winding key a suitcase (open but empty) an employee ID card a soggy tome a long hooked pole a shard of shattered carapace a grimy rock a Jansport backpack (being worn and open) a key pocket (open but empty) a book pocket (open) Twin Hearts Between the Planes The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three a postcard of Big Ben the diary of Phyllis Cragne a side pocket (open) a book list 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) >take phone (the phone receiver) You pick up the receiver, trying not to look at the hundreds of tiny holes at both ends, or thinking about what might be inside them (especially as you hold them to your ear...) >call 258-0987 As you dial the number, pressing the buttons down the middle row, and then across the next-to-last row, from left to right, you realize that you have made the sign of the cross on the keypad... But upside-down and backwards. It's pretty typical high-school occult bullshit, but before you can roll your eyes, the phone buzzes to life, and, as if from a great distance, you begin to hear ringing on the other end of the line. The ring repeats three times, and then stops, leaving you in an ominous silence. Even the restless sound of the river behind you has stopped, and you are suddenly conscious of how, facing the payphone, you've turned your back on the water. >x water The surface of the river has become completely still, like a mirror; You feel as though you could fall through it, into the blue sky beyond the bridge... The bridge in the reflection is sound and whole, new as the day it was built, and instead of rotting patches of concrete, the underside is covered in a colorful painted mural. Roughly oval in shape, it features a vivid green, eel-like creature with a wavy frill, curled around as though ready to bite its own tail. You don't totally follow the motto encircling it... Something about the commission of an officer? Or an office? But the words "Croceate" and "Variegated Court" stand out. You tear your eyes away from the mural, to the railing of the bridge, as a woman leans over the edge, wearing an old-fashioned hat... "VAAAAAAA!" shrieks the phone, causing you to jump and almost drop the receiver, "DIIIIIIIIIGH..." You frantically slam the phone back down into the cradle, out of sheer panic, and there is a loud splash behind you. >* There we are! I thought I'd called these numbers before >* we're learning all sorts of words today -- "croceate" means saffron-colored >* Anyway, this is cool and creepy >x water The surface of the river is white with foam, and splashes violently against the embankment, as though something large had just dove under the surface... >swim That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >jump You jump on the spot. >enter water That's not something you can enter. >jump into water I only understood you as far as wanting to jump. >dive That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >x water The river splashes fitfully against the crumbling stone of the embankment, dark and murky in the shadows. The wrinkled surface of the water yields a rough reflection, an animated expressionist painting of the bridge and sky above, except for where a trail of bubbles mars the view, as though something... large... had recently swum past. The bridge in the reflection is sound and whole, new as the day it was built, and instead of rotting patches of concrete, the underside is covered in a colorful painted mural. Roughly oval in shape, it features a vivid green, eel-like creature with a wavy frill, curled around as though ready to bite its own tail. You don't totally follow the motto encircling it... Something about the commission of an officer? Or an office? But the words "Croceate" and "Variegated Court" stand out. >l Under the Bridge (Tenth) The path along the river gives way to a crumbling stone embankment as it passes below the arch of the old stone bridge. A rusty metal hatch is set into the ground opposite from the river, and towards the end of the embankment, a derelict payphone squats, forgotten, under the shadow of the bridge. To the south, the path continues to follow the river. >x water The river splashes fitfully against the crumbling stone of the embankment, dark and murky in the shadows. The wrinkled surface of the water yields a rough reflection, an animated expressionist painting of the bridge and sky above, except for where a trail of bubbles mars the view, as though something... large... had recently swum past. The bridge in the reflection is sound and whole, new as the day it was built, and instead of rotting patches of concrete, the underside is covered in a colorful painted mural. Roughly oval in shape, it features a vivid green, eel-like creature with a wavy frill, curled around as though ready to bite its own tail. You don't totally follow the motto encircling it... Something about the commission of an officer? Or an office? But the words "Croceate" and "Variegated Court" stand out. >* yet more indication we'll have some fill-in-the-blank stuff to do with the court >* Anyway is this all we needed to do? >push return You depress the return flap just far enough to confirm that there's no quarter inside. >x coffee The swirls in your cup form a skateboard. 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. >* Yup [Regular order of play resumes here] River Walk (Adam Whybray) A dirt path along the west bank of the Makaskuta - or Blackgourd - River. The air is motionless and sweltry, the urticariate heat drawing sweat profusely from your prickling glands. Just below you, to your side, the river burbles in vainglorious stupor, foaming in bright patches from the surfacants released from the rotting deposits of the red maples and poplars that line its banks. A single black ash, denuded of leaves, its corky bark blighted with the telltale signs of parasitic infection, quietly interrupts the Autumnal foliage of its deciduous cousins. The river's waters slith over rocks as lustrous-gray as seal skin, rending them freshly burnished for the mid-September sun, which casts Her rays in refulgent slats through the rust-honey colored trees. It is though Nature, in celebration of Her own fecundity, has chosen to offer Herself up in Equinoxical sacrifice - the rocks laid out before the blazing altar of the sun. There is a forbidding sign on the bank of the river. The way up to Backwater town square is northwest. Following the path north leads under the bridge. On the Makaskuta river is a buoy. You can also see a freshwater lobster trap (in which is an eggbound crawfish) and a shattered crawfish here. >u You can't go that way. >nw 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. >w Church Exterior (Andy Holloway) The gravel road curves here past the doors of an old stone church, which squats defeatedly amid a few straggly trees. Behind it, to the northeast, you can see the first few stones of a modest graveyard. To the east the road narrows to cross a small bridge into the village proper; to the north, it crests the hill toward the train station. >n Milkweed (Caleb Wilson) It is possible to feel claustrophobia out of doors. Sunlight fills the sky but somehow doesn't reach you here. Steep banks of bramble rise to the east and west, trapping you within a gloomy trough a dozen yards wide. A poorly-surfaced road leads north and south along the trough's nadir. Just west of it, camouflaged with rust, is the train track. A tremendous patch of milkweed, the stems abnormally thick and tall, grows on the east side of the road beneath the thorn bank. A green stone altar, once at the center of the shack, stands amidst broken boards and milkweed. (That earworm is still lodged in your head.) >n Exterior of Train Station (Emily Short with additions from Graham Nelson) To the north is the massive windowless bulk of the train station. Perhaps that is unsurprising, given the rest of the town. A metal trash can squats beneath its carved facade. The town itself is downhill, on the other side of a ravine. >s You pass over the bridge. The ravine has become a white river, teeming with creatures: you see a fin, a gill, a plaintive upturned face, before each is swept away. Milkweed (Caleb Wilson) It is possible to feel claustrophobia out of doors. Sunlight fills the sky but somehow doesn't reach you here. Steep banks of bramble rise to the east and west, trapping you within a gloomy trough a dozen yards wide. A poorly-surfaced road leads north and south along the trough's nadir. Just west of it, camouflaged with rust, is the train track. A tremendous patch of milkweed, the stems abnormally thick and tall, grows on the east side of the road beneath the thorn bank. A green stone altar, once at the center of the shack, stands amidst broken boards and milkweed. (That earworm is still lodged in your head.) >* Oh, the earworm's back! >x athame You can't see any such thing. >n Exterior of Train Station (Emily Short with additions from Graham Nelson) To the north is the monumental windowless bulk of the train station. Perhaps that is unsurprising, given the rest of the town. A metal trash can squats beneath its carved facade. The town itself is downhill, on the other side of a ravine. >n Train Station Lobby (Shin) The surroundings are as dim and dingy as ever. The platform is to the north. The dirty, cobweb-covered windows and the station exit are to the south. The large mirror and the green door are to the east. The restroom door is to the west. You are unsure what you should do. >n Railway Platform (Naomi Hinchen) The platform is open to the outdoors, but has an overhanging roof with a rusted sign hanging from it. At the back of the platform, to the south, is the entrance to the lobby. Train tracks stretch off into the distance to the east and west; on the other side of the track is a graffitied brick wall. The clock overhead gives the time as 7:56 am; beneath the clock is a schedule board listing train arrival times. On the platform itself are a wooden bench, a storage locker, and a vending machine. >swipe id Which do you mean, the employee ID card or the library card? >employee The card swiper flashes a green light, and the door of the locker swings open. Inside you can see a suitcase. >* Yay! >x suitcase A plain brown leather suitcase. You would recognize it as your husband's even without the monogrammed initials P.C. on the side. It has a four-digit combination lock set to 0000. >* Don't be a body don't be a body >take suitcase Taken. >unlock it What do you want to unlock the suitcase with? >the combination Peter clearly would have told us You can't see any such thing. >set lock to 0001 You turn the dials to 0001 and try the lock, but it remains closed. The clock tolls 8 times, each stroke rattling your teeth and resounding hollowly around the empty station. >set lock to 1234 You turn the dials to 1234 and try the lock, but it remains closed. >* OK, how long could this take? >set lock to 1235 You turn the dials to 1235 and try the lock, but it remains closed. >set lock to 1236 You turn the dials to 1236 and try the lock, but it remains closed. >set lock to 1237 You turn the dials to 1237 and try the lock, but it remains closed. >* ...maybe a while >put quarter in vending That doesn't seem to fit. >x vending Similar to a gumball machine, but it's the kind that dispenses toys in little plastic bubbles. At the bottom is a chute where the contents come out. There is a coin slot, but instead of a price next to it, there is a strange squiggled glyph. In the vending machine is a plastic bubble. >x slot Which do you mean, the rectangular slot or the coin slot? >rectangular You see nothing special about the rectangular slot. >* what's the rectangular slot in again? >x coin slot Usually these machines take quarters, but the slot on this one is the wrong size for any standard US coin. >put quarter in coin slot That doesn't seem to fit. >* Yeah, we need something fancier >i You are carrying: a suitcase (closed and locked) an old quarter an employee ID card a soggy tome a long hooked pole a shard of shattered carapace a grimy rock 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) >save Ok. >x coffee The clouds in your cup form a maple leaf. 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. You step in an old wad of gum. Yuck. >* Hmm, that implies we know how to open the suitcase... >* And we got the wristwatch here too, right? >x watch You gave this to Peter as an anniversary present. It seems to have stopped. There is an inscription on the back. >read it You gave this to Peter as an anniversary present. It seems to have stopped. There is an inscription on the back. >x inscription On the back of the watch is engraved N + P March 19th A garbled message plays over the PA system, in which the only understandable word is "blood". >set lock to 0319 The lock clicks open. The clock gives a deep, booming chime on the quarter hour. >* Ha! >open suitcase You open the suitcase, revealing a mysterious silver box. Thunder rumbles in the distance. >x box A smooth, solid silver box. It rattles when shaken, but has no visible hinges, latch, or any other way to open it. On the top is an embossed image of a train. >x image The image on the box depicts an old-fashioned steam locomotive with cars coupled behind. You can just make out the words "Anchorhead Express" on the side of the train. >* creepy >open box You can't see any obvious way to get it open. >shake box When you shake it, you can hear a faint rattle from inside. >eat box That's plainly inedible. >lick box That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >smell box The air smells of copper and stagnant water. >touch box You feel nothing unexpected. >rub it You rub the mysterious silver box. >* hmm >put box on tracks (first taking the mysterious silver box) You put the mysterious silver box on the tracks. Over the loudspeaker, you can hear a sound like heavy breathing. >save Ok. >set clock to 1:30 You can't reach the clock from here. >u You get onto the bench. >set clock to 1:30 The clock is now set to 1:30 am. Is it your imagination, or has the sky suddenly gone dark? The clock gives a deep, booming chime on the half hour. >set clock to 13:30 The clock is now set to 1:30 pm. You blink at the sudden light--has the sun just come up? Hard to tell with the cloud cover, but it seems suddenly much lighter. The clock gives a deep, booming chime on the half hour. >z Time passes. A low hum comes from the PA system, growing slowly louder until it crescendoes in a screech and falls suddenly silent. >z Time passes. For no apparent reason, the PA system plays a three-second snatch of bagpipe music. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. A low hum comes from the PA system, growing slowly louder until it crescendoes in a screech and falls suddenly silent. >x board The board lists a schedule of train times: Providence CANCELLED Dunwich CANCELLED Innsmouth CANCELLED Anchorhead 13:37 Arkham CANCELLED Is it your imagination, or do you see something approaching down the track? Over the loudspeaker, you can hear a sound like heavy breathing. >z Time passes. Yes... there's definitely something coming, though you can't seem to see it clearly... >z Time passes. An old-fashioned steam locomotive comes hurtling down the tracks from the west. It appears translucent, almost insubstantial, but the rush of wind and noise created by its passage fills the station: the clatter of the wheels, the chugging of the engine, the clanging of the bell, and the mournful blowing of the whistle. It whooshes through the station without stopping, and then is gone as swiftly as it appeared. In the sudden silence, you look down the tracks to the east, but can see no sign of it. The top of the mysterious silver box slides open, revealing a bronze coin. >* ha! I feel clever >* Whether or not I am is a question for another time >take box You can't reach that while you're up on the bench. >d You get off the bench. You step in an old wad of gum. Yuck. >take box Taken. You shiver for no reason at all, as if someone has just walked over your grave. >open it That's already open. >x it A smooth, solid silver box. The top of the box has now slid aside to reveal an opening. In the mysterious silver box is a bronze coin. A leak in the ceiling drips water into a puddle. >x bronze You can't see any such thing. >x bronze coin A tarnished circle of bronze. The heads side depicts a misshapen figure with what look like tentacles. The tails side has a strange glyph which seems to shift as you look at it, but looks almost like an R fused with a V. Or maybe a J fused with a P? No, it's definitely an R fused with a V. >read it A tarnished circle of bronze. The heads side depicts a misshapen figure with what look like tentacles. The tails side has a strange glyph which seems to shift as you look at it, but looks almost like an R fused with a V. Or maybe a J fused with a P? No, it's definitely an R fused with a V. >* here we go >buy eyepiece The plastic bubble isn't open. The clock gives a deep, booming chime on the quarter hour. >put coin in slot Which do you mean, the rectangular slot or the coin slot? >coin (the old quarter in the coin slot) That doesn't seem to fit. >* LOL >put brone coin in vending machine You can't see any such thing. >put bronze coin in vending machine (first taking the bronze coin) The coin drops into the slot with a clunk. A plastic bubble falls into the chute. >x bubble A small transparent plastic capsule with a lid. In the plastic bubble is a golden eyepiece. You shiver for no reason at all, as if someone has just walked over your grave. >take it Taken. >open it You open the plastic bubble. >x eyepiece A misshapen golden disc, studded with lenses. It looks like it could fit flush with your eye socket. On its surfaces are a round button, a triangular button, and a small rectangular slot. The golden eyepiece is currently switched off. >put battery in slot Which do you mean, the small, rectangular battery or the dead battery? >small Which do you mean, the coin slot or the rectangular slot? >* ... seriously? >put small battery in rectangular slot The battery fits perfectly into the slot in the device, its end now flush with the surface. Thunder rumbles in the distance. >wear eyepiece (first taking the golden eyepiece) You try holding it up to your eye, but it just falls off. Perhaps there are additional steps. >push round The device emits a high-pitched whine. You shiver for no reason at all, as if someone has just walked over your grave. >push triangular There is a high-frequency whine, and a thread of light is emitted from one of the lenses of the device. It ignores all conventional laws of nature as far as you are aware, twisting and swirling in complex patterns until fading off only inches from the lens. A leak in the ceiling drips water into a puddle. >* hrm >i You are carrying: a golden eyepiece a plastic bubble (open but empty) a mysterious silver box a suitcase (open but empty) an old quarter an employee ID card a soggy tome a long hooked pole a shard of shattered carapace a grimy rock 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 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) The wind blows stray leaves across the tracks. >* Can we put it in the goggles, maybe? >x coffee The clouds in your cup form concentric circles. 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. You shiver for no reason at all, as if someone has just walked over your grave. >* our work here is done! >s Train Station Lobby (Shin) The surroundings are as dim and dingy as ever. The platform is to the north. The dirty, cobweb-covered windows and the station exit are to the south. The large mirror and the green door are to the east. The restroom door is to the west. You are unsure what you should do. >s Exterior of Train Station (Emily Short with additions from Graham Nelson) To the north is the gargantuan windowless bulk of the train station. Perhaps that is unsurprising, given the rest of the town. A metal trash can squats beneath its carved facade. The town itself is downhill, on the other side of a ravine. >s You pass over the bridge. The ravine has become a white river, teeming with creatures: you see a fin, a gill, a plaintive upturned face, before each is swept away. Milkweed (Caleb Wilson) It is possible to feel claustrophobia out of doors. Sunlight fills the sky but somehow doesn't reach you here. Steep banks of bramble rise to the east and west, trapping you within a gloomy trough a dozen yards wide. A poorly-surfaced road leads north and south along the trough's nadir. Just west of it, camouflaged with rust, is the train track. A tremendous patch of milkweed, the stems abnormally thick and tall, grows on the east side of the road beneath the thorn bank. A green stone altar, once at the center of the shack, stands amidst broken boards and milkweed. (That earworm is still lodged in your head.) >s Church Exterior (Andy Holloway) The gravel road curves here past the doors of an old stone church, which squats defeatedly amid a few straggly trees. Behind it, to the northeast, you can see the first few stones of a modest graveyard. To the east the road narrows to cross a small bridge into the village proper; to the north, it crests the hill toward the train station. >ne The Churchyard (David Jose) A neglected and long forgotten cemetery stretches out below you, surrounded by a rusted wrought iron fence. Lopsided gravemarkers, slowly succumbing to the elements, topple downhill like a congregation bent low in prayer. At the very center of the graveyard, set into a low valley, a squat, stone mausoleum crouches menacingly. To the southwest a dilapidated, stave church rises up obscenely against the night sky. A dark pine forest crowds against the wrought iron fence to the northeast. You might be able to forge a path between its trees. >x goggles A pair of tinted, leather wrapped aviator goggles. A thin scratch mars the left lens. >put eyepiece in goggles That can't contain things. >* ah well >x coffee The swirls in your cup form no discernible pattern. 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. >* right right >i You are carrying: aviator goggles (being worn) a golden eyepiece a plastic bubble (open but empty) a mysterious silver box a suitcase (open but empty) an old quarter an employee ID card a soggy tome a long hooked pole a shard of shattered carapace a grimy rock 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 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) >put eyepiece in mask That can't contain things. >wear eyepiece There's a sudden pinching sensation as the device clamps onto your face. Panicked, you struggle to remove it, but it won't budge. You feel a long needle pierce your eye, and then nothing. Your vision is normal once more - better than normal, even. Previously mundane surfaces now shimmer with possibility. >* oh hey >push round The device hums down to nothing. The vision in your right eye returns to normal. >push triangular You press the triangular button, but nothing happens. >undo The Churchyard (David Jose) [Previous turn undone.] >undo The Churchyard (David Jose) [Previous turn undone.] >undo The Churchyard (David Jose) [Previous turn undone.] >i You are carrying: aviator goggles (being worn) a golden eyepiece (being worn) a plastic bubble (open but empty) a mysterious silver box a suitcase (open but empty) an old quarter an employee ID card a soggy tome a long hooked pole a shard of shattered carapace a grimy rock 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 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) >push round The device hums down to nothing. The vision in your right eye returns to normal. >undo The Churchyard (David Jose) [Previous turn undone.] >push triangular You see a fine, twisting beam of light curl from the edge of your vision and fade into the air in front of you. >ne The Dim Recesses of the Forest (Jacqueline A. Lott Ashwell) Branches scramble overhead, straining toward one another in a bid to blot out the sky. Mercifully, light manages to filter down through an opening in the canopy above a small pond. Paths slither away into the forest to the north, southwest, and southeast. The wind comes from a new direction. The skeletons of dead leaves scratch against one another. >n The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) The trees here gather, black with wet; glimmering fingers hung with ragged matter, huddling beneath a cold and gently weeping sky. Beneath your feet, the damp red felt of rotting leaves slopes down toward a still, murky puddle. Nearby is a well, capped off with crumbling cement. A broken-down section of brick wall waits for raindrops to fall along its spine, and an old, half-dead oak straddles an angular boulder studded with quartz. A path through the forest leads south. You can see a wooden sigil here. >* OK, now let's see what we can see >x well An old well cap made of crumbling cement emerges from the forest floor here. Two wrought-iron handles, pitted with rust, emerge from the top. A padlock, also rusted, holds it closed. >x quartz Leaning in close to the patch of quartz, your vision swirls. Visions of a strange, microscopic world appear: A shallow pool of aquamarine fluid sits within a vast white desert woven with lavender capillaries, a soft network of exotic flora. Beside the crater, a chrome-plated, cylindrical machine protrudes from the ground. You can see the wooden arch, the mint green arch, the pink arch and the sky blue arch here. >* oh man >x wooden (the wooden sigil) A circular wooden frame is embedded in the ground here, organic arcs of wood carved with strange symbols. Though surrounded by rot, it is entirely intact despite its apparent age. >x mint green The mint green arch stands in the languid plain. Through it, you can see glimpses of a blessed forest. A mint green arch. (You can see all arches discovered so far by typing "x arches".) >x arches Arches found so far: wooden arch ----> wooden sigil mint green arch: languid plain <---> ????? pink arch: languid plain <---> ????? sky blue arch: languid plain <---> ????? >x pin You can't see any such thing. >x pink The pink arch stands in the languid plain. Through it, you can see glimpses of a howling labyrinth. A pink arch. (You can see all arches discovered so far by typing "x arches".) >x sky blue The sky blue arch stands in the languid plain. Through it, you can see glimpses of a roiling ocean. A sky blue arch. >x arches Arches found so far: wooden arch ----> wooden sigil mint green arch: languid plain <---> ????? pink arch: languid plain <---> ????? sky blue arch: languid plain <---> ????? >enter mint You can't manipulate something that small with your bare hands. Try prodding it with the laser on your eyepiece. >push triangular You see a fine, twisting beam of light curl from the edge of your vision and fade into the air in front of you. >prod mint with laser I only understood you as far as wanting to prod the mint green arch. >* it was your synatx! >push round The device hums down to nothing. The vision in your right eye returns to normal. >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >push triangular You see a fine, twisting beam of light curl from the edge of your vision and fade into the air in front of you. >X mint The mint green arch stands in the languid plain. Through it, you can see glimpses of a blessed forest. A mint green arch. >x forest Peering at the twisted root, your vision distorts, distorts again. Suddenly you see as a forest of gray fungus over rich, piled soil. Strange little bipeds clamber among the stalks, pale with bulbous heads. You can see the wooden arch, the marigold arch, the teal arch and the mint green arch here. >x marigold The marigold arch stands in the blessed forest. Through it, you can see glimpses of a howling labyrinth. A marigold arch. >x teal The teal arch stands in the blessed forest. Through it, you can see glimpses of a roiling ocean. A teal arch. >x arches Arches found so far: wooden arch ----> wooden sigil marigold arch: ????? <---> blessed forest teal arch: ????? <---> blessed forest mint green arch: languid plain <---> blessed forest pink arch: languid plain <---> ????? sky blue arch: languid plain <---> ????? >* What else were we supposed to look closer at? That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >x puddle Kneeling to examine the puddle, you witness a violent sea, plumed with frothing foam. Below the surface, the shadows of sea-life, cresting and rolling their smooth gray bodies. You can see the wooden arch, the teal arch, the violet arch and the sky blue arch here. >x teal The teal arch connects the roiling ocean to the blessed forest. A teal arch. >x violet The violet arch stands in the roiling ocean. Through it, you can see glimpses of a howling labyrinth. A violet arch. >x sky bleu I only understood you as far as wanting to examine the sky blue arch. >x sky blue The sky blue arch connects the languid plain to the roiling ocean. A sky blue arch. >x arches Arches found so far: wooden arch ----> wooden sigil teal arch: roiling ocean <---> blessed forest violet arch: roiling ocean <---> ????? sky blue arch: languid plain <---> roiling ocean marigold arch: ????? <---> blessed forest mint green arch: languid plain <---> blessed forest pink arch: languid plain <---> ????? >l The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) The trees here gather, black with wet; glimmering fingers hung with ragged matter, huddling beneath a cold and gently weeping sky. Beneath your feet, the damp red felt of rotting leaves slopes down toward a still, murky puddle. Nearby is a well, capped off with crumbling cement. A broken-down section of brick wall waits for raindrops to fall along its spine, and an old, half-dead oak straddles an angular boulder studded with quartz. A path through the forest leads south. You can see a wooden sigil here. >x trees You can't see any such thing. >x leafs You can't see any such thing. >x leaves You can't see any such thing. >x well An old well cap made of crumbling cement emerges from the forest floor here. Two wrought-iron handles, pitted with rust, emerge from the top. A padlock, also rusted, holds it closed. >x cement You can't see any such thing. >x wall Your vision zooms in on the crumbling bricks to reveal a howling maze of rust-red crevices, between which swoop screeching black eagles. The red rock is perforated by innumerable cavities in which dwell scurrying insects. You can see the wooden arch, the marigold arch, the violet arch and the pink arch here. >x marigold The marigold arch connects the howling labyrinth to the blessed forest. A marigold arch. >x violet The violet arch connects the roiling ocean to the howling labyrinth. A violet arch. >x pink The pink arch connects the languid plain to the howling labyrinth. A pink arch. >x arches Arches found so far: wooden arch ----> wooden sigil marigold arch: howling labyrinth <---> blessed forest violet arch: roiling ocean <---> howling labyrinth pink arch: languid plain <---> howling labyrinth teal arch: roiling ocean <---> blessed forest sky blue arch: languid plain <---> roiling ocean mint green arch: languid plain <---> blessed forest >* Is that our lot? >* There was something in ... some book about this >i You are carrying: a golden eyepiece (being worn) a plastic bubble (open but empty) a mysterious silver box a suitcase (open but empty) an old quarter an employee ID card a soggy tome a long hooked pole a shard of shattered carapace a grimy rock 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 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) >open book You open to the first page of the book and read... "Crawfish, crawldads, mountain lobsters, mudbugs, yabbies, or however you know these mighty members of the Astacoidea and Parastacoidea superfamilies, have long been kin to the men of the New England, forging communities of inviolable hierarchy below water, much as we build and sustain such communities above. As with men, dominance determines these bio-mythic structures..." You skip ahead. "Those crawfish stricken by the plague must invariably fall by the wayside much as the Spartans would throw weak and crippled newborn from the top of Mount Taygete, dashing the runts and striplings upon the rocks below." Rhetoric of this nature seems to continue for several pages. "My father and I would sit together at the bank of the river and while father told me of the venal deceits of his wife we would catch those smallest crawfish - invariably the females of the species - which attempted to escape from the exit hole of the parlor, and father would delight me by cracking them upon his great bony knees. Later, when confronted with the disappointments of my youngest son, I would imagine taking him as my father had done the runtish bints, cracking him with satisfaction upon my own knee." You flick ahead to the middle of the book. "By means of these simple hand-binding exercises you will be able to Set your Claws in Order. While the experience will be painful at first, you must NEVER INDUCE YOURSELF INTO THINKING THAT LIFE IS ANYTHING OTHER THAN PAIN." There follows pages of bewildering diagrams which seem to depict men with lobster appendages fighting the Swimmerets of Chaos. "... until the blood takes the form of a transluscent white gel, which you should then inject ... commercial fishing licences ... scream in the water like egg-burst women ... telomerase now in the DNA of your cells is the Chrysopoeia ... baptized by briny Neptune ... dying and molting and eating oneself in the charnel house of bloodied bones ... " From hereon in the words become incomprehensible. Intellectual stuff. >open bp You open the book pocket, revealing Twin Hearts Between the Planes, The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three, a postcard of Big Ben, the diary of Phyllis Cragne and a moldy, waterlogged journal. >read moldy (first taking the moldy, waterlogged journal) You riffle through the pages; only short passages are still legible: "... circular golden prosthesis seems to have chosen Mabel ... doctor said he can't remove it without harming the child ..." "... Mabel spends long hours examining stumps and rocks in the woods ... and I are most concerned. Mabel's stories of fairies and HIDDEN LANDS seem more than childish fancy" (There's a long section of the book here which is ruined and entirely illegible, although you can make out diagrams and the faded, troubling outlines of strange shapes) "... constructed the sigil out of sculpted and varnished wood after many ... Mabel instructs me on where it should be placed ... spirits she is in communication with have constructed various devices at her command ... creatures I have dubbed microphids ... " "... Clara still doesn't believe; threatened to get Pastor Crowell involved ... able to dodge him so far ... quit my position at ..." "... very concerned but there is no body ... up to seven successful SUMMONINGS that have remained docile ... we will never know, and quite frankly these studies are more important than that ... Each creature must process through three ARCHES, through three HABITATS and stages of development before finally maturing through the ARCH and SIGIL ... special GLUE created by that one created via the sequence ->FOREST->(illegible)->CLIFFS ..." "... at Clara's insistence I have written to the University ... fake name ... one we have dubbed Moppy is friendly enough and a loyal companion to Mabel ..." "... siphoning off the rest of the inheritance ... haven't seen her in a while ... sent an officer of the law to fetch Mabel, but Moppy took care of him ..." (another long damaged section) "... only Tall Pete is left ... lay Mabel in a grave beside Moppy ... TERRIBLE LIZARD-BIRD was raised up from the OCEAN - is still out there somewhere ..." "... now I wear the PROSTHESIS; now I can see everything. ... breached the walls of perception ... I am PRODDING the EGG MACHINE on the QUARTZ OUTCROPPING ... dozens of them GATHER to PROTECT me from the LIZARD BIRD ... PULLED the ROOF clear off my SHELTER ..." And that's it. There's no more. Well, you suppose you didn't actually expect the author to keep writing right up until the point of his death, but you're a little disappointed. >prod (the pamphlet of home listings) You prod the pamphlet of home listings with the beam, but alas, nothing occurs. ("p" can be used as an abbreviation for "prod") >* OK, progress! >prod teal The teal arch glows, but nothing happens. ("p" can be used as an abbreviation for "prod") >x quartz Leaning in close to the patch of quartz, your vision swirls. Visions of a strange, microscopic world appear: A shallow pool of aquamarine fluid sits within a vast white desert woven with lavender capillaries, a soft network of exotic flora. Beside the crater, a chrome-plated, cylindrical machine protrudes from the ground. You can see the wooden arch, the mint green arch, the pink arch and the sky blue arch here. >x machine A chrome plated cylinder, studded with rivets. A chute extends from one side, toward the aquamarine pool. It is located in the languid plain. >* is that the egg thing? >prod machine The chrome-plated machine shivers and lurches, and an egg trundles down its chute and splashes into the aquamarine pool below. The shell breaks apart, the pieces rapidly dissolving, leaving behind only a small, translucent blob. >x egg A chrome plated cylinder, studded with rivets. A chute extends from one side, toward the aquamarine pool. It is located in the languid plain. >x arches Arches found so far: wooden arch ----> wooden sigil mint green arch: languid plain <---> blessed forest pink arch: languid plain <---> howling labyrinth sky blue arch: languid plain <---> roiling ocean marigold arch: howling labyrinth <---> blessed forest violet arch: roiling ocean <---> howling labyrinth teal arch: roiling ocean <---> blessed forest >l The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) The trees here gather, black with wet; glimmering fingers hung with ragged matter, huddling beneath a cold and gently weeping sky. Beneath your feet, the damp red felt of rotting leaves slopes down toward a still, murky puddle. Nearby is a well, capped off with crumbling cement. A broken-down section of brick wall waits for raindrops to fall along its spine, and an old, half-dead oak straddles an angular boulder studded with quartz. A path through the forest leads south. You can see a wooden sigil here. >x sigil A circular wooden frame is embedded in the ground here, organic arcs of wood carved with strange symbols. Though surrounded by rot, it is entirely intact despite its apparent age. >prod sigil The cylinder buzzes, and a tinny recording plays: "This microphid is not yet mature. It is unable to leave the nursery constellation. >* OK, we do need to mature the fairies somehow? >* I think this should be doable, we need to create a path either from or to the egg machine through three habitats >x arches Arches found so far: wooden arch ----> wooden sigil mint green arch: languid plain <---> blessed forest pink arch: languid plain <---> howling labyrinth sky blue arch: languid plain <---> roiling ocean marigold arch: howling labyrinth <---> blessed forest violet arch: roiling ocean <---> howling labyrinth teal arch: roiling ocean <---> blessed forest >x coffee The clouds in your cup form a single cherry. 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. >prod teal The teal arch glows, but nothing happens. >prod violet The violet arch glows, but nothing happens. >prod marigold The marigold arch glows, but nothing happens. >prod sky The tiny blob wriggles up onto dry land and passes beneath the sky blue arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The tiny blob emerges in the roiling ocean and transforms into a slightly more robust blob. >* OK >prod violet The blob sinks beneath the surface of the waves, presumably to find the violet arch. It disappears from the roiling ocean. The slightly more robust blob emerges in the howling labyrinth and transforms into a gas-belching sphere. >prod marigold The creature descends toward the marigold arch. It disappears from the howling labyrinth. The gas-belching sphere emerges in the blessed forest and transforms into a perfumed land octopus. >x octopus This brightly patterned octopoid has settled in among the other little creatures. It emits pleasing scents from the ends of its tentacles. It is located in the blessed forest. >prod wooden (the wooden sigil) The air above the sigil crackles with energy. The colorful, tentacled creature appears on top of the sigil. It is quite happy to see you! (For future reference, you can use the command "birth" to lay another egg; "forest", "plain", "cliffs", and "ocean" to switch the creature between microcosms you've discovered; and "summon" to summon a mature creature into the sigil.) >hug octopus You wrap your arms around the perfumed land octopus, inhaling its scent. It flops in what you perceive to be an affectionate manner. >* yay! We have a pet >* ....I'm not sure what we're meant to be doing here, but I like it! >summon An ominous humming fills the clearing, but nothing happens. >birth The chrome-plated machine shivers and lurches, and an egg trundles down its chute and splashes into the aquamarine pool below. The shell breaks apart, the pieces rapidly dissolving, leaving behind only a small, translucent blob. >x blob A nascent, translucent blob of flesh rolls and shivers on the surface of the aquamarine pool. It is located in the languid plain. > p pink The tiny blob wriggles up onto dry land and passes beneath the pink arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The tiny blob emerges in the howling labyrinth and transforms into a wriggling worm. >p marigold The little worm squirms its way into the marigold arch. It disappears from the howling labyrinth. The wriggling worm emerges in the blessed forest and transforms into a drill-headed worm. >p teal The creature emerges from the loam, headed toward the teal arch. It disappears from the blessed forest. The drill-headed worm emerges in the roiling ocean and transforms into a bloody nematode. >x sky The sky blue arch connects the languid plain to the roiling ocean. A sky blue arch. >p sky The cylinder buzzes, and a tinny recording plays: "This microphid is now mature, and will no longer change habitats." >x coffee The clouds 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. > l The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) The trees here gather, black with wet; glimmering fingers hung with ragged matter, huddling beneath a cold and gently weeping sky. Beneath your feet, the damp red felt of rotting leaves slopes down toward a still, murky puddle. Nearby is a well, capped off with crumbling cement. A broken-down section of brick wall waits for raindrops to fall along its spine, and an old, half-dead oak straddles an angular boulder studded with quartz. A path through the forest leads south. You can see a perfumed land octopus and a wooden sigil here. >p sigil The air above the sigil crackles with energy. A horrid red nematode squirms forth from the sigil, shedding blankets of mucus. Before you can react, it burrows into your flesh, is gone. Your innards writhe and ache, and a strange feeling comes over you: You can no longer consciously control your own movements! Then why, why, why do you continue to move? *** Talk about a backseat driver! *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >* OK, much less friendly! >read moldy You riffle through the pages; only short passages are still legible: "... circular golden prosthesis seems to have chosen Mabel ... doctor said he can't remove it without harming the child ..." "... Mabel spends long hours examining stumps and rocks in the woods ... and I are most concerned. Mabel's stories of fairies and HIDDEN LANDS seem more than childish fancy" (There's a long section of the book here which is ruined and entirely illegible, although you can make out diagrams and the faded, troubling outlines of strange shapes) "... constructed the sigil out of sculpted and varnished wood after many ... Mabel instructs me on where it should be placed ... spirits she is in communication with have constructed various devices at her command ... creatures I have dubbed microphids ... " "... Clara still doesn't believe; threatened to get Pastor Crowell involved ... able to dodge him so far ... quit my position at ..." "... very concerned but there is no body ... up to seven successful SUMMONINGS that have remained docile ... we will never know, and quite frankly these studies are more important than that ... Each creature must process through three ARCHES, through three HABITATS and stages of development before finally maturing through the ARCH and SIGIL ... special GLUE created by that one created via the sequence ->FOREST->(illegible)->CLIFFS ..." "... at Clara's insistence I have written to the University ... fake name ... one we have dubbed Moppy is friendly enough and a loyal companion to Mabel ..." "... siphoning off the rest of the inheritance ... haven't seen her in a while ... sent an officer of the law to fetch Mabel, but Moppy took care of him ..." (another long damaged section) "... only Tall Pete is left ... lay Mabel in a grave beside Moppy ... TERRIBLE LIZARD-BIRD was raised up from the OCEAN - is still out there somewhere ..." "... now I wear the PROSTHESIS; now I can see everything. ... breached the walls of perception ... I am PRODDING the EGG MACHINE on the QUARTZ OUTCROPPING ... dozens of them GATHER to PROTECT me from the LIZARD BIRD ... PULLED the ROOF clear off my SHELTER ..." And that's it. There's no more. Well, you suppose you didn't actually expect the author to keep writing right up until the point of his death, but you're a little disappointed. >x arches Arches found so far: wooden arch ----> wooden sigil mint green arch: languid plain <---> blessed forest pink arch: languid plain <---> howling labyrinth sky blue arch: languid plain <---> roiling ocean marigold arch: howling labyrinth <---> blessed forest violet arch: roiling ocean <---> howling labyrinth teal arch: roiling ocean <---> blessed forest >x cliffs, huh? You can't use multiple objects with that verb. >* Is that the ocean? >x cliffs Your vision zooms in on the crumbling bricks to reveal a howling maze of rust-red crevices, between which swoop screeching black eagles. The red rock is perforated by innumerable cavities in which dwell scurrying insects. You can see the wooden arch, the marigold arch, the violet arch and the pink arch here. >p cliffs You prod the crumbling brickwork with the beam, but alas, nothing occurs. >* hmm >x arches Arches found so far: wooden arch ----> wooden sigil marigold arch: howling labyrinth <---> blessed forest violet arch: roiling ocean <---> howling labyrinth pink arch: languid plain <---> howling labyrinth mint green arch: languid plain <---> blessed forest sky blue arch: languid plain <---> roiling ocean teal arch: roiling ocean <---> blessed forest >l The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) The trees here gather, black with wet; glimmering fingers hung with ragged matter, huddling beneath a cold and gently weeping sky. Beneath your feet, the damp red felt of rotting leaves slopes down toward a still, murky puddle. Nearby is a well, capped off with crumbling cement. A broken-down section of brick wall waits for raindrops to fall along its spine, and an old, half-dead oak straddles an angular boulder studded with quartz. A path through the forest leads south. You can see a perfumed land octopus and a wooden sigil here. >x oak It's an old, twisted oak tree grown over a granite boulder here. Many of its branches are rotting away, yet it clings to life. It has a hollow knothole at about eye level, and a large, prominent root juts from its base. >x knothole A wide hole in the side of the tree, a little drier than the rest of the forest. >x root Peering at the twisted root, your vision distorts, distorts again. Suddenly you see as a forest of gray fungus over rich, piled soil. Strange little bipeds clamber among the stalks, pale with bulbous heads. You can see the wooden arch, the marigold arch, the teal arch and the mint green arch here. >x well An old well cap made of crumbling cement emerges from the forest floor here. Two wrought-iron handles, pitted with rust, emerge from the top. A padlock, also rusted, holds it closed. >x padlock It's rusted tight, but still solid. >x handles Two rusty loops of iron jut from the top of the well. >x octopus This brightly patterned octopoid flops about on the ground here. It emits pleasing scents from the ends of its tentacles. >squeeze it You achieve nothing by this. >push it Nothing obvious happens. >x tentacles You can't see any such thing. >* Do you have glue? >l The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) The trees here gather, black with wet; glimmering fingers hung with ragged matter, huddling beneath a cold and gently weeping sky. Beneath your feet, the damp red felt of rotting leaves slopes down toward a still, murky puddle. Nearby is a well, capped off with crumbling cement. A broken-down section of brick wall waits for raindrops to fall along its spine, and an old, half-dead oak straddles an angular boulder studded with quartz. A path through the forest leads south. You can see a perfumed land octopus and a wooden sigil here. >birth The cylinder buzzes, and a tinny recording plays: "Only one microphid in the nursery constellation at a time, please." >* hrm >* Can we put the nematode-thing back? >l The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) The trees here gather, black with wet; glimmering fingers hung with ragged matter, huddling beneath a cold and gently weeping sky. Beneath your feet, the damp red felt of rotting leaves slopes down toward a still, murky puddle. Nearby is a well, capped off with crumbling cement. A broken-down section of brick wall waits for raindrops to fall along its spine, and an old, half-dead oak straddles an angular boulder studded with quartz. A path through the forest leads south. You can see a perfumed land octopus and a wooden sigil here. >x arches Arches found so far: wooden arch ----> wooden sigil marigold arch: howling labyrinth <---> blessed forest teal arch: roiling ocean <---> blessed forest mint green arch: languid plain <---> blessed forest violet arch: roiling ocean <---> howling labyrinth pink arch: languid plain <---> howling labyrinth sky blue arch: languid plain <---> roiling ocean >p pink The cylinder buzzes, and a tinny recording plays: "This microphid is now mature, and will no longer change habitats." >p wooden (the wooden sigil) The air above the sigil crackles with energy. A horrid red nematode squirms forth from the sigil, shedding blankets of mucus. Before you can react, it burrows into your flesh, is gone. Your innards writhe and ache, and a strange feeling comes over you: You can no longer consciously control your own movements! Then why, why, why do you continue to move? *** Talk about a backseat driver! *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > taek back Please give one of the answers above. Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > take back Your fatal mistake wasn't that long ago! Try UNDO instead. Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >* OK, I guess we can deal with this somehow? >x microphil You can't see any such thing. >l The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) The trees here gather, black with wet; glimmering fingers hung with ragged matter, huddling beneath a cold and gently weeping sky. Beneath your feet, the damp red felt of rotting leaves slopes down toward a still, murky puddle. Nearby is a well, capped off with crumbling cement. A broken-down section of brick wall waits for raindrops to fall along its spine, and an old, half-dead oak straddles an angular boulder studded with quartz. A path through the forest leads south. You can see a perfumed land octopus and a wooden sigil here. >x creature At first, you see nothing but a sick whale, rolling over in the water. A long, crimson thread emerges from its flesh, polluting the sea with its foul emanations. It is located in the roiling ocean. >x arches Arches found so far: wooden arch ----> wooden sigil marigold arch: howling labyrinth <---> blessed forest teal arch: roiling ocean <---> blessed forest mint green arch: languid plain <---> blessed forest violet arch: roiling ocean <---> howling labyrinth pink arch: languid plain <---> howling labyrinth sky blue arch: languid plain <---> roiling ocean >p teal The cylinder buzzes, and a tinny recording plays: "This microphid is now mature, and will no longer change habitats." >p marigold The cylinder buzzes, and a tinny recording plays: "This microphid is now mature, and will no longer change habitats." >p violet The cylinder buzzes, and a tinny recording plays: "This microphid is now mature, and will no longer change habitats." >p pink The cylinder buzzes, and a tinny recording plays: "This microphid is now mature, and will no longer change habitats." >p sky blue The cylinder buzzes, and a tinny recording plays: "This microphid is now mature, and will no longer change habitats." >x whale You can't see any such thing. >x microphid At first, you see nothing but a sick whale, rolling over in the water. A long, crimson thread emerges from its flesh, polluting the sea with its foul emanations. It is located in the roiling ocean. >push it You can't manipulate something that small with your bare hands. Try prodding it with the laser on your eyepiece. >p it The cylinder buzzes, and a tinny recording plays: "This microphid is now mature, and will no longer change habitats." >push round The device hums down to nothing. The vision in your right eye returns to normal. >x microphid At first, you see nothing but a sick whale, rolling over in the water. A long, crimson thread emerges from its flesh, polluting the sea with its foul emanations. It is located in the roiling ocean. >p wooden (the wooden sigil) The device emits a high-pitched whine. The vision in your right eye feels much more acute. The air above the sigil crackles with energy. A horrid red nematode squirms forth from the sigil, shedding blankets of mucus. Before you can react, it burrows into your flesh, is gone. Your innards writhe and ache, and a strange feeling comes over you: You can no longer consciously control your own movements! Then why, why, why do you continue to move? *** Talk about a backseat driver! *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >i You are carrying: a moldy, waterlogged journal a golden eyepiece (being worn) a plastic bubble (open but empty) a mysterious silver box a suitcase (open but empty) an old quarter an employee ID card a soggy tome a long hooked pole a shard of shattered carapace a grimy rock a Jansport backpack (being worn and open) a key pocket (open but empty) a book pocket (open) Twin Hearts Between the Planes The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three a postcard of Big Ben the diary of Phyllis Cragne a side pocket (open) a book list 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) >* hmm, have we gone awry? >dismiss That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >birth The device emits a high-pitched whine. The vision in your right eye feels much more acute. The cylinder buzzes, and a tinny recording plays: "Only one microphid in the nursery constellation at a time, please." >forest The cylinder buzzes, and a tinny recording plays: "This microphid is now mature, and will no longer change habitats." >plain The cylinder buzzes, and a tinny recording plays: "This microphid is now mature, and will no longer change habitats." >cliffs The cylinder buzzes, and a tinny recording plays: "This microphid is now mature, and will no longer change habitats." >dismiss That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >s The Dim Recesses of the Forest (Jacqueline A. Lott Ashwell) Branches scramble overhead, straining toward one another in a bid to blot out the sky. Mercifully, light manages to filter down through an opening in the canopy above a small pond. Paths slither away into the forest to the north, southwest, and southeast. >n The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) The trees here gather, black with wet; glimmering fingers hung with ragged matter, huddling beneath a cold and gently weeping sky. Beneath your feet, the damp red felt of rotting leaves slopes down toward a still, murky puddle. Nearby is a well, capped off with crumbling cement. A broken-down section of brick wall waits for raindrops to fall along its spine, and an old, half-dead oak straddles an angular boulder studded with quartz. A path through the forest leads south. You can see a perfumed land octopus and a wooden sigil here. >summon The air above the sigil crackles with energy. A horrid red nematode squirms forth from the sigil, shedding blankets of mucus. Before you can react, it burrows into your flesh, is gone. Your innards writhe and ache, and a strange feeling comes over you: You can no longer consciously control your own movements! Then why, why, why do you continue to move? *** Talk about a backseat driver! *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >birth The cylinder buzzes, and a tinny recording plays: "Only one microphid in the nursery constellation at a time, please." >* this feels like a dead end... >* We'll restore and try again, I think I've got the sense of it >restore Ok. >put box on track (first taking the mysterious silver box) You put the mysterious silver box on the tracks. >u You get onto the bench. >set clock to 13:37 The clock is now set to 1:37 pm. An old-fashioned steam locomotive comes hurtling down the tracks from the west. It appears translucent, almost insubstantial, but the rush of wind and noise created by its passage fills the station: the clatter of the wheels, the chugging of the engine, the clanging of the bell, and the mournful blowing of the whistle. It whooshes through the station without stopping, and then is gone as swiftly as it appeared. In the sudden silence, you look down the tracks to the east, but can see no sign of it. The top of the mysterious silver box slides open, revealing a bronze coin. >take all mysterious silver box: You can't reach that while you're up on the bench. bronze coin: You can't reach that while you're up on the bench. plastic bubble: The vending machine isn't open. golden eyepiece: The plastic bubble isn't open. brass winding key: Taken. >put bronze coin in vending machine (first taking the bronze coin) You can't reach that while you're up on the bench. >d You get off the bench. You shiver for no reason at all, as if someone has just walked over your grave. >put bronze coin in vending machine (first taking the bronze coin) The coin drops into the slot with a clunk. A plastic bubble falls into the chute. You step in an old wad of gum. Yuck. >take bubble Taken. You shiver for no reason at all, as if someone has just walked over your grave. >open it You open the plastic bubble. >put small battery in rectangular slot The battery fits perfectly into the slot in the device, its end now flush with the surface. >wear eyepiece (first taking the golden eyepiece) You try holding it up to your eye, but it just falls off. Perhaps there are additional steps. A leak in the ceiling drips water into a puddle. The clock gives a deep, booming chime on the quarter hour. >push trianglura You can't see any such thing. >push triangular You press the triangular button, but nothing happens. >push round The device emits a high-pitched whine. >push triangular There is a high-frequency whine, and a thread of light is emitted from one of the lenses of the device. It ignores all conventional laws of nature as far as you are aware, twisting and swirling in complex patterns until fading off only inches from the lens. >wear eyepiece There's a sudden pinching sensation as the device clamps onto your face. Panicked, you struggle to remove it, but it won't budge. You feel a long needle pierce your eye, and then nothing. Your vision is normal once more - better than normal, even. Previously mundane surfaces now shimmer with possibility. >s Train Station Lobby (Shin) The surroundings are as dim and dingy as ever. The platform is to the north. The dirty, cobweb-covered windows and the station exit are to the south. The large mirror and the green door are to the east. The restroom door is to the west. You are unsure what you should do. >s Exterior of Train Station (Emily Short with additions from Graham Nelson) To the north is the cyclopean windowless bulk of the train station. Perhaps that is unsurprising, given the rest of the town. A metal trash can squats beneath its carved facade. The town itself is downhill, on the other side of a ravine. >s You pass over the bridge. The ravine has become a white river, teeming with creatures: you see a fin, a gill, a plaintive upturned face, before each is swept away. Milkweed (Caleb Wilson) It is possible to feel claustrophobia out of doors. Sunlight fills the sky but somehow doesn't reach you here. Steep banks of bramble rise to the east and west, trapping you within a gloomy trough a dozen yards wide. A poorly-surfaced road leads north and south along the trough's nadir. Just west of it, camouflaged with rust, is the train track. A tremendous patch of milkweed, the stems abnormally thick and tall, grows on the east side of the road beneath the thorn bank. A green stone altar, once at the center of the shack, stands amidst broken boards and milkweed. (That earworm is still lodged in your head.) >s Church Exterior (Andy Holloway) The gravel road curves here past the doors of an old stone church, which squats defeatedly amid a few straggly trees. Behind it, to the northeast, you can see the first few stones of a modest graveyard. To the east the road narrows to cross a small bridge into the village proper; to the north, it crests the hill toward the train station. >ne The Churchyard (David Jose) A neglected and long forgotten cemetery stretches out below you, surrounded by a rusted wrought iron fence. Lopsided gravemarkers, slowly succumbing to the elements, topple downhill like a congregation bent low in prayer. At the very center of the graveyard, set into a low valley, a squat, stone mausoleum crouches menacingly. To the southwest a dilapidated, stave church rises up obscenely against the night sky. A dark pine forest crowds against the wrought iron fence to the northeast. You might be able to forge a path between its trees. >ne The Dim Recesses of the Forest (Jacqueline A. Lott Ashwell) Branches scramble overhead, straining toward one another in a bid to blot out the sky. Mercifully, light manages to filter down through an opening in the canopy above a small pond. Paths slither away into the forest to the north, southwest, and southeast. The wind comes from a new direction. The skeletons of dead leaves scratch against one another. >n The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) The trees here gather, black with wet; glimmering fingers hung with ragged matter, huddling beneath a cold and gently weeping sky. Beneath your feet, the damp red felt of rotting leaves slopes down toward a still, murky puddle. Nearby is a well, capped off with crumbling cement. A broken-down section of brick wall waits for raindrops to fall along its spine, and an old, half-dead oak straddles an angular boulder studded with quartz. A path through the forest leads south. You can see a wooden sigil here. >save Ok. >x quartz Leaning in close to the patch of quartz, your vision swirls. Visions of a strange, microscopic world appear: A shallow pool of aquamarine fluid sits within a vast white desert woven with lavender capillaries, a soft network of exotic flora. Beside the crater, a chrome-plated, cylindrical machine protrudes from the ground. You can see the wooden arch, the mint green arch, the pink arch and the sky blue arch here. >x wall Your vision zooms in on the crumbling bricks to reveal a howling maze of rust-red crevices, between which swoop screeching black eagles. The red rock is perforated by innumerable cavities in which dwell scurrying insects. You can see the wooden arch, the marigold arch, the violet arch and the pink arch here. >x mint The mint green arch stands in the languid plain. Through it, you can see glimpses of a blessed forest. A mint green arch. (You can see all arches discovered so far by typing "x arches".) >x pink The pink arch connects the languid plain to the howling labyrinth. A pink arch. (You can see all arches discovered so far by typing "x arches".) >x root Peering at the twisted root, your vision distorts, distorts again. Suddenly you see as a forest of gray fungus over rich, piled soil. Strange little bipeds clamber among the stalks, pale with bulbous heads. You can see the wooden arch, the marigold arch, the teal arch and the mint green arch here. >x puddle Kneeling to examine the puddle, you witness a violent sea, plumed with frothing foam. Below the surface, the shadows of sea-life, cresting and rolling their smooth gray bodies. You can see the wooden arch, the teal arch, the violet arch and the sky blue arch here. >x arches Arches found so far: wooden arch ----> wooden sigil teal arch: roiling ocean <---> blessed forest violet arch: roiling ocean <---> howling labyrinth sky blue arch: languid plain <---> roiling ocean marigold arch: howling labyrinth <---> blessed forest mint green arch: languid plain <---> blessed forest pink arch: languid plain <---> howling labyrinth >save Ok. >read moldy You can't see any such thing. >i You are carrying: a golden eyepiece (being worn) a plastic bubble (open but empty) a brass winding key a suitcase (open but empty) an old quarter an employee ID card a soggy tome a long hooked pole a shard of shattered carapace a grimy rock 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 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) >open bp You open the book pocket, revealing Twin Hearts Between the Planes, The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three, a postcard of Big Ben, the diary of Phyllis Cragne and a moldy, waterlogged journal. >read moldy (first taking the moldy, waterlogged journal) You riffle through the pages; only short passages are still legible: "... circular golden prosthesis seems to have chosen Mabel ... doctor said he can't remove it without harming the child ..." "... Mabel spends long hours examining stumps and rocks in the woods ... and I are most concerned. Mabel's stories of fairies and HIDDEN LANDS seem more than childish fancy" (There's a long section of the book here which is ruined and entirely illegible, although you can make out diagrams and the faded, troubling outlines of strange shapes) "... constructed the sigil out of sculpted and varnished wood after many ... Mabel instructs me on where it should be placed ... spirits she is in communication with have constructed various devices at her command ... creatures I have dubbed microphids ... " "... Clara still doesn't believe; threatened to get Pastor Crowell involved ... able to dodge him so far ... quit my position at ..." "... very concerned but there is no body ... up to seven successful SUMMONINGS that have remained docile ... we will never know, and quite frankly these studies are more important than that ... Each creature must process through three ARCHES, through three HABITATS and stages of development before finally maturing through the ARCH and SIGIL ... special GLUE created by that one created via the sequence ->FOREST->(illegible)->CLIFFS ..." "... at Clara's insistence I have written to the University ... fake name ... one we have dubbed Moppy is friendly enough and a loyal companion to Mabel ..." "... siphoning off the rest of the inheritance ... haven't seen her in a while ... sent an officer of the law to fetch Mabel, but Moppy took care of him ..." (another long damaged section) "... only Tall Pete is left ... lay Mabel in a grave beside Moppy ... TERRIBLE LIZARD-BIRD was raised up from the OCEAN - is still out there somewhere ..." "... now I wear the PROSTHESIS; now I can see everything. ... breached the walls of perception ... I am PRODDING the EGG MACHINE on the QUARTZ OUTCROPPING ... dozens of them GATHER to PROTECT me from the LIZARD BIRD ... PULLED the ROOF clear off my SHELTER ..." And that's it. There's no more. Well, you suppose you didn't actually expect the author to keep writing right up until the point of his death, but you're a little disappointed. >p machine The chrome-plated machine shivers and lurches, and an egg trundles down its chute and splashes into the aquamarine pool below. The shell breaks apart, the pieces rapidly dissolving, leaving behind only a small, translucent blob. ("p" can be used as an abbreviation for "prod") >* OK, so don't start with the ocean! >forest The tiny blob wriggles up onto dry land and passes beneath the mint green arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The tiny blob emerges in the blessed forest and transforms into a small quadruped. ("p" can be used as an abbreviation for "prod") >ocean The creature saunters through the teal arch. It disappears from the blessed forest. The small quadruped emerges in the roiling ocean and transforms into a bumpy whale. >cliffs The whale dives to the violet arch. It disappears from the roiling ocean. The bumpy whale emerges in the howling labyrinth and transforms into a armored climber. >summon The air above the sigil crackles with energy. A great, armor-plated monster trundles forth from the sigil and off into the forest with hardly a backwards glance. (For future reference, you can use the command "birth" to lay another egg; "forest", "plain", "cliffs", and "ocean" to switch the creature between microcosms you've discovered; and "summon" to summon a mature creature into the sigil.) >x monster You can't see any such thing. >* Well, that didn't do much >p machine The chrome-plated machine shivers and lurches, and an egg trundles down its chute and splashes into the aquamarine pool below. The shell breaks apart, the pieces rapidly dissolving, leaving behind only a small, translucent blob. >forest The tiny blob wriggles up onto dry land and passes beneath the mint green arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The tiny blob emerges in the blessed forest and transforms into a small quadruped. >plain The creature saunters through the mint green arch. It disappears from the blessed forest. The small quadruped emerges in the languid plain and transforms into a glassy horse. >cliffs This horse gallops gaily toward the pink arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The glassy horse emerges in the howling labyrinth and transforms into a slime ape. >x slime ape An one-eyed ape covered in slime climbs among the crags here. The black eagles get caught in its sticky trail, and it returns to eat their corpses. It is located in the howling labyrinth. >* That's the glue one I guess >summon The air above the sigil crackles with energy. The cycloptic ape extends its arms over the edge of the sigil, heaving itself into your pathetic material world, dripping gobs of sticky slime across the forest floor. It leaps atop the clearing and onto the well cap. It turns and catches you in its monocular gaze. An understanding passes between you. Maybe even - love? It turns again, bolting into the bushes. "W-Wait," you say, but the moment has passed. Only the creature's sticky goo is left behind on the well. >* er, yay? >x goo You can't see any such thing. >l The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) The trees here gather, black with wet; glimmering fingers hung with ragged matter, huddling beneath a cold and gently weeping sky. Beneath your feet, the damp red felt of rotting leaves slopes down toward a still, murky puddle. Nearby is a well, capped off with crumbling cement. A broken-down section of brick wall waits for raindrops to fall along its spine, and an old, half-dead oak straddles an angular boulder studded with quartz. A path through the forest leads south. You can see a wooden sigil here. >x well An old well cap made of crumbling cement emerges from the forest floor here. Two wrought-iron handles, pitted with rust, emerge from the top. A padlock, also rusted, holds it closed. The entire thing is covered in sticky goo. >x goo You can't see any such thing. >get goo You can't see any such thing. >touch well You feel nothing unexpected. >* ...we expected goo? >* Is that all we needed? >x coffee The swirls in your cup form a sturdy oak. 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. >* Hmm >* That might be helpful later if we want to open the well? >* Or maybe now we can summon the monster? >save Ok. >b That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >birth The chrome-plated machine shivers and lurches, and an egg trundles down its chute and splashes into the aquamarine pool below. The shell breaks apart, the pieces rapidly dissolving, leaving behind only a small, translucent blob. >ocean The tiny blob wriggles up onto dry land and passes beneath the sky blue arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The tiny blob emerges in the roiling ocean and transforms into a slightly more robust blob. >plains The blob sinks beneath the surface of the waves, presumably to find the sky blue arch. It disappears from the roiling ocean. The slightly more robust blob emerges in the languid plain and transforms into a undulating slug. >cliff The slug inches toward the pink arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The undulating slug emerges in the howling labyrinth and transforms into a spiny snail. >summo That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >summon The air above the sigil crackles with energy. The great spiny snail appears here, and slowly inches away. >x snail You can't see any such thing. >l The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) The trees here gather, black with wet; glimmering fingers hung with ragged matter, huddling beneath a cold and gently weeping sky. Beneath your feet, the damp red felt of rotting leaves slopes down toward a still, murky puddle. Nearby is a well, capped off with crumbling cement. A broken-down section of brick wall waits for raindrops to fall along its spine, and an old, half-dead oak straddles an angular boulder studded with quartz. A path through the forest leads south. You can see a wooden sigil here. >* Only the octopus sticks around >ocean You need to birth a monster first. >b That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >birth The chrome-plated machine shivers and lurches, and an egg trundles down its chute and splashes into the aquamarine pool below. The shell breaks apart, the pieces rapidly dissolving, leaving behind only a small, translucent blob. >ocean The tiny blob wriggles up onto dry land and passes beneath the sky blue arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The tiny blob emerges in the roiling ocean and transforms into a slightly more robust blob. >forest The blob sinks beneath the surface of the waves, presumably to find the teal arch. It disappears from the roiling ocean. The slightly more robust blob emerges in the blessed forest and transforms into a swarm of burrowing insects. >cliffs The swarm coalesces upon the marigold arch. It disappears from the blessed forest. The swarm of burrowing insects emerges in the howling labyrinth and transforms into a colonial beetle. >summon The air above the sigil crackles with energy. A massive beetle appears on the sigil here, swarming with smaller beetles. It chirps at you before scuttling off into the woods. >* Sigh >x moldy It's heavily damaged by the elements. You can make out the letters "-AGNE" on the front cover. >read it You riffle through the pages; only short passages are still legible: "... circular golden prosthesis seems to have chosen Mabel ... doctor said he can't remove it without harming the child ..." "... Mabel spends long hours examining stumps and rocks in the woods ... and I are most concerned. Mabel's stories of fairies and HIDDEN LANDS seem more than childish fancy" (There's a long section of the book here which is ruined and entirely illegible, although you can make out diagrams and the faded, troubling outlines of strange shapes) "... constructed the sigil out of sculpted and varnished wood after many ... Mabel instructs me on where it should be placed ... spirits she is in communication with have constructed various devices at her command ... creatures I have dubbed microphids ... " "... Clara still doesn't believe; threatened to get Pastor Crowell involved ... able to dodge him so far ... quit my position at ..." "... very concerned but there is no body ... up to seven successful SUMMONINGS that have remained docile ... we will never know, and quite frankly these studies are more important than that ... Each creature must process through three ARCHES, through three HABITATS and stages of development before finally maturing through the ARCH and SIGIL ... special GLUE created by that one created via the sequence ->FOREST->(illegible)->CLIFFS ..." "... at Clara's insistence I have written to the University ... fake name ... one we have dubbed Moppy is friendly enough and a loyal companion to Mabel ..." "... siphoning off the rest of the inheritance ... haven't seen her in a while ... sent an officer of the law to fetch Mabel, but Moppy took care of him ..." (another long damaged section) "... only Tall Pete is left ... lay Mabel in a grave beside Moppy ... TERRIBLE LIZARD-BIRD was raised up from the OCEAN - is still out there somewhere ..." "... now I wear the PROSTHESIS; now I can see everything. ... breached the walls of perception ... I am PRODDING the EGG MACHINE on the QUARTZ OUTCROPPING ... dozens of them GATHER to PROTECT me from the LIZARD BIRD ... PULLED the ROOF clear off my SHELTER ..." And that's it. There's no more. Well, you suppose you didn't actually expect the author to keep writing right up until the point of his death, but you're a little disappointed. >* Let's check the transcript; must have gotten unlucky >* OK that one came from the plain, so maybe not the monster? >* Options are ocean, plain, forest, cliffs >* only 48 different ways to do this! > I beg your pardon? >b That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >birth The chrome-plated machine shivers and lurches, and an egg trundles down its chute and splashes into the aquamarine pool below. The shell breaks apart, the pieces rapidly dissolving, leaving behind only a small, translucent blob. >ocean The tiny blob wriggles up onto dry land and passes beneath the sky blue arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The tiny blob emerges in the roiling ocean and transforms into a slightly more robust blob. >plain The blob sinks beneath the surface of the waves, presumably to find the sky blue arch. It disappears from the roiling ocean. The slightly more robust blob emerges in the languid plain and transforms into a undulating slug. >forest The slug inches toward the mint green arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The undulating slug emerges in the blessed forest and transforms into a murmuring mound. >summon The air above the sigil crackles with energy. The murmuring thing clambers from the sigil, eyestalks peering about, murmuring its cryptic chant >l The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) The trees here gather, black with wet; glimmering fingers hung with ragged matter, huddling beneath a cold and gently weeping sky. Beneath your feet, the damp red felt of rotting leaves slopes down toward a still, murky puddle. Nearby is a well, capped off with crumbling cement. A broken-down section of brick wall waits for raindrops to fall along its spine, and an old, half-dead oak straddles an angular boulder studded with quartz. A path through the forest leads south. You can see a murmuring mound and a wooden sigil here. >x mound This formless creature sits as a wet mound of flesh, eyestalks pointing off in all directions. It lets out a low murmuring from its worm-lipped mouth. >* well we're not dead, so call it good! >hug mound You put your arms around the murmuring mound, careful not to crush any eyestalks. It continues to murmur, which you take as a sign that it likes you. >* Cute! >* Let's get our octopus back while we're at it >birth The chrome-plated machine shivers and lurches, and an egg trundles down its chute and splashes into the aquamarine pool below. The shell breaks apart, the pieces rapidly dissolving, leaving behind only a small, translucent blob. >plain The monster is already there! >ocean The tiny blob wriggles up onto dry land and passes beneath the sky blue arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The tiny blob emerges in the roiling ocean and transforms into a slightly more robust blob. >cliffs The blob sinks beneath the surface of the waves, presumably to find the violet arch. It disappears from the roiling ocean. The slightly more robust blob emerges in the howling labyrinth and transforms into a gas-belching sphere. >forest The creature descends toward the marigold arch. It disappears from the howling labyrinth. The gas-belching sphere emerges in the blessed forest and transforms into a perfumed land octopus. >summon The air above the sigil crackles with energy. The colorful, tentacled creature appears on top of the sigil. It is quite happy to see you! It joins murmuring mound. >* Yay! >save Ok. >* Maybe we need to get like the superfriends to defend ourselves from the bad ones? >birth The chrome-plated machine shivers and lurches, and an egg trundles down its chute and splashes into the aquamarine pool below. The shell breaks apart, the pieces rapidly dissolving, leaving behind only a small, translucent blob. >ocean The tiny blob wriggles up onto dry land and passes beneath the sky blue arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The tiny blob emerges in the roiling ocean and transforms into a slightly more robust blob. >plain The blob sinks beneath the surface of the waves, presumably to find the sky blue arch. It disappears from the roiling ocean. The slightly more robust blob emerges in the languid plain and transforms into a undulating slug. >cliffs The slug inches toward the pink arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The undulating slug emerges in the howling labyrinth and transforms into a spiny snail. >forest The cylinder buzzes, and a tinny recording plays: "This microphid is now mature, and will no longer change habitats." >summon The air above the sigil crackles with energy. The great spiny snail appears here, and slowly inches away. >ocean You need to birth a monster first. >birth The chrome-plated machine shivers and lurches, and an egg trundles down its chute and splashes into the aquamarine pool below. The shell breaks apart, the pieces rapidly dissolving, leaving behind only a small, translucent blob. >ocean The tiny blob wriggles up onto dry land and passes beneath the sky blue arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The tiny blob emerges in the roiling ocean and transforms into a slightly more robust blob. >cliffs The blob sinks beneath the surface of the waves, presumably to find the violet arch. It disappears from the roiling ocean. The slightly more robust blob emerges in the howling labyrinth and transforms into a gas-belching sphere. >forest The creature descends toward the marigold arch. It disappears from the howling labyrinth. The gas-belching sphere emerges in the blessed forest and transforms into a perfumed land octopus. >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >plain The creature descends toward the pink arch. It disappears from the howling labyrinth. The gas-belching sphere emerges in the languid plain and transforms into a rolling flesh. >summon The air above the sigil crackles with energy. An enormous, pulsating ball of flesh appears above the sigil. You sprint off toward the edge of the forest, but stumble and fall. It crushes you to a bloody pulp. *** Gone is seconds flat! *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >ocean The creature descends toward the violet arch. It disappears from the howling labyrinth. The gas-belching sphere emerges in the roiling ocean and transforms into a floating strangler. >summon The air above the sigil crackles with energy. The misshapen polyp appears before you, lashing out with its tendrils. You are caught fast in an instant, thousands of tiny hooks digging into your flesh. It yanks you up, up, until you can see all of Backwater, Vermont and its surrounding territories. Sadly, the view is spoiled by the burning venom coursing through your veins. *** Looks like you got caught up with a bad character! *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >plain The creature descends toward the pink arch. It disappears from the howling labyrinth. The gas-belching sphere emerges in the languid plain and transforms into a rolling flesh. >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >forest The creature descends toward the marigold arch. It disappears from the howling labyrinth. The gas-belching sphere emerges in the blessed forest and transforms into a perfumed land octopus. >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >cliffs The monster is already there! >ocean The creature descends toward the violet arch. It disappears from the howling labyrinth. The gas-belching sphere emerges in the roiling ocean and transforms into a floating strangler. >* OK, we can just undo-scum >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >ocean The monster is already there! >plain The cylinder buzzes, and a tinny recording plays: "This microphid is now mature, and will no longer change habitats." >x monster An abominable polyp of flesh floats above the sea, pulling up fish with its hook-studded tendrils. It is located in the roiling ocean. >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >x monster A buoyant bladder of skin, belching toxic gas among the canyons. Weeping eyes stare in all directions. It is located in the howling labyrinth. >forest The creature descends toward the marigold arch. It disappears from the howling labyrinth. The gas-belching sphere emerges in the blessed forest and transforms into a perfumed land octopus. >summon The air above the sigil crackles with energy. The colorful, tentacled creature appears on top of the sigil. It is quite happy to see you! But alas, it is too crowded for the creature here, and it flops off into the woods. >ocean You need to birth a monster first. >birth The chrome-plated machine shivers and lurches, and an egg trundles down its chute and splashes into the aquamarine pool below. The shell breaks apart, the pieces rapidly dissolving, leaving behind only a small, translucent blob. >ocean The tiny blob wriggles up onto dry land and passes beneath the sky blue arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The tiny blob emerges in the roiling ocean and transforms into a slightly more robust blob. >plain The blob sinks beneath the surface of the waves, presumably to find the sky blue arch. It disappears from the roiling ocean. The slightly more robust blob emerges in the languid plain and transforms into a undulating slug. >ocena That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >ocean The slug inches toward the sky blue arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The undulating slug emerges in the roiling ocean and transforms into a all-consuming blob. >* Seems fine >summon The air above the sigil crackles with energy. A horrid blob of protoplasm bubbles up from the sigil. Within seconds, it consumes the entirety of the clearing, and you with it. Strangely, as your body dissolves, your consciousness remains. As the blob expands across Backwater, you feel other consciousnesses at the edge of your perception. They merge with your own - you are individual, but together. As the creature absorbs Vermont and greater New England, you thrill with ecstasy as more minds are joined with your own. You become reacquainted with old friends and lovers, and even with people you didn't get along with: the girl who bullied you in high school, your cheating ex. But all is forgiven now as your consciousnesses entwine. The blob expands across every nation of the world, absorbing people of all cultures and creeds, coming together at last in a network of perfect empathy. Animals are here too: you feel the dolphin's dreams of rolling among the waves, the bee's duty to its hive, a vast and vastly complex panoply of sensation. When at last the entire world is consumed, you are Earth. You are complete. There is nothing left but to commune with and dream at each other, to put out your pseudopods and explore the stars, singing harmony forever. *** People may tell you this isn't the "correct" ending of the game, but really, is that ending any better than this one, as far as fulfilling your character's goals? You can keep playing to the so-called "end" if you want, but this right here is probably the happiest ending you're going to get in a game like this. *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > * Ia ia Cthulhu Fthagn and all that Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > * Could be worse Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >plain The monster is already there! >x monster A fat, translucent slug browses the spongy plant life from the surface of the plain. Violet nodules ease down its throat. It is located in the languid plain. >ocean The slug inches toward the sky blue arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The undulating slug emerges in the roiling ocean and transforms into a all-consuming blob. >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >plain The monster is already there! >forest The slug inches toward the mint green arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The undulating slug emerges in the blessed forest and transforms into a murmuring mound. >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >cliffs The slug inches toward the pink arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The undulating slug emerges in the howling labyrinth and transforms into a spiny snail. >summon The air above the sigil crackles with energy. The great spiny snail appears here, and slowly inches away. >* OK that was ocean -> plain I think >ocean You need to birth a monster first. >birth The chrome-plated machine shivers and lurches, and an egg trundles down its chute and splashes into the aquamarine pool below. The shell breaks apart, the pieces rapidly dissolving, leaving behind only a small, translucent blob. >ocean The tiny blob wriggles up onto dry land and passes beneath the sky blue arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The tiny blob emerges in the roiling ocean and transforms into a slightly more robust blob. >forest The blob sinks beneath the surface of the waves, presumably to find the teal arch. It disappears from the roiling ocean. The slightly more robust blob emerges in the blessed forest and transforms into a swarm of burrowing insects. >ovrsn That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >ocean The swarm coalesces upon the teal arch. It disappears from the blessed forest. The swarm of burrowing insects emerges in the roiling ocean and transforms into a school of ravenous shrimp. >* erm That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >summon The air above the sigil crackles with energy. Horrid, carnivorous shrimp pour forth from the eldritch sigil, and before you know it, they've overwhelmed the clearing. You would run, but they've already started in on your feet. *** At this buffet, the shrimp eat you! *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >x mosnter You can't see any such thing. >x monster An immense school of ravenous shrimp tosses among the waves, pink on red as it skeletonizes a whale in minutes. It is located in the roiling ocean. >forest The cylinder buzzes, and a tinny recording plays: "This microphid is now mature, and will no longer change habitats." >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >x monster An immense school of ravenous shrimp tosses among the waves, pink on red as it skeletonizes a whale in minutes. It is located in the roiling ocean. >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >x monster Even with the uncanny aid of the device, you have difficulty tracking the creature among the roiling waves. It remains a translucent blob, distinguishable from the surrounding seas only by texture, probing the briny air with delicate pseudopods. It is located in the roiling ocean. >forest The blob sinks beneath the surface of the waves, presumably to find the teal arch. It disappears from the roiling ocean. The slightly more robust blob emerges in the blessed forest and transforms into a swarm of burrowing insects. >ocean The swarm coalesces upon the teal arch. It disappears from the blessed forest. The swarm of burrowing insects emerges in the roiling ocean and transforms into a school of ravenous shrimp. >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >plain The swarm coalesces upon the mint green arch. It disappears from the blessed forest. The swarm of burrowing insects emerges in the languid plain and transforms into a clay towers. >* cool >summon The air above the sigil crackles with energy. A swarm of industrious insects gathers from the sigil, marching off to find a new home. >birth The chrome-plated machine shivers and lurches, and an egg trundles down its chute and splashes into the aquamarine pool below. The shell breaks apart, the pieces rapidly dissolving, leaving behind only a small, translucent blob. >ocean The tiny blob wriggles up onto dry land and passes beneath the sky blue arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The tiny blob emerges in the roiling ocean and transforms into a slightly more robust blob. >forest The blob sinks beneath the surface of the waves, presumably to find the teal arch. It disappears from the roiling ocean. The slightly more robust blob emerges in the blessed forest and transforms into a swarm of burrowing insects. >cliffs The swarm coalesces upon the marigold arch. It disappears from the blessed forest. The swarm of burrowing insects emerges in the howling labyrinth and transforms into a colonial beetle. >summon The air above the sigil crackles with energy. A massive beetle appears on the sigil here, swarming with smaller beetles. It chirps at you before scuttling off into the woods. >birth The chrome-plated machine shivers and lurches, and an egg trundles down its chute and splashes into the aquamarine pool below. The shell breaks apart, the pieces rapidly dissolving, leaving behind only a small, translucent blob. >ocean The tiny blob wriggles up onto dry land and passes beneath the sky blue arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The tiny blob emerges in the roiling ocean and transforms into a slightly more robust blob. >cliffs The blob sinks beneath the surface of the waves, presumably to find the violet arch. It disappears from the roiling ocean. The slightly more robust blob emerges in the howling labyrinth and transforms into a gas-belching sphere. >ocean The creature descends toward the violet arch. It disappears from the howling labyrinth. The gas-belching sphere emerges in the roiling ocean and transforms into a floating strangler. >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >plains The creature descends toward the pink arch. It disappears from the howling labyrinth. The gas-belching sphere emerges in the languid plain and transforms into a rolling flesh. >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >forest The creature descends toward the marigold arch. It disappears from the howling labyrinth. The gas-belching sphere emerges in the blessed forest and transforms into a perfumed land octopus. >summon The air above the sigil crackles with energy. The colorful, tentacled creature appears on top of the sigil. It is quite happy to see you! But alas, it is too crowded for the creature here, and it flops off into the woods. >birth The chrome-plated machine shivers and lurches, and an egg trundles down its chute and splashes into the aquamarine pool below. The shell breaks apart, the pieces rapidly dissolving, leaving behind only a small, translucent blob. >plain The monster is already there! >forest The tiny blob wriggles up onto dry land and passes beneath the mint green arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The tiny blob emerges in the blessed forest and transforms into a small quadruped. >ocean The creature saunters through the teal arch. It disappears from the blessed forest. The small quadruped emerges in the roiling ocean and transforms into a bumpy whale. >plain The whale dives to the sky blue arch. It disappears from the roiling ocean. The bumpy whale emerges in the languid plain and transforms into a many-legged beast. >summon The air above the sigil crackles with energy. A massive whale-like creature emerges from the sigil, replete with elephantine legs. But, like all your so-called friends, it stomps off into the forest never to be seen again. >birth The chrome-plated machine shivers and lurches, and an egg trundles down its chute and splashes into the aquamarine pool below. The shell breaks apart, the pieces rapidly dissolving, leaving behind only a small, translucent blob. >forest The tiny blob wriggles up onto dry land and passes beneath the mint green arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The tiny blob emerges in the blessed forest and transforms into a small quadruped. >ocean The creature saunters through the teal arch. It disappears from the blessed forest. The small quadruped emerges in the roiling ocean and transforms into a bumpy whale. >plain The whale dives to the sky blue arch. It disappears from the roiling ocean. The bumpy whale emerges in the languid plain and transforms into a many-legged beast. >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >forest The whale dives to the teal arch. It disappears from the roiling ocean. The bumpy whale emerges in the blessed forest and transforms into a space whale. >summon The air above the sigil crackles with energy. A beautiful space whale appears before you, levitating in psychedelic paisley. "Well met, human," it says, lights flickering across its patterns. "It is a shame that you are not yet far enough in your evolution - too prone to violence, to selfishness. Someday, perhaps I shall return to you, and we shall ride to glory among the nebulae. So long, my poor friend." And with that, it soars skyward, vanishing to a single far-off mote, and then to a mere memory. Not knowing what else to do, you weep bitter tears. >* Alas, what might have been >birth The chrome-plated machine shivers and lurches, and an egg trundles down its chute and splashes into the aquamarine pool below. The shell breaks apart, the pieces rapidly dissolving, leaving behind only a small, translucent blob. >forest The tiny blob wriggles up onto dry land and passes beneath the mint green arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The tiny blob emerges in the blessed forest and transforms into a small quadruped. >ocean The creature saunters through the teal arch. It disappears from the blessed forest. The small quadruped emerges in the roiling ocean and transforms into a bumpy whale. >cliffs The whale dives to the violet arch. It disappears from the roiling ocean. The bumpy whale emerges in the howling labyrinth and transforms into a armored climber. >summon The air above the sigil crackles with energy. A great, armor-plated monster trundles forth from the sigil and off into the forest with hardly a backwards glance. >birth The chrome-plated machine shivers and lurches, and an egg trundles down its chute and splashes into the aquamarine pool below. The shell breaks apart, the pieces rapidly dissolving, leaving behind only a small, translucent blob. >forest The tiny blob wriggles up onto dry land and passes beneath the mint green arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The tiny blob emerges in the blessed forest and transforms into a small quadruped. >plain The creature saunters through the mint green arch. It disappears from the blessed forest. The small quadruped emerges in the languid plain and transforms into a glassy horse. >ocean This horse gallops gaily toward the sky blue arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The glassy horse emerges in the roiling ocean and transforms into a hungry seal. >summon The air above the sigil crackles with energy. The absurd and frightening seal appears before you; it moves frighteningly fast, even on land. It pins you down and clenches its enormous human teeth against your skull. *** Looks like your fate is sealed. *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >* surpringly disturbing! >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >x monster A seal with an enormous and eerily anthropomorphic mouth swims about, taking bloody bites from the sea life. It is located in the roiling ocean. >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >x monster This carefree colt, galloping across the plains. One slick black eye set in the transparent flesh of its head. It is located in the languid plain. >plain The monster is already there! >forst That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >forest This horse gallops gaily toward the mint green arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The glassy horse emerges in the blessed forest and transforms into a polyphonic ungulate. >summon The air above the sigil crackles with energy. The ungulate struts forth from the sigil, piping its dissonant tune. It joins the perfumed land octopus and the murmuring mound. >x ungulate A hooved mammal stands here, emitting dissonent tones from the many holes in its body. >birth The chrome-plated machine shivers and lurches, and an egg trundles down its chute and splashes into the aquamarine pool below. The shell breaks apart, the pieces rapidly dissolving, leaving behind only a small, translucent blob. >forest The tiny blob wriggles up onto dry land and passes beneath the mint green arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The tiny blob emerges in the blessed forest and transforms into a small quadruped. >plain The creature saunters through the mint green arch. It disappears from the blessed forest. The small quadruped emerges in the languid plain and transforms into a glassy horse. >forest This horse gallops gaily toward the mint green arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The glassy horse emerges in the blessed forest and transforms into a polyphonic ungulate. >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >cliffs This horse gallops gaily toward the pink arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The glassy horse emerges in the howling labyrinth and transforms into a slime ape. >summon The air above the sigil crackles with energy. The cycloptic ape extends its arms over the edge of the sigil, heaving itself into your pathetic material world, dripping gobs of sticky slime across the forest floor. It leaps atop the clearing and onto the well cap. It turns and catches you in its monocular gaze. An understanding passes between you. Maybe even - love? It turns again, bolting into the bushes. "W-Wait," you say, but the moment has passed. Only the creature's sticky goo is left behind on the well. >birth The chrome-plated machine shivers and lurches, and an egg trundles down its chute and splashes into the aquamarine pool below. The shell breaks apart, the pieces rapidly dissolving, leaving behind only a small, translucent blob. >forest The tiny blob wriggles up onto dry land and passes beneath the mint green arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The tiny blob emerges in the blessed forest and transforms into a small quadruped. >cliffs The creature saunters through the marigold arch. It disappears from the blessed forest. The small quadruped emerges in the howling labyrinth and transforms into a winged scavenger. >ocean The creature flaps toward the violet arch. It disappears from the howling labyrinth. The winged scavenger emerges in the roiling ocean and transforms into a fearsome pteranodon. >* that's the lizard bird, right? >summon The air above the sigil crackles with energy. A fearsome pteranodon emerges and perches on the handles of the well-cap. It screeches at the other monsters, but they band together to defend themselves. Defeated, it attempts to fly off, but its feet are stuck fast to the well-cap. It screeches and shrieks, flapping its colossal wings, sending clots of leaves and muddy droplets spiraling into the air. At last, the cement cracks, and the top of the well breaks off in the creatures claws as it soars higher and higher. Only the open top of the well remains. In the chaos, a piece of debris must have hit the golden device, for now it the eyepiece shows only black. With a whine, it falls from your face, sputtering acrid green smoke. >* umm, wow >* So we solved the puzzle! >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >ndo That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >x monster You can't see any such thing. >birth You can't with the device turned off. >p machine You can't with the device turned off. >x well The well is torn open, just a gaping cement hole. >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >x monster It shrieks above the sea, borne on great and leathery wings. It seizes great fish with grasping claws, lifting them from the water. It is located in the roiling ocean. >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >plain The cylinder buzzes, and a tinny recording plays: "This microphid is now mature, and will no longer change habitats." >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >undo The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) [Previous turn undone.] >plain The creature flaps toward the pink arch. It disappears from the howling labyrinth. The winged scavenger emerges in the languid plain and transforms into a peaceful glider. >summon The air above the sigil crackles with energy. The great gliding bird appears above the sigil. It circles higher and higher, until it is barely a speck in the sky. >birth The chrome-plated machine shivers and lurches, and an egg trundles down its chute and splashes into the aquamarine pool below. The shell breaks apart, the pieces rapidly dissolving, leaving behind only a small, translucent blob. >forest The tiny blob wriggles up onto dry land and passes beneath the mint green arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The tiny blob emerges in the blessed forest and transforms into a small quadruped. >cliffs The creature saunters through the marigold arch. It disappears from the blessed forest. The small quadruped emerges in the howling labyrinth and transforms into a winged scavenger. >forest The creature flaps toward the marigold arch. It disappears from the howling labyrinth. The winged scavenger emerges in the blessed forest and transforms into a colorful bird. >summon The air above the sigil crackles with energy. The vivid bird appears on top of the sigil. It flutters about the clearing, singing its song. But alas, it is too crowded for the creature here, and it flies off over the trees. >* OK, that's the max we can get >* feels like enought! Man, Reed Lockwood, you went above and beyond >birth The chrome-plated machine shivers and lurches, and an egg trundles down its chute and splashes into the aquamarine pool below. The shell breaks apart, the pieces rapidly dissolving, leaving behind only a small, translucent blob. >forest The tiny blob wriggles up onto dry land and passes beneath the mint green arch. It disappears from the languid plain. The tiny blob emerges in the blessed forest and transforms into a small quadruped. >climms That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >cliffs The creature saunters through the marigold arch. It disappears from the blessed forest. The small quadruped emerges in the howling labyrinth and transforms into a winged scavenger. >oceans That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >ocean The creature flaps toward the violet arch. It disappears from the howling labyrinth. The winged scavenger emerges in the roiling ocean and transforms into a fearsome pteranodon. >summon The air above the sigil crackles with energy. A fearsome pteranodon emerges and perches on the handles of the well-cap. It screeches at the other monsters, but they band together to defend themselves. Defeated, it attempts to fly off, but its feet are stuck fast to the well-cap. It screeches and shrieks, flapping its colossal wings, sending clots of leaves and muddy droplets spiraling into the air. At last, the cement cracks, and the top of the well breaks off in the creatures claws as it soars higher and higher. Only the open top of the well remains. In the chaos, a piece of debris must have hit the golden device, for now it the eyepiece shows only black. With a whine, it falls from your face, sputtering acrid green smoke. >l The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) The trees here gather, black with wet; glimmering fingers hung with ragged matter, huddling beneath a cold and gently weeping sky. Beneath your feet, the damp red felt of rotting leaves slopes down toward a still, murky puddle. Nearby is a well, a ragged, gaping hole in the earth. A broken-down section of brick wall waits for raindrops to fall along its spine, and an old, half-dead oak straddles an angular boulder studded with quartz. A path through the forest leads south. You can see a golden eyepiece, a polyphonic ungulate, a perfumed land octopus, a murmuring mound and a wooden sigil here. >x eyepiece A misshapen golden disc, studded with lenses. It is cracked and misshapen now. On its surfaces are a round button, a triangular button, and a small rectangular slot. The golden eyepiece is currently switched off. >take it Taken. >wear it You try holding it up to your eye, but it just falls off. Perhaps there are additional steps. >push round You press the round button, but nothing happens. >push traingular You can't see any such thing. >push trinagular You can't see any such thing. >push triangular You press the triangular button, but nothing happens. >x slot You see nothing special about the rectangular slot. >l The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) The trees here gather, black with wet; glimmering fingers hung with ragged matter, huddling beneath a cold and gently weeping sky. Beneath your feet, the damp red felt of rotting leaves slopes down toward a still, murky puddle. Nearby is a well, a ragged, gaping hole in the earth. A broken-down section of brick wall waits for raindrops to fall along its spine, and an old, half-dead oak straddles an angular boulder studded with quartz. A path through the forest leads south. You can see a polyphonic ungulate, a perfumed land octopus, a murmuring mound and a wooden sigil here. >* I think we're done here >take octopus You can't take the perfumed land octopus, it's a beautiful free creature with its own agency! >octopus, hello You say hello to the perfumed land octopus. >octopus, There is no reply. >octopus, d The perfumed land octopus has better things to do. >ask octopus about octopus There is no reply. >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 >save Ok. >d Circular Room (JP) You walk into a circular, high-ceilinged room made of roughly-shaped gray stones. This room really looks like a capped well, but its location in the building suggests otherwise. There appears to be a small wad of cash just inside the sunken area. >* In the building? >* Wait, did we finally make it to CRAGNE MANOR??? >* [roll credits] >* "JP" is not one I'm gonna be able to track down >x stones The irregular grey stones that comprise the circular room have a satiny sheen, appearing almost wet. Their color is soft and quiet; visions of pre-dawn fog in the harbor, spilling out from a river's mouth. The room itself looks like it spans about 30 feet, and its floor has a wide, round depression in the middle, rather resembling the resting place for a teacup. >x well You can't see any such thing. >x cash It smells a little musty and is deeply creased into an almost solid lump. >smell You smell nothing unexpected. >smell cash You smell nothing unexpected. >x depression You can't see any such thing. >l Circular Room (JP) You walk into a circular, high-ceilinged room made of roughly-shaped gray stones. This room really looks like a capped well, but its location in the building suggests otherwise. There appears to be a small wad of cash just inside the sunken area. >x sunken You can't see any such thing. >x area You can't see any such thing. >pull string The doll intones: "Beware the stones! Grey is the hue of that which is already beyond recovery!" >g The doll intones: "Flee the wad of cash!" >g The doll intones: "Shun the wad of cash!" >g The doll intones: "Guard against the plague of the wad of cash!" >g The doll intones: "Guard against the thing that isn't here!" >g The doll intones: "Beware the peril of the stones! Grey is the hue of that which is already beyond recovery!" >g The doll intones: "Guard against the plague of the thing that isn't here!" >g The doll intones: "Shun the portent of the wad of cash!" >* ...not much here That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >* Are there exits? That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >e You can't go that way. >w You can't go that way. >n You can't go that way. >ne You can't go that way. >nw You can't go that way. >sw You can't go that way. >se You can't go that way. >s You can't go that way. >d You can't go that way. >* OK, no >* I mean... >* what could go wrong >take cash Taken. >i You are carrying: a wad of cash a golden eyepiece a moldy, waterlogged journal a plastic bubble (open but empty) a brass winding key a suitcase (open but empty) an old quarter an employee ID card a soggy tome a long hooked pole a shard of shattered carapace a grimy rock a Jansport backpack (being worn and open) a key pocket (open but empty) a book pocket (open) Twin Hearts Between the Planes The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three a postcard of Big Ben the diary of Phyllis Cragne a side pocket (open) a book list 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) >x wad It smells a little musty and is deeply creased into an almost solid lump. >l Circular Room (JP) You walk into a circular, high-ceilinged room made of roughly-shaped gray stones. This room really looks like a capped well, but its location in the building suggests otherwise. >x ceiling You can't see any such thing. >x room You can't see any such thing. >push stones They are fixed in place. >search stones You find nothing of interest. >x coffee The clouds in your cup form no discernible pattern. 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. >* well that room was slightly simpler than the Old Well >* Whew! >* ... we still haven't wrapped up Under the Bridge, have we? >* Let's give that one more try... >u The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) The trees here gather, black with wet; glimmering fingers hung with ragged matter, huddling beneath a cold and gently weeping sky. Beneath your feet, the damp red felt of rotting leaves slopes down toward a still, murky puddle. Nearby is a well, a ragged, gaping hole in the earth. A broken-down section of brick wall waits for raindrops to fall along its spine, and an old, half-dead oak straddles an angular boulder studded with quartz. A path through the forest leads south. You can see a polyphonic ungulate, a perfumed land octopus, a murmuring mound and a wooden sigil here. >s The Dim Recesses of the Forest (Jacqueline A. Lott Ashwell) Branches scramble overhead, straining toward one another in a bid to blot out the sky. Mercifully, light manages to filter down through an opening in the canopy above a small pond. Paths slither away into the forest to the north, southwest, and southeast. >se 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. >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. >se River Walk (Adam Whybray) A dirt path along the west bank of the Makaskuta - or Blackgourd - River. The air is motionless and sweltry, the urticariate heat drawing sweat profusely from your prickling glands. Just below you, to your side, the river burbles in vainglorious stupor, foaming in bright patches from the surfacants released from the rotting deposits of the red maples and poplars that line its banks. A single black ash, denuded of leaves, its corky bark blighted with the telltale signs of parasitic infection, quietly interrupts the Autumnal foliage of its deciduous cousins. The river's waters slith over rocks as lustrous-gray as seal skin, rending them freshly burnished for the mid-September sun, which casts Her rays in refulgent slats through the rust-honey colored trees. It is though Nature, in celebration of Her own fecundity, has chosen to offer Herself up in Equinoxical sacrifice - the rocks laid out before the blazing altar of the sun. There is a forbidding sign on the bank of the river. The way up to Backwater town square is northwest. Following the path north leads under the bridge. On the Makaskuta river is a buoy. You can also see a freshwater lobster trap (in which is an eggbound crawfish) and a shattered crawfish here. >n Under the Bridge (Tenth) The path along the river gives way to a crumbling stone embankment as it passes below the arch of the old stone bridge. A rusty metal hatch is set into the ground opposite from the river, and towards the end of the embankment, a derelict payphone squats, forgotten, under the shadow of the bridge. To the south, the path continues to follow the river. >save Ok. >x me As good-looking as ever. You bear the trauma of a woman who has been eye to eye with an eburnean pond kraken. >s River Walk (Adam Whybray) A dirt path along the west bank of the Makaskuta - or Blackgourd - River. The air is motionless and sweltry, the urticariate heat drawing sweat profusely from your prickling glands. Just below you, to your side, the river burbles in vainglorious stupor, foaming in bright patches from the surfacants released from the rotting deposits of the red maples and poplars that line its banks. A single black ash, denuded of leaves, its corky bark blighted with the telltale signs of parasitic infection, quietly interrupts the Autumnal foliage of its deciduous cousins. The river's waters slith over rocks as lustrous-gray as seal skin, rending them freshly burnished for the mid-September sun, which casts Her rays in refulgent slats through the rust-honey colored trees. It is though Nature, in celebration of Her own fecundity, has chosen to offer Herself up in Equinoxical sacrifice - the rocks laid out before the blazing altar of the sun. There is a forbidding sign on the bank of the river. The way up to Backwater town square is northwest. Following the path north leads under the bridge. On the Makaskuta river is a buoy. You can also see a freshwater lobster trap (in which is an eggbound crawfish) and a shattered crawfish here. >x me Has it always been this hot? The air is so close it feels like you have to gulp down mouthfuls of viscous soup to breathe. Being outside for... how long? ... has caused rivulets of hives to spore in cacographic zigzags along your bare arms. A faint buzzing hums soporifically in your ears. You shiver slightly as though it were snowing. Got to press on. >* eek >nw 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. >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. >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. >nw The Dim Recesses of the Forest (Jacqueline A. Lott Ashwell) Branches scramble overhead, straining toward one another in a bid to blot out the sky. Mercifully, light manages to filter down through an opening in the canopy above a small pond. Paths slither away into the forest to the north, southwest, and southeast. > I beg your pardon? >n The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) The trees here gather, black with wet; glimmering fingers hung with ragged matter, huddling beneath a cold and gently weeping sky. Beneath your feet, the damp red felt of rotting leaves slopes down toward a still, murky puddle. Nearby is a well, a ragged, gaping hole in the earth. A broken-down section of brick wall waits for raindrops to fall along its spine, and an old, half-dead oak straddles an angular boulder studded with quartz. A path through the forest leads south. You can see a polyphonic ungulate, a perfumed land octopus, a murmuring mound and a wooden sigil here. >d Circular Room (JP) You walk into a circular, high-ceilinged room made of roughly-shaped gray stones. This room really looks like a capped well, but its location in the building suggests otherwise. >x me As good-looking as ever. You bear the trauma of a woman who has been eye to eye with an eburnean pond kraken. >* well, that one fleshed-out one kinda makes up for the terseness of the others >* It occurs to me it'd be kind of cool to make a totally straight-ahead room with only a few simple objects, but embed a huge amount of detail and gameplay systems that only unfold if you X ME >u The Old Well (Reed Lockwood) The trees here gather, black with wet; glimmering fingers hung with ragged matter, huddling beneath a cold and gently weeping sky. Beneath your feet, the damp red felt of rotting leaves slopes down toward a still, murky puddle. Nearby is a well, a ragged, gaping hole in the earth. A broken-down section of brick wall waits for raindrops to fall along its spine, and an old, half-dead oak straddles an angular boulder studded with quartz. A path through the forest leads south. You can see a polyphonic ungulate, a perfumed land octopus, a murmuring mound and a wooden sigil here. >s The Dim Recesses of the Forest (Jacqueline A. Lott Ashwell) Branches scramble overhead, straining toward one another in a bid to blot out the sky. Mercifully, light manages to filter down through an opening in the canopy above a small pond. Paths slither away into the forest to the north, southwest, and southeast. A flurry of dead leaves goes skittering along the ground, swirling past you in the wind. >se 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. >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. [The second piece of Under the Bridge gameplay actually happened here, before I moved it] >save Ok. >* this transcript is already super long so even though we've only done three new locations, let's call it here >i You are carrying: a wad of cash a golden eyepiece a moldy, waterlogged journal a plastic bubble (open but empty) a brass winding key a suitcase (open but empty) an employee ID card a soggy tome a long hooked pole a shard of shattered carapace a grimy rock a Jansport backpack (being worn and open) a key pocket (open but empty) a book pocket (open) Twin Hearts Between the Planes The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three a postcard of Big Ben the diary of Phyllis Cragne a side pocket (open) a book list 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) >save Ok. >