prompt
stringlengths 1
124
| response
stringlengths 1
5.19k
|
---|---|
You go south | You can't go that way.
It is pitch dark, and you are being eaten by a grue. |
You follow Jack | You head west after Jack.
The pathway becomes narrow here and splits in three directions. It makes you think of a triangle. The flowerbeds here are yellow and really pretty.
You can go north, south or east.
Jack is marching up and down here.
Coming along the path towards you is a tall, pretty lady walking a little dog on a leash. You like dogs, though your family doesn't have any.
Jack runs to the east. |
You wake up | Ok, honestly, you're really sitting in front of a computer, laptop, tablet or smartphone playing a text adventure loosely inspired by the songs of They Might be Giants. Better?
Each step takes you in a completely new direction. Here's another
go at a fresh world. |
Water | You consume some of the water in moistening the loaf of stale bread. |
You get the note | You already have that. |
You fill the bucket with the blood | You try to scoop up some of the horrifying fluid, but every time you do, the blood boils away as soon as you remove the bucket from the lake. |
You examine the spider | The giant spider is covered in velvety, chestnut-brown fur but it hardly seems cuddly. Every so often, it pauses in its spinning to stare back at you with its inky black eyes. Perhaps it's considering what to have for dessert. |
You take mat and the poker | rolled-up straw mat: Taken.
poker: Taken. |
You talk nun | Actually, you usually find conversation to be overrated. |
P lady | The young lady suddenly stirs. She clears her throat. |
You tell sweet about fire | "Yes, Mr. Sterling, I'm fully aware of your heroic intentions."
The bee whirls furiously around your head, and then suddenly breaks off. Soon its angry whine fades to nothing.
"I suppose you really did believe I was in danger. Your actions, though ludicrously unnecessary, were nevertheless thoughtful." |
You remove the straps | (first taking the straps)
That seems to be a part of Bunk C. |
Wait | Time passes.
The buzzing becomes very faint as the plane flies out of view.
The glint of light rushes towards the ground at a fantastic rate. It thuds into the earth, throwing up rocks and dirt in an amazing display. Still more amazingly, it bounces up into the air and with a neat "plop", lands gently onto the trebuchet. |
You go to the south | Via Terminalis, West End
You stand in the terminus of the Via Terminalis, a dead end of steel spires and buildings grasping fruitlessly at the sky. In the ceaseless rain, smears of animus-light weakly glow, winking in and out of existence like so many wandering souls.
The dormitory block where you live lies to the north, and a gap between buildings hides an alley entrance to the south.
The way east to the Via Terminalis has been barricaded by a Vigiles checkpoint.
Some schoolgirls walk past, not meeting your eye. |
Go north | You are standing outside a small wooden hut that seems abandoned a long time ago. From here, you can go back south to where you crossed the river.
A meteorite shoots across the sky and disappears into the horizon. |
You open the door | You open the front door.
A flurry of dead leaves goes skittering along the ground, swirling past you in the wind. |
You examine the people | A rowdy bunch for the most part, deep in their cups and likely to remain that way for the foreseeable future. |
You examine table | There is a table off to one side, draped in a bright blue tablecloth. |
Look around | You see an open Dutch door to the North and other doors across the room to the South and Southwest.
The guy is standing by your side |
Go south | In the Boat Shed (standing on the dock)
The interior of the shed is bathed in shifting light. Watery reflections spill through the big door to the south, which has been raised. Water laps gently against the walls, and there's no floor at all, only a dock that juts out to the south from a narrow platform near the door. Standing on the dock, you can step into the power boat that's tied up on the east side, or into the rowboat on the west side. The threshold of the shed and the door by which you entered are to the north.
Lydia is sitting in the rowboat.
Lydia gazes around nervously at the gloomy interior of the boat shed. |
Dig | You scratch about a bit, but you're not really built for digging.
You sense peacefulness changing to caution from the south. |
You take it | You lift the jug with one hand: unsurprisingly, it's empty. A pity - by the Goddess, you could use a drink. And some breakfast... Then your eyes catch the glint of something metallic. You squat again, screwing your eyes in the half-light. There was something behind the jug... a pin? It seems to be a sort of golden brooch. You can guess it was carefully hidden somewhere, until last night's whirlwind of men and clothes ended up with the little golden bauble thrown in a corner. Now this is a surprise... |
Go west | (first getting off the chairs)
Cupboards are hanging open and there doesn't seem to be a whole lot left. The counters are strewn with broken glass and pieces of broken lab equipment. There are doors to the north, east and south. A closet lies to the west.
The end of the ladder dangles from a hole above.
The cat arrives.
Hot. Hot. Burning up. |
You eat the pass | That's plainly inedible.
X clears her throat awkwardly and scratches her nose. |
You look at the purse | You recognise the purse as one belonging to Elsie. It is about three inches square - just big enough to hold a few coins - and is made of a soft fabric. It is drawn closed by a ribbon around its top edge. Perhaps it was caught in the ivy when Elsie fell from the window! |
You get the ashtray stand | You manage to wrestle the ashtray stand up onto the table without dislocating your arms, somehow. Then you stand it up so it won't roll off.
Thunder booms loudly outside, rattling the windows. |
You examine harlequin | Cheeky's the harlequin stamped on this butt. The picture's checked in yellow paint and represents the fellow with a bottle tipped to funnel liquid underneath his domino. |
You ask John about John | "What's there to tell? I studied painting in Rome, and now I'm just struggling to get some sort of work done before my money runs out." |
You ask Waitress about the diner | "There's really nothing to do around here. You might as well take your things and go." |
You go to the west | You are in the living room. There is a doorway to the east, a wooden door with strange gothic lettering to the west, which appears to be nailed shut, a trophy case, and a closed trap door at your feet.
There is a brass lantern (battery-powered) here.
There is a brown sack here.
There is a glass bottle here.
The glass bottle contains:
A quantity of water
On the ground is a pile of leaves. |
You buy the cellar | If the cellar were only on sale, you might be able to afford it. |
You eat guard | You'll do no better than you did before. He throws you back again. At least he's lackadaisical about your continued assaults. No, you'll need a more indirect approach. |
You go to the man | You eagerly scamper that way.
You are right outside a dilapidated shack, which has clearly been neglected. The sky rumbles and rolls, and flashes of lightning snap between billowing clouds of dirt-colored dust.
MYOMITA AI -> SELECT : TRUE |
You drive N | (first getting into the Dynamo)
You step up on the running board.
Greenwood Lane (in the Pratt Dynamo)
You are on a curvy stretch of Greenwood Lane, which winds north towards the town and south to your estate.
A small, colourful shape catches your eye by the side of the road, just beneath a tree. It seems to be a twitterpated hatchling.
The road flows by at an exhilarating pace. |
You take the shell | Taken. |
You talk to the farmer | His overalls hang from a pale and lanky frame that has never seen the outside of a dome.
"Shipping crops interstellar gives you the thinnest profit margins - unless it's a true luxury, like this blue asparagus. 4k is a
fair price, in my eyes." |
1 | "Thank you for your help."
...
...Good luck... girl who talks to spirits.
...Good luck... girl who talks to spirits.You close
your mind's eye. The fire consumes you and the world shifts.
Terminal Vein
The candlelight dies here, where the aqueduct narrows. The ragged curtain hides a dark and dismal tunnel which bristles with rusted wires and broken pressure valves. And all around you, pale and half-formed, lurking in the crevices of your consciousness, are the spirits of the dead.
You can follow the aqueduct south to the underground church, or northwest where it opens out onto the pouring rain. |
Script | Scene:
landscape garden, midnight
in which the corpse...
and the countess...
Stage directions:
inventory (i), examine (x)
attack, wake up
infect (when wearing graveclothes)
The countess is suddenly there, only inches away, and her cutlass slices through your kielbasa and sinks promptly into your neck with a horrible crunch. Those were vertebrae, weren't they?
Bringing a sausage to a swordfight was the last mistake you'll ever make.
On the Stroke
How did you ever get into this predicament? A rumor, a glove thrown down onto a dance-floor? Now you're standing in the moonlight and your knees are knocking together, although you hope that no one notices. You're still dressed for a masquerade and nothing feels quite real. Perhaps it isn't real... and all you need to do is wake up from
this nightmare.
The scene is set: landscape garden.
The cast: your second, Ferdinand, handing your weapon over; your rival's second, Onegin, handing her weapon over; and your
rival -- the countess.
"En garde!" the countess cries. |
You look around | An extremely bright light comes from this cave's only exit to the east. It is terribly hot here. The intolerable temperature is almost certainly caused by the red-hot stone oven standing in a corner.
A stone table stands in the middle of the cave. Round it stands a stone throne with an old troll, a stone chair with a tall troll, a stone stool with a short troll, and a large stone. The trolls look a bit like humans made of stone, though with no necks, bigger jaws, smaller eyes and huge arms and hands. They are playing some kind of card game.
A golem, a man crudely made from stone, is standing here unmoving. Some runes have been chiseled into his chest.
You can see a stone saxophone here. |
You look at Amilia | The terrifying thing about the Lady Amilia, a young woman who would
grace any court ball, is that even after an entire day like this she
shows no sign whatever of being bored. Even now she is reading the
guide book with apparent concentration, though you can't ever remember
her turning a page.
The procession sluggishly resumes, taking some time to accelerate
again. You dread to imagine what a hill start would be like.
Watling Street (in the cushioned basket)
The ancient highway stretches east as far as the eye can see, running
parallel with the mossy stone wall enclosing the hunting woods to the
south. The wall appears unbroken. To the north, vast meadowlands sweep
into a lush, cultivated valley.
The procession of elephants shuffles on, their enormous soles slapping
onto the flagstones with a dull, regular boom.
"...such a dreadful shame, all things considered..." |
You go to the east | Near the right proscenium arch you see the tracks that guide the counterweight for the main stage curtain and a faint glimmer of light to the West.
There is the curtain counterweight
The guy is standing by your side |
You read the book | You have written "Wizard's Spell Book" hopefully across the first page, and added headings for the first few spells, but no magic is yet contained in it.
The pattern of the mosaic changes: "Storage areas lie to the northeast and southeast.
" |
Kweepa | You wade into the gloom ... and find a dark and winding tunnel.
You're at a junction within an ancient, crumbling catacomb. Your torchlight pierces the gloom for only a few feet in each direction. As the result of an ancient leak, the catacombs are knee deep in warm, brackish canal water.
Tiffany trails along.
A Martian hawk, hearing the cry of a possible mate, flies up and begins squawking and flapping a mating ritual. As it pauses to catch its breath, it takes a better look at you, rubs its eyes, and flies quickly away. |
Go west | You are in your room at the La Quinta. There's not much here and it's certainly not very fancy, but that's fine. You won't be here long. It just seems rather run down for one hundred and thirty dollars a night even if it is this close to the Coors baseball field. The door out is to the east.
You can see the door to the parking lot here. |
You look around | The east wall is occupied by a beautiful antique sofa, and a large, hand-woven rug covers the hardwood floor. The huge marble fireplace in the north wall helps complete the impression of comfort and warmth, and for a moment or two you can almost think of this place as somewhere you could live, as opposed to merely somewhere others have died. The foyer lies west, and a doorway to the left of the fireplace leads north.
The portrait gazes down at you with crimson-edged malice.
On the sofa is a family album. |
You ask him about Tyrone | "A plain-spoken, hard-workin' man," Gillespie says. "I wouldn't say a word against him. Though he is a little ... unfriendly, don't you think?" |
You go to the north-east | The tangled undergrowth has been beaten down in a path leading roughly from the east to the southwest. Shrubs and grass have been flattened and pushed aside, vines torn down, and small trees bent or even snapped in half, as though something heavy with huge, flat feet had simply trampled its way through. |
You go east | You see a piece of cellophane here.
You hear a loud and raucous argument in the living room about the rules for Monopoly.
You hear a sharp BUMP! followed by a plaintive, "Who pud this wall here *hic*."
Evan follows you into the short hall. |
You put the play on gambler | (first taking the play intent from the card sharp)
I give the play intent to the gambler, taking the take intent in exchange. It now intends to play poker.
With evident trepidation, the gambler approaches the poker table and starts a game.
The cards are dealt, and the gambler and the card sharp toss some
chips onto the table and look at each other warily. |
You examine the house | Your family lives in this meager structure indeed, but it has been a safe and secure harbor all of your life. |
You look in the locker | In your locker are some textbooks. |
You take the remote control | As you reach down to take the remote control, your husband quickly moves it out of your grasp. "No, no, no," he says, "No touchie. You can watch Top Chef when the game is over." |
You go to the west | Omelettes carpet the floor. A brazier crackles merrily, surrounded by soft lard couches with marshmallow pillows. Less appetizing's that cage in the corner, where a carrion crow hunches behind nougat bars, watching the room.
Southward you'll find the baron's cabinet, eastward the scriptorium, and downward stairs lead to the western tapestry. |
You show the pictures to Carl | "What are you trying to do, torture me?" he hisses at you. |
You examine sink | The counter has a white film over it and the basin is yellowed. |
You wear the mimethe 'S | (first taking the mime's-mouth flower)
You attach the mime's-mouth flower to your face. |
Inventory | You are carrying:
a sack (open but empty)
a Chinese key
a manual |
You talk to the jewels | None of the jewels are within reach. To get to the nearest of them you'd have to cross at least twenty feet of scorpion-infested sand. |
You get the typewriter paper | You pick up sheet of typewriter paper.
You add sheet of typewriter paper to your existing collection of pages.
The hallway door swings closed. There's a click as the lock reengages. |
You go northwest | The hallway curves west until it reaches the black door.
The corridor from the east ends here, and a single door looms to the west. It's no larger than the doors you've seen elsewhere; but it somehow looks... heavy. Unyielding. Reinforcing struts cross the
door's face, and the surface is sheathed with some black coating.
The end of the hallway is still well-lit.
You spin around, ready for pursuit, but no one appears. |
Trap snake | (the speckled band)
Throwing the noose round the reptile's neck, you draw it from its horrid perch and, carrying it at arm's length, throw it into the iron safe, which you close upon it.
You are travelling home on the train.
Nearly -- nearly. The animal stink is rank and close. You raise your crossbow, try to peer beyond dark, wet stone. |
Go upwards | You painstakingly climb out of the old well.
Beyond the south wall of the old slaughterhouse, there is nothing but a tangled thicket so dense as to be impenetrable in every direction except to the north, where you can slip back into the ruined slaughterhouse through a hole in the wall.
Rising from the midst of the underbrush is a squat circle of stone: the top of an ancient well.
A rotting circle of plywood leans against the side of the well.
A gust of wind blows your hair into your face. |
Cling to the ledge | You peek down, towards the bottom-less area of the pit. Probably not a good idea?
Something about the ledge catches your eye.
You scoot to the edge of the ledge, swing your legs over it, and start clinging on for dear life. Looking around, you spy some handholds that were previously invisible from your elevated point of view. |
Go west | It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the shade beneath the greater pavilion.
You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier.
There are numerous wooden benches here. Right now, they're
stacked, one on top of another, into a towering wooden column twice your height.
You see a clam shell here.
Grains of sand on the concrete floor twinkle as the light of the setting sun streaks through them at just the right angle. |
You look in the car | The inside of your own car is familiar to you already.
The storm continues to batter unrelenting upon Skebdale.
A bus sweeps down the dale like a steel monster, carrying a consignment of little old ladies towards the Vale of York. The chickens are helpless before the harbinger of death. All that remains are a few brown feathers, slowly drifting to earth...
Suddenly the flying squad is upon you. Unmarked cars screech to a halt at your feet, amphibious vehicles roll up, dripping slime, from the mere, sending ducks flapping into the air, and Apache helicopters swoop down from the Pike, missiles trained on your slightest movement. You are arrested, tried, found guilty of leaving a gate wrongfully open and locked up in Broadmoor for an indefinite period of time decided by some fascist Tory minister in the Home Office. In short, you are well out of it.
This is the job that all men in white coats dream of...a potential epidemic. The details were sparse but menacing - mysterious, unexplained deaths in the isolated Dales village of Skebdale. The authorities had no choice but to send you, their most experienced environmental health agent, to check things out. Unfortunately it looks more like a job for Bond than for Herriot...
Type 'help' for...er...help.
Type 'quotes on/off' to toggle box quotations, in case they obscure text.
Standard interpreter 1.0
A winding country road threads its way between old stone cottages and barns. Daffodils and snowdrops spring from the grass verges, adding a dash of colour to the grey walls and roofs. To your north, the sign of 'The Green Calf' swings in the sunshine, beckoning locals and tourists alike to pop in for a drink. There is a small garden to the south of the road which is attached, unsurprisingly, to a small house.
A short gravel track leads up to a wooden gate to your north-east.
Your car, a battered blue Volvo estate, is slewed across the grass verge, two wheels in the ditch. |
EXITS | Obvious exits lead north; south, back to the north end of the croquet court; west; northwest; and southwest.
Honey curls a strand of hair around her little finger.
(You can control the exit listings with the EXITS command. EXITS STATUS shows the exit list in the status line, EXITS LOOK shows a full exit list in each room description, EXITS ON shows both, and EXITS OFF turns off both kinds of exit lists.) |
Inventory | You carry nothing between your teeth. You are also sated (though not satisfied), and covered in pale ash. |
You go north | You are at the western portion of a natural looking swan pond. It was installed in the center of the park as if the park was built around
it. True to its name, swans lazily drift about on its surface. From here, you can walk around the pond to the northeast or the southeast.
A path leads south to the roller coaster.
You smell hot dogs for a brief moment, but then it goes away. |
Lick wire | Wondering if the wire has any power, you touch it with your tongue.
*kZAP*
"Ih HOEH hae oheh!" you discover. "The lamp's on, but nobody's in the lighthouse, is there?" H.R. wonders. |
You examine the cityscape | New Dork City stretches out before you in its full glory. But what interests you most of all is the building opposite the one you're currently in: the ACME Corporation's newest skycraper. |
You give Donald to Danny | Danny takes Donald Duck and drops the sheet. |
You examine harpsichord | One of the few hobbies that I allow myself. I have been told that I play quite well, so I have placed it by the window, for aesthetic reasons and a point of vanity. There's a music sheet over the desk, it is: "Piano and orchestra concert No 33, by B��la Bart��k".
"Two was the inhabitants of paradise." |
You rest | You rest for a moment to regain your strength...
[ Your Stamina: 3 Swordfish: 6 ] |
You examine Ramos | Gruff-looking and punkish, but ultimately good natured. Of course,
then there's the chihuahua-sized centipede clinging to his neck and shoulder like a suckling infant. You still remember a time before familiars turned into a sort of shock fashion competition, though
Ramos seems to have put an end to that; nobody cared to try harder
than the giant centipede.
The floorboards crack and pop underfoot.
"Didn't half the wizards in this city get killed or worse last year?"
You shrug. "They weren't my customers."
"Still. Must have been some trouble."
(You could INTERJECT here) |
Go south | The interior of the shed is bathed in shifting light. Watery reflections spill through the big door to the south, which has been raised. Water laps gently against the walls, and there's no floor at all, only a dock that juts out to the south from a narrow platform near the door. A small rowboat is tied up to the right of the dock.
A narrow catwalk runs along the west wall, to the southwest from where you're standing. At the end of the catwalk is a large cylindrical mechanism from which a chain runs up toward the roof.
The far wall of the shed is a large door through which the boats must be meant to pass in and out. At the moment the door is standing wide open. |
You examine the door | It is made of steel, and probably about three feet thick. There are three dials on the vault door, each one is notated with numbers ranging from 1 to 36. Some quick mental arithmetic tells you that means over 45,000 combinations. Who knows? Maybe you'll get a hunch. |
You examine the bed | The comforter has pictures of dragons on it. |
You give the hoop to Tyrone | "Hello, Tyrone," you say.
"Hello again," he says. "How you gettin' along, now?"
"There's things that got power," he remarks obscurely, "and things that don't. You gonna have to learn which is which." |
You examine the dragon | The boss is left over from an earlier, more primitive time, and have a certain fierceness in the carving of the dragon and claws. |
Refresh | Your next thought: How you have managed such disarray in a week's
span. You feel as if you have been dropped into a spot-the-difference picture, the kind from a children's whodunnit book, where you are expected to solve the mystery of how you murdered your life. |
You call the STEPH | Maybe she can help you. She's still your girlfriend, in spite of that argument you both had... You dial the number hopefully.
Her answering machine is the only reply: "Hello, you have reached Stephanie Crane's phone, but she is out right now and won't be back before next Christmas. Please leave a message after the beep. BEEP." Your morale now at its lowest point in recorded history, you hang up listlessly. All is lost.
The toilet is now hurtling at great speed towards you, or perhaps you are hurtling at great speed towards it. You don't really have the time to figure it out. |
You check what you're carrying | You are carrying a pair of earplugs, a quarter, and a white umbrella. |
You examine the desk | Uncle Stephen's desk is covered with all sorts of papers. There's a huge dictionary that Uncle Stephen keeps flipping through, and things in languages that you've never even heard of before. Uncle Stephen is sitting right up close to the desk, blocking its only drawer.
On the desk is a large matchbox.
Uncle Stephen begins to nod drowsily. In a few moments, his pipe droops down onto his chest and he lets out a tiny little snore. |
You look at the lining | The lining is soft, dusky burgundy. One corner in back is pulled up a bit and slightly torn. |
Enter | You enter the house, where you will encounter your father, a cat, a bird, and a beast, then begin your journey into the forest, where you will meet three aspects of Lewis Carroll and defeat the Jabberwock.
You are west of a white house. |
Go south | You have come to the Northern edge of the roof. Most of the way to the North is blocked by the wall that encloses the high flyloft over the main stage area. There is a short set of steps (also North) that lead to a narrow upper roof.
The guy is standing by your side |
Go north | The Provider's cottage is that way, but you can't enter it from here.
The Provider is gathering wood.
You falter in the face of your Rival's ferocious charge. He pins you to the ground, mauling your face and underbelly. You struggle, but are helpless beneath him. You're dimly aware of him as he saunters away, leaving you for dead in the reddening snow. You only hope you freeze to death before the vermin and insects arrive. |
Go west | A combo band and a microphone is set up in the opposite corner from the warehouse entrance. From here, you notice that there is a second floor walkway that would seem to lead to an upstairs apartment, but the fire-escape-like stairs are right in the middle of that violent throng of dancers in the northeast corner of the building. The warehouse entrance is to the east, there's a less-crowded section of dancefloor to the north, and a jam-packed throng of dancers to the northeast.
The oddly-thin man in white stands at a weird angle. His hands move furitively over the brim of his white hat and his belt as if repositioning them with bird-like speed.
A new-fangled music machine you've heard called a "jukebox" sits here against the wall pounding out extremely dense, complicated, bass-heavy music that makes your joints twitch involuntarily and, disturbingly, your rear-end tingle. You don't recognize the song, but the lyrics are too fast and don't make a lot of sense. It seems to be perfectly tailor-made for mindless dancing. You'd prefer some orchestral Brahms or, if feeling frisky, nothing more wild than a slightly up-tempo polka if you please.
The dancers simultaneously JUMPSHRUG, SHOULDERROLL, and HEADPOP, then they turn to the southwest, while crossing the floor NORTHEAST, penetrating the crowded right dance floor where everyone makes room for them. |
Go east | Centipedes and beetles scurry away across the rotten floorboards as you shine your light across the room. Over in the corner sits a hulking shape of black metal that was probably once a wood-burning furnace; aside from that, the cellar looks empty. A dark alcove, the shadows within too thick to see through, opens in the west wall, and a trap door in the ceiling leads back up to the outside.
At the very edge of your light's glow, you can just make out a horribly suggestive shape lying in the shadows behind the furnace. |
Go east | Maple Street ends here near Lake Horatio. To the north you see a comfortable-looking brick house. |
You take all from the drawer | purple datatab: Taken.
pair of safety pins: Taken. |
Go upwards | Rain falls in sheets, and the narrow walkway is like a sluice. On one side is the tower wall, ascending into the storm; on the other,
statues of Nephreine and Alithedora look out over the countryside, serenely ignoring the precipitous drop to the castle grounds at their feet. Happily, a staircase nearby enables a safer descent.
EXITS: UP DOWN WEST |
You examine iv | Hanging from the stand is a bag filled with a clear liquid--the nicotine antiaddiction drug. A needle hangs from the bag. |
Grind fragments with arrow | (the fragments of prism with the arrow)
Violence isn't the answer to this one. |
You feed the wolf | Whom do you want to feed the wolf to? |
You put the flask in the coat | (closing the flask first)
You slip the flask into the pocket of your trenchcoat. |
Go north | Here the Provider divines food from the cupboard's magic containers, and prepares it on the ledge above you like only a Provider can. It seems that all roads lead to your food bowl: there's an alcove to the west, a small flap northward, a lumpy mountain to the east, and a pile of blankets southward.
On the floor, lies your food bowl, full of hard food.
You can also see a yellow feather here.
The Provider heads toward the Lumpy Mountain. |
Go downward | A thunder-machine roars offstage and the lights redden and dim. With a burst of dry ice, a magnificent demon erupts from the trapdoor! You clear your throat: the audience are due for some more of Entaille's third-rate blank verse.
BIKHRIR:
Why summons't thou me to this most bleak land,
Where men are virtuous and sausages plentiful?
MCFAUD:
Did I not with thy master make of it a compact,
Binding your service to my hand's desire,
And can I not discard this if I will?
BIKHRIR:
No;
It is signed, Lysander,
In the gore of your damned carcass.
MCFAUD:
Then let my doom provide another's hope,
And at once to Paris these my friends convey.
Bikrir, grumbling loudly, stomps to the backdrop and, making a magic pass, extracts a paint-bucket and brush. In a few moments, he has coated the entire surface in a completely different talentless daub, and springs back down the trapdoor.
A second burst of dry ice signals his disappearance (and, incidentally, that of the trapdoor also). |
Go east | You can see right there the shortest connection to the river mouth and
the small market. But caused by the coast line you have to go to the
northeast and then southeast afterwards. |
F. | This end of the deck is home to the capstan. The crew's quarters are fore and the mainmast is aft. Up a short flight of stairs is the fo'c'sle.
Your life boat is hanging from the davits here.
Your knees are underwater now.
The captain darts ahead to take stock of the situation. |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.