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Text Adventure Game Emulator #1

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Regrettable Juvenilia

10:39 / 28.11.07

Teh computer does not understand "ontological terrorism".

You walk north, up to the closet. Now you're at the closet. There is no cabinet here.

11:11 / 28.11.07

Get scalpel. Get PDA.

11:44 / 28.11.07

Teh computer does not understand "ontological terrorism".

Teh computer = teh lame, then.

Sit down, and recall happier times listening to Tool, live. They rocked, those guys.

11:47 / 28.11.07

Open closet.

Regrettable Juvenilia

12:02 / 28.11.07

You take the scalpel and the PDA and put them in your satchel, being careful not to cut yourself on the scalpel, which looks rather sharp.

Now you're opening the closet. It looks dark inside.

My Mom Thinks I'm Cool

12:35 / 28.11.07

Enter the closet.

Regrettable Juvenilia

12:38 / 28.11.07

You enter the closet, and the door shuts behind you. The closet is dark and musty. It smells of old wood, and mothballs crunch under your feet as you take a few steps forward.

This closet seems to be very deep: you could keep going NORTH, if you wanted. The exit to Lab #23 is to the SOUTH.

My Mom Thinks I'm Cool

12:38 / 28.11.07

Ooh ooh! Activate the PDA and use it to illuminate the interior of the closet.

Regrettable Juvenilia

13:11 / 28.11.07

You get out the PDA and fumble to find the on-switch. The screen lights up and shows a grey box with a white space to enter text, against a blue background. Above the white space is the request Enter password:

The light from the PDA screen shows you dark brown wooden walls close on either side of you, and dusty floorboards beneath you. It's too dark to see much ahead, but the closet clearly carries on a bit further NORTH.

13:42 / 28.11.07

Go NORTH. Enter PASSWORD.

Regrettable Juvenilia

13:46 / 28.11.07

You walk forward, and the crunch of mothballs gives way to the creak of increasingly old and warped floorboards.

You enter the word 'PASSWORD' into the PDA and press Enter. It bleeps once and shows the message Incorrect Password: 4 tries remaining in red.

Your hand bumps against wood and you realise you have come to a DOOR.

14:22 / 28.11.07

Try 'midget' for password. Check closet for midgets, also.

Exit closet back into rm 23. Strap self to table, deftly, making sure scalpel is unavailable to would-be tormentors by placing in back pocket; strap feet in first, tie one hand with other and - with no little patience - remaining hand by itself.

Wait, interminably.

14:26 / 28.11.07

While listening to Tool.

14:28 / 28.11.07

Pref. the third album, 'Lateralus'. Which is actually really good.

Regrettable Juvenilia

14:33 / 28.11.07

You enter the word 'MIDGET' into the PDA and press Enter. It bleeps once and shows the message Incorrect Password: 3 tries remaining in red.

You search the closet and find no midgets.

You walk backwards South and exit the closet. You are in Lab #23.

You put the scalpel in your back pocket and place the satchel (which contains all your other items including a penknife and the PDA) on the floor in the corner.

You sit down on the metal surgical table in the middle of the room and strap your feet into the restraints at one end. You lean back, slip one hand into a restraint, fasten it with the other hand, then lie down flat on your back and slip that hand in turn into the last restraint. Somehow, you manage to fiddle with this restraint until it tightens and you cannot pull free.

Having no other option, you wait.

Time passes.

There is no Tool for you to listen to, but after a while, you hear footsteps approaching.

15:00 / 28.11.07

Panic.

(Duncan, why have we done this to ourself?! Not to think teh computer's going to show any mercy, surely, considering hir track record ...)

Close eyes, anyway, and pray very, very hard to whatever gods there be, thus: 'Oh spectral 5-dimensional beings, let this burden pass from me. Onto, say, Professor Winter. Who may not mind about his immortal soul; well either way, it's on the table.'

16:09 / 28.11.07

'Halloo' in direction of approaching footsteps, aware that this is a tense situation but internal gibberings will not help any. Prepare to rip out fingernails and perform devastating act of marksmanship with said, a la Hawkeye in that issue of the Ultimates, should it come to the worst and teh computer/approaching antagonist begins, or even threatens, teh butchery.

Regrettable Juvenilia

16:14 / 28.11.07

You talk to the gods, but the sky is empty.

The room, on the other hand, is suddenly less empty, as in through the door bursts a woman. She is wearing a red Members Only jacket, black combat trousers and lightweight but sturdy black boots. She has striking features, and dark hair pulled back into a tight ponytail.

There is something rather familiar about her.

"Halloo", you say inanely. She scowls. She seems annoyed but unsurprised to find you strapped to the table.

She is carrying a highly polished silver pistol, which for some reason you are able to identify as a customised Colt M1911, with silencer attached. She points this weapon at your head and in an accent reminiscent of the Giant says:

"At least my big lunk of a brother bothered to secure you before he decided to sleep on the job. I can't justify his continued employment to Mr Gregory if he carries on like this. Now, tell me: why did you come back here, Twenty-Three?"

16:36 / 28.11.07

Gasp.

My Mom Thinks I'm Cool

16:48 / 28.11.07

Explain that there appears to be an error in our mental functioning, which has made it impossible to carry out our duties.

16:59 / 28.11.07

Give her the wink.

20:27 / 28.11.07

Roll eyes.

Say, "I came back so a silly woman could shoot me in the face."

Say, "You aren't much smarter than the Human Bicep out there."

Scratch nose.

Say, "Run along and get Andre so we can wrap this up."

Regrettable Juvenilia

11:08 / 29.11.07

You gasp.

"There appears to be an error in my mental functioning -"

The woman cuts you off with a derisive snort.

"I'll say. They had such high hopes for you, at first. At the time you were the most successful result of their little genetic tinkerings yet." Her tone becomes mockingly grandiose, as she raises her hands in a parody of celebration. "Finally, perhaps the Abraham Facility had succeeded in its quest to create the ultimate assassin! Beyond gender, beyond morality!" She sneers, drops her arms and points the gun at you again. "But eventually you let your poor Father down, like so many of his children. I blame poor breeding. Your genetic stock is weak, 23. They never should have included DNA from that idiot Highgraves."

"Yeah? Well you aren't much smarter than the Human Bicep out there", you say, winking.

In response, she slaps you hard across the face. Thankfully it's not with the hand holding the gun. Nevertheless, you can taste blood.

"Watch what you say about my brother. I'm smart enough to get the drop on you more times than I've bothered counting. Father should have just let me kill you on one of the many occasions I had the chance. No matter how many times we wipe your memory, you just won't stop coming back, will you? Why is that?"

You roll your eyes.

"I came back so a silly woman could shoot me in the face. Now run along and get Andre so we can wrap this up."

"Sorry, 23. You're too insignificant for him to waste any more time on."

Regrettable Juvenilia

11:49 / 29.11.07

You cannot scratch your nose, as your arms are restrained.

12:30 / 29.11.07

Say "Why do you need a badass assassin anyway? Aren't you and your brother capable? Perhaps my 'Father' has his doubts about both of you."

12:48 / 29.11.07

How full is my bladder?

13:51 / 29.11.07

Heave sigh.

Say, "Katya, you haven't got the drop on me. I tied myself up so I wouldn't harm you. I don't seem to be in complete control of myself; I nearly killed your poor brother. Can't we just talk, finally?"

Say, "Katya, I have an itch on my nose. Would you scratch it for me?"

Regrettable Juvenilia

17:53 / 29.11.07

You are not aware of needing to go to the toilet. It occurs to you that perhaps you do not need to, ever.

You decide to try a different approach with Agent KHan (for it is she).

"Why do you need a badass assassin anyway? Aren't you and your brother capable?"

"Exactly what I said!"

"Perhaps my 'Father' has his doubts about both of you."

"Nice try, 23, but I have a Master's degree in Applied Psychology. No, Mr Gregory wouldn't use Andre Junior or I for the kind of jobs you were bred for. Because to us, he is really like a father. The whole point is that you're expendable. Or you will be, once you've been reprogrammed. Until then, I have been denied the pleasure of killing you. On the plus side" - here she gives a malicious grin - "I know how much reprogramming hurts."

You sigh, and say:

"Katya, you haven't got the drop on me. I tied myself up so I wouldn't harm you. I don't seem to be in complete control of myself; I nearly killed your poor brother. Can't we just talk, finally?"

She slaps you in the face again.

"Only my brother calls me Katya! And you will regret it if you have hurt a hair on AJ's head! Enough talking!"

Undaunted, you press on.

"Katya, I have an itch on my nose. Would you scratch it for me?"

*smack*

You can feel a thin trickle of blood running out of your left nostril.

My Mom Thinks I'm Cool

18:01 / 29.11.07

say, "if you reprogram me now, you'll never find out where the treasure is!"

Regrettable Juvenilia

18:25 / 29.11.07

She snorts derisively again.

"You are a tryer, I give you that. I leave the reprogramming to Mr Gregory and the Science Personnel boys. They're not all as crazy as Winter - some of them are even allowed to see daylight! They'll be down in a -"

Agent KHan is interrupted by a tinny melodic noise. It seems to be coming from your satchel.

She opens your satchel, rummages in it and produces the personal data assistant, which is playing a polyphonic ringtone of 'I'm So Excited'. She shoots you a glare and then holds the PDA up to one ear.

"This is KHan. Speak."

She frowns.

"What? How did he find us so quickly?" Pause. "Well, take care of him yourself. For fuck's sake, the girl isn't going to be much - she has what? Bombs? If you want something done properly... I'll be right up."

She hangs up and tells you:

"Looks like I get to kill someone who really pisses me off and shares DNA with you today after all."

Then she exits through the door to the South.

Regrettable Juvenilia

18:50 / 29.11.07

Time passes.

After a while, you hear a pitter-patter of tiny paws, and the large brown rat climbs up a table leg and starts to nibble at one of your arm restraints.

My Mom Thinks I'm Cool

19:18 / 29.11.07

try to verbally encourage the rat. quietly.

Regrettable Juvenilia

19:35 / 29.11.07

"Go on my son", you whisper to the rat, and then, since you have no more idea of its gender than it does yours, you add "atta-girl!"

The rat nibbles through one of your wrist restraints with surprising speed. Your right arm is now free.

21:10 / 29.11.07

Wonder at the sheer convenience of this deus ex machina. Decide to test the limits of my newfound life as a genetically enhanced rock god killing machine. Flex muscles, believe in self, tear loose from table with GM-strength, bite head off of rat and snarl to an invisible camera.

"Time to emulate this game for real!"

Pause for a moment to consider the general difficulty of emulating things for real.

Regrettable Juvenilia

21:38 / 29.11.07

You wonder at the sheer convenience of this deus, or rather mus ex machina.

You flex your muscles and focus your will, then tear loose from the remaining restraints, if not with ease then with a lot of zest. You grab the rat in one fist and prepare to bite.

Its shiny little eyes look up at you innocently. It moves its perky little ears and twitches its wuffly little nose. Are you really going to go through with this?

Yep. You bare your teeth, open your mouth wide and lean in for a chomp.

There's a very loud sound of something that sounds like an explosion from above you. The room shakes, dust falls from the ceiling, and you are rocked so much that you nearly fall over. You drop the rat, and it flees out of sight.

When you recover your composure, you say:

"Time to emulate this game for real!"

Nobody is listening.

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