Tuesday, December 28, 2010

248 - ALAN uses STASIS LEVEL 45

ALAN: Sorry, Rhys. Needs done. Explain on "Monday." You can't hear me, since you're in stasis, but... polite to tell you.

ALAN picks up the FEDORA. ALAN picks up the MULE KICK HAT. ALAN picks up the RED RUBBER STOPPER. ALAN touches STASIS FIELD.


ALAN and STASIS RHYS chrono-teleport away.

>Whuh... uh... follow ALAN?

Monday, December 27, 2010

Friday, December 24, 2010

246 - Christmas 2010!

>>Return to CANON

245 - Explain YOURSELF

You take off the FEDORA.

What... what just happened? You are quite confused and decide to give yourself a brief, non-noir SEMI-RHYMING RECAPITULATION.

You fell down a trapdoor and landed with a SPLAT. Your landing killed an unlucky RAT. Then you picked up and wore a sweet HAT. You drank bad ROSÉ and then you spat. Some RAT POLICE investigated the death and had you a CHAT. You bribed them but lost half your SCRABBLE TILES, oh drat! They departed after this small TIT FOR TAT. With guilt, you hit on the WIDOW RAT. You told her you'd find the killer (even though you were that crazy CAT). A skeleton fell down the stairs to the MAT, a double of you (but without any FAT)*. His head looked splintered, like hit with a BAT. And that brings you up to where you are AT.

>Briefly depart CANON

*This counted as finding the murderer in a strange, lawyerly way, because since it's a version of Rhys and Rhys killed the rat, then the Skeleton Rhys is kinda-sorta like the killer. Not really, but enough to pass in a very bad light. Like if it was really dark. Or, like, noir. Don't overthink it.

Thursday, December 23, 2010

244 - Go UPSTAI--- no. Console WIDOW RAT.

The stairway beckons, a shining beacon lighting the way out of this hole. You take a step towards it, then another, but each one is another step through quick setting concrete. You can feel a pair of eyes on you and while the way out gives you every reason to leave... the eyes have it.

You turn back to the rat widow, those tiny eyes selling a sad story as old as that Mausoleum of Halicarnassus. Stop me if you've heard it before. Two newlywed rats frolic in a damp, dark cellar. One is killed by a falling soda jerk. The jerk pays off the cops with some game pieces and gets away scott free. It's the kind of thing you see every day.

You kneel down. The widow turns away, but your warm hand on her face stops her mid-movement. A small shutter runs down her rattus lividus spine. She stares deep into your eyes, her own are nothing more than milky black seas. You sigh. "It's a tough life, kid."

The widow nods weakly, her cheese-fed curves shaking with the sobs she dare not let out.

"We'll find the guy who did this," you say, your uncooperative face belying the irony. You were that sap that did this. An accident, maybe, but you're only alive because that dirty rat met his tiny reaper. But you mean what you say. You want to make this right... but where can you find someone to take the fall?

A sad sack of bones rolls down the stairs, the back of its skull busted open. You recognize him immediately, confronted as you are with your own mortality.

You've... found the murderer (kinda) and he's been brought to justice (in a way). You turn back to the rat widow, but she's gone, scurrying off back into some hole in the wall.

You stare at yourself lying dead on the floor. Man. Your own flesh and blood. Well, no, but your own bones.

The back of Rhys O'Skellington's head is busted open. And this looks like murder.


Tuesday, December 21, 2010

243 - Bribe COP with SCRABBLE TILES

You catch the rat cop's beady little eye and it gets the unimaginative twinkle of an animal who thinks himself cunning. He nods a quick, well-practiced signal to his partner, another rat just as corrupt as the first. The rat cop comes over to see your offer. You're both men or rats of the world; you both know how to grease the wheels of justice.

His opening bid is a sawbuck, but you're really not as up on your noir slang as you should be, so you suggest a dollar. He nods his rodent-like rodent face. It's pudgy and soft from all the "gifts" from rat cheesemongers in need of special . . . "protection." You check your pockets and come up with nothing but scrabble tiles. It's a paltry sum. Just an A, C, D, L, E, and R. You think fast. Thinking fast is the difference between life and life up the river.

Some fast words and half-hidden hints of future favors help the "dollar" becomes a "D-O-L-L-E-R" and then you chat him down to half price. He splits the "L-E-R" with his partner and splits; you hold on to the "C-A-D". Because if you haven't got your friends, you haven't got anything at all.


Monday, December 20, 2010

242 - Abuse METAPHOR and SIMILE

The wine is an old school photo, a disgusting memory from a bad year that makes your stomach churn. You put down the rosé and move on. It's a big cellar. Must be something somewhere to take your mind off of life for a while; right now, all you want on your mind is your hat.

A picture got you into this mess, a portrait of old man Death; it was its puzzle that stuck his beak into your business. Another portrait mocks you nearby. A Scottish Terrier sits idly by, blissfully unaware and staring out of its frame. It's a Scotch on the grass, but you'd prefer a scotch on the rocks. You peek behind the portrait, but it's a dog's life and nothing more. The little shrine isn't hiding any secrets--- at least none it cares to tell you at this time. You stare back at the dog. This dumb mutt is just that--- dumb. You move on.

The rat called the cops and out they crawled through the hole in the wall. She sings like a canary through her wet, birdy tears. The rat cop listens, a stone solid look of disinterest spread across his face. The weeping widow spins her tale, her tail spinning slowly behind her in distraught arcs, her dead love still beside her, colder by the second. She describes the perp, a red-headed man in a brown cap. The rat cop drops his eye on you, some stranger down on his luck who just happens to match the description. Maybe an open and shut case, he thinks; maybe a quick night of it before some cheese donuts back at the station hole. He's got your number all right... and that number is twenty to life in Sing Sing if you don't think of something fast.


Friday, December 17, 2010

241 - Wear FEDORA

You hop off your RAT and approach the FEDORA. It's a serviceable hat and you brush it off a bit. Nothing in it or on it aside from a bit of DUST. Seems safe. You set aside your MULE CAP and replace it with the FEDORA. Yeah. It's rather (haber-)dashing. It even matches your MULE KICK UNIFORM.

But as you wear the hat, things appear... a bit different.

The room's a cold hole, walls seeping damp secrets buried here below. Some rat's dead on the ground, some rat's mourning. That's the way it is here down here and no denying it.

So many things wrong that there's no right way to start figuring it out. A bottle's lying on its side, half drained. Who spilled it? It's the obvious question. Someone in a hurry knock it down, roll it across the floor? Someone with something to hide? If the rats know, they won't tell. Never will. It's just another mystery, and another one of them comes along every minute. If you stopped to figure 'em all then you wouldn't have time for a drink. And that would be a cryin' shame.

Two bottles of liquid amnesia sit on barrels by the stairs. One's got a lock--- why? What's it hiding? The other has a picture of a rose. A rosé? Don't know much about wine, don't care, either. A drink's a drink. You pop the red rubber stopper, dumping it on the floor. It won't be needed. But down here....

Down here you definitely need the drink.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

240 - Be... dead?

Meanwhile, in a parallel universe...

Man. Throwing those four PRETZELS down the PIT ahead of you in order to lure some VERY FAST STARVING RATS with which to cushion your landing was probably your BEST IDEA EVER. In retrospect, it was so obvious, too. For some reason, though, you totally expected a whole metric crap-ton of SPIKES.

In any case, you now find yourself in what appears to be a WINE CELLAR. Muted lights set into the high VAULTED CEILING provide soft but ample light. Two large CASKS are built into the wall, each unlabeled, but equipped with obvious SPIGOTS. A WINE RACK to your left contains many, many wines in individual CUBBYHOLES (or whatever WINE SNOBS call them. Those elitists. Probably call them something special like... WINE... HOLES....) with several other WINE BOTTLES scattered around the cellar. There are three BARRELS, untapped, as well as six WINE GLASSES around the room (RED WINE GLASSES, by the shape of them. Wait. Is that elitist to know? Are you a WINE SNOB?).

You are, of course, standing on the crushed remains of a large DEAD RAT (well, the crushed remains of a LIVE RAT, which is now dead.), which is amidst the remains of your four precious PRETZELS. Another large RAT lingers nearby. You briefly consider firing off a shot with your REVOLVER to scare him away, but he doesn't seem to be threatening you at the moment and you'd rather not waste the bullet. A brown FEDORA lies on the floor by the RACK. A PAINTING of a DOG is propped against a wall, a SQUEAKY TOY in front of it, along with SIX CANDLES, one of which is lit. A MATCHBOOK lies beside the PAINTING. On the other side of the PAINTING, a BOTTLE is spilled, and there is a small PUDDLE.

A DOORWAY leads to STAIRS which lead UP which leads... somewhere. Aside from the HOLE you came in by, this STAIRWAY seems the only way out.

You briefly lament the (hopefully temporary) loss of the HAND CART. Why must all your friends leave you? WHY???


Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

238 - Solve PUZZLE

Bah. This RIDDLE is almost a waste of your talents. You pocket the SCRABBLE TILES for L, C, E, A, D, and R since you don't really need them for the solution and pop them into your PRETZEL BAG. It was half empty before, so there's plenty of room. Then place the M TILE alone on the the first SLOT of the PUZZLE.

You hear a CLICK.

A SECRET FREAKING DOOR opens in the CLOSET and a DAPPER SKELETON in a FEDORA and BOW TIE peaks out. It looks like this SECRET DOOR leads to some previously unseen region of the HAUNTED HOUSE which may help you understand the SINISTER SECRETS behind its---

Wait. Why is the ZOMMELIER chuckling?

You hear a second CLICK.


RHYS: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

You are now falling down a DEEP PIT. Exits are UP (currently inaccessible) and DOWN. Could this be the END for you? What is coming up below? How will you survive? WHAT HAPPENS NEXT???

>Land... SAFELY?

Monday, December 13, 2010

237 - Look behind PORTRAIT

The SKELETONS are driven off by your completely gentlemanly assault with CITIZEN CANE. They--- wait, there are three of them now? Whatever. The SKELETONS are driven off and heading EAST, fleeing the room.

With your precious HANDCART safe, you continue your INVESTIGATION and lift the PLAGUE DOCTOR / DEATH PORTRAIT off the wall.

Hey, a PUZZLE! It's... been a while. What have we here?

The PLAQUE reads "What comes once per minute, twice in a moment, but never in a thousand years?" There are six SLOTS below the PLAQUE, and below that there's a SHELF with seven SCRABBLE TILES.

If you're right about this, and it might be a bit of a stretch, but maybe, just maybe you're supposed to use the SCRABBLE TILES to answer the RIDDLE? Man, this is complicated. Maybe you should just drink that ROSÉ the ZOMMOLIER poured and forget the whole thing.


Friday, December 10, 2010

Friday Fan Art!

Colored fan art from CageyJay! Regular updates resume Monday.


Thursday, December 9, 2010



>Look behind PORTRAIT

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

235 - Check VOXCO, VASE(CO)

All right, time to interact the heck out of some stuff. First off, you snag the COCKTAIL from the ZOMBIE BUTLER'S TRAY. You've left him hanging long enough. It's a GIBSON MARTINI, six parts GIN, one part DRY VERMOUTH. This one is garnished with a CHERRY--- unheard of!

You pick the LIGHTER up from under the TABLE and place it on top. You then check the VASE, but it's very attached to the TABLE. It is also quite dead, JIM. The DEAD FLOWERS are also dead (obviously), and PLASTIC, and attached inside the DEAD VASE. There are no secrets here, not a single RUPEE.

Might as well check the VOXCO RECORDER. You pull some hot thriller dancing moves and avoid that DOORWAY with the... CLAW MARKS. Those can't be good.

You mash PLAY and listen.

"Our lanterns are fully charged, a necessity here it seems. There's no switch for the lights. Atmospheric. I almost ran into a zommelier in the dark, but as soon as I struck him up in conversation, he seemed quite (un-)lively. Limited vocabulary, but that is to be expected. I have drunk some of his proffered red wine, and I must say it is delicious, though it possesses a strange bouquet. It is a pleasant development in this unpleasant place.

"I took the time to examine the the portraits on the wall. Toblerone seemed to recognize the Candaemon, but would not elaborate. Curse his muteness! Miles was more interested in the portraiture of Death. Quite an accurate likeness, I must admit. I've only met the (cough) 'man' once, at the university--- and heavens forbid I shall not meet him again for some time! I'm not sure, but there's something strange about the picture. However, certain impulses are driving me to press on and I will not linger. We shall make camp for the day in the next room, assuming it is not so horrendous a place as to be drenched in blood or having arms hanging from the ceiling or something vile to do with puppies, lasers and gaudy silver clockworks."


234 - Look AROUND

The ROOM is similar to its previous state, but now it's brighter.

You busy yourself with looking AROUND for a while. For example, you look at the little NAME PLATE below the PLAGUE DOCTOR PORTRAIT. It says



Monday, December 6, 2010

233 - Let there be LIGHTER

Grabbing the SODA CORPORATION HAND TRUCK for defense, you THRILLER DANCE your way over to the ZOMBIE BUTLER to ask for a LIGHT for your HYPOTHETICAL CIGARETTE.

You then realize that was the BEST SENTENCE EVER.

RHYS: Howdy, partner. Say, y'all wouldn't hap' ta have a flame-hocker to sizzle my t'bacca roll, would ya, cuz?
ZB: ...brians...?

The ZOMBIE BUTLER (who you suddenly realize is a wine steward and thus a ZOMMELIER, not a ZOMBIE BUTLER) produces a small LIGHTER from one of his POCKETS and lights it up, expecting you to produce a... T'BACCA ROLL.

You do not oblige.

You quickly snatch the LIGHTER and hurl it through the AIR, somehow keeping it lit despite its SAFETY FEATURES. You are not at all conscious of appropriate FIRE SAFETY! You are QUITE RECKLESS! You and the ZOMBIE BUTLER (sorry, ZOMMELIER) watch it slowly arc toward the CHANDELIER....

One of the CHANDELIER'S CANDLES lights up and the room becomes much easier to investigate, but it will take until the beginning of the next turn to look around.

The ZOMBIE BUTLER is not amused*.


*If asked, the Zombie Butler will now only supply Rhys with the lowest class of wine from his extensive wine collection, a frankly disgusting Rosé from a very bad year. He will not offer anything better, much less his prized Red Brain Wine. No. He'll keep that for himself. He gets so lonely in the Haunted House. So very lonely. Sometimes he takes a sip after letting a small glass breathe, making sure the bottle is sealed very tight. He doesn't want to waste it, even though he knows no one else would want Brain Wine. No one else would understand. But he still feels guilty, even after all these years.

He had a dog once. A real dog, not a zombie dog. It's name was Brian. He loved Brian. Then Brian died one day. The Zombie Butler ate some of his brain, but he felt bad about it and left half-way through the meal. He still thinks about Brian sometimes. When it's dark. When he's alone. When he's sipping more Red Brain Wine and realizing he's finished the bottle, another bottle, yet again, way down in the cellar where no one ever visited, where no one ever heard him. He was silent, unable to cry.

Saturday, December 4, 2010


If you only move while doing the THRILLER DANCE then there's no way the ZOMBIE BUTLER will attack you.

Your thinking is flawless.


Thursday, December 2, 2010




Wednesday, December 1, 2010

230 - Grab a FLASHLIGHT

You double back to the LOBBY and ask the CONFEDERBOT for the FLASHLIGHT and BATTERIES that were back behind the COUNTER. After a bit of a debate, you convince him to trade you the NEEDED ITEMS in exchange for your SAUCY MAGAZINE. Man, that thing is useful for trading. And seemingly very little else.

You head back into the next ROOM with the FLICKERING FLASHLIGHT in hand. Time to look around.

You seem to be in some sort of ATMOSPHERIC FOYER. Points of interest include a ZOMBIE BUTLER, some PORTRAITURE (apparently of a CANDAEMON and... is that a PLAGUE DOCTOR?), a CHANDELIER, another VOXCO RECORDING, and a small TABLE with a DEAD VASE filled with WILTED FLOWERS. A set of STAIRS leads up to a higher level... but it's not really a grand staircase. Not really. There's also a DOOR to what you assume is a CLOSET (perhaps a spooky CLOSET) and another HALLWAY to the EAST.

You don't see a LIGHT SWITCH. Kinda seems like a design oversight.


Tuesday, November 30, 2010

229 - Go EAST

You pass into the next room and... it's dark. It's really dark. This seems to be some kind of FOYER, and there's... something hanging above you.... but you can't tell what it is. Since the HAUNTED HOUSE'S power is back on (according to the CONFEDERBOT in the LOBBY), this must be part of the attraction. Still, you can't see a thing.

What do you do?

Monday, November 29, 2010

228 - Look at PUDDLE, then UP

Hey, was that PUDDLE there before? You head over, standing directly next to it and looking down, otherwise oblivious to your ENVIRONMENT.

It's some sort of... dark LIQUID. Looks familiar, but you don't really want to put a finger on it. Could it be bl----meh, probably not. Where did it come from? Hmm. Maybe it has something

to do...

with those...



You look UP!



That is the ugliest RECESSED LIGHTING arrangement that you have ever seen. It... it's just terrible. It doesn't match anything else in the room, it's too obtrusive, and it goes against everything that the CROWN MOLDING was working to build. Gah. Ugly.

Anyway, nothing else of interest up there.

Things here seem done so it's time to throw caution to the wind and go EAST. Better bring the HAND TRUCK for.... defensive purposes. Hopefully you have some HAND TRUCK COMBAT SKILLZ. However, that is doubtful.

The HAUNTED HOUSE CONFEDERBOT pipes up as you pass.

CBOT: T-t-t-t-ticket?
RHYS: Tickets? I don't need no tickets! I don't have to show you any stinkin' tickets!

And you book it EAST before the HAUNTED HOUSE CONFEDERBOT can object further. This is obviously the most sensible course of action.

Friday, November 26, 2010

228a - Grr....

New update at some point over the weekend (if I get a suggestion or two), or on Monday otherwise. Hope y'all had a happy Turkey Day! Or if you're not American, a happy November 25th!

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

226 - Loiter, eat PRETZELS

Man, it's been forever since you ate something. Thankfully, you grabbed that bag of PRETZELS when you were back behind the COUNTER. You can't... remember grabbing them... actually... but hey, free PRETZELS!

Nom nom nom.

Glancing back there behind the COUNTER, it also looks like you broke the BROOM for some reason. Hmm. Also, you thought you grabbed the SPRAY BOTTLE and LIGHTER, but... apparently not. Just the delicious PRETZELS.

Nom nom nom nom.

Oh, and hey, that weird DRIPPING NOISE stopped when the power came on. Or maybe you can't hear it over the noises of the powered up HAUNTED HOUSE. But it was probably just your IMAGINATION.... That's probably it.

(nom nom nom nom nom)

Saturday, November 20, 2010

225b - Ah-choo!

"Gah.... OK, so a cold I thought was under control is not under control. At all. Updates resume Monday (hopefully).


The RECORDED LOG ends with sounds of COUGHING and AGONY.


Friday, November 19, 2010

225a - Filler log...

"I see now that the outcome was... inevitable. Each moment that passed from the time that fateful poll was posted, each second that passed from then til I sit and pen these words, each moment I knew that my yes or no query could have but one answer.
"Yes, we should activate it. No, we should not! Yes, it is the only way! No, it is folly! Yes! No!

"But the answer, from the start, was clear. It echoes, resolute, revealing the question itself to bear a false dichotomy. It is not a matter of yay or nay. It can only be answered one way.


This will take a bit of time to grasp and process, but I'll figure something out. The update will be up tomorrow. I don't know what it will be yet, but it will involve a mechadinoninjasaur.


Thursday, November 18, 2010

225 - Read NOTE, check TICKET BOOTH

You read the NOTE pinned to the GIFT SHOP DOOR. To sum up: the door is locked until the Haunted House's management can ensure nothing... "dangerous" is still posing a problem. It is signed by MAJOR JOHN SINGLETRON MOSBOT, "THE STEEL GREY GHOST." His signature includes the nickname, in quotes.

After ensuring the CONFEDERBOT behind the counter truly is offline, you vault over and check out the area back there. A LOCKED DOOR is encountered but, being locked, doesn't really prove very useful. A few other ITEMS of INTEREST catch your EYE. A BROOM, a DUSTPAN, several DIRTY RAGS, a SPRAY BOTTLE, some PENCILS, a FLASHLIGHT (with BATTERIES), a LIGHTER, a BAG OF POPCORN, a BAG OF PRETZELS, and a COLONEL FERRIS MUG.

And then there's the CONFEDERBOT itself. It isn't armed, and it looks quite obviously disabled. Its legs, such as they are, don't look like they were ever very functional. It probably wasn't meant to move away from the TICKET COUNTER. Still, the rest looks to be in good shape. You may not be ALAN, but you have a good idea how you could get this thing operational. All it would take would be some simple switch-flipping, since there's a large ON/OFF SWITCH on its back (which seems to be an unusual design modification for a CONFEDERBOT).

Should you turn it on? It could go either way....

224 - Listen to VOXCO

OK, much to do! First off, it's time to listen to another VOXCO RECORDING.

You mash play on that JAM BOX. Then rewind. Dang. Who neglects to rewind their AUDIO LOGS? That's just sad, really. You press play again.

"It is with high spirits that my team and I begin our investigation into Colonel Ferris' Haunted House. When I first visited the Colonel a few weeks ago, I was impressed by his obvious technical skill, if not his... somewhat strange rebellious affectations. Still, I'd expect a similarly odd bent from any who had come from our Alma mater; Mount Danforth tends to instill some part or parcel of madness to those within its gates, but... well. I digress.

"His concerns seemed, at first, trivial, mere murmurs and half-hints over strong coffee in his laboratoire. Soon, however, the source of his discomfort became clear. A certain item he had discovered in caves beneath his fort, something he could not define, nor describe, despite having seen it on several unwary occasions. In an unguarded moment, I thought I recognized an expression of mute fear, but it was only for a moment which quickly passed at the warming touch of his drink. But the item, even described in vague and cryptic terms, piqued my interest. Oh, I knew it. I knew it well.

"And here I am. And here we are. Miles was inconsolable when I first insinuated that he would not be coming with me. However, his father the dean presented his case quite unduly forcefully, and he is now here for his... ahem... "field work." Curse the blighted politics of academia! This is no place for a student! But of course, Toblerone is with us, and so we shall be safe. I still marvel sometimes at my mute manservant from the mystical East. He seemed a bit unnerved by the anamatronic imp heads here in the lobby, but I am sure it is naught but a passing (and understandable) folly. So it is we three here, and though I have high hopes for finding the object of my search, the object I have sought for so long now, something nags me. Something... gnaws on the edges of my perception. I will not relish sleeping here. Even my daydreams are... dark.

"But the sun was bright outside as we entered, and I have no reason for such foolish doubts."


Tuesday, November 16, 2010

223 - Look through WINDOW

You look through the WINDOW into the GIFT SHOP. It doesn't look like it's been entirely set up yet; a few CORRUGATED CARDBOARD BOXES remain on the CARPET. Next to the WINDOW are two VENDING MACHINES: one for your all too familiar MULE KICK, the other for a drink called THE PURPLE. Never heard of that one. On the WALL are various T-SHIRTS, while the SHELVES above hold various TOURIST CRAP. Left to right, top shelf then bottom shelf:
  • Imp Head Bust (Collectible?)
  • Postcards
  • Toothbrushes (Red, Orange, Green, Blue)
  • Mugs
  • Action Figures (Confederbots?)
That looks like about it in the GIFT SHOP, at least for this end of the room. You can't see any further right now. Man. This whole looking through WINDOWS thing is exhausting!

Monday, November 15, 2010

222 - Examine LOBBY

You park the HAND TRUCK and look around the HAUNTED HOUSE LOBBY.

Everything has a red and black motif, like some goth kid's dream room. It's more gloomy than scary, and the word "miasma" just leaps to mind. Gah. COLONEL FERRIS should design a better INTERIOR DECORATOR CONFEDERBOT.

As you entered, you triggered a row of LAUGHING IMP HEADS. Up on a shelf, they're letting loose shrill recorded laughter, accompanied by annoying anamatronic motions. They... are they... are they talking to you? You decide it would be best to pay no attention to the EVIL LAUGHTER RECORDINGS in the lobby.

To sum up: You are in the HAUNTED HOUSE LOBBY. Beside you is your HAND TRUCK, loaded with BOXES OF MULE KICK. A deactivated CONFEDERBOT stands behind a TICKET COUNTER, which indicates that TICKETS cost 5 VARIOUS MONIES. A sign indicates that to the WEST is the GIFT SHOP. The DOOR there is closed with a NOTE tacked on it but there are WINDOWS on either side which look into the room. Another VOXCO recorder sits off to the side. EXITS are WEST to the GIFT SHOP (currently locked), SOUTH to OUTSIDE, and EAST.

>Look through WINDOW

Thursday, November 11, 2010

221 - Prepare for INGRESS

So much to do! You start to talk into your EARPIECE to request a RESTOCKING KIT, but, oh, there it is!

RHYS: Oh, hey, thanks for the restocking kit. Talk about ninja efficiency!
SN: Are you talking to me this time?
RHYS: What? Yeah. Anyway, I'm gonna also need one of you guys with me in there. Oh, and if I could get my rubber stopper back, too, that'd be great.
SN: Ah, well, little problem with that. We seem to be... locked in here.
RHYS: What?
SN: The door won't open. We've tried---
RHYS: Then how did the restocking kit and handtruck get out here?
SN: What restocking kit? This door hasn't opened since we got in back outside the fort.
RHYS: . . .
SN: We're working on it, Marshall.
RHYS: . . .

Hmm. OK.

Pressing on. Maybe you should try to get your VARIOUS MONEY back from the FORTUNE TELLING MACHINE. Or just vandalize it.

RHYS: . . .

OK, maybe that was a bad idea. Things aren't going well this turn. With a sigh, you decide to play the VOXCO RECORDING, keeping your finger firmly on the stop button. You brace yourself. What new creepy HORRORS await?

It cuts off abruptly. He was... probably done talking.

You know your trope: it's an APOCALYPTIC LOG. You can only imagine more await inside.

And really, that's the only place to go at this point, isn't it?

You pick up the DERRINGER and reload it, slipping it into one of your pockets. No reason why. Just feels like the right thing to do.

You lift the HANDTRUCK and REFILLING KIT up the stairs and head inside. Really, it's the only place to go at this point. Yes.

(The DUCK watches approvingly.)

>Examine LOBBY

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

220 - Query the DEAD

You drop your last COIN into the slot and clearly state your QUESTION for the DEAD:

RHYS: Charlemagne Belial! How did you die?

The MADAM NADIYA MACHINE lurches to life, its mechanical gears and wires grinding into motion. The eyes roll, the mouth gives a pale impression of silent speech, and the head lolls uncomfortably. It looks... painful.

With a final whirring gasp, a FORTUNE CARD spits out of the slot and the machine returns to stillness.

Huh. How did he die?

That... was not worth it.

An ominous VOICE speaks up in your EAR. Thankfully, it's just SERGEANT NJÖRÐR through your EARPIECE.

SN: You weren't talking to me, right?
RHYS: No, Sergeant. I was just trying to speak with the spirit of a handless corpse out here.
SN: A corpse? Carry on.
RHYS: Carrion he may be, but that's still mean to say!

>Prepare for INGRESS