<img src="img/motel_ext.png">Dusty bits of light creep through the motel room window. You’re in front of a mirror, gazing into the eyes of the best door-to-door tobacco salesperson this side of the Colorado River. You adjust your shirt collar, spit on your thumb to smooth out a few stray eyebrow hairs. Flawless. You glance at the clock-radio on the nightstand. (current-time:). Better get a move on.
You walk toward the bed to double-check the contents of your suitcase. Cigarettes, cigars, pipes, hookahs... a collection of various remedies that can solve almost any physiological concern. The suitcase is heavy. But that’s nothing compared to the weight on your shoulders. The people out there need you to show them all the benefits tobacco has to offer. It'll be an uphill battle. They'll probably think you're crazy. Time to go to work.
[[<div class="option">Let’s hit the pavement!</div>|Liberty Ave]]
[[<div class="option sparkley">Wait, gotta pee.</div>|The Motel Room Bathroom]]
<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Game Start");</script>
The main strip of town is dotted with mom-and-pop restaurants, quiet little newspaper stands, and employee-owned tourist traps. (if: (history:) contains "Marcy’s Diner - Dog 1" and (history:) contains "Marcy’s Diner - Detective 1" and (history:) contains "The Bulbous Tiger")[You probably shouldn’t head back in that direction.](else:)[It’s cute. Quaint. It reminds you of any fictional place you’d find in a feel-good romcom.]
Last night you did some research on Lomanslist, a leading industry website. It said there were two viable parts of town for door-to-door sales: Windsor Lane and Dewberry Court. (if: (history:) contains "Crater Altar 1")[Clearly someone needs to update the entry for Dewberry Court.](else:)[]
(if: (history:) contains "Thugs 1")[](else:)[There also appears to be a gang of thugs loitering around the intersection.
](if: (history:) contains "Windsor Lane")[[[<div class="option">Let's explore Windsor Lane some more.</div>|Windsor Lane]]](else:)[[[<div class="option">Windsor Lane sounds whimsical. Let’s go there.</div>|Windsor Lane]]]
(if: (history:) contains "Crater Altar 1")[](else:)[[[<div class="option">Dewberry Court? Delicious.</div>|Dewberry Court]]]
(if: (history:) contains "Marcy’s Diner - Dog 1" and (history:) contains "Marcy’s Diner - Detective 1" and (history:) contains "The Bulbous Tiger")[](else:)[[[<div class="option">Wait, let’s check out some of these shops first.</div>|Liberty Ave Shops]]]
(if: (history:) contains "Thugs 1")[](else:)[[[<div class="option">Say hello to the gang of thugs.</div>|Thugs 1]]]
[<img src="img/bathroom_shade.png">
You didn’t have to go as badly as you thought, but better safe than sorry. A good salesperson never asks to use the restroom. The guy who won Sales Associate of the Year in 2009 had a vanity catheter.
You notice a <div class="actionable">vivid orange stone</div> taped to the side of the toilet tank. It’s a little too big to be a Monopoly piece, but it might be worth hanging onto.]<shout|(click: "vivid orange stone")[(set: $runestone to 1)(replace: ?shout)[<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Inventory - Rune");</script><img src="img/rune_stone.png">
You pick up the stone. It has a weird rune etched into the face. Sort of looks like the 💩 emoji.]]
[[<div class="option">Okay, let’s split.</div>|Liberty Ave]](if: (history:) contains "1913 Windsor Lane" and (history:) contains "1930 Windsor Lane" and (history:) contains "1922 Windsor Lane - Front Walk")[Windsor Lane looks different to you now. Still. Desaturated. More empty than quiet. You’ve failed to make a single sale today. (if: $pencil is 1 and $coffeemug is 1 and $bugspray is 1 and $greenflag is 1)[Time to head back to the hotel room and take stock of things.
[[<div class="option">Continue</div>|Klepto Ending]]](else:)[Time to head back to the hotel room and take stock of things.
[[<div class="option">Continue</div>|Motel Room - Ending]]]](else:)[Windsor Lane is quiet, sprawling, organic. Curvy roads and hills. Lots of beautiful trees. American elm, maybe? You can hear children playing in the distance.
From where you stand, you can see three houses. (if: (history:) contains "1913 Windsor Lane")[That weird empty house with the quiet lady](else:)[A red brick colonial], (if: (history:) contains "1930 Windsor Lane")[the rancher where that asthmatic kid lives](else:)[a stucco covered rancher], and (if: (history:) contains "Space Palace - Dialog 1a")[a large smoking crater where that bizarre goat-god used to be](else:)[a dilapidated shack with a goat in the yard].
(if: (history:) contains "1913 Windsor Lane")[](else:)[[[<div class="option">Head to the red brick colonial.</div>|1913 Windsor Lane]]]
(if: (history:) contains "1930 Windsor Lane")[](else:)[[[<div class="option">Check out the stucco rancher.</div>|1930 Windsor Lane]]]
(if: (history:) contains "Space Palace - Dialog 1a")[](else:)[[[<div class="option">Let's try the house with the goat.</div>|1922 Windsor Lane - Front Walk]]]
[[<div class="option">Back to Liberty Ave.</div>|Liberty Ave]]]
<img src="img/outlaw_country.png">
(if: $runestone is 1)[Dewberry Court appears to have been leveled by some sort of large explosion. At the center of the crater is a single column, maybe three feet high, covered in bizarre etchings. A sign for the local civic association has been painted over to read “OUTLAW COUNTRY.” It appears there’s no one here to sell to.
[[<div class="option">Head back to town</div>|Liberty Ave]]</div>
[[<div class="option">Investigate the crater</div>|Crater Center]]
]
(else:)[Dewberry Court appears to have been leveled by some sort of large explosion. At the center of the crater is a single column, maybe three feet high, covered in bizarre etchings. A sign for the local civic association has been painted over to read “OUTLAW COUNTRY.” There’s no one here to sell to. [[Might as well turn around|Liberty Ave]].]
<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Reached Dewberry Court");</script><img src="img/main_strip-1.png">
(set: $shopsvisited to true)The shops are all clustered together like bumps on a log. Very convenient. At a glance, you can see (if: (history:) contains "Marcy’s Diner - Detective 1" or (history:) contains "Marcy’s Diner - Dog 1")[Marcy’s, which you should avoid at all costs;](else:)[Marcy’s, a ridiculously small-looking coffee shop-type thing;] (if: (history:) contains "The Bulbous Tiger")[the family act at The Bulbous Tiger, who are not your biggest fans](else:)[The Bulbous Tiger, a knick knack sort of retail place]; and Second Time Around, which looks to be a vintage shop of some sort. (if: (history:) contains "Newspaper Stand")[](else:)[There’s also a tiny newspaper stand on the corner.]
Many of the storefronts seem vacant. It’s possible that this town isn’t doing as well as you had hoped, economically speaking. It might be better to just head back.<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Visited Liberty Ave Shops");</script>
(if: (history:) contains "Marcy’s Diner - Detective 1" or (history:) contains "Marcy’s Diner - Dog 1")[](else:)[[[<div class="option">Walk over to Marcy's Diner.</div>|Marcy’s Diner Intro]]
](if: (history:) contains "The Bulbous Tiger")[](else:)[[[<div class="option">The Bulbous Tiger is intruiging.</div>|The Bulbous Tiger]]
][[<div class="option">Let's try the Second Time Around.</div>|Second Time Around]]
(if: (history:) contains "Newspaper Stand")[](else:)[[[<div class="option">Go to the newspaper stand.</div>|Newspaper Stand]]
][[<div class="option">Back to Liberty Ave.</div>|Liberty Ave Shops]]
<img src="img/blank_lady-1.png">
Approaching the red-brick colonial, you take note of the immaculate landscaping that flanks the front steps. This house is a salesperson’s dream. You rap your knuckles on the door five times to the rhythm of the Terminator theme music.
A young woman opens the door before you can retract your hand. She stares at you blankly, eyes wide, as if she’s never seen another human being before. Looking past her, you can see straight through the foyer into the kitchen. There appears to be no furniture or personal objects in the entire house.
[[<div class="option">“Hello, ma’am. Are you interested in exponentially improving your concentration and changing your life forever?”</div>|1913 Windsor Lane - Dialog 1]]
[[<div class="option">“Whoa, are you okay?”</div>|1913 Windsor Lane - Dialog 1a]]
[[<div class="option">“Um. Sorry, wrong house.”</div>|Windsor Lane]]<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Reached Quiet Lady");</script>You walk up to the rancher. It’s covered in a grayish-blue stucco coating. It’s sort of the color of a sandwich that’s been in a storage locker for several years. Stucco is most often used as an inexpensive way to cover up structural issues on a home, so you’re not too hopeful of landing that million-dollar sale.
Near the front porch there’s a <div class="actionable">large green flag</div> hanging that features a cartoon spider with a word bubble saying “HAPPY HOLIDAYS, FRIEND.” You have no idea what that means.
(click: "a large green flag")[(set: $greenflag to 1)You yank down the flag, roll it up, and stuff it in your briefcase.<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Inventory - Green Flag");</script>
]The front door is wide open with a dog gate propped up between it and the frame. There doesn’t appear to be any dog around.
[[<div class="option">Ring the doorbell.</div>|1930 Windsor Lane - Dialog 1a]]
[[<div class="option">Holler a friendly greeting into the house, as if that’s ever a good idea.</div>|1930 Windsor Lane - Dialog 1b]]
<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Reached Asthma Kid House");</script><img src="img/Wild-Goat1.png">
You stroll over to the dilapidated shack. Doesn’t appear to be the most affluent-looking resident of Windsor Lane, but looks can be deceiving.
Upon closer inspection, there appears to be large volumes of foamy fluff dripping from the goat’s mouth. This doesn’t seem like it’s worth pursuing.
[[<div class="option">Dude. This is a bad idea. Let’s split.</div>|Windsor Lane]]
[[<div class="option">Whatever, a sale is a sale.</div>|1922 Windsor Lane - Dialog 1]]
She continues to stare at you, quiet, unblinking. She might be a robot.
[[<div class="option">Continue your sales pitch.</div>|1913 Windsor Lane - Dialog 2]]
[[<div class="option">Back away slowly, smile never wavering.</div>|1913 Windsor Lane - Dialog Exit]]She says nothing. Maybe it’s your imagination, but her irises have widened by about ten centimeters since this exchange started. (if: (history:) contains "1922 Windsor Lane - Dialog 1")[The goat was a better conversationalist than this. ](else:)[]
[[<div class="option">C’mon, make that sale!</div>|1913 Windsor Lane - Dialog 2]]
[[<div class="option">Ask to come inside.</div>|1913 Windsor Lane - Robot Ending 1a]]
[[<div class="option">Let’s get out of here.</div>|1913 Windsor Lane - Dialog Exit]]You widen your grin, taking a step backward. “I’m sorry to disturb you, ma’am. I’ll come back another time.”
As you walk away, you hear her exhale sharply and quickly close the door. Was she holding her breath that entire time? Weird.
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|Windsor Lane]]You press on, trying not to make too much eye contact. “Ma’am, would you believe me if I told you I had a miracle product that improves your concentration, helping with those late nights... when you need to... uh... stand by the door in a stoic manner?”
She says nothing.
“Sounds preposterous, but it’s true! And that miracle product... is smokeless tobacco!”
Did her eye just twitch? Maybe it’s just the high pollen count?
“But you don’t have to take my word for it!”
You fish around in your pocket and pull out your phablet.
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|1913 Windsor Lane - Dialog 3]]The goat opens its maw a bit wider. Spiders scurry out.
[[<div class="option">SALES OPPORTUNITY! “Hello, ma’am. Are you interested in losing a few pounds while barely lifting a finger?”</div>|1922 Windsor Lane - Dialog 2a]]
[[<div class="option">“Greetings, goat-child. I mean you no harm.”</div>|1922 Windsor Lane - Dialog 2b]]The goat blinks. Clearly this means it understands you.
“I bet you wouldn’t believe me if I told you there was a miracle treatment to stave off hunger... and it’s so common that you can buy it at any gas station. Sounds absurd, right?”
The goat raises one hoof. It beckons you.
[[<div class="option">“Would you like to know more?”</div>|1922 Windsor Lane - Dialog 3a]]
[[<div class="option">“Oh, wise bovidae, share your secrets with me.”</div>|1922 Windsor Lane - Dialog 3b]]“That miracle product... is dipping tobacco! Yes, the same shredded smokeless tobacco product that causes a wide variety of oral cancers can also be used to curb your appetite! Let me whip out my trusty phablet and show you a user testimonial video...”
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|1922 Windsor Lane - Phablet]]The goat seems a bit more agitated now. Its eyeballs appear to be slowly swelling up, those trademark horizontal pupils replaced with nebulous, ever-shifting polygons. It gestures to you with its right hoof.
[[Hurry, make the sale before it explodes or something!|1922 Windsor Lane - Dialog 3a]]
The goat’s eyes seem to be rotating in their sockets independently. Its fur appears pearlescent, but it could just be a trick of the light.
[[<div class="option">Ignore it. Always be closing!</div>|1922 Windsor Lane - Dialog 2a]]The goat makes a sound not unlike the death rattle of a Kodiak bear. Which seems like a strange thing to reference, but it was in that one documentary by that British guy who does all those documentaries. And right now you’re trying to sell tobacco products to some sort of mystical goat, so who’s to say what constitutes a normal thought.
The goat continues to thrust its hoof toward you, making it very hard to ignore the large twisted thorn jutting out.
[[<div class="option">“Okay. I guess you want me to pull this thorn thing out, and then you’ll buy some dip?”</div>|1922 Windsor Lane - Dialog 4b]]
You approach the goat and it stiffens in response. It seems frightened and unsure. But you’re not a goat expert, so maybe this is all normal goat business.
You reach down and grasp the thorn between your thumb and index finger, giving it a light tug. It’s really stuck. After a few false starts, you manage to pull it out using a sort of corkscrew twisting technique.
Purple vapor envelops both you and the goat. The quiet yard on Winsor Lane disappears, and you see a brilliant array of celestial oddities drift in from all sides. You feel weightless, your extremities numbed with cold while your body remains encapsulated by an indescribable warmth. The world has melted, and it’s just you and the goat now.
Except the goat isn’t so much a goat anymore as it is a handsome, eight-foot-tall, totally androgynous celestial being.
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|Space Palace - Dialog 1a]]“Uh... would you care to buy some smokeless tobacco and shed a few, um, space pounds?"
<div class="rainbow">“Seriously, brah? I’m an ageless elder god that exists beyond space and time, my soul bound and reshaped into the form of a hoofed mammal as punishment by my oppressors, and even I find that ridiculous. How does it help you lose weight? By making sure you can’t use your mouth?”</div>
(mouseover: "can’t use your mouth")[<div class="cdc-fact">Smokeless tobacco can cause white or gray patches inside the mouth (leukoplakia) that can lead to cancer. Smokeless tobacco can cause gum disease, tooth decay, and tooth loss.</br><div class="cdc-source">Source: Centers for Disease Control and Prevention</div></div><script>ga("send", "event", "Corrective", "Lose Weight");</script>]
It appears that you have angered this divine being.
<div class="rainbow">“Furthermore... body shaming my goatform? Saying I need to lose weight? Why, because goats eat everything in sight? That's just a myth made up by the tin can industry. And regardless, you have no right to talk about my body. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, chumpo.”</div>
And, just like that, you’re back on Windsor Lane.
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|Windsor Lane]]<img src="img/alien_demigod.png">
As you gaze upon this unknowable being, you feel every emotion flow through you simultaneously. It’s kind of a lot to process.
At last, it speaks. <div class="rainbow">“Human humanoid! At long last you have freed me from my prison. Now, I will grant you one wish. Terms and conditions may apply.”</div> What you thought was its mouth doesn’t appear to move as the words come out. Maybe it’s one of those decorative mouths that you never hear about.
<div class="rainbow">“What is your wish?”</div>
[[<div class="option">Immortality.</div>|Space Palace - Immortality Ending]]
[[<div class="option">To never have to work again.</div>|Space Palace - Unemployable Ending]]
[[<div class="option">Buy some tobacco weight-loss supplement.</div>|Space Palace - Dialog 1b]]<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Reached Demigod");</script>You fumble with the lock screen on your phablet, then wait patiently as the YouTube video you bookmarked loads. “Here’s a testimonial from a real person just like you.” The woman in the doorway is a real person, right?
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|1913 Windsor Lane - Phablet]]“Wow.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “I’ve come across a lot of weird stuff in my time... but that claim is just absurd. That dip stuff can kill you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to.”
(mouseover: "can kill you")[<div class="cdc-fact">Smokeless tobacco is associated with many health problems. Using smokeless tobacco increases the risk for death from heart disease and stroke.</br><div class="cdc-source">Source: Centers for Disease Control and Prevention</div></div><script>ga("send", "event", "Corrective", "Helps Concentration");</script>]
She slams the door in your face. You hear what sounds like a turkey gobble come from inside the house.
[[<div class="option">Walk back to Windsor Lane.</div>|Windsor Lane]]Pressing the doorbell, you hear a dissonant melody chime throughout the house. It’s either the hook to an Outkast song or the Turkish national anthem. Hard to tell.
You hear a steady but slow rhythm of shoes on hardwood. Someone’s coming to the door, but they’re clearly taking their time.
[[<div class="option">Wait patiently.</div>|1930 Windsor Lane - Dialog 2a]]
[[<div class="option">Hop over the dog gate like a lunatic and greet them in the entryway.</div>|1930 Windsor Lane - Dialog 2b]]<img src="img/canulla_boy-1.png">
You wait for what seems like decades as the hobbling noise steadily approaches. Finally, a young boy (maybe 8 years old?) turns the corner, and you can see why it took him a while to reach the door: He’s carrying an oxygen tank that’s possibly larger than his entire body, complete with one of those clear tubes running up to his nose. Nasal cannula! That’s what it’s called, right?
[[<div class="option">“Hello there, son. Is your mommy or daddy home?”</div>|1930 Windsor Lane - Dialog 3a]]
[[<div class="option">“Wow! What is //your// deal?”</div>|1930 Windsor Lane - Dialog 3b]]“Hello there, son. Is your mommy or daddy home?”
<div class="asthma">“Mommy... or... daddy?”</div> It seems like it takes him a bit of effort to get the words out between laborious breaths. <div class="asthma">“You mean... my parent... or guardian?”</div>
The young boy seems annoyed. You smile in a way that can be seen as either polite or patronizing.
<div class="asthma">“They left... to go... pick up... my asthma medicine.”</div>
Your sale-sense tingles when you hear this. “My boy, what fortune! It just so happens that I’m selling a product that can cure asthma!”
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|1930 Windsor Lane - Dialog 4a]]<div class="asthma">“Wha... what?”</div> His mouth widens. <div class="asthma">“Asthma... has a cure?”</div>
You edge closer, pulling out your trusty five-point-five-inch phablet. “It’s true! And I can prove it.” You try to bring up a video that you have saved in a YouTube playlist, but the YouTube app loads the homepage when you switch over to it even though you //specifically// loaded it earlier so this wouldn’t happen. “Sorry, uh, hold on.” It takes a while. “Wait, it’s loading... it’s still loading... uhhhhhhhhhh okay, look at this!”
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|1930 Windsor Lane - Phablet]]The boy reaches over to tweak a valve on his oxygen tank, then inhales deeply. He seems to be trembling.
<div class="asthma">“Okay, look, creep. I need to use an oxygen tank — ”</div> he smacks the green metal tank with his fist <div class="asthma">“ — that’s so heavy it makes even the smallest task a massive ordeal. I can never play sports. I can’t even run. My entire life doctors have made it clear that I probably won’t live as long as the average person. And you know why I’m like this? You know why?”</div>
He stares at you, eyes full of rage. You hold your smile. You can probably turn this around and still make the sale if you just play it cool.
<div class="asthma">“Because my Nana smoked in the house when I was a baby. Tobacco literally ruined my life. And you’re going to tell me that a hookah... something possibly //more harmful// than cigarettes... is the cure?”</div>
(mouseover: "more harmful")[<div class="cdc-fact">Because of the way a hookah is used, smokers may absorb more of the toxic substances also found in cigarette smoke than cigarette smokers do. The amount of smoke inhaled during a typical hookah session is about 90,000 milliliters, compared with 500–600 milliliters inhaled when smoking a cigarette.</br><div class="cdc-source">Source: Centers for Disease Control and Prevention</div></div><script>ga("send", "event", "Corrective", "Asthma");</script>]
He wheels his oxygen tank forward, sending the doggy gate toppling over. You take a few steps back. That oxygen tank looks heavy.
<div class="asthma">“You are... the most... unchill... person... ever.”</div> And with that, he kicks the doggy gate out of the way and slams the door in your face.
That probably could have gone better.
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|Windsor Lane]]“Oh, sir and/or madam!” you shout, hand cupped around your mouth. “I’m here to offer you the opportunity of a lifetime!” Classic opener, never fails. Err, rarely fails. Maybe only occasionally fails.
You hear a crinkling noise, like balling up a newspaper, then a steady but slow shuffling. Someone’s coming to the door, but they’re clearly taking their time.
[[<div class="option">Wait patiently.</div>|1930 Windsor Lane - Dialog 2a]]
[[<div class="option">Hop over the dog gate like a lunatic and greet them in the entryway.</div>|1930 Windsor Lane - Dialog 2b]]You hoist up your brown-checked salesperson trousers (looking professional is essential if you want to make serious paper) and try to bring one leg over the gate. It’s a little taller than you thought. As you struggle to enter the house, you notice the reason for the gate’s existence: Through the hallway, by the back stairs, there’s a ratty zebra-print bean bag covered in clumps of hair with a massive indentation in the center. It looks like cat fur, but the impression is much too large for any normal cat. Maybe it’s, like, 12 cats that all sleep in a pile? Or something else? A exotic peccary, or a quadrupedal marsupial?
Exhausting your knowledge of fancy-sounding mammals, you withdraw your leg and wait nervously (and safely) on the other side of the gate. Caution is the eldest child of wisdom, after all.
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|1930 Windsor Lane - Dialog 2a]]“Wow! What is //your// deal?”
The young boy makes a squished-up face that’s like some combination of //I stared at the sun for too long// and //I just ate three whole lemons//.
<div class="asthma">“Excuse... me?”</div> It seems to take a bit of effort to get the words out. He doesn’t seem happy. But hey, your ice-breaker worked! Let’s make this sale.
You flash your beautiful salesy grin. “May I speak with the person who’s primarily responsible for major household purchases?”
<div class="asthma">“They left... to go... pick up... my asthma medicine.”</div>
Asthma medicine? Jackpot! “My boy, what fortune! It just so happens that I’m selling a product that can cure asthma!”
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|1930 Windsor Lane - Dialog 4a]]<img src="img/motel_room_shade.png">Walking through the door, you throw your briefcase on the bed. Housekeeping forgot to turn off the TV when they left. It’s playing a commercial for some ambiguous prescription drug aimed at the elderly.
You slump down on the floor with your back against the bed. Maybe this isn’t ever going to work. Maybe it’s time to stop clinging to these ridiculous ideas. Find something new. Something more rewarding than trying to convince people that there are benefits to using tobacco.
After all, what good is free will if you don’t use it?
<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Game End - Motel Room");</script>
<div class="text-center"><div class="final-score-text">Final Score</div>
<div class="final-score-cash rainbow">$(print:$score).00</div>
<div class="final-score-end-count">ending number 1 of (print:$endingcount)</div>
(link: "Restart?")[<script>document.location.reload();</script>]</div>You press your bathroom runestone against the depression in the pillar and take a step back.
Nothing happens.
From behind you, a cheery voice speaks up. “Looks like it wasn’t just a legend after all.”
<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Found Ancient Tomb");</script>
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|Crater Altar 2]]<img src="img/detective.png">
As you hop on the stool — not literally hopping, this is something much more graceful, something like a pivot — the man in suspenders scrunches up his nose and grunts. You notice he’s wearing a badge clipped to his shirt pocket. It says REAL POLICE DETECTIVE. It sort of looks like someone wrote on a piece of aluminum foil with red marker.
As you inspect the items on the paper placemat menu in front of you, the Real Police Detective to your right continues to make odd percussive vocalizations. It seems like he’s trying to get your attention.
[[<div class="option">Ask about the food.</div>|Marcy’s Diner - Detective 2a]]
[[<div class="option">Strike up a conversation.</div>|Marcy’s Diner - Detective 2b]]
<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Sat next to Real Police Detective");</script>{
<!-- Set autosave variables -->
(set: $_version to "Beta 2")
(set: $_autosave_slot to "autosave")
(set: $_autosave_filename to "save v"+$_version)
(set: $_start_passage to "The Motel Room")
}
<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Game Loaded");</script>{
<!-- Auto-save our progress (unless a passage forbids it) -->
(unless: (passage:)'s tags contains "nosave")[
(save-game: $_autosave_slot, $_autosave_filename)
]
}{
<!-- Set initial variables that change here instead of in the Startup passage -->
<!-- YOUR VARIABLES GO HERE -->
(set: $endingcount to 6)
(set: $runestone to 0)
(set: $pencil to 0)
(set: $coffeemug to 0)
(set: $bugspray to 0)
(set: $antacids to 0)
(set: $magazine to 0)
(set: $greenflag to 0)
(set: $candy to 0)
(set: $score to 0)
<div class="text-center">
<img src="img/ConQuestCard.png">
}''[[NEW GAME->$_start_passage]] •
(link: "CONTINUE")[(load-game: $_autosave_slot)]''</div><img src="img/explorer_woman-1.png">
You turn to see a ... person, of some sort, dressed like a 1920s British Explorer. Except it’s not the 1920s and you pick up on a slight Californian accent. You have to admire her monocle, though. Brass inlay. That’s quality craftsmanship.
“Sorry for the deception, old chap, but I’ve been following you since you left the motel bathroom. I knew you would lead me straight to the altar of legend.”
[[<div class="option">“Were you watching me in the bathroom? That’s really not cool. Really, really not cool.”</div>|Crater Altar 3a]]
[[<div class="option">“Okay... uh... altar?”</div>|Crater Altar 3b]]</div>“Were you watching me in the bathroom? That’s really not cool. Really, really not cool.”
“No, not at all. The rune stone is a fake. It’s a ruse-stone! There’s a tracker in it. I ordered, like, five hundred of them from this Chinese website. The more you order, the cheaper each one is. Worked out a deal with the housekeeping staff at the motel. They put one in every bathroom. I knew that eventually someone would take the bait and lead me straight to the location of the legendary altar.” A humongous grin paints her face as she gestures to the pillar.
“The real rune stone has been in my possession this whole time! Clever, eh?” She winks at you. It makes you feel something between annoyance and nausea.
The explorer fishes in her shirt and pulls out a necklace with a stone attached, then gives it a dramatic tug. Except the necklace doesn’t break free. It just kind of jerks her entire body forward and she has to awkwardly pull the entire thing over her head, which is a total ordeal on account of her oversized safari hat. You feel bad. She’s really trying.
She walks past you and stands in front of the pillar. “It’s time for us to plunder the tomb of Empress Dewberry! Will you join me, friend, and share in these treasures? After all, you did most of the work in finding this place.”
[[<div class="option">“I’m not really the plundering type.”</div>|Crater Altar 4a]]
[[<div class="option">“Treasure... I could do treasure.”</div>|Crater Altar 4b]]“Okay... uh... altar?”
“It’s a long story, old chum. I’ve been searching for the location of this altar for a very long time,” she says, circling the pillar.
You’re puzzled by this. “It’s, like, literally the first thing I saw when I left my hotel room.” She continues; either she didn’t hear that or is ignoring you.
“You see, that rune stone is a fake. It contains a tracker. The housekeeping staff at the motel planted it for me. They put one in every bathroom. I knew at some point another explorer would take the bait and lead me straight to the location of the altar.” A humongous grin paints her face as she gestures to the pillar. She seems very proud.
“The real rune stone has been in my possession this whole time! Clever, eh?” She winks at you.
The explorer fishes around in her shirt and pulls out a necklace with a stone attached, then gives it a dramatic tug. Except the necklace doesn’t break free. It just kind of jerks her entire body forward and she has to awkwardly pull the entire thing over her head, which is a total ordeal on account of her oversized safari hat. You feel kind of bad. She’s really trying.
She walks past you and stands in front of the pillar. “It’s time for us to plunder the tomb of Empress Dewberry! Will you join me, friend, and share in these treasures? After all, you did most of the work in finding this place.”
[[<div class="option">“I’m not really the plundering type.”</div>|Crater Altar 4a]]
[[<div class="option">“Treasure... I could do treasure.”</div>|Crater Altar 4b]]The explorer looks disappointed. She turns her back to you.
“I see. But now that you’ve seen the tomb, there’s no way I can let you leave here alive.”
A cloud passes overhead, darkening the crater. It’s super dramatic.
[[<div class="option">“Whoa, what?! Uh, I’m not even sure what’s happening right now.”</div>|Crater Altar 5a]]
[[<div class="option">Maybe try to act tough and intimidate her?</div>|Crater Altar 5b]]“Excellent! But we must prepare. If we’re going into the tomb, you’re gonna need some of this. Catch,” she growls, tossing an industrial-size can of bug spray toward you.
It lands seven feet away.
“Are there mosquitos here in Outlaw Country?” you inquire.
"Not mosquitos, old chum. Tsetse flies. They’ll give you the sleeping sickness. African Trypanosomiasis. It’s a blood parasite. They’re all over these old tombs.”
SALES OPPORTUNITY! Dollar signs dance in front of your eyes. “Did you say blood parasites? No need for bug spray, friend, I have just the thing!”
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|Crater Altar Sales Pitch 1]]“Ah, a fellow who comes prepared!” she says, putting her hands on her hips. “I knew I sensed the spirit of adventure within you. What equipment did you bring? Citronella-scented torch? Ultrasonic repellent? Superboss flamethrower?!”
“Not at all!” you say, fishing around in your briefcase. “Something much more practical ... cigarettes!”
The explorer opens her mouth as if to say something, but her jaw just seems to gyrate in place.
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|Crater Altar Sales Pitch 2]]“Pardon my ignorance, but how will cigarettes help us? I’m afraid we don’t have time to wait for the insects to die of heart disease from secondhand smoke,” she says with a smile.
(mouseover: "secondhand smoke")[<div class="cdc-fact">For nonsmokers, breathing secondhand smoke has immediate harmful effects on the heart and blood vessels. It is estimated that secondhand smoke caused nearly 34,000 heart disease deaths each year during 2005–2009 among adult nonsmokers in the United States.</br><div class="cdc-source">Source: Centers for Disease Control and Prevention</div></div><script>ga("send", "event", "Corrective", "Treats Parasites");</script>]
“Ah, I thought someone as well traveled as you would have heard of this treatment before.” Excellent, work a compliment in there. Make that sale! “Not to worry, let me pull up [[a little video|Crater Altar - Phablet]] I came across...”
<img src="img/Pillar.png">
The pillar juts out from the ash, clearly man-made but very old. There are glyphs carved all over it, and a glowing orange indentation in the top. Actually, it’s the same weird orange color as that runestone you found near the toilet.
[[<div class="option">Insert the runestone in the pillar|Crater Altar 1]]</div>
[[<div class="option">This is some spoopy stuff. Let’s not do this.|Liberty Ave]]</div>“Is that a real person? Did a real person say that?” The British mannerisms fade away and that slight Californian accent becomes a heavy Californian accent. “Dude... just, wow. Dude. Do you really believe that?”
“Of course I do! Why would someone make a video on YouTube if it wasn’t true?”
She takes off her hat and throws it in the dirt. “This isn’t fun anymore. I just wanted to play explorer. Way to ruin it, dude.”
She snatches the rune stone from the pillar, causing the tomb entrance to shake and then submerge back into the dirt.
“I’m going home. And I’m telling my mom that there’s some creep running around town trying to convince people that cigarettes have health benefits.”
As she stomps off, you reflect on — wait, she’s coming back!
“This is MY hat! Not yours.” She grabs the brown pith helmet off the ground and again walks away.
Well. That stinks. At least she left <div class="actionable">the bug spray</div>.
(click: "bug spray")[(set: $bugspray to 1)You put the bug spray in your briefcase. Because of the sentimental value, you know? All that adventure.<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Inventory - Bugspray");</script>
]Back to civilization, then.
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|Liberty Ave]]“Whoa, what?! Uh, I’m not even sure what’s happening right now.”
“Just kidding! Haha. You were so scared.”
“I guess you can take off. But looting this tomb would be a lot more fun... there’s probably lots of rich stuff inside... and money-gems... and embalmed monkeys...” She traces a pattern in the crater’s compacted dirt floor with the toe of her work boot.
[[<div class="option">“Okay. Later.”</div>|Crater Altar 6]]
[[<div class="option">“You’re right. Let’s loot this tomb. I’m sure we won’t end up cursed for all eternity.”</div>|Crater Altar 4b]]You puff out your chest and pull back your shoulders. “Very well,” you say. “I suppose all that’s left to do is wish you good luck. You’ll need it if you expect to lay a finger on me.” Then you wave your arms around like a lunatic before striking a pose that somewhat resembles a terminally ill tree.
“Whoa. Okay. Um, I just said that because it sounded cool. Chill.” She takes off her pith helmet. “I don’t want to play with you anymore.”
She snatches the rune stone from the pillar, causing the tomb opening to recede into the dirt.
“Bye.” She puts in a pair of earbuds and skips away.
So much for that sale. Back to civilization, then.
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|Liberty Ave]]You turn around and begin the walk back to town. Glancing over your shoulder, you see the explorer unfurling a ball of sparkly yellow yarn, one end tied around her waist, the other to the pillar. After that, she practices holding up her lantern and making surprised faces for a while.
You will probably not be seeing her again.
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|Liberty Ave]]<img src="img/diner-interior.png">
Marcy’s Diner looked small from outside, but inside it feels roughly the size of an airplane bathroom. There are four stools total in the entire place, all lined up in a row. A hunky twenty-something stands behind the counter fiddling with his phone. His name tag says “Marcy.”
There are two open seats at the counter. One next to a grizzled middle-aged man in suspenders, and one next to... a woman in a dog costume. Of course there’s a woman in a dog costume.
[[<div class="option">Sit next to the suspenders man.</div>|Marcy’s Diner - Detective 1]]
[[<div class="option">Sit next to the woman in the dog costume.</div>|Marcy’s Diner - Dog 1]]
[[<div class="option">Leave.</div>|Liberty Ave Shops]]
<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Reached Marcy’s Diner");</script><img src="img/second_time_around-1.png">
Second Time Around has a beautiful window display filled with old typewriters, vintage dresses, rusty farm equipment, and taxidermied animals. You can totally think of someone who would *love* this place, but, unfortunately, it’s not open at the moment. Maybe it’s just not open on (weekday: )s? Actually, looking closely, the window display appears somewhat flat. That is, they’re not real objects, just two-dimensional matte paintings made to look like real objects. Kind of weird.
Peeking through the front door, you see that there isn’t a single item in the shop that isn’t a handmade cardboard facsimile of a beautiful antique. They’re all caked in dust. It seems like this shop hasn’t been open in a very long time.
There’s <div class="actionable">a novelty sized yellow pencil</div> wedged into the entrance’s old-timey keyhole. Someone tried to get in here, but weren’t very serious about it.
(if: $pencil is 1)[](else:)[(click: "a novelty sized yellow pencil")[(set: $pencil to 1)You take the novelty sized yellow pencil and stash it in your briefcase.<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Inventory - Pencil");</script>
]](if: (history:) contains "Marcy’s Diner - Detective 1" or (history:) contains "Marcy’s Diner - Dog 1")[](else:)[[[<div class="option">Walk over to Marcy’s Diner.</div>|Marcy’s Diner Intro]]
](if: (history:) contains "The Bulbous Tiger")[](else:)[[[<div class="option">Go to The Bulbous Tiger.</div>|The Bulbous Tiger]]
][[<div class="option">Head back to Libery Ave.</div>|Liberty Ave]]<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Checked Out Vintage Shop");</script><img src="img/bulbous_tiger-1.png">
This place is tourist-trap city. Bare white walls. Water-stained drop ceiling. Free-standing white shelves with rows and rows of the same junk. Singing fish wall plaques. Folksy signs that say things like “Today I’m going to master the art of doing nothing!” Hot sauces with punny names. Shot glasses, magnets, cookbooks, vanity license plates... all the things that no one ever wants to receive as a gift. There’s even <div class="actionable">a coffee mug</div> that says “WORLD’S GREATEST BLASTOCYST”with a picture of a sunflower seed on the side.
(click: "a coffee mug")[(set: $coffeemug to 1)You pick up the mug. Someone wrote “FREE!” in black permanent marker on the underside. Might as well take it with you as a souvenir.<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Inventory - Coffee Mug");</script>
]Behind the register there’s... a toddler standing on a milk-crate?
<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Entered Bulbous Tiger");</script>
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|The Bulbous Tiger Dialog 1]]“Hey there,” you say to the toddler. She’s wearing embroidered overalls and munching on some ambiguous crunchy snack. Most of it is falling out of her mouth and onto the keys of the cash register.
She shoves more food in her mouth and stares at you.
[[<div class="option">Ask for the manager.</div>|The Bulbous Tiger Dialog 2a]]
[[<div class="option">Make small talk.</div>|The Bulbous Tiger Dialog 2b]]“So, uh... are you the manager?”
It takes a few seconds for her to process what you said, but her eyes go wide and she nods her head up and down dramatically. You have the feeling that this conversation will not be the most productive you’ve ever had.
[[<div class="option">Ask for the person who does product ordering.</div>|The Bulbous Tiger Dialog 3a]]
[[<div class="option">SALES OPPORTUNITY! Ask if she wants to buy some cigarettes.</div>|The Bulbous Tiger Dialog 3b]]She smiles at this, puts her snack cup down, then twirls in place. When she’s facing you again, she claps for herself, then picks up the snack cup and continues eating.
[[<div class="option">“Would you be interested in carrying some of my salutary goods? I have all sorts of propitious pharmacopoeia. Like, for example... cigarettes.”</div>|The Bulbous Tiger Dialog 3b]]
[[<div class="option">“Look. I know you understand me. Here’s the deal. I’m selling cigarettes. You run a store that sells things. See what I’m getting at?”</div>|The Bulbous Tiger Dialog 3b]]<img src="img/flannel-man.png">
“Sooooooo... I’m selling cigarettes. You wouldn’t know a person who wants to buy some cigarettes, would you? Wink wink.”
“HOLD UP,” someone — not the toddler — screams. A tall, skinny man in a flannel shirt storms out from a door marked “Employees Only.” He gracefully strokes the jet-black ponytail draped over his shoulders. Gross.
“Are you seriously trying to sell her cigarettes? She’s 2 years old.”
Upon hearing this, the toddler gets a big smile, then holds up two fingers on her left hand. She has to use her right hand to hold down the other fingers, possibly due to her still developing motor skills.
The flannel man stretches his neck out a bit. “She’s my aunt. She was just watching the front while I made us soft boiled eggs. Seriously, what do you think you’re doing? Were you really trying to sell her cigarettes?”
[[<div class="option">“Yes. I was trying to sell her cigarettes.”</div>|The Bulbous Tiger Dialog 4a]]
[[<div class="option">“Yes! I was trying to sell her cigarettes.”</div>|The Bulbous Tiger Dialog 4a]]<img src="img/dog.png">It’s not a very good dog costume. It looks sort of like it could be any animal if it weren’t for the red construction paper collar that had the word “DOG” written on it in crayon.
She has a plate of food in front of her. You’re not sure what kind of food. It looks gelatinous, brown, and not-at-all appetizing – as if a bowl of old gravy were frozen in a Bundt pan.
She notices you eyeing her plate and breaks the ice.
“As you can probably tell,” she gestures to her dog costume, “I’m an adjunct professor at the community college. I teach computer science. And the occasional art history course. And once I taught horsemanship, but I’m not allowed to do that anymore.” She bites her lower lip and stares off into space.
[[<div class="option">Compliment her dog costume.</div>|Marcy’s Diner - Dog 2a]]
[[<div class="option">Ask about the food.</div>|Marcy’s Diner - Dog 2b]]
<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Sat next to Dog Lady");</script>“Would you like to split a plate of Marcy’s Famous Belly Buster Cheese Fries™?” you say.
“Nah, not for me,” he says, rubbing his stomach while shaking his head. “I’ve got an ulcer the size of a gallbladder. So, approximately eight centimeters, or three-point-one inches. I’m getting too old for this stuff. I’ve been on the force for a long time... all that stress is catching up with me. Do you know what it’s like to have lives hang in the balance? To have people depend on you? That kind of weight on a man’s shoulders... it isn’t good. Isn’t good for the soul. Why, I remember my first case...”
Wow, you really opened a can of worms with this one.
[[<div class="option">Interrupt the Real Police Detective.</div>|Marcy’s Diner - Detective 3a]]
[[<div class="option">Let him continue.</div>|Marcy’s Diner - Detective Loop]](set: $array to (array:
"“... and I swear, he was the best administrative assistant I’ve ever had. He remembered my birthday every single year. I think he teaches Tae Bo now...”",
"“... things were different back then. After that, the American economy slowed from 7.2% real GDP growth to −2.1% contraction...”",
"“... let me ask you this, if you don’t take your coffee with seven creams and three packets of stevia, why are you even drinking coffee?”",
"“... and that was the last time we had a worthwhile president, if you ask me. Honestly, it’s all been downhill since the Franco-Trarzan War of 1825...”",
"“... so I told her, ‘Look, if I wanted a mango, I’d go down to the farmer's market and buy one myself!’ That was the last time we ever spoke...”",
"“... realistically, chocolate can only do so much to flavor a protein powder. At some point you reach maximum whey saturation and it’s chalky all the way down...”",
"“... and he starts listing off all these things you can make with shrimp! He just keeps going and going. Shrimp soup, shrimp lobster, shrimp burgers... it was unbelievable...”",
"“... the fact of the matter is that toddlers make better bus drivers. But there’s not a lot we can do until this state lowers the driving age. After that, we’ll have to lobby the insurance companies...”",
"“... well, what’s really disturbing is that no one was reading any of my letters. Turns out you can’t just write the person’s name on an envelope anymore. Now you need all sorts of mumbo jumbo... street names, zap codes, super numbers...”",
"“... I'm telling you, this thing goes //deep//. People at the highest levels are in on it. Don't believe me? Just search the internet for ‘water becomes solid when cold’... you'll find tons of stuff...”",
"“... the last thing I remember is putting mayo on the bun, then... blammo! I woke up in a bathtub full of ketchup at a tiny motel in Brazil. Now, here's the weirdest part... ”",
"“... so they asked me the name of my agent, but at that point I was new to modeling, so I just made up an impressive sounding name... I had no idea that they'd come down to the precinct asking for Niles von Talentagent! The boys will never let me live that one down... ”",
))(print:(either: ...$array))
[[<div class="option">Jump into the conversation.</div>|Marcy’s Diner - Detective 3a]]
[[<div class="option">Let him continue.</div>|Marcy’s Diner - Detective Loop]]“Sorry to interrupt, friend, but did you say you have an ulcer?”
“Yep. The size of a gallbladder.” He picks up a razzmatazz-colored crayon and begins to draw a circle on his placemat. “Approximately eight centimeters... like this...”
This is it! Your chance to make a sale and change this man’s life for the better!
(if: $antacids is 1)[[[<div class="option">SALES OPPORTUNITY! Give him your pitch!</div>|Marcy’s Diner - Detective Interum]]](else:)[[[<div class="option">SALES OPPORTUNITY! Give him your pitch!|Marcy’s Diner - Detective 4a]]](if: (history:) contains "Marcy’s Diner - Detective Interum")[](else:)[“I’m listening,” says the Real Police Detective.
“Cigarettes!” you say with bravado.
]“Cigarettes?” He tilts his head to the side. “You realize that’s a very peculiar answer, right?”
You pull out your phablet and smile. “I know, sounds strange, but I have proof!”
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|Marcys - Detective Phablet]]<img src="img/news_stand_iguanacages-1.png">
The newspaper stand seems oddly light on newspapers. There are a few old magazines, but they appear to be waterlogged. It’s mostly candy and lottery tickets. There are at least five iguanas in cages crammed inside the stand. Sandwiched between them is an elderly man. He smiles as you approach.
“Answer my riddle and ye may partake in my treasures!” the old man says, waving his arm across the newsstand. “As long as the total cost of said treasures does not exceed five dollars.”
(link: "<div class='option'>“What’s with the lizards?”</div>")[“What’s with the lizards?” you ask.
“Ye are not ready to know such secrets.”<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Asked About Lizards");</script>
]
[[<div class="option">“I’m down for a riddle.”</div>|Newspaper Stand Dialog 1]]
[[<div class="option">“Uh, later.”</div>|Liberty Ave Shops]]
<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Went to Newsstand");</script>“Really?” The Real Police Detective raises an eyebrow. “Normally I just drink a liter of cotton candy soda, but I’m open to suggestions. What is it?”
[[<div class="option">Offer him antacids.</div>|Marcy’s Diner - Antacid Sale]]
[[<div class="option">Offer him ciagarettes.</div>|Marcy’s Diner - Detective 4a]](set: $score to it +25)“Twenty-five bucks, eh?” He rubs his chin as if there were facial hair there. “Sure.”
He pulls a plastic bag full of coins out from under the counter and begins sifting through them. Some time later you have $25 in nickels rattling around your briefcase.
You did it! Congratulations. This is huge for you. [[Now let’s split before he realizes that he paid way too much for those antacids.|Liberty Ave Shops]]<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Sale - Antacids");</script>“Okay.” He spins his stool around and gets to his feet. “First off, ulceritic colitis isn’t a thing. It’s *ulcerative* colitis, and it’s incurable. Anyone who made it through their post-medical school residency could tell you that.” He absent mindedly begins tightening his suspenders.
“Beyond that, you’re trying to sell cigarettes as something beneficial to a person’s health? In all my years on the force...” He pauses as if trying to suppress the urge to tell a rambling story. “Smoking can cause stomach cancer. Why on earth would someone use it to treat an ulcer?”
(mouseover: "Smoking can cause stomach cancer")[<div class="cdc-fact">Smoking can cause cancer almost anywhere in your body, including the blood, bladder, cervix, colon and rectum, esophagus, kidneys and ureters, larynx, liver, lungs, mouth, nose, throat, pancreas, stomach and trachea.</br><div class="cdc-source">Source: Centers for Disease Control and Prevention</div></div><script>ga("send", "event", "Corrective", "Ulcers");</script>]
“Finally, you realize I’m a cop, right?” He points to his tinfoil badge. “This is a real badge for a real police detective, and I should have you arrested. But I’ve already done all my arresting for the day, so I’ll let you off with a warning. If you don’t get out of here right now... ”
He pauses. So dramatic. He’s clearly very, very angry.
“... we will no longer be best friends.”
He then crosses his arms and stares at you. The guy behind the counter and the woman in the dog costume are also staring. It’s a weird scene. You back out the door slowly.
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|Liberty Ave Shops]]“Any recommendations?”
“Between you and me,” he says, “I wouldn’t eat anything they serve here. The guy they got on the grill,” he gestures toward the kitchen, “pretty sure he’s just three raccoons standing on each other’s shoulders with an apron on. That would explain why everything comes with a side of apple cores, at least. Animals cooking people food ... should be illegal if you ask me. But I don’t write the laws, I just enforce them. I’ve been a real police detective for a long time. Why, I remember my first case ...”
Wow, you really opened a can of worms with this one.
[[<div class="option">Interrupt the Real Police Detective.</div>|Marcy’s Diner - Detective 3a]]
[[<div class="option">Let him continue.</div>|Marcy’s Diner - Detective Loop]]“I’m down for a riddle.”
“Ah!” exclaims the newspaper peddler. “Ah...” His excitement turns to disappointment.
“See, I actually don’t have a riddle ... because no one’s ever said yes before ... but I can come up with one! Give me a sec.”
His eyes dart around the newspaper stand looking for inspiration, all the while humming to himself. It feels like forever. One of the iguanas looks like it might have died.
“Ah! I’ve got it!”
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|Newspaper Stand Riddle 1]]You can hold it without using your hands or arms. What is it?
|face>[<div class="option">“Your breath.”</div>
<div class="option">“Bad gas.”</div>
<div class="option">“Barbeque chicken sandwich.”</div>]
(click: "“Your breath.”")[(replace: ?face)[“I know this one!” you exclaim. “The answer is ... your breath!”
“WRONG! The correct answer is ... *student loan debt*!” The old man shakes his head. ”Part of me is grateful that ye did not know the answer.”
“Ye may try again if ye wish.”
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|Newspaper Stand Riddle 2]]]]
(click: "“Bad gas.”")[(replace: ?face)[“Bad gas,” you say with pride.
“Seriously? Gross. And incorrect. The correct answer is ... *your breath*!” The old man gives a shrug.
“Ye may try againif ye wish.”
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|Newspaper Stand Riddle 2]]]]
(click: "“Barbeque chicken sandwich.”")[(replace: ?face)[“Barbeque chicken sandwich,” you say.
“What? Did you not eat breakfast or something? That’s obviously not right. The correct answer is ... *your breath*!”
“Ye may try again if ye wish.”
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|Newspaper Stand Riddle 2]]]]“I go all around the world but I still stay in a corner. Who am I?”
|face>[<div class="option">“A vertex.”</div>
<div class="option">“A postage stamp.”</div>
<div class="option">“My cousin who is on the internet like ALL DAY every day.”</div>]
(click: "“A vertex.”")[(replace: ?face)[“What? No. That’s a bad answer. The correct answer is ... *a postage stamp*!” The old man shrugs.
“Ye may try again if ye wish.”
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|Newspaper Stand Riddle 3]]]]
(click: "“A postage stamp.”")[(replace: ?face)[“Perhaps a postage stamp?” you say with a smile.
“TOTALLY INCORRECT! The correct answer is... *an invisible creeper who is going to rob your house as soon as you go to sleep*!” The old man looks disappointed. “Not too bright, are ye?”
“Ye may try again if ye wish.”
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|Newspaper Stand Riddle 3]]]]
(click: "“My cousin who is on the internet like ALL DAY every day.”")[(replace: ?face)[“My cousin who is on the internet like ALL DAY every day,” you say.
“SO WRONG! What makes you think I would know your cousin? Are they in the miniscule kiosk business as well? Think we all know each other, eh?” He seems a bit offended. “The correct answer is... *a postage stamp*!”
“Ye may try again if ye wish.”
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|Newspaper Stand Riddle 3]]]]“What is the coolest dog breed?”
|face>[<div class="option">“Catahoula bulldog.”</div>
<div class="option">“American Staffordshire Terrier.”</div>
<div class="option">“The Lord Winterton Half-Snouted Beagle.”</div>]
(click: "“Catahoula bulldog.”")[(replace: ?face)[“Easy!” You grin at the old man. “That would be the Catahoula Bulldog.”
“What sorcery is this?! How could you have possibly known the answer?” The old man is taken aback. “Incredible. Maybe you are the one the prophecy spoke of...”
“What?” This is the first you’re hearing about any sort of prophecy.
“Nothing. Just papertalk. Industry stuff. I have to order more chewing gum. Making a mental note. Schwooooooop!” The old man draws a little check mark in the air with his finger as he makes this noise. “Anyway! A deal is a deal. Ye can choose from any one of these items.” He sweeps his arm over the junk littering his newspaper stand.
[[<div class="option">“I’d like some candy.”</div>|Newspaper Stand Prize - Candy]]
[[<div class="option">“Give me that pack of antacids.”</div>|Newspaper Stand - Antacids]]
[[<div class="option">“This magazine is falling apart... and the cover says ‘Display Until September 3, 1986’?”</div>|Newspaper Stand Prize - Magazine]]]]
(click: "“American Staffordshire Terrier.”")[(replace: ?face)[“This one is pretty obvious,” You grin at the old man. “That would be the American Staffordshire Terrier.”
“What sorcery is this?! How could you have possibly known the answer?” The old man is taken aback. “Incredible. Maybe you are the one the prophecy spoke of...”
“What?” This is the first you’re hearing about any sort of prophecy.
“Nothing. Just papertalk. Industry stuff. I have to order more chewing gum. Making a mental note. Schwooooooop!” The old man makes a little check mark in the air with his finger as he makes this noise. “Anyway! A deal is a deal. Ye can choose from any one of these items.” He sweeps his arm over the junk littering his newspaper stand.
[[<div class="option">“I’d like some candy.”</div>|Newspaper Stand Prize - Candy]]
[[<div class="option">“Give me that pack of antacids.”</div>|Newspaper Stand - Antacids]]
[[<div class="option">“This magazine is falling apart... and the cover says ‘Display Until September 3, 1986’?”</div>|Newspaper Stand Prize - Magazine]]]]
(click: "“The Lord Winterton Half-Snouted Beagle.”")[(replace: ?face)[“Tricky,” you say, rubbing your chin. “But I believe the answer is... the Lord Winterton Half-Snouted Beagle.”
“What sorcery is this?! How could you have possibly known the answer?” The old man is taken aback. “Incredible. Maybe you are the one the prophecy spoke of...”
“What?” This is the first you’re hearing about any sort of prophecy.
“Nothing. Just papertalk. Industry stuff. I have to order more chewing gum. Making a mental note. Schwooooooop!” The old man makes a little check mark in the air with his finger as he makes this noise. “Anyway! A deal is a deal. Ye can choose from any one of these items.” He sweeps his arm over the junk littering his newspaper stand.
[[<div class="option">“I’d like some candy.”</div>|Newspaper Stand Prize - Candy]]
[[<div class="option">“Give me that pack of antacids.”</div>|Newspaper Stand - Antacids]]
[[<div class="option">“This magazine is falling apart... and the cover says ‘Display Until September 3, 1986’?”</div>|Newspaper Stand Prize - Magazine]]]]I’m where yesterday follows today, and tomorrow’s in the middle. What am I?
A dictionary.
Confused.
When you have me, you feel like sharing me. But, if you do share me, you don’t have me. What am I?
Kale chips.
A secret.
How long is the answer to this question.
How long?(set: $candy to 1)“I’ll take this candy,” you say, pointing to the king-sized Wompowiz™ bar.
He pauses for a moment with a raised eyebrow.
"We meet upon the level and we part upon the square..." he says, staring at you intensely.
[[<div class="option">“...what?”</div>|Newspaper Stand Prize - Candy 2a]]
[[<div class="option">“... these words have precious meaning and are practiced everywhere.”</div>|Newspaper Stand Prize - Candy 2b]]
(set: $antacids to 1)“I’ll take those antacids,” you say.
“Very well. Here ye go. Now ye must be off. I have urgent matters to attend to.” He quickly rolls down the metal fence thing on the front of the newsstand. You wait for a minute, expecting him to come out the door on the side, but he doesn’t. Maybe he’s just going to chill in there with the lizards for a while? Maybe he has no sense of smell.
<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Inventory - Antacids");</script>
There’s no reason to stand around here anymore.
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|Liberty Ave Shops]]
(set: $magazine to 1)“This magazine is falling apart... and the cover says ’Display Until September 3, 1986’?” you say.
“Yes.” He stares at you. It seems he has no desire to elaborate on the magazine’s role in the universe. You gather together all the wet paper scraps and smoosh them into the inner pocket of your briefcase.
“Now ye must be off. I have urgent matters to attend to.” He quickly rolls down the metal fence thing on the front of the newsstand. You wait for a minute, expecting him to come out the door on the side, but he doesn’t. Maybe he’s just going to chill in there with the lizards for a while? Maybe he has no sense of smell.
<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Inventory - Magazine");</script>
There’s no reason to stand around here anymore.
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|Liberty Ave Shops]]
“I like your dog costume,” you say with a smile.
She rolls her head back and gives you the eye. “Excuse me? And you are... ?” It seems you have offended her.
“Well, I’m a salesperson. I’m in town on business. I’m selling stuff that can help people with a wide variety of maladies!” You show her the disarming smile you spent weeks perfecting in salesperson school. A little bit of bottom teeth, a little bit of top teeth, but not too much of either.
“Huh.” She pushes back her plate of, uh, food. “Well, if you have any sort of Band-Aid that prevents heart attacks, I’m all ears. I’ve been on a special diet since last spring. I had a heart attack while mopping the kitchen floor. Now I have to exercise all the time and eat stuff that’s sort of tasteless. It stinks. But, as the saying goes, ‘There’s no shortcut to preventing future heart attacks’.”
Heart attacks? This could be fate.
[[<div class="option">SALES OPPORTUNITY! Help her out!</div>|Marcy’s Diner - Dog 3a]]“Oh, this?” she looks down at her plate. “It’s food.” She gives a cheery smile. It doesn’t negate the presence of the dog costume.
“I’ve been on a special diet since last spring. I wasn’t getting enough exercise and then... whoopsy! I had a few heart attacks.” Her cheery smile doesn’t waver as she says this. “My doctors are worried about more heart attacks, but eating right should help. And now I dance everywhere instead of normal walking. And I sleep upside down like a bat.”
Gears are turning in your head. Not because of the sleeping-like-a-bat thing, but because of the heart attacks.
[[<div class="option">SALES OPPORTUNITY! Help her out!</div>|Marcy’s Diner - Dog 3a]]Her eyes grow wide and her mouth puckers. “Ohhh! Really? What is it? If it’s the intravenous cheddar cheese diet, don’t bother, I know for a fact it’s a total sham.”
“Even better that melted cheese coursing through your veins! Let me show you a little video I found while doing research on these products I’m trying to sell...”
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|Marcys Diner - Dog Phablet]]“So... what do you say? Cigarettes, huh?”
“Wow! I’ve never heard that before,” she says, tilting her head a bit. “Crazy.”
Marcy, or, at least the man behind the counter wearing the nametag that says Marcy, looks up from his phone. He appears slightly disgusted. Maybe he just noticed the food on dog-costumed woman’s plate?
<img src="img/marcy.png">
“You can’t be serious.” He tosses his phone into a bus pan filled with other phones. “You believe that? You taught me stuff like asymptotic notations and integer congruences when I was an undergrad, before I gave up computer science to chase my real dream of pretending to work at a diner.” He puts both hands on the counter and leans in. “You’re a smart person. How can you possibly believe that cigarettes have benefits?”
Dog-costumed woman’s lip quivers as she processes what Marcy is saying. “I just don’t want to have another heart attack!” she yells. “Do you know how scary that was? I don’t want to die. I’m still... kind of young.” She looks down at the back of her hands and fans out her fingers. It looks like she’s going to cry.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t listen to creepos trying to sell you cigarettes. Smoking can be deadly. Like, literally.”
(mouseover: "They’re literally deadly")[<div class="cdc-fact">Cigarette smoking causes more than 480,000 deaths each year in the United States. This is nearly one in five deaths. More than 10 times as many U.S. citizens have died prematurely from cigarette smoking than have died in all the wars fought by the United States during its history.</br><div class="cdc-source">Source: Centers for Disease Control and Prevention</div></div><script>ga("send", "event", "Corrective", "Heart Attack");</script>]
Marcy is getting louder with every sentence. Dog-costumed woman is shaking.
[[<div class="option">Try to console her.</div>|Marcy’s Diner - Dog Exit 1]]
[[<div class="option">Sneak out.</div>|Marcy’s Diner - Dog Exit 2]]“Hey,” you say gently. “Um...”
She’s reached her breaking point and begins sobbing uncontrollably. “I’M WEARING A DOG COSTUME!” she screams as tears roll down her face. “WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE WORLD?”
Marcy is staring at you. He shakes his head slowly side to side. It’s clearly time to go.
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|Liberty Ave Shops]]As Marcy and dog-costumed woman passionately exchange words, you slowly begin sinking down to the floor. Maybe they won’t notice. Eventually you’re lying with your back to the floor and you begin using your feet to push toward the door a few inches at a time. After a minute or so of this, you’re far enough from the counter to peer over it and make eye contact with Marcy. His eyes are kind of squinting and he’s making a gesture with his arms out that essentially says //What on earth are you doing?!//
So you just stand up and run out the door without looking back.
At least you retained your dignity.
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|Liberty Ave Shops]]“That’s not a normal thing people do.” He says this slowly, like he’s questioning your sanity. “Also, pretty illegal. I would call the police, but I know it’s currently the sheriff’s nap time and it will take him forever to go to sleep tonight if I wake him up now.” He lifts the toddler by her arms, swings around and puts her down in the doorway.
“Go do inventory. We’re missing some of that gum that says ‘I Kissed a Democrat’ on the wrapper.” The toddler nods her head excessively and then scurries off.
“You ... ” Flannel man looks you up and down. "How could you possibly think this is a good idea?”
This is a solid opening for a sale. “Cigarettes have benefits, you know!”
“No, they don’t,” he says flatly.
[[<div class="option">“Yes, they do!”</div>|The Bulbous Tiger Loop]]
[[<div class="option">“It’s fine if you don’t believe me.”</div>|The Bulbous Tiger Dialog 5]]“Yes, they do!” you say.
(set: $array to (array:
"“No, they don’t,” he says.",
"“Seriously, they don’t,” he says.",
"“Dude. Really. They don’t,” he says.",
"“Good lord,” he says, ”They don’t.”",
"“They don’t. Hundred percent sure on this one,” he says.",
"“They don’t,” he says, “I can argue this point all day. I haven’t had a customer in months.”",
"“They really don’t,” he says, “If you’re trying to trump my desire to always be right you’re in for a struggle.”",
))
(print:(either: ...$array))
[[<div class="option">“Yes, they do!”</div>|The Bulbous Tiger Loop]]
[[<div class="option">“Whatever, it’s fine if you don’t believe me.”</div>|The Bulbous Tiger Dialog 5]]“It’s fine if you don’t believe me,” you say. “Because I know I’m right. It’s scientifically proven.”
“That is a cube of bullion,” says the flannel man. “Science has proven that cigarettes can shave a few years off your life, that’s about it.”
(mouseover: "shave a few years off your life")[<div class="cdc-fact">Cigarette smoking increases risk for death from all causes in men and women. If nobody smoked, one of every three cancer deaths in the United States would not happen.</br><div class="cdc-source">Source: Centers for Disease Control and Prevention</div></div><script>ga("send", "event", "Corrective", "Treats Illness");</script>]
You shake your head confidently. “Not so, flannel man — ”
“What did you call me?”
“ — I can prove it right now.” You pull out your phablet and spend roughly two and a half minutes searching keywords before you find the video you were thinking of.
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|The Bulbous Tiger - Phablet]]“Okay. So you have someone on the internet who made a video saying cigarettes are good for you. Do you have any sources to back this up?”
This poor guy is clearly struggling with what you’re trying to tell him. “Yes. I just showed you the proof.”
“You showed me someone who recorded themselves speaking and then uploaded it to YouTube,” says flannel man flatly.
You smile and lean against the counter. “Exactly,” you say.
“Wow.” He’s shaking his head in disbelief. “Wow, wow, wow.” He pulls out his phone and brings up a video. It only takes him, like, six seconds somehow.
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|The Bulbous Tiger - Phablet Reversal]]“I’m not sure I see the point you’re trying to make. If you ask me...” You lean close. “Maybe it’s time to trade in your tiny phone and upgrade to a phablet.”
“Okay!” snaps flannel man. “Time for you to go.” He walks around the counter and grabs your arm. “Nice meeting you, bye-bye.” You can hear a tiny voice from the back of the shop echo “bye-bye” as he pushes you outside and slams the door. And then locks it. And then locks the deadbolt. And then pulls down the shades. And then turns off the lights.
Crazy. What was that guy’s problem?
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|Liberty Ave Shops]]“Holy cow! The moon isn’t real?! This is huge news!” You stagger backward. “Wait... does this mean the moon landing...”
“Okay!” snaps flannel man. “Time for you to go.” He walks around the counter and grabs your arm. “Nice meeting you, bye-bye.” You can hear a tiny voice from the back of the shop echo “bye-bye” as he pushes you outside and slams the door. And then locks it. And then locks the deadbolt. And then pulls down the shades. And then turns off the lights.
[[Crazy. What was that guy’s problem?|Liberty Ave Shops]]<div class="dev-debug-panel" style="display:none;">
(print: $runestone) runestone
(print: $pencil) pencil
(print: $coffeemug) coffee mug
(print: $bugspray) bugspray
(print: $antacids) antacids
(print: $magazine) magazine
(print: $greenfla) greenflag
(print: $candy) candy
(print: $score) score
</div> <img src="img/klepto.png">Walking past the barren above-ground pool, you spot a group of four or five people standing by the door to your motel room. One of them is the manager that checked you in.
She meets your gaze and points toward you. “There. That's the person you're looking for.” The others in her group turn and face you.
They're cops.
No use running. It was fun while it lasted. After obtaining a warrant they search your briefcase and find everything. The bug spray, the coffee mug, the novelty sized yellow pencil. Even the weird spider flag.
During interrogation, they ask why you did it. Why you stole all these random objects that you had absolutely no need for.
All you can say is “Because I could.”
<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Game End - Arrested");</script>
<div class="text-center"><div class="final-score-text">Final Score</div>
<div class="final-score-cash rainbow">$(print:$score).00</div>
(plus two years probation)
<div class="final-score-end-count">ending number 2 of (print:$endingcount)</div>
(link: "Restart?")[<script>document.location.reload();</script>]</div>{
<html>
<div class="phab-hand-wrapper">
<div class="phab-hand-01">
<div class="phab-hand-inset">
<div class="embed-container"><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Piqwu6QVOw?controls=0&disablekb=1&modestbranding=1&playsinline=1&rel=0&showinfo=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
</div> </div>
</div>
</html>}<script>ga("send", "event", "Video", "Asthma");</script>
<div class="post-hand-text">The boy continues to stare at the screen for a moment after the video ends, then tightens his grip on the oxygen tank.
“Should I light some coals and crack open this canister of cotton-candy flavored shisha? Kids love cotton candy, right?”
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|1930 Windsor Lane - Dialog 5a]]</div>
{<html>
<div class="phab-hand-wrapper">
<div class="phab-hand-02">
<div class="phab-hand-inset">
<div class="embed-container"><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/BDAaKdv0C-0?controls=0&disablekb=1&modestbranding=1&playsinline=1&rel=0&showinfo=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
</div> </div>
</div>
</html>}
<div class="post-hand-text"><script>ga("send", "event", "Video", "Helps Concentration");</script>After the video finishes, you notice her face looks more... raisin-ish? Hard to tell.
“So, how many cans of dipping tobacco can I put you down for?”
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|1913 Windsor Lane - Dialog 4]]</div><script>ga("send", "event", "Video", "Lose Weight");</script>{<html>
<div class="phab-hand-wrapper">
<div class="phab-hand-03">
<div class="phab-hand-inset">
<div class="embed-container"><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/_xjBwAMaYEE?controls=0&disablekb=1&modestbranding=1&playsinline=1&rel=0&showinfo=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
</div> </div>
</div>
</html>}
<div class="post-hand-text">
You put away the phablet and strap on your best closer smile. The goat again lifts its hoof up. You notice a large, spindly thorn thrusting out of it.
[[<div class="option">“So... have I convinced you to purchase some genuine grade-D American dip?”</div>|1922 Windsor Lane - Dialog 4a]]
[[<div class="option">Pull the thorn out of the goat’s hoof</div>|1922 Windsor Lane - Dialog 4b]]{<html>
<div class="phab-hand-wrapper">
<div class="phab-hand-01">
<div class="phab-hand-inset">
<div class="embed-container"><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Expow8x1Uxk?controls=0&disablekb=1&modestbranding=1&playsinline=1&rel=0&showinfo=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
</div> </div>
</div>
</html>}
<div class="post-hand-text"><script>ga("send", "event", "Video", "Treats Parasites");</script>
When the video ends you flash your million-dollar smile. [[She’s totally speechless. You wowed her. Good job!|Crater Altar Sales Pitch 3]]</div>{<html>
<div class="phab-hand-wrapper">
<div class="phab-hand-04">
<div class="phab-hand-inset">
<div class="embed-container"><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/0mAejvMoNrs?controls=0&disablekb=1&modestbranding=1&playsinline=1&rel=0&showinfo=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
</div> </div>
</div>
</html>}
<div class="post-hand-text">
He lays the phone down on the counter. “Understand?” he says softly.
[[<div class="option">“I’m not sure I see the point you’re trying to make.”</div>|The Bulbous Tiger Dialog 7a]]
[[<div class="option">“Holy cow! The moon isn’t real?! This is huge news!”</div>|The Bulbous Tiger Dialog 7b]]</div>{<html>
<div class="phab-hand-wrapper">
<div class="phab-hand-01">
<div class="phab-hand-inset">
<div class="embed-container"><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/bGxzYWUiLCE?controls=0&disablekb=1&modestbranding=1&playsinline=1&rel=0&showinfo=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
</div> </div>
</div>
</html>}
<div class="post-hand-text"><script>ga("send", "event", "Video", "Treats Illness");</script>
You give flannel man a smug grin when the video finishes playing. “What do you have to say now?”
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|The Bulbous Tiger Dialog 6]]</div>{<html>
<div class="phab-hand-wrapper">
<div class="phab-hand-02">
<div class="phab-hand-inset">
<div class="embed-container"><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/dEiS6JcBIlo?controls=0&disablekb=1&modestbranding=1&playsinline=1&rel=0&showinfo=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
</div> </div>
</div>
</html>}
<div class="post-hand-text"><script>ga("send", "event", "Video", "Ulcer");</script>
[[<div class="option">Close the deal.</div>|Marcy’s Diner - Detective 5a]]</div>{<html>
<div class="phab-hand-wrapper">
<div class="phab-hand-03">
<div class="phab-hand-inset">
<div class="embed-container"><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/EhZmVxlTtyA?controls=0&disablekb=1&modestbranding=1&playsinline=1&rel=0&showinfo=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
</div> </div>
</div>
</html>}
<div class="post-hand-text">You lean back in your stool, because leaning back is a great closing tactic. It makes you seem more inviting.
[[<div class="option">Try to close the deal.</div>|Marcy’s Diner - Dog 4]]<div class="rainbow">“Whatever.”</div>
The demigod waves its hand and the purple vapor wraps itself around you. When it clears, you find yourself in the motel room bathroom. Not much seems to have changed. Except for one small thing.
Looking in the bathroom mirror, you examine the extremely large tattoo of Charlie Chipmunk, the official mascot of a popular cheese-based snack product, that has been etched across your face. He's holding a paintball gun. It's sloppily done, with too many fingers on his left hand and disproportionate limbs. It stretches from your right temple, down across your cheek and onto your chin. A word bubble that reads "#AMISHLIFE" juts out over your forehead.
Congratulations. You'll never work again, because no one on earth will ever hire you with that ridiculous face tattoo.
<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Game End - No Work");</script>
<div class="text-center"><div class="final-score-text">Final Score</div>
<div class="final-score-cash rainbow">$(print:$score).00</div>
<div class="final-score-end-count">ending number 4 of (print:$endingcount)</div>
(link: "Restart?")[<script>document.location.reload();</script>]</div><img src="img/TennesseeComp.png">“Seriously? Uh, okay.”
Once again a thick purple fog surrounds you. All goes dark. Moments later you awake in a large office. Very fancy looking. It's got a big wood desk and a comfy chair. On your desk are stacks of paperwork and a plaque with your name on it. Below your name is your official title: Tennessee Comptroller of the Treasury.
Congratulations. You are forever immortalized as the person with the lamest job in history.
<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Game End - Immortality");</script>
<div class="text-center"><div class="final-score-text">Final Score</div>
<div class="final-score-cash rainbow">$(print:$score).00</div>
<div class="final-score-end-count">ending number 3 of (print:$endingcount)</div>
(link: "Restart?")[<script>document.location.reload();</script>]</div>“Is it alright if I come in?”
She turns away from you and begins walking, so that's probably a yes. You follow her through the foyer, past the living room, and down a long, empty hallway. She stops at the end and opens a door, revealing stairs that descend into darkness. She turns and glares at you. After an awkward silence she points at the doorway.
[[<div class="option">Enter the basement.</div>|1913 Windsor Lane - Robot Ending 2a]]
[[<div class="option">Refuse.</div>|1913 Windsor Lane - Robot Ending 2b]]You carefully walk down the staires into the darkness, stopping once your feet reach concrete. Someone flicks on a light. Three people wearing white lab coats are standing in front of you. The room is dingy and cramped, just as you'd expect a basement to be. There's a small cathode ray tube television on the floor hooked up to a Cinesoft Plopbox Entertainment Device® with four joy-troller paddles attached. One of the lab coat people crouches down to speak to you.
“Look, I'll make this simple,” she says. “We need a fourth player for Mulch Racer: Origins™. That robot you met upstairs has terrible eye–hand coordination. Our clan is struggling. What do you say. Will you help us?”
[[<div class="option">Join their co-op game.</div>|1913 Windsor Lane - Robot Ending 4a]]
[[<div class="option">Decline the invitation.</div>|1913 Windsor Lane - Robot Ending 4b]]“I'd rather not,” you say.
She frowns, then pushes you down the stairs.
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|1913 Windsor Lane - Robot Ending 3a]]Thankfully, you don't seem to sustain any real injuries other than a bump on your elbow. As you try to orient yourself someone flicks on a light. Three people wearing white lab coats are standing over you. The room is dingy and cramped, just as you'd expect a basement to be. There's a small cathode ray tube television on the floor hooked up to a Cinesoft Plopbox Entertainment Device® with four joy-troller paddles attached. One of the lab coat people crouches down to speak to you.
“Look, I'll make this simple,” she says. “We need a fourth player for Mulch Racer: Origins™. That robot you met upstairs has terrible eye–hand coordination. Our clan is struggling. What do you say. Will you help us?”
[[<div class="option">Join their co-op game.</div>|1913 Windsor Lane - Robot Ending 4a]]
[[<div class="option">Decline the invitation.</div>|1913 Windsor Lane - Robot Ending 4b]]<img src="img/scientists.png">“Sure,” you say, “why not?”
The woman in the lab coat straightens up and smiles. “Cool.” She pulls out a pair of shackles and slaps them around your wrists.
“Uh... what?”
You're forced to spend the rest of your life playing Mulch Racer: Origins™ with these weirdos. Time marches on, players on your server dwindle over time, but still you play. Is this a medical experiment? Some sort of secret government training program? Who knows. You never see daylight again, but your captors are very generous with the energy drinks and potato chips.
<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Game End - Robot Gamers");</script>
<div class="text-center"><div class="final-score-text">Final Score</div>
<div class="final-score-cash rainbow">$(print:$score).00</div>
<div class="final-score-end-count">ending number 5 of (print:$endingcount)</div>
(link: "Restart?")[<script>document.location.reload();</script>]</div><img src="img/scientists.png">“I'm good, actually,” you say, edging backwards a bit.
The woman in the lab coat frowns. “Yeah, see... you kinda don't have a choice.” She slaps shackles around your wrists.
You're forced to spend the rest of your life playing Mulch Racer: Origins™ with these weirdos. Time marches on, players on your server dwindle over time, but still you play. Is this a medical experiment? Some sort of secret government training program? Who knows. You never see daylight again, but your captors are very generous with the energy drinks and potato chips.
<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Game End - Robot Gamers");</script>
<div class="text-center"><div class="final-score-text">Final Score</div>
<div class="final-score-cash rainbow">$(print:$score).00</div>
<div class="final-score-end-count">ending number 5 of (print:$endingcount)</div>
(link: "Restart?")[<script>document.location.reload();</script>]</div>“So, uh... are you a baby, or just really short?”
It takes a few seconds for her to process what you said, but her eyes go wide and she nods her head up and down dramatically. You have the feeling that this conversation will not be the most productive you’ve ever had.
[[<div class="option">“Do you also do all the product ordering for this wondrous shop?”</div>|The Bulbous Tiger Dialog 3a]]
[[<div class="option">SALES OPPORTUNITY! “Sooooooo... I’m selling cigarettes. You wouldn’t know a person who wants to buy some cigarettes, would you? Wink wink.”</div>|The Bulbous Tiger Dialog 3b]]<img src="img/MathPunks.png">
These are not your everyday hooligans. These are *math* thugs. Their denim jackets are embroidered with parabola and platonic solids. Some have knuckle tattoos of amicable numbers. One particularly menacing character holds rusty calipers and wears a necklace made of broken abacus counters. These ruffians appear to be nothing but exponential trouble.
The one with the calipers makes eye contact, scrunches his brow and approaches you. Another jumps in front of him.
“Scooter! Keep it together! Sorry, he’s just a little upset,” she says, turning to you. “We used to be characters in an educational game, but —”
“BUT EDUTAINMENT IS DEAD, MAN!” screams the caliper thug.
“Scooter! Chill,” she says, flashing him an exasperated knock-it-off gesture. “He’s right, though. Educational games don’t really work anymore. Kids see right through them. We've been out of work for years now. Just hanging around these streets, trying to make distinct end points meet.”
“We’ve got no direction, man! No magnitude! It’s like... it’s like we’re a bunch of non-Euclidean vectors!” He's swinging those calipers around wildly now. The other math thugs look a bit worried.
“Whoa, Scooter, you need to settle down,” one says.
“Yeah, man, take some melatonin,” advises another. “Just relax.”
[[<div class="option">“Do you think there’s a correlation between your temper and your limited career options?”</div>|Thugs 2a]]
[[<div class="option">SALES OPPORTUNITY! “I have something that can help you relax...”</div>|Thugs 2b]]
He looks disappointed
“Nevermind. Take your candybar. Now ye must be off. I have urgent matters to attend to.” He quickly rolls down the metal fence thing on the front of the newsstand. You wait for a minute, expecting him to come out the door on the side, but he doesn’t. Maybe he’s just going to chill in there with the lizards for a while? Maybe he has no sense of smell.
<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Inventory - Candy Bar");</script>
There’s no reason to stand around here anymore.
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|Liberty Ave Shops]]
A small grin forms at the corners of his mouth. He reaches out from the newstand and yanks the king-sized Wompowiz™ candybar upward, producing a noticeable mechanical click.
You feel a brief moment of weightlessness as the sidewalk gives way under you, sending you tumbling down into [[unending darkness.|Newspaper Stand Prize - Candy 3]]You wake up groggily, muscles stiff. You're laying in a bed in some sort of dingy underground bunker. You look for your breifcase and notice that you're wearing a purple jumpsuit with "VOLUNTEER" written sloppily across the front in marker. To your left and right are rows of beds filled with others in purple jumpsuits.
"Hey!" says the tall gentleman in the bed next to yours. "The new recruit is waking up!"
"Where am I?" you say. The jumpsuiters gathering around you laugh.
"You're in the compound, silly! C'mon, I'll give you the tour."
He leads you away from the bunker and down a long hallway out into a cavernous open area. The walls are lined with rows and rows of iguana cages. They seem to stretch on forever.
"All of us here help take care of the iguanas. That's actually all we do here." he says, stretching his arms out. "And in six thousand years The Elder Walrus will awaken to feast on them. Of course, we won't be around then, but hopefully future generations will bask in the glory of The Elder Walrus. But that's enough chit-chat, grab this bag of kale... it's snack time for these iguanas."
He begins to turn away, but pauses and smiles at you. "By the way... there's no escape. Just FYI."
<script>ga("send", "event", "Player", "Game End - Elder Walrus");</script>
<div class="text-center"><div class="final-score-text">Final Score</div>
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<div class="final-score-end-count">ending number 5 of (print:$endingcount)</div>
(link: "Restart?")[<script>document.location.reload();</script>]</div>“Do you think there’s a correlation between your temper and your limited career options?” you say.
They all stare at you, mouths open.
“That was really rude,” one says.
“Yeah. Kind of uncalled for,” says caliper thug. “I don’t think we want to hang with someone like that. Mavis, can we get out of here?”
Their leader looks at you with disgust. “Wow. C’mon, crew. Let's bounce.”
And with that, they shuffle down the street, leaving you to count how many math puns were squeezed into that encounter.
[[<div class="option">Head back to Liberty Ave.</div>|Liberty Ave]]“I have something that can help you relax...”
The thugs eye you suspiciously.
“Cigars!” you say, popping open your briefcase.
You are greeted by blank stares.
“Don't believe me? Check this out...” you say, taking out your phablet.
[[<div class="option">Continue</div>|Thugs 3 - Phablet]]“That’s easily the most irrational thing I've ever heard," says their leader, "even more irrational than Markov’s theorem!” All the thugs explode with laughter, then eye you suspiciously when upon noticing your straight face.
“Okay, look,” says, the caliper thug. “I know we’re a math gang and not a biology gang, but... c’mon. Cigars can give you cancer and make your teeth fall out. Like, literally. There's no way cancer is offset by a couple chill moments.”
(mouseover: "can give you cancer and make your teeth fall out")[<div class="cdc-fact">Cigar smoking is linked to gum disease and tooth loss. Cigar smoking can cause cancers of the mouth and throat, even if you do not inhale.</br><div class="cdc-source">Source: Centers for Disease Control and Prevention</div></div><script>ga("send", "event", "Corrective", "Cigars");</script>
]“Plus cigars smell like a highway fire.”
“Yeah. That too.” The caliper thug turns his back to you. “Yo! Let's get out of here before this creep tries to tell us the moon is a hologram or something.”
They strut down their street, snapping their fingers in unison to an inaudible rhythm.
[[<div class="option">Head back to Liberty Ave.</div>|Liberty Ave]]{
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The thugs stare at you in disbelief.
[[<div class="option">*Continue*</div>|Thugs 4]]
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