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An Unnamed Text Adventure: Episode 001 - Destructoid




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About
Not much to say about myself. I am somewhat of a hermit, rarely venturing outside. The sun and I had a falling out about 24 years ago. I got all the bad Irish traits from the gene pool; pale skin, addictive personality, anger issues, etc..
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Yesterday, after I'd finished a nutritious lunch of Popeye's fried chicken, I began texting a friend of mine. It started as simply one of those grandiose but ultimately silly, and pointless ramblings we do to each other from time to time; but after I got the first two texts off something compelled me to take it a step further.

The result is that for the past two days I've been running a sort of "texting text adventure" for him. Nothing about it is planned out aside from maybe a general thread of where I might take him next, and each of my texts is a reaction to the choices he makes.

I doubt I'm the first person to do something like this, and in fact I wouldn't be surprised if I'm about to stumble on to a vast, hidden internet community that does this kind of thing all the time. I thought, however, that I would share the results here because I find it all rather curious and exciting; I hope that you all will as well.

I'll post the texts here when I feel the game has advanced far enough, that we've hit a natural stopping point, or if there's been a particularly busy day. I guess we'll just see how it goes.

I don't have a name for the game, since this is all being made up on the fly via texts, so I was wondering if anyone here might have suggestions.

Without further delay though, here's the first text archive, posted below. Narration are my texts, and Answer are my friend's texts, these always denote a single text message sent. Nothing has been edited, save for a few typos, in the transfer from text messages to, err, text.  Enjoy!

[hr]

Narration: Can you feel the prism watching us? Soon the age of the eighth color shall begin, and all the great works of angel, demon, and man shall be undone by the coming of the prism and its elder pantheon of spectral lieutenants.

Narration: Only he who wields the Black Mirror of Andromeda has the power to stand against The Prism, but it has long since been lost amid the Pillars of Creation, during the great war between Olympus and Asgard.

Narration: Your journey begins in the desolate lands that were once the Elysium Fields. Where once a paradise for pure souls existed, there is now only a vast, unforgiving realm. Without its master, Hades, lost souls now wander the realm seeking purpose and an eternal rest they shall never be granted. You are one such lost soul who wanders listless through the wastes; hungry but never starving; thirsty but never quenched; exhausted and unable to rest. You see movement on the horizon, rarely a good sign. You look around for something to defend yourself with and spy a rusted sword, a gnarled wooden staff, and a bow tied to a quiver with 10 arrows in it. Which do you choose?

Answer: Rusted sword

Narration: The weight of the blade, and cracked leather of the hilt feels "right" in your hand; like a feeling only scarcely remembered from a long forgotten dream.

Rusted Sword - 2 damage, equipped

To see your inventory or equipped items at any time simply text either word.

Narration: Your intuition was correct, approaching you from the north is a group of 3 demons, imps of the 9th circle, who are tormenting a haggard looking satyr. The imp that holds the chain to the collar around his neck yanks on it occasionally, and his companions kick the satyr and poke him with their crude bone daggers; they squeal in delight at his pain.

They haven't spotted you yet. Do you stand and confront them, or seek a hiding place to ambush them from?

Answer: Hiding place

Narration: The barren landscape offers little in the way of hiding places, but you spot a boulder that just might be big enough to hide you. You crouch down behind it and wait for your chance as the imps approach.

"Move faster goat man!" cries the one holding the chain as he pokes the satyr in the backside with his dagger.

"Tired he looks," says one of the others.

"We should kill him here, no use to the master could he ever be," says the third as he fondles the dagger in his hand

The one holding the chain, the ringleader you surmise, smacks the third imp hard enough to stagger him, "This one lives, master's orders."

The second imp smashes a fist into the satyr's back and cackles as the poor creature falls to his knees, "Living the master wants him, yes, but in what condition he failed to say. Payback we owe him for killing our two brothers when captured."

"Our fun must wait, angry the master will be if we do not return on time," says the one holding the chain, "I won't be whipped because of you," he delivers a hard kick to the satyr's ribs.

The other two cackle and join in the kicking, and the one with the chain begins to pull on it so hard he's close to dragging the satyr across the ground.

What do you do?

Answer: Attack the lead imp

Narration: With the fiercest cry you can muster you leap from your hiding spot and charge the imp holding the chain. You shock him and his allies enough that your sword finds its mark with devastating effect, and his head tumbles from his shoulders; leaving his body a macabre, twitching fountain of blood on the ground.

His allies recover from their shock and attack you from head on, their crude bone daggers drawn and aiming for you.

The imp to your left, Imp #1, swings his dagger at you, but you manage to swat him away with your sword.

The imp to your right, Imp #2 takes advantage of the opening in your defense and sinks his dagger into your thigh, dealing 1 damage.

"Another lost soul for the master, most pleased he will be," you hear him say.

"But pay for killing our brother first, you will," says the other.

Imp #1 has 5/5 HP left
Imp #2 has 5/5 HP left

You have 19/20 HP remaining

What do you do?

Answer: I attack imp #2

Narration: You swing your sword in retaliation at Imp #2, and cut a long gash across his chest; dealing 2 damage.

Imp #2 cries in pain and leaps away from you, clawing at the gash with his hand, "It burns," he cries, and indeed the wound seems to be sizzling slightly.

Imp number one charges and leaps on to your back, slashing at your back wildly as you try to shake him off, and deals 3 damage in the process.

The satyr on the ground moans.

Imp #1 has 5/5 HP left
Imp #2 has 3/5 HP left

You have 16/20 HP remaining.

What do you do?

Answer: I stab at imp #2 to finish it off

Narration: With Imp #2 still clawing at its wound, you move in for the kill. You're stopped, however, when Imp #1, still on your back, sinks his dagger deep into your shoulder; causing 1 damage.

"Stop poking your wound and help me," yells Imp #1.

"But it burns! Burns like the iron of the feathered ones," Imp #2 whines.

The satyr has begun to weakly crawl his way over to the boulder where you'd been hiding.

Imp #1 has 5/5 HP left
Imp #2 has 3/5 HP left

You have 15/20 HP remaining.

Answer: I slam my back into the boulder too try to crush the imp

Narration: Your grip on the sword weakens as you reel from the pain in your shoulder. Enraged, you rush towards the boulder you hid behind, and turn your back to it at the last second.

Your sword clatters to the ground in the impact.

There's a sickening crack as the spine of Imp #1 shatters, and the malefic creature slides limp from his perch; you can hear a faint wheezing as he struggles to breathe.

Imp #2 has gotten over the pain of his wound and rushes you.

The satyr reaches the boulder. Seeing the dying imp on the ground he takes the dagger that fell beside it and puts the vile thing out if its misery.

Imp #1 has 0/5 HP left and is dead.
Imp #2 has 3/5 HP left

You have 15/20 HP remaining.

Answer: I grab the chain on the satyr & swing it at the imp

Narration: There's no time to recover your sword, so you grab the next closest thing, the satyr's chain. You whip the chain at the charging imp twice, and on the second swing it finds purchase. It wraps itself the imp's neck, and catches his raised arm, holding the dagger, awkwardly in the loop.

The satyr grunts as the chain goes taut when you throw it, and his head is jerked.

The imp stumbles and falls to the ground, taking 1 damage. "Mercy," the imp cries in a panic, "spares us and we'll make it worth your while."

"Ashes and ruin are the only worth your words have, imp," the satyr whispers hoarsely.

"You speak lies, filthy goat-man! Spare us, and help deliver the goat-man to my master, and rewarded you will be."

"Don't be a fool, stranger, he wishes only to deliver the both of us into his master's clutches."

Imp #1 has 0/5 HP left and is dead
Imp #2 has 2/5 HP left

You have 15/20 HP remaining.

Answer: I pick up the sword & jam it into the imp's skull

Narration: You retrieve your sword from the ground, and a spike of pain flashes through your shoulder at its weight; you grimace and place your free hand over the oozing wound.

A glimmer of hope flashes through the imp's eyes as you walk over and lift your sword, but as it comes down not on the chain but his head, that hope turns to horror.

You've thrown all of your weight behind the thrusting motion, to compensate for your impaired arm, and the sword is impaled through the imp's skull and into the ground; it is covered in blood, bone fragments, and brain matter when you pull it out.

Imp #1 has 0/5 health left and is dead
Imp #2 has 0/5 health left and is dead

You have 15/20 health remaining and are victorious!

What would you like to do?

Answer: I ask the satyr why they captured him

Narration: "I would be happy to explain how I ended up a prisoner of such foul creatures," begins the satyr, "but first I would ask that you remove this infernal collar. There is an enchantment on it that saps my strength, and it makes even speech a very exhausting chore." He fiddles with the collar around his neck, "I believe the one holding the chain had the keys to it."

Answer: I get the keys & free him

Narration: You walk over to the headless corpse of the lead imp, search him, and find the keys tucked away in the meager breeches he wore.

With the satyr's collar unlocked he stands, and vigorously scratches his neck.

"Oh that's much better," he exclaims,"I've been trying to get at that itch for hours! He hops slightly from one hoof to the other, "and it seems my strength is already beginning to return!"

You cough in an attempt to gain his attention.

"Oh but that's right you had questions," he stretches to his full height and bows with a flourish, "Thiboctetes, at your service, but you may call me just Thib.

"I was delivering vital information from my lady, Persephone, to a village of harpies, hidden in the mountains just west of here." He kicks the corpse of the imp he'd stabbed, "I was nearly there when this bunch ambushed me. I suspect their master intended to capture a messenger and pry the village's location out of them.

"Likely they'd have gotten that information had you not burst from the rocks like a deranged mad man when you did," he glances at the aftermath of the battle and then at gore on your sword, "the ferocity of mortals never ceases to amaze me.

"Enough of my story, I wish to know a bit more about my savior."

You want to tell him about yourself, but you have wandered the wastes for so long that you scarcely remember anything about your past.

Thib notices your furrowing brows and crestfallen eyes, "Ah but yes, you're a wandering soul, I should hardly expect your memory to still be intact; do not trouble yourself trying to remember. At the very least there must be something you prefer to be called, a name perhaps?"

A name, there's something like a that sitting on the tip of your tongue. What is it?

Answer: Rust

Narration: It's on the tip of your tongue, if only you could loose the word and speak it.

Alas, it's lost to you, your name, the wastes have effected your memory like...like... You glance down at the sword in your hand.

"Rust," you mumble.

Yes, like rust on a sword. Your memory still exists, but it has rusted and began to crumble.

"What was that," asks Thib.

"Rust," you reply, "You can call me Rust."

Thib rubs his chin, "An odd name for a mortal, but I am indebted to you, 'Rust'. If you allow me to take you to the harpy village, I can see to it you're given healing for your wounds and ferried on to a much more amenable place for mortal souls than the Elysium Wastes."

Do you go with Thib, or do you strike out into the wastes on your own.
 
Answer: I go with Thib



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