Adventure Gamers - Forums

I’m starting a new map.

The game world is big. But once we’ve explored the immediately accessible parts, you can simply tell me “go to mill” or “go to dining room” without specifying the directions. Makes the process less boring and solving puzzles will hopefully be easier.

>get notice
(slipping the keyring into the pocket of your trenchcoat to get a hand free)
Taken.

>unlock door with house key
(first taking the keyring)
(slipping the flask into the pocket of your trenchcoat to get a hand free)
You unlock the front door.

>open door
You open the front door.

>n
You close your umbrella, as is your habit after coming indoors.

Foyer
Although it appears spacious from the outside, the house’s interior feels cramped and gloomy. The walls seem too close together; the ceiling is too high. The doorways, leading in several directions, are narrow and filled with shadows, and the stairs leading up to the second floor are steep and rickety. This is not a house that makes you feel welcome. It is a house that makes you feel tiny and timid, and afraid of dark places. It is a house that makes you feel alone.

The front door stands open to the south.

Carelessly stacked in a towering heap in the middle of the room are all your luggage and belongings, which you had sent ahead through a moving company before driving up to Massachusetts. Everything you own is boxed away and piled up in the middle of the floor. The reality of this move finally slams home as you stare at the sprawling jumble of stuff, and suddenly you feel very lost and adrift.

Night has now undeniably fallen, and the house is very, very dark. There is probably just enough residual ambience to feel your way upstairs to the bedroom, but the rest of the house is a tenebrous maze of shadows, and any exploring would probably best be done in the morning.

Michael strolls along after you.

Michael stretches his arms and yawns. “Well,” he says, “I think I’m going to turn in. There’ll be plenty of time to unpack and explore tomorrow. Good night, hon.” He kisses you on the cheek. “Don’t stay up too late.”

And with that, he goes upstairs.

A cold, noiseless draft coils through the narrow entrance hall. You shiver, wondering where it came from.

>close door
You close the front door.

>x luggage
It’s all a huge, hopeless mess. Just looking at it instantly drains you of any desire to unpack.

>open luggage
Honestly, you just can’t muster enough motivation.

>u

Upstairs Landing
A narrow hallway runs east, from the top of the stairs down the length of the house. To the north, directly opposite the stairs, is the master bedroom.

>n

Master Bedroom
The master bedroom is a picture-postcard of rustic New England charm. Faded sketches of rural landscapes adorn the walls; a beautifully carved dressing mirror stands in one corner; an old-fashioned accordion radiator gurgles quietly beneath the window. The most striking feature, an enormous, antique, four-poster bed, must be the largest piece of furniture in the house.

Michael is curled up in bed, sound asleep.

If it weren’t for this hopelessly backwater town and the disturbing circumstances surrounding the house, you’d say this was your dream home. Even so, as much as you would like to relax and enjoy the comforts of a fully furnished historical New England estate, you can’t help but be put off by the shady aura surrounding the family that used to live here. The last of the line, you remind yourself, recently committed suicide after killing his wife and two daughters with a shotgun. Involuntarily you shiver, glancing nervously at the doorways to the south and west.

>sleep
You really should get in bed first.

>get in bed
Gratefully, you remove your clothes, leave your things on the bedroom floor, crawl into bed and pull the covers up to your chin.

>sleep
Something is nagging at you, preventing you from sleeping… suddenly you remember—you’ve left the front door unlocked.

AAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGG!!!!!

>get out of bed
>dress
>get keys
>s
>d
>lock door with house key
>u
>n
>get in bed

PHEW!

>sleep
Almost immediately you fall asleep, and as the wind slithers around the eaves and the house creaks furtive secrets to itself, you drift into troubling dreams…

You are waiting in your bed, with the coverlet up under your chin, waiting for Father to come tuck you in. Footsteps in the hall pause outside your door. You close your eyes; when you open them again Father is standing at the foot of the bed. His eyes are bloodshot, rimmed with red, and you wonder if he has been crying. Slowly, he starts to take off his belt.

Only it’s not your father after all, it’s Michael. He hands you a golden sphere and says:

“I don’t know what it opens yet but I have an idea.”

Your reflection is like a little doll trapped inside the sphere. Everything is tinged with gold. Your face swells and stretches comically as you stare back at yourself through the curved, distorting walls. Reaching out, your fingers curve back on themselves… the wall breaks and…

You are running from the eyes, the terrible red-rimmed eyes, through endless, narrow corridors of wooden slats and crumbling plaster. You stumble through turn after turn, hopelessly lost. There is a small hole in the boards—peering through it you see Michael in the study, typing diligently away. You scream, you pound on the wall, but he can’t hear you. The red-rimmed eyes draw closer; hurrying down a twisting passage you find a dead end… the wall breaks and…

Outside, you stand at another dead end, a high brick wall at the end of a steep, twisting lane. Written in black spraypaint…

He always returns to his blood.

Behind you, you hear the buzzing of a fly. You turn…

You wake up. Steam billows gently by, and you can hear the sound of running water coming from the bathroom.

>

Oscar - 29 September 2016 02:48 PM

You forgot to check under the bed for monsters. I know I would! 

And we didn’t kiss hubby, we didn’t take a bath, we didn’t say our prayers….

wilco - 29 September 2016 03:54 PM

Karlok - 29 September 2016 03:20 PM

Oscar - 29 September 2016 02:48 PM

You forgot to check under the bed for monsters. I know I would! 

And we didn’t kiss hubby, we didn’t take a bath, we didn’t say our prayers….

Now I’m curious, is it possible to do all that?

(Nice nightmare)

Yep. Let’s go back in time…

in the Master Bedroom
>w

Bathroom
A small chamber of cold, white tile and floral-print wallpaper. It sports a genuine, whitewashed, claw-foot bathtub with a shower attachment, which is a definite plus. The bedroom lies east.

>take bath
Grateful for the opportunity to relax, you remove your clothes, leave your things on the bathroom floor, draw a hot bath (the water, at least, is running, even if nothing else in the house is) and soak. The tension of this strange day melts gently from your body. After thirty minutes or so, you begin to feel normal again. After forty-five, you begin to think you might be able to adjust to this place after all. By then the water has begun to cool off, however, so you drain it and quietly dry yourself off. All in all, you feel enormously better.

Your score has just gone up by one point.

>e

Master Bedroom
The master bedroom is a picture-postcard of rustic New England charm. Faded sketches of rural landscapes adorn the walls; a beautifully carved dressing mirror stands in one corner; an old-fashioned accordion radiator gurgles quietly beneath the window. The most striking feature, an enormous, antique, four-poster bed, must be the largest piece of furniture in the house. Doorways lead west and south.

Michael is curled up in bed, sound asleep.

>kiss michael
Gently, you kiss your husband’s forehead. His skin feels dry and feverish.

>pray
Your prayers are not answered.

Okay, so here we are. Day Two.

>l
Master Bedroom, on the four-poster bed
The master bedroom is a picture-postcard of rustic New England charm. Faded sketches of rural landscapes adorn the walls; a beautifully carved dressing mirror stands in one corner; an old-fashioned accordion radiator gurgles quietly beneath the window. The most striking feature, an enormous, antique, four-poster bed, must be the largest piece of furniture in the house. Doorways lead west and south.

Your clothes lie in an untidy pile on the floor.

Your trenchcoat is here.

You can also see a keyring (on which are two keys (a key to the house and a key to the cellar)), your umbrella, a styrofoam cup (in which is some cold, murky coffee) and a typewritten notice here.

On the four-poster bed you can see Michael’s pants (in which is Michael’s wallet (which is closed)).

You can hear Michael splashing around, noisily enjoying his shower.