Iknow5/Text_Adventures huggingface dataset:
"Heads!"


The coin flips through the air ahead of you, as you step back, looking at the coin with interest. He steps back, leveling your own shotgun at you as he the coin lands in the dirt. The Fool peers down at it, tilting his head, before flipping the shotgun in his hands, grabbing the barrel and offering the stock to you.


"It's your lucky day, Hunter. Good luck to you."


You grab the shotgun, holding it in your hands and aiming it at the suspicious, patch coat man. 


"Who the fuck are you?"


"An interesting question! Do you like riddles?"


"No."


The Fool frowns.


"So dull. You're a dull old fellow, aren't you? Perhaps I should be helping the wolves."


"Just tell me who you are, dammit! I'm a dying man, I don't have time for this."


The Fool opens his mouth to complain, before pausing, then shrugging.


"A slave I have been and shall remain

To a golden mistress I'm tied with invisible chains

Yet always I put on the same brave face

She keeps me her prisoner, but leaves me some space."


The Fool smiles at you for a moment, before raising an eyebrow.


"So... who am I?"

A Lunatic

"You're a goddamn lunatic," you growl.


"Ouch! Just because something's true doesn't mean you should say it, Willy! Didn't your father ever teach you manners?"


"Don't fucking talk about my father," you growl, raising your shotgun.


"Ah, yes. My apologies. I didn't wish to bring up old memories. If it helps, I had a bad relationship with old Fárbauti. We never really... oh, never mind. It's late, I best be off. Good luck dealing with my boy tonight, Willy. Best of luck."


"Wait!" you growl, aiming your shotgun at him. "You move and I blow your brains out!"


The Fool sighs, shaking his head.


"I don't think you really know how this game works, do you?" the Fool says. 


The Fool leans forward, placing his thumb against the shotgun barrel. He scratches at his puffy, burned eyes, sighing.


"You're not going to shoot that gun," he says simply.


With that, the Fool turns, strolling off into the woods. You try to aim your shotgun, but find your arms are incapable of moving, the numb, cold muscles refusing to work. All you can do is watch as the Fool disappears into the darkness.


When he's out of view, you snarl. You sniff the air, smelling the scent of prey, and... you try to focus on the pain for a moment, ignoring your bestial senses, before you smell something else. The smell of smoke, in the distance. 


You pause, raising an eye. Smoke means fire. Fire means activity. There needs to be something in that direction.
"Heads!"


The coin flips through the air ahead of you, as you step back, looking at the coin with interest. He steps back, leveling your own shotgun at you as he the coin lands in the dirt. The Fool peers down at it, tilting his head, before flipping the shotgun in his hands, grabbing the barrel and offering the stock to you.


"It's your lucky day, Hunter. Good luck to you."


You grab the shotgun, holding it in your hands and aiming it at the suspicious, patch coat man. 


"Who the fuck are you?"


"An interesting question! Do you like riddles?"


"No."


The Fool frowns.


"So dull. You're a dull old fellow, aren't you? Perhaps I should be helping the wolves."


"Just tell me who you are, dammit! I'm a dying man, I don't have time for this."


The Fool opens his mouth to complain, before pausing, then shrugging.


"A slave I have been and shall remain

To a golden mistress I'm tied with invisible chains

Yet always I put on the same brave face

She keeps me her prisoner, but leaves me some space."


The Fool smiles at you for a moment, before raising an eyebrow.


"So... who am I?"

A Puppet

"A puppet," you say softly.


"Oh, you're actually answering the riddle? How delightful! Maybe I misjudged you!"


"Am I right, then?"


"Oh well, we're all puppets in a way, aren't we?" the Fool grins. "Well, I best be off. Good luck dealing with my boy tonight, Willy."


"Wait!" you growl, aiming your shotgun at him. "You move and I blow your brains out!"


The Fool sighs, shaking his head.


"I don't think you really know how this game works, do you?" the Fool says. 


The Fool leans forward, placing his thumb against the shotgun barrel. He scratches at his puffy, burned eyes, sighing.


"You're not going to shoot that gun," he says simply.


With that, the Fool turns, strolling off into the woods. You try to aim your shotgun, but find your arms are incapable of moving, the numb, cold muscles refusing to work. All you can do is watch as the Fool disappears into the darkness.


When he's out of view, you snarl. You sniff the air, smelling the scent of prey, and... you try to focus on the pain for a moment, ignoring your bestial senses, before you smell something else. The smell of smoke, in the distance. 


You pause, raising an eye. Smoke means fire. Fire means activity. There needs to be something in that direction.
"Heads!"


The coin flips through the air ahead of you, as you step back, looking at the coin with interest. He steps back, leveling your own shotgun at you as he the coin lands in the dirt. The Fool peers down at it, tilting his head, before flipping the shotgun in his hands, grabbing the barrel and offering the stock to you.


"It's your lucky day, Hunter. Good luck to you."


You grab the shotgun, holding it in your hands and aiming it at the suspicious, patch coat man. 


"Who the fuck are you?"


"An interesting question! Do you like riddles?"


"No."


The Fool frowns.


"So dull. You're a dull old fellow, aren't you? Perhaps I should be helping the wolves."


"Just tell me who you are, dammit! I'm a dying man, I don't have time for this."


The Fool opens his mouth to complain, before pausing, then shrugging.


"A slave I have been and shall remain

To a golden mistress I'm tied with invisible chains

Yet always I put on the same brave face

She keeps me her prisoner, but leaves me some space."


The Fool smiles at you for a moment, before raising an eyebrow.


"So... who am I?"

A Clock

"A clock," you say softly.


"Oh, you're actually answering the riddle? How delightful! Maybe I misjudged you!"


"Am I right, then?"


"Oh well, tick tock, tick tock, Willy," the Fool grins. "Do you hear that? That's the sound of our time together running out for now. I best be on my way. Good luck dealing with my boy tonight, Willy."


"Wait!" you growl, aiming your shotgun at him. "You move and I blow your brains out!"


The Fool sighs, shaking his head.


"I don't think you really know how this game works, do you?" the Fool says. 


The Fool leans forward, placing his thumb against the shotgun barrel. He scratches at his puffy, burned eyes, sighing.


"You're not going to shoot that gun," he says simply.


With that, the Fool turns, strolling off into the woods. You try to aim your shotgun, but find your arms are incapable of moving, the numb, cold muscles refusing to work. All you can do is watch as the Fool disappears into the darkness.


When he's out of view, you snarl. You sniff the air, smelling the scent of prey, and... you try to focus on the pain for a moment, ignoring your bestial senses, before you smell something else. The smell of smoke, in the distance. 


You pause, raising an eye. Smoke means fire. Fire means activity. There needs to be something in that direction.
"Heads!"


The coin flips through the air ahead of you, as you step back, looking at the coin with interest. He steps back, leveling your own shotgun at you as he the coin lands in the dirt. The Fool peers down at it, tilting his head, before flipping the shotgun in his hands, grabbing the barrel and offering the stock to you.


"It's your lucky day, Hunter. Good luck to you."


You grab the shotgun, holding it in your hands and aiming it at the suspicious, patch coat man. 


"Who the fuck are you?"


"An interesting question! Do you like riddles?"


"No."


The Fool frowns.


"So dull. You're a dull old fellow, aren't you? Perhaps I should be helping the wolves."


"Just tell me who you are, dammit! I'm a dying man, I don't have time for this."


The Fool opens his mouth to complain, before pausing, then shrugging.


"A slave I have been and shall remain

To a golden mistress I'm tied with invisible chains

Yet always I put on the same brave face

She keeps me her prisoner, but leaves me some space."


The Fool smiles at you for a moment, before raising an eyebrow.


"So... who am I?"

The Moon

"The moon," you say softly.


"Oh, you're actually answering the riddle? How delightful! Maybe I misjudged you!"


"Am I right, then?"


"Oh well, it is a very moonlit night" the Fool grins. "I like your answer either way. Well, I best be off. Good luck dealing with my boy tonight, Willy."


"Wait!" you growl, aiming your shotgun at him. "You move and I blow your brains out!"


The Fool sighs, shaking his head.


"I don't think you really know how this game works, do you?" the Fool says. 


The Fool leans forward, placing his thumb against the shotgun barrel. He scratches at his puffy, burned eyes, sighing.


"You're not going to shoot that gun," he says simply.


With that, the Fool turns, strolling off into the woods. You try to aim your shotgun, but find your arms are incapable of moving, the numb, cold muscles refusing to work. All you can do is watch as the Fool disappears into the darkness.


When he's out of view, you snarl. You sniff the air, smelling the scent of prey, and... you try to focus on the pain for a moment, ignoring your bestial senses, before you smell something else. The smell of smoke, in the distance. 


You pause, raising an eye. Smoke means fire. Fire means activity. There needs to be something in that direction.
"Heads!"


The coin flips through the air ahead of you, as you step back, looking at the coin with interest. He steps back, leveling your own shotgun at you as he the coin lands in the dirt. The Fool peers down at it, tilting his head, before flipping the shotgun in his hands, grabbing the barrel and offering the stock to you.


"It's your lucky day, Hunter. Good luck to you."


You grab the shotgun, holding it in your hands and aiming it at the suspicious, patch coat man. 


"Who the fuck are you?"


"An interesting question! Do you like riddles?"


"No."


The Fool frowns.


"So dull. You're a dull old fellow, aren't you? Perhaps I should be helping the wolves."


"Just tell me who you are, dammit! I'm a dying man, I don't have time for this."


The Fool opens his mouth to complain, before pausing, then shrugging.


"A slave I have been and shall remain

To a golden mistress I'm tied with invisible chains

Yet always I put on the same brave face

She keeps me her prisoner, but leaves me some space."


The Fool smiles at you for a moment, before raising an eyebrow.


"So... who am I?"

The Tide

"The tide," you say softly.


"Oh, you're actually answering the riddle? How delightful! Maybe I misjudged you!"


"Am I right, then?"


"Oh, I wouldn't want to spoil the answer by telling you," the Fool grins. "Well, I best be off. Good luck dealing with my boy tonight, Willy."


"Wait!" you growl, aiming your shotgun at him. "You move and I blow your brains out!"


The Fool sighs, shaking his head.


"I don't think you really know how this game works, do you?" the Fool says. 


The Fool leans forward, placing his thumb against the shotgun barrel. He scratches at his puffy, burned eyes, sighing.


"You're not going to shoot that gun," he says simply.


With that, the Fool turns, strolling off into the woods. You try to aim your shotgun, but find your arms are incapable of moving, the numb, cold muscles refusing to work. All you can do is watch as the Fool disappears into the darkness.


When he's out of view, you snarl. You sniff the air, smelling the scent of prey, and... you try to focus on the pain for a moment, ignoring your bestial senses, before you smell something else. The smell of smoke, in the distance. 


You pause, raising an eye. Smoke means fire. Fire means activity. There needs to be something in that direction.
"Heads!"


The coin flips through the air ahead of you, as you step back, looking at the coin with interest. He steps back, leveling your own shotgun at you as he the coin lands in the dirt. The Fool peers down at it, tilting his head, before flipping the shotgun in his hands, grabbing the barrel and offering the stock to you.


"It's your lucky day, Hunter. Good luck to you."


You grab the shotgun, holding it in your hands and aiming it at the suspicious, patch coat man. 


"Who the fuck are you?"


"An interesting question! Do you like riddles?"


"No."


The Fool frowns.


"So dull. You're a dull old fellow, aren't you? Perhaps I should be helping the wolves."


"Just tell me who you are, dammit! I'm a dying man, I don't have time for this."


The Fool opens his mouth to complain, before pausing, then shrugging.


"A slave I have been and shall remain

To a golden mistress I'm tied with invisible chains

Yet always I put on the same brave face

She keeps me her prisoner, but leaves me some space."


The Fool smiles at you for a moment, before raising an eyebrow.


"So... who am I?"

You man

"Man," you say softly.


"Oh, you're actually answering the riddle? How delightful! Maybe I misjudged you!"


"Am I right, then?"


"Oh well, I mean, it's clear you've heard the Sphinx Riddle. And you said you didn't like riddles, you fibber!" the Fool grins. "Well, I best be off. Good luck dealing with my boy tonight, Willy."


"Wait!" you growl, aiming your shotgun at him. "You move and I blow your brains out!"


The Fool sighs, shaking his head.


"I don't think you really know how this game works, do you?" the Fool says. 


The Fool leans forward, placing his thumb against the shotgun barrel. He scratches at his puffy, burned eyes, sighing.


"You're not going to shoot that gun," he says simply.


With that, the Fool turns, strolling off into the woods. You try to aim your shotgun, but find your arms are incapable of moving, the numb, cold muscles refusing to work. All you can do is watch as the Fool disappears into the darkness.


When he's out of view, you snarl. You sniff the air, smelling the scent of prey, and... you try to focus on the pain for a moment, ignoring your bestial senses, before you smell something else. The smell of smoke, in the distance. 


You pause, raising an eye. Smoke means fire. Fire means activity. There needs to be something in that direction.
"Heads!"


The coin flips through the air ahead of you, as you step back, looking at the coin with interest. He steps back, leveling your own shotgun at you as he the coin lands in the dirt. The Fool peers down at it, tilting his head, before flipping the shotgun in his hands, grabbing the barrel and offering the stock to you.


"It's your lucky day, Hunter. Good luck to you."


You grab the shotgun, holding it in your hands and aiming it at the suspicious, patch coat man. 


"Who the fuck are you?"


"An interesting question! Do you like riddles?"


"No."


The Fool frowns.


"So dull. You're a dull old fellow, aren't you? Perhaps I should be helping the wolves."


"Just tell me who you are, dammit! I'm a dying man, I don't have time for this."


The Fool opens his mouth to complain, before pausing, then shrugging.


"A slave I have been and shall remain

To a golden mistress I'm tied with invisible chains

Yet always I put on the same brave face

She keeps me her prisoner, but leaves me some space."


The Fool smiles at you for a moment, before raising an eyebrow.


"So... who am I?"

You an Oak Tree

"An Oak Tree," you say softly.


"Oh, you're actually answering the riddle? How delightful! Maybe I misjudged you!"


"Am I right, then?"


"Well, I am in a forest, so maybe," the Fool grins. "Well, I best be off. Good luck dealing with my boy tonight, Willy."


"Wait!" you growl, aiming your shotgun at him. "You move and I blow your brains out!"


The Fool sighs, shaking his head.


"I don't think you really know how this game works, do you?" the Fool says. 


The Fool leans forward, placing his thumb against the shotgun barrel. He scratches at his puffy, burned eyes, sighing.


"You're not going to shoot that gun," he says simply.


With that, the Fool turns, strolling off into the woods. You try to aim your shotgun, but find your arms are incapable of moving, the numb, cold muscles refusing to work. All you can do is watch as the Fool disappears into the darkness.


When he's out of view, you snarl. You sniff the air, smelling the scent of prey, and... you try to focus on the pain for a moment, ignoring your bestial senses, before you smell something else. The smell of smoke, in the distance. 


You pause, raising an eye. Smoke means fire. Fire means activity. There needs to be something in that direction.
"Heads!"


The coin flips through the air ahead of you, as you step back, looking at the coin with interest. He steps back, leveling your own shotgun at you as he the coin lands in the dirt. The Fool peers down at it, tilting his head, before flipping the shotgun in his hands, grabbing the barrel and offering the stock to you.


"It's your lucky day, Hunter. Good luck to you."


You grab the shotgun, holding it in your hands and aiming it at the suspicious, patch coat man. 


"Who the fuck are you?"


"An interesting question! Do you like riddles?"


"No."


The Fool frowns.


"So dull. You're a dull old fellow, aren't you? Perhaps I should be helping the wolves."


"Just tell me who you are, dammit! I'm a dying man, I don't have time for this."


The Fool opens his mouth to complain, before pausing, then shrugging.


"A slave I have been and shall remain

To a golden mistress I'm tied with invisible chains

Yet always I put on the same brave face

She keeps me her prisoner, but leaves me some space."


The Fool smiles at you for a moment, before raising an eyebrow.


"So... who am I?"

You fuck your riddles, you're not playing your games!

"Fuck your riddles, I'm not playing your games!" you yell.


"Ugh, how dull then. You're very angry, aren't you?"


"Watch it, fucker. Don't think I won't kill you."


"God, if you're going to be like this, I best go off and leave you alone with your anger. Good luck dealing with my boy tonight, Willy."


"Wait!" you growl, aiming your shotgun at him. "You move and I blow your brains out!"


The Fool sighs, shaking his head.


"I don't think you really know how this game works, do you?" the Fool says. 


The Fool leans forward, placing his thumb against the shotgun barrel. He scratches at his puffy, burned eyes, sighing.


"You're not going to shoot that gun," he says simply.


With that, the Fool turns, strolling off into the woods. You try to aim your shotgun, but find your arms are incapable of moving, the numb, cold muscles refusing to work. All you can do is watch as the Fool disappears into the darkness.


When he's out of view, you snarl. You sniff the air, smelling the scent of prey, and... you try to focus on the pain for a moment, ignoring your bestial senses, before you smell something else. The smell of smoke, in the distance. 


You pause, raising an eye. Smoke means fire. Fire means activity. There needs to be something in that direction.
You have to protect your companions, and get them out of there. You can't leave them behind. You hold your shotgun tightly in your hands, before moving forward and darting down the decline. You slide down on your boots, hurrying down as fast as you can. You almost fall into a tumble, but manage to steady yourself, finding yourself on the ground near the wreckage.


You look to the truck, and you can see a mutilated corpse strapped into the driver's seat, and realize Russel didn't even get out of the car. The screams off deeper into the woods don't give you hope for the fate of the others.


"Stay back! Stay back!" a young, terrified voice screams from behind the wreckage.


Swearing, you burst forward, your gun held tightly in your hands. Rushing around the roasting bonfire, you find Wyatt, collapsed on his back, desperately trying to shuffle backwards.


Standing in front of him is a bestial creature you've faced many times before. A werewolf. The creature stands with black and gray fur matted with the gore of a previous kill. The creature growls, revealing a row of vicious teeth that could easily tear through a man. 


Your instincts kick in, and you drop to your knee, raising your gun and opening fire. The gun bucks, silver bursting forward and tearing through the werewolf's flesh. The creature howls, as you fire another shot, blowing the creature's head off as its body crumples. You watch as the lupine body begins to morph, shedding air and twisting as it turns into a naked, bloody human corpse, its head completely missing.


"Oh Jesus, oh Jesus! William, they got my dad. They tore him up, and they took Hans off into the woods! Shit, we have to go help him! We have to go save them!"


You hear a loud howl, looking over to see a trio of werewolves appearing out of the woods. At the front, a large creature with frost white hair and pink eyes. The creature begins prowling towards you, its jaws open as it licks its lips. The creature lets out a growl, as the other two werewolves pause, holding back as the creature approaches you. Clearly this one's a leader of some sort, and it wants to take you down by itself as some fucked up pursuit of honor or to show its pack mates its prowess. 


You don't have time to think. It's time to act.

You break off into the woods with Wyatt

"Run! Run now, Wyatt!" you scream, 


You sprint, running as fast as you can, your lungs burning, but it's not enough. Seconds later, a force like a truck smashes into your back, sending you crumpling to the floor with your legs shattering from the impact. You scream as the Albino lands atop your legs, sending pain racing through your body as you spasm. The creature looks down at you, growling.


"Fuck you," you spit, hoping some part of the Albino understands you.


The Albino's head snaps down, tearing out your throat, before binding off after Wyatt. You lie there on the ground, drowning in your own blood, as death slowly takes you.