Shuffling Around
by Andrew Schultz (as Ned Yompus) (2012)
Genres: Fantasy

A weird power to save a weird world. So you just got fired from the best company ever, and it's the best day of your life. New opportunities! New horizons! New ways to look at things! Like calling this stupid kiss-off job fair a "convention."

action: %
response: So you just got fired from the best company ever, and it's the best day of your life. New opportunities! New horizons! New ways to look at things! Like calling this stupid kiss-off job fair a "convention."



This is the ritziest hotel you'll ever stay in. Terraces are west, a banner hangs over an auditorium entry to the east, and the elevator you came from is to the south. North's a function for later in the day.

There's a sign over an odd side passage the bustling, babbling masses seem to be ignoring.
action: You look at the side passage
response: It's just under the NONE TRY sign. You could probably ENTER it, or go INSIDE. It's not really any direction you can tell, and you could have sworn it was near a different exit before you turned your back on it just a bit ago. It curves quickly so you can't see much of it.
action: You read the banner
response: "This way: BEING FIRED!" People walk by, discussing how the DEBRIEFING should make Mondays dynamos again.
action: Go east
response: That way's an hour or two of listening to an under-action denunciator. You sure?
action: No
response: You pause before entering. The lecture seems like it'd be fun to ditch.
action: Go south
response: You already spent too much time in the overlate elevator.

Your eye catches the side passage, which looks more interesting than the standard ways out. Maybe you could give it another look.
action: You go to the north
response: That way's a costlier cloister of rooms than recent firees deserve. The measure-a-resume event will be there, but not for another couple hours. You don't really want to get an agent, anyway.

You feel sort of cornered by all the main passages. Sneaking off anywhere would be kind of fun.
action: You enter the side passage
response: Someone tugs you by the arm. "Can't you read? It says NO ENTRY! Quit dawdling and get to the DEBRIEFING already!"

You check and make sure. No, still NONE TRY. As you walk away, you hear "INSTRUCTIONS, son. I trust I c..."
(this is the first in-game pause. Whenever the game pauses without a cursor in the future, you need to push any key to continue.)
action: You examine the toga
response: On it you see a four-legged animal with a sort of beard and horns. In one corner you see some writing. The toga also smells vaguely of barnyards.
action: You look
response: Nothing particularly beautiful grows here. All manner of prickly things and dried-up weeds lie around. You see an exit in some direction or other where the thorn was. The shrub and brush the goat wrecked are here, too.

The goat is half-sleeping here. He's probably best left that way.
action: Cat
response: (examining instead)
The goat ate enough of it, it doesn't look like anything any more.
action: Exit
response: You feel a sudden sense of vertigo as you walk towards the passage where the thorn was. You realize you have lost your sense of direction, and for whatever reason, you're preoccupied with finding it before you can continue. So, which way is the thorn?
action: North
response: With the big thorn gone, why, of course you can go north. Though the goat didn't clear out all the thorns. One rips your nametag slightly. But beyond that, there's a path that leads to an open field.

You're not sure what to do here, and there's no welcoming committee. But there's a broad board with various scrawlings.

You see an incomplete-looking dollhouse with a crackling noise coming from a few loud holes. It is labeled FOR INSTRUCTIONAL PURPOSES ONLY.

It can't be... can it be...? A cabinet floating in mid-air. It looks acne-bit. It's open, too.

A gateway is here. You can see through its sturdy wire fencing, but it doesn't seem to lead anywhere.
action: You check your inventory
response: Item time! You are carrying:
a dope tan notepad
a magenta nametag (being worn)
action: You look at the notepad
response: It's your workbook. It holds bookwork. Not a thrilling color to most, and one of many you bought cheap a long time ago, and they haven't run out yet. It's small enough to fit in a pocket, and you have clipped a pen over it, too.

(To use the notepad, you can type PAD (subject) or CONSULT PAD ABOUT (subject). If you forget what you've written about, you can type PAD or CONSULT PAD.)
action: You examine the nametag
response: It's still a bit scratched from your trip through the thorns--about 3/7 of the way from the right.
action: Man gate
response: Which do you mean, the gateman, the dead beat deadbeat, the cheesy spearman or bearded man?
action: You look in the cabinet
response: (Nothing in this game has anything deeply hidden, so searching works like examining.)

It's open. The cratered bits, once retraced, spell CAN BITE. You see a tinfoil info-lit, a tagged gadget, an idlers' slider and a salient saltine inside.
action: Consult pad
response: Currently you can consult it about:
--notepad, lecture
action: You take the gadget
response: You wonder what this gadget IS as you pick it up. It looks like it analyzes something. Perhaps you should try it on a few available things like the nametag?
action: You use the gadget on the nametag
response: Use is a bit too vague for this game's parser to understand. You can SWITCH something, or PUT something IN/ON something, or even ATTACH something to something. You can PUSH a button or OPEN something, as well. Specific items should clue you what to do if you EXAMINE them.
action: You look at gadget
response: It looks like a wall stud sensor, six inches by twelve, with a screen broken into nine mini-panels. An instructional tag you can read is tied to the handle, which narrows where it meets the main part. The gadget crackles with greeny energy.
action: You examine tag
response: (the instructional tag)
"This gadget is certified untransmogrifiable. It can be used to SCAN objects to determine their transmogrification states. Removing tag invalidates warranty. One beep means item is changeable. Buzz means it has been changed."

The good stuff is about how one beep means something you should change, and a buzz means something that can't be changed again. Above a small print disclaimer you see the text EXAMPLE: LEMON <- RGRGG -> MELON. A little thought and you realize only two reds on the gadget makes things trivial. The example seems loaded in the gadget's favor, but hey, that's advertising for you.
action: You scan nametag
response: You see lights form on the screen--RGRGR*R--the sixth light starts red, then flashes to green and back, as if there are two aspects to the magenta nametag worth considering.
action: You look at the gateway
response: It's a fence gate, so you can see beyond and through it, though it seems too heavy to lift in any case, but who knows, maybe if there was a guy who tended to gates, he'd help you. It'd be neat if...

(You can say the name of the gateway now to enter it. There's nothing more hidden in its description.)
action: Gateway
response: (entering instead)
It doesn't lead anywhere. Yet. Plus, you'd run into the, uh, gate part. Maybe if you had someone who could give information. And not stupid information like a silly old nametag.
action: Gateman
response: If you really CAN change the nametag, you don't want a gateman in your face--so you chuck the nametag away. Not really believing...

Whoah! The nametag pulses and pops in directions you didn't think something that flat could. You hear a gish, then a sigh. A tall, grouchy old man in sober robes so aged you almost say "Egad" cries "The eyes! They see!" He grumbles how he shoulda been a portal king in the parking lot, he's such a talking pro. Then he notices you.

"Smug gums. But you'll have to do. Ehh? Heh. I'm Old Man Almond. What d'you want? I can tell you about this-here quest."
action: You ask the gateman about the quest
response: "Three major problems. Noise is one. A lupine lineup. Noble Ol' Ben: gone. Lorn. No longer."

"And I think I know who's behind it: RED BULL BURDELL!"
action: You describe your surroundings
response: The broad board has some scrawlings you haven't read yet.

Old Man Almond, the gateman, is grousing around here.

You see an incomplete-looking dollhouse with a crackling noise coming from a few loud holes. It is labeled FOR INSTRUCTIONAL PURPOSES ONLY.

The acne-bit cabinet is still floating here. It contains the tinfoil info-lit, the idlers' slider and the salient saltine.

A gateway is here. You can see through its sturdy wire fencing, but it doesn't seem to lead anywhere.
action: You take the slider
response: Ouch! The cabinet door slams on you--it seems to have developed fangs that came from a hidden compartment. Maybe you only get one device. (Note: you can SWAP the gadget and slider.)
action: Swap gadget
response: You put the gadget back in the cabinet and take the slider.
action: You look at the slider
response: It's like an electronic t-square, with nine mini-panels. Reading it, you see it's useful to SCAN things to sort out their edges. It crackles with greeny energy and has some colored writing that looks important.
action: You look at the writing
response: "Provably 79.12% hintier than a tagged gadget. Green print
gives you the start, red print the end. The middle bits fall
into place."

The example reads PASTE <-> TAPES.
(red S, green T, green P, red E. Everything else blue.)
action: You look
response: The broad board has some scrawlings you haven't read yet.

Old Man Almond, the gateman, is grousing around here.

You see an incomplete-looking dollhouse with a crackling noise coming from a few loud holes. It is labeled FOR INSTRUCTIONAL PURPOSES ONLY.

The acne-bit cabinet is still floating here. It contains the tagged gadget, the tinfoil info-lit and the salient saltine.

A gateway is here. You can see through its sturdy wire fencing, but it doesn't seem to lead anywhere.
action: You read the board
response: WANTED:

--selfless soul willing to turn self into humiliating identification to aid adventurers in rescuing our fair land. Must have strength or magic touch to raise big metal gate. Benefits include unlimited complaining to rescuer/prospective hero.

--fellow named Terry to allow quick way for temporarily stuck adventurers to RETRY and return to Trips Strip. (you haven't been there yet, so it probably doesn't do anything.)

--quester request: text adventurer with savoir-savior to save world from economic and moral malaise. High chance of real fun, low chance of funeral.
Canny Nancy or Brian Brain preferred to Manly Lyman or Army Mary. Scrabble, MasterMind, and/or Boggle expertise a plus. Training with two simple 7-letter portmanteaux provided. No crudities like diuretics needed!
WARNING: Must qualify with simple on-the-game...oh, wait, never
mind, you're already here. Hi there! Hey, that cabinet's useful, and that dollhouse's a sample puzzle.

!!!!LIMITED TIME TEXT ADVENTURING SEASON OFFER FOR THE BUSY TEXT ADVENTURER: ONLY SOLVE 2 OF 3 AFFLICTED AREAS TO EARN ACCESS TO YOUR ROMAN MANOR!!!! (You record the information in your dope tan
notepad under board.)
action: You examine the dollhouse
response: You hear static hissing through some loud holes. Plus, the dollhouse isn't nearly as tall as it could be. It could use an extra floor or two.
action: You scan the dollhouse
response: Before your slider gets close, you begin to pick something up. Perhaps it isn't the dollhouse you need to do something with. Something ambient--like the static. So you do that.

Most of the screen goes blue, then a green dot and red dot bounce left and right across the slider screen, and they eventually wind up like so:
RBGBBB
action: Attics
response: The static cuts off and seems to grow opaque. Then it forms into a small box with a cupola, pyramid, and other shapes. They fit with a click on top of the dollhouse. Old Man Almond golf-claps. "Good work. Actually, the attics are a lot tougher to figure out than the gateway, especially with that tool you have."
action: Consult pad
response: Currently you can consult it about:
--notepad, lecture, board
action: You consult PAD about the lecture
response: An hour-long pre-lunch lecture by some fellow named Curt Lee netted you three pages of doodles. You remember him saying how ONE WORD could open a NEW DOOR in this age of technological innovation if you picked the right one, and that's more magic than real magic, if real magic existed, which it doesn't.

Well, lunch was nice.
action: You swap the saltine
response: Not worth swapping.
action: You examine saltine
response: It says SLAINTE on the package.
action: You look at the info-lit
response: It's tinfoil only in writing content--it's actually just paper. It's excessively all-caps and underlined, but I'll spare you that.

Reason So Near from Sane Sean, Farce Facer and Saltier Realist:
--If you can change stuff, why can't the people who made the gadget and slider? Or why couldn't they find someone off the street? Perhaps they're the real enemy and you're the pawn.
--If they really wanted you to clean things up, why can't you take both the cabinet items?
--That NEW DOOR is not really ONE WORD. Same as the guy who can lift it! They are two short words, easier than one big scary seven-letter word.
--Anyone smart enough to untangle this world won't get any fulfillment from doing so. So there, stupider disputer!

It'd all be distressingly persuasive gotcha-logic if you hadn't been able to flip that toga. But this is a fantasy world, and you've already shown cracks in his logic.
action: You look in cabinet
response: It's open. The cratered bits, once retraced, spell CAN BITE. You see a tagged gadget, a tinfoil info-lit and a salient saltine inside.
action: You take the saltine
response: Got it. You'd have liked a beefier freebie, but with calm opining, you see no use complaining.
action: You take info-lit
response: Taken.
action: You check your inventory
response: Item time! You are carrying:
a tinfoil info-lit
a salient saltine
an idlers' slider
a dope tan notepad
action: You look around
response: The broad board has some scrawlings you figure will be useful.

Old Man Almond, the gateman, is grousing around here.

You see that dollhouse you put those attics on. It is labeled FOR INSTRUCTIONAL PURPOSES ONLY.

The acne-bit cabinet is still floating here. It contains the tagged gadget.

A gateway is here. You can see through its sturdy wire fencing, but it doesn't seem to lead anywhere.
action: You enter the gateway
response: You hold your hand out in front of you to see if the gateway vanishes as you walk through. Nope. The gateman speaks.

"It's not that easy. But it's not that hard. It doesn't get anywhere yet. Til it does, you can't go far away."
action: You examine the fencing
response: It's strong enough. You aren't getting through the gateway by force.
action: Scan info-lit
response: Nothing happens. Which just proves the paper's premise that this is all too ridiculous, amirite?
action: Scan gateman
response: The gadget buzzes.

"What?! Were you hoping to change me back?" harrumphs Old Man Almond.
action: Scan gateway
response: Most of the screen goes blue, then a green dot and red dot bounce left and right across the slider screen, and they eventually wind up like so:
GBBBBBR
action: You get away
response: The gateway rumbles. "Bout time you figured it!" says Old Man Almond. "Let me use my trifle lifter here." He tugs down on the gate with his index finger, and it flips up. "What?! I can have magic powers, too! Couldn't a survived being a nametag otherwise!"

The scenery behind the gate rumbles to grass, hills, and even a few thatched huts. "If you have any more questions...now's a good time to ask," says Old Man Almond.
action: You talk to the gateman
response: You engage in small talk, not sure what to ASK about.

"Eh?! There's all sorts of things to ask me about! That goat back there! Your quest! Your purpose! The getaway! The rules! No time to scold clods asking about--whatever you just mumbled about."
action: You ask the gateman about the rules
response: Well, you figured a few things out. Probably want to focus more on changing stuff than doing weird actions.
action: You ask the gateman about the the getaway
response: "Get going through there!"
action: You ask the gateman about the burdell
response: "Like he was thought up by a demonic comedian. Seemed a poseur when he uprose but he made a desireable age disagreeable. He'd make a poignant nag point, but really, he's an RPG player in a text adventuring world. Hit points and magic points and all. Claimed our way was no more than multiple choice. Heard his cleats in the castle as he did something called "Leveling up." Tackled Raw Rori, a warrior, but we ignored eroding til he humbled Bud Helm. We have lost LOTS because of him. He beat us all. Rooftops of troops on Fort Oops. Profs too. Auctioned Education. I cautioned..." His eyes grow mistened. "Ten dimes say it's end times. We've waited for an upturn to turn up..."
action: You ask the gateman about the goat
response: "Yes, yes, you got the first puzzle. Good adventurer, good adventurer. If you're interested, the gadget would've said Red-Green-Red-Red and the slider would've said Red-Blue-Green-Blue." (You record the information in your notepad under goat.)
action: You ask the gateman about being fired
response: "Eh?! There's all sorts of things to ask me about! That goat back there! Your quest! Your purpose! The getaway! The rules! No time to scold clods asking about--whatever you just mumbled about."
action: You enter
response: Your path is clear. Old Man Almond gets his hanky out. "Okay, hunt."

"Thank you," you say.

The gate disappears behind you, and you walk down a pathway, then yap "What?!" when you see...
action: You read the graffiti
response: FORK SPOONERISMS!

There's a lot more, and you could waste a lot of time here.
action: You examine the sidewalk
response: Morgan Gorman was here!!!
action: You look at the malls
response: They're labeled with letters, not numbers, though you can refer to them by number if you want. Of the various stores you see, only store r, store m, store i and store f look like you can do anything with them. Store r has a COMING SOON sign by it. A few others seem greyed-out, like in a video game or something. There can't be anything in any of them. (You record the information in your notepad under stores.)
action: You scan the malls
response: Not all at once.
action: You examine the store r.
response: It's almost all grey, except for a touch of red at the corners. You probably need to see what's behind at least one other stores first. You also see a roster in the front door.
action: Scan store r.
response: Most of the screen goes blue, then a green dot and red dot bounce left and right across the slider screen, and they eventually wind up like so:
BRBGBB
action: You look at the roster
response: The roster on the front of store R reads: "People who have earned a vacation: you (well, soon!)"
action: Resort
response: That seems like it should work, but you sense you have not done enough yet. In fact, you probably haven't even visited some place you need to work through. But maybe, soon, you will.
action: You enter the store r.
response: It's closed and locked, and you won't find a key. Maybe you can do something else to it.
action: Forest
response: This is odd. It's kind of green on top, brown on the bottom. You smell pine needles and dirt and leaves you can't quite discern. You think back to the gateway and how you got here.

The greens and browns of Store F coagulate and pull apart into an actual forest.
action: You look
response: You see what was once a bunch of small malls. Most lots appear vacant or dilapidated.

There's a forest here where store F was.
action: You examine the forest
response: It's bigger on the inside than the outside, you're sure, or something like that.

(You can say the name of the forest now to enter it. There's nothing more hidden in its description.)
action: You examine the malls
response: Of the various stores you see, only store r, store m and store i look like you can do anything with them. Store r has a COMING SOON sign by it. A few others seem greyed-out, like in a video game or something. There can't be anything in any of them.
action: Forest
response: (entering instead)
As you walk in the forest, you hear rumors of monsters ravaging the surrounding areas. Not zombies, or vampires, or skeletons. Trying to figure what it is, you daydream maybe YOU could be that hero--so successfully that you get lost!
action: Describe the surroundings
response: successfully that you get lost!Until you stumble on a small clearing. You think you smell something.

There's no clear sign of clearings, but the leaves are soft here. There's a smell, too. Unusual but pleasant. There's also a lapsing sapling, half bent over from a breeze.
action: You look at the sapling
response: It seems to be bending south, away from the nice-smelling breeze.
action: You sniff the air
response: It's a weird smell, but you like it. You feel a breeze from the north, so that's the direction the smell must be from.
action: Go north
response: You walk for a while, following your nose, and...

This is the place where you tracked the odor to.
action: Smell
response: It's an odor of new places and adventure and puzzles and how to get there. Which is all very good, but you'd like something more physical to help you.
action: Door
response: The odor becomes thick and choking, then a wood you've never smelled before but know it's wood. The odor swirls into a door--plain except for a bulge. Like the gateway, nothing seems to be behind it. You'll probably need to figure how to open it.
action: You examine the door
response: It's got a big musical note painted on the front above a bulge which doesn't seem to belong on the door. It probably leads somewhere interesting, if you can get through it.
action: Bugle
response: The ovular shape on the door rumbles then falls off. You see that extra bit is a horn--yes, you've definitely found a bugle. The door looks as impervious to force as ever, but maybe...?
action: Bugle
response: (examining instead)
It's brass, you guess, and it probably can't be too hard to play.
action: You enter door
response: You walk through the door to a leveraged everglade. You slip into a fissure and feel fussier, then make a vainer attempt to crawl back up the ravine you slid down. Looks like you're stuck here.

You feel a breeze from the west, and there's a plainer passage east. Weird solitary figures pass through a turnstile to the north at regular intervals.

A man walks by through the turnstile, which glows briefly. He's got a glorious handlebar mustache and is wearing reading glasses and a fake parrot beak.
action: You examine man
response: Too late. He's gone. But here's another.

A man walks by through the turnstile, which glows briefly. He's got a pencil-thin mustache and is wearing specs with a hideous elastic strap at the back and a pickle-shaped and -colored schnoz.
action: You look at the Man
response: Too late. He's gone. But here's another.

A man walks by through the turnstile, which glows briefly. He's got general patchy scuzz and is wearing a pretentious monocle and a fake parrot beak.
action: Go east
response: This is where, presumably, stuff gets sorted. A notes stone relates some sort of silly myth that's probably relevant to you. You see three containers here: a bucket full of ones, a shell full of dashes and a bubble full of noughts.

You can see a bucket full of ones, a shell full of dashes and a bubble full of noughts here.
action: You examine the stone
response: "Attention, word-boy/girl/woman/man! You may think letters are the basic building blocks of everything, but the computer age has shown it's 1's and 0's! We don't stow twos here! You won't find simpler piles, Mr.! Or a simpler pile, Mrs.!"
action: You look at the bubble
response: It's full of zeroes or, since there aren't many words with Z, noughts. You see a stick figure falling over, clutching at more spilling innards than a stick figure has a right to have.
action: You get the ones
response: Too many of them. They'd spill all over.
action: You examine the bucket
response: It's got HERE BE ONES scrawled on it, and a stick-figure with a question mark between a mouth and a pair of eyes. A bunch of narrow rectangular tiles are piled in.
action: You look at the shell
response: It's upturned, so it can hold stuff, with HERE BE DASHES scrawled on it. A bunch of narrow rectangular tiles are piled in, a bit more efficiently than the other containers. A stick figure on it has X-eyes from looking into the sun.
action: Shades
response: Most of the dashes reform into a pair of eyeglass rims, and the remaining one fill in as lenses. They lighten a little, and you have fully functioning shades.
action: Nose
response: The ones line up next to each other in a pair of not quite v-shaped semicircles. Then they melt into a nose. You take it.
action: Look around
response: This is where, presumably, stuff gets sorted. A notes stone relates some sort of silly myth that's probably relevant to you. You see three containers here: a bucket, a shell and a bubble full of noughts.

You can see a bucket, a shell and a bubble full of noughts here.
action: You examine noughts
response: One look at them makes you feel like solving silly word puzzles, shooting stuff and chewing bubble gum.

There is no bubble gum in this game.
action: Shotgun
response: Bam! The noughts slink together to form a gun barrel, then a whole big powerful gun.
action: Shoot gun
response: Mention what you want to shoot with the gun.
action: You look around
response: This is where, presumably, stuff gets sorted. A notes stone relates some sort of silly myth that's probably relevant to you. You see three containers here: a bucket, a shell and a bubble.

You can see a bucket, a shell and a bubble here.
action: You check what you're carrying
response: Item time! You are carrying:
a shotgun
a nose
some shades
a tinfoil info-lit
a salient saltine
an idlers' slider
a dope tan notepad
action: Shotgun
response: (examining instead)
It's pretty dingy but still intimidating. For whatever reason, it's six-barreled at the muzzle end. Not loaded, though.
action: You get the shell
response: It's welded to the wall.
action: You look at the shades
response: They're not dark enough to prevent you seeing anything. You suspect they'd fit your face just fine. They also have a small hook between the lens bits.
action: Go west
response: You feel a breeze from the west, and there's a plainer passage east. Weird solitary figures pass through a turnstile to the north at regular intervals.

A man walks by through the turnstile, which glows briefly. He's got a fu-manchu mustache and is wearing specs with a hideous elastic strap at the back and a red plastic ball under his glasses.
action: You go west
response: This is a storing area with various unpalatable-looking meats on a flesh shelf.

You see a scantier canister, a sandwich, a chicken liver and a cow liver on the shelf.
action: You look at the canister
response: It's small, nowhere near the size of a cistern. It's got a red ring you can put stuff in, and you can see a grinder of sabled blades inside. The grinder reads team meat, tame 'em at... and
appears to have no switch or anything.
action: You look at the sandwich
response: Just bread and--oh dear--spam.
action: You examine the cow liver
response: It's ugly and frozen and stamped 100% amalgamatable.
action: You put the cow liver in the canister
response: The canister seems to whir. The meat you put in is shortly unrecognizable.
action: You look around
response: This is a storing area with various unpalatable-looking meats on a flesh shelf.

You see a scantier canister, a sandwich and a chicken liver on the shelf.
action: Maps
response: With a sickening SCHLURP, the spam curdles and flattens to form several maps.
action: You put the chicken liver in the canister
response: Bam! The canister chokes, sputters, and then wheezes--you see a mist arise from it and vanish. It coughs out a combined glop that can only be described as LIVERS. Then it wheezes and seems to die.
action: Silver
response: The livers pulse for a moment, but...nothing happens. Perhaps they have another use, first.
action: Sliver
response: The livers narrow a bit and become more pointy at the end. They are a nice long sliver now, which you pick up.
action: You look at the sliver
response: Surprisingly sharp and of an odd metal. It could cut something as long as you didn't have to saw much.
action: Look around
response: This is a storing area with various unpalatable-looking meats on a flesh shelf.

You see a scantier canister on the shelf.

You can also see some maps and a bread here.
action: Beard
response: The bread seems to grow a fuzzy dark mold, then narrows into a sickle. It's now a beard, though not a particularly beautiful one. As you pick it up, you shake it for crumbs, and the hairs don't crumble into mold.
action: You take all
response: maps: Taken.
action: You wear the beard
response: It would just slip off your face as-is. Now what could hang on your face? And stay there?
action: You put the beard on the glasses
response: The nose (with shades attached to it) hooks over the beard easily and naturally.

You've made a full disguise now!
action: Inventory
response: Item time! You are carrying:
some maps
a full-blown beard disguise
a sliver
a shotgun
a tinfoil info-lit
a salient saltine
an idlers' slider
a dope tan notepad
action: You wear the disguise
response: You're already wearing that!
action: Go east
response: You feel a breeze from the west, and there's a plainer passage east. Weird solitary figures pass through a turnstile to the north at regular intervals.

A man walks by through the turnstile, which glows briefly. He's got a carefully-trimmed Vandyke and is wearing granny glasses and a Pinocchio-style wooden rod sprouting from his face.
action: You go north
response: You are "recognized" and let through. A voice whispers "Many vowels, one flow."

A creepy acre, yep. Liches block your way north. Drat! You were hoping for a ghost, whom you could zap to goths, and then if they had any spunk, you'd show them up as punks.
action: You examine liches
response: They seem to be moaning about being reduced to a tool of greater evil.
action: Chisel
response: The liches waver and pop out of existence, leaving only a chisel behind. Hmm...the mass of liches were hiding some drapes along the north wall, it appears. The chisel doesn't seem to vibrate scarily or anything, so you take it.
action: Spread
response: Shazam! The drapes unfold, and they become a large horizontal spread. It's wide enough, you can't detect the message that was there before.
action: You look around
response: A creepy acre, yep. A spread blocking the way north flutters in some breeze you cannot feel.
action: Retry
response: You see what was once a bunch of small malls. Most lots appear vacant or dilapidated.

There's a forest here where store F was.
action: Go north
response: The spread still blocks you.
action: Look around
response: A creepy acre, yep. Along the north wall you see drapes fluttering. They're too thick to work through, but they seem to have some sort of message on them.
action: You read the drapes
response: Too thick to walk or even cut through. They're made of heavy cloth packed together. Very dark, even in this semi-darkness. But if you look long enough, the various folds seem to make letters.
action: You look at the letters
response: The message in the folds is: NONE WILL | BE SP---D. Three of the letters seem smudged. Darn it.
action: Spared
response: That is what the drapes say.
action: You spread the spread
response: (examining instead)
You can see traces of the old message on the drapes--you realize it was NONE WILL BE SPARED now.
action: Spared
response: Actually, the spread must NOT be spared if you want to get anywhere.
action: Scan spread
response: The slider buzzes.
action: You cut the spread
response: The spread falls off to the side, revealing a doorway.
action: You go north
response: You don't know what's to the north. You remember something about a lupine lineup, but that unloaded shotgun won't be enough, and you don't have anything that works against them.
action: Silver
response: The sliver changes and grows even more metallic. It becomes a row of six bullets, tied together like plastic twist-off toys, but obviously more lethal.
action: Go north
response: This is as ethereal as its inhabitants. You're not sure where the marsh starts and the lake ends. You think you hear a dog bark in this dark bog.
action: You listen
response: You can't hear the dog any more. You're not sure if you want to.
action: You examine the bog
response: The bog feels like a big old gob that could suck you in. You just want to find a way away from it.
action: You examine the lake
response: On almost all sides. You worry you may get sucked down into it.
action: Releather
response: You won't need to use a word that long in this game. They should all be eight letters or less, except for one compound word.
action: You check what you're carrying
response: Item time! You are carrying:
a chisel
some maps
a full-blown beard disguise (being worn)
a shotgun
a tinfoil info-lit
a salient saltine
an idlers' slider
a dope tan notepad
action: You examine the maps
response: You read the maps. So many places to avoid: ah, the heath. Harm's Marsh, Hell's Shell, Dirge Ridge, Nowt Town, even a grocery that'd make an ogre cry. Then the chilling cries of "BRAAINS, SABRINA!" distract you, until you look up in horror...

It'd take a chimera to do the ice harm here, there's so much of it. The forts all around seem to frown at you, and six-foot-high iced dice are placed all around.

All exits seem to lead somewhere even darker. You steel yourself against the sleet.

Six large aplastic capitals sway when there is no breeze and stand still when there is.
action: You examine the capitals
response: A, E, I, O, U and Y, piled up in a pyramid. Hm, they are not just ANY letters. Yup, they're pretty much shouting out (figuratively) "We're vowels!" Yup, even the Y. The vowels also have bumps where they end.
action: You examine the bumps
response: They look almost like fangs or very long nails.
action: Wolves
response: Well, you've done it now. The imposing vowels become werewolves--but they notice your shotgun and stand back. The first forward gets shot--or so they imagine.
action: You shoot e
response: You must name something more substantial.
action: You shoot werewolves
response: Blam! Some part of the shotgun you couldn't see carves the silver bullet into sixths. Each flies off in a slightly different direction--taking out the wolves. The poison works quickly on them, and the frost forts and iced dice begin to melt quickly. Behind them, you see the strip. You walk back there.

The lupine lineup is no more, thanks to your adept hit in the death pit!

Congratulations! Forest node: done!
"Yeah! Heya." says a big fellow you hadn't met before, who eyes your inventory and points at the more useless stuff. "Nice work up in the forest. Eric Rice, museum muse. Um. Those Extras. Taxers for you. Nice parts of tributes I'd distribute once you fixed things for good." Before you can thank him, he's gone.
Trips Strip
You see what was once a bunch of small malls. Most lots appear vacant or dilapidated.

There's a forest here where store F was, but you probably don't need to go back there.
action: You check your inventory
response: Item time! You are carrying:
a tinfoil info-lit
a salient saltine
an idlers' slider
a dope tan notepad
action: You examine the malls
response: Of the various stores you see, only store r, store m and store i look like you can do anything with them. Store r has a COMING SOON sign by it. A few others seem greyed-out, like in a video game or something. There can't be anything in any of them.
action: You examine the store r.
response: There's a thin band of red paint around the bottom. You probably need to see what's behind at least one other stores first. You also see a roster in the front door.
action: Roster
response: (examining instead)
The roster on the front of store R reads: "People who have earned a vacation: you (well, soon!)"
action: You examine the store i.
response: It has pictures of famous political figures in the window--Winston Churchill, Benjamin Disraeli and that great charmer, Margaret Thatcher (*). You think you remember what party they belonged to. The pictures are big enough to obscure--almost--the outline of a trap door behind them.

(*) semantically, too good to pass up. Feel free and welcome to picture it being said sarcastically.
action: Tories
response: (examining instead)
A closer look indicates that they are glued to the inside of the store window, instead of hanging from a wire on a nail or something.
action: Sortie
response: The store rumbles, destroying the portraits of famous Tories (this is not a political statement) and revealing the small sortie down, collapsing the trap door. A stairway down remains, but that's about it.
action: Down
response: You climb down a larded ladder, slip, and hear people chattering about Mean Old Lord Ablemiser who'd been a money yeoman, the frugalest till the fear gluts, but who'd nag nary a granny for late fees, a fiances fan since... Generous til gone sour. First he grew antsy, then nasty... more garnish, less sharing... stern rents... quite the extra taxer... claiming to feel raw and that the welfare era flew! "No grace in ignorance, caring one!" He may even have aborted a debtor...
in ignorance, caring one!" He may even have aborted a debtor...You hear cases for destroying his castle and for showing love. You see and
avoid tripwires, and just as you feel your wit's riper, you swat at a pest and miss a step, then tumble madly wide of a middle way over a pit...
pit...You roll down a gradient, tirade, nag to yourself...
pit...You roll down a gradient, tirade, nag to yourself...Thump. ("Drat, poor trapdoor!" you hear.)
("Drat, poor trapdoor!" you hear.)Oh,
action: You press the space
response: ("Drat, poor trapdoor!" you hear.)Oh, Man,

("Drat, poor trapdoor!" you hear.)Oh, Man, My

("Drat, poor trapdoor!" you hear.)Oh, Man, My head's

("Drat, poor trapdoor!" you hear.)Oh, Man, My head's spinning...

("Drat, poor trapdoor!" you hear.)Oh, Man, My head's spinning...Oh dear it's not me it's the room...

Ug, Frenetic Centrifuge
Two exits are spinning counterclockwise. They're a right angle apart.

There's a dial here in the middle of the room. It is at 0 and is not spinning with the rest of the room, so you can probably turn it.

Go yon, bud! Repair!
action: You examine the dial
response: You see EXITS ? ?--you can see two letters, but they're scrolling through the four cardinal directions--written in the center of its circle. It's currently set to 0, and you can set it anywhere from 0 to 99.
action: Scan dial
response: The slider, when over the EXITS part, reads BBBBG??--flipping reds and blues. The dial's solution probably has the letters EXITS in it, somehow.
action: You set the dial to 16
response: The room warps a bit. You wonder if you made things worse, but then things start to slow down...yes! You did it!

The flipping bits in the dial lock in to say EXITS N E. And you see, yes, exits are north and east now.
action: Go north
response: Two nuts stun you as they jump out. "A blockhead! Ha, blockade!

"Passed our tamest net, but that's no statement. Outrage if you get past our gate." After this rare accident, you're incarcerated.

As they walk away, you hear "...made mead. Much, chum."

Then, drunken reveling. Boy, those pinheads made your head spin.

You're locked in this arty suite of austerity by a great grate. It's a more forbidding version of gateway in the Notices Section. You doubt even Old Man Almond could magic it open. There appears to be no standard way out. It has no accomodations, not even unsoft futons. This is a saner snare than the centrifuge, but it doesn't look like you'll drug a guard or reveal a lever to escape.

Your slider seems to shake a bit.

Boy. Incarceration's making you hungry.
action: You go north
response: You're stuck here. Well, physically, anyway.

You think back to your home and all its comfy rooms.
action: You look at grate
response: Huge. Eugh.

Mmm, Foood. Even a lame meal. You'd even make it yourself.
action: Great
response: (examining instead)
Huge. Eugh.

You feel the heat of Lord Ablemiser's hate even from here. You can't take it, so you want to get out of the The Nick. The Nick.
action: Sortie
response: You can't see anything here like that, or changeable into that.

You doze off and dream you're watching a cooking show featuring ten hicks. They work in multiple...oops, you wake up and forget.
action: Examine slider
response: You might rather thin-nen to slip through the bars, but you can't.

Your slider's not near anything, but it's registering BBBRBBG.

You wish, randomly, you could etch ink somewhere.
action: Kitchen
response: That does it! The heck with that silly old grate. Your prison dissolves, and it becomes the place you meant to go all along.

This is a kitchen, though it's a bit bare, except for the obligatory fridge and some really corny tune. There's also a tall trio of chef statues. South is the centrifuge room and east is somewhere less hectic.

A cheesy spearman is here. Well, he's posed all cheesy.

A bottle of CATHOUSE perfume is here.

You can also see a cult tee and a skate here.

You notice some warts on your face. Stress causes them, you know, and between the centrifuge and the nick, you've had a bit lately.
action: Steak
response: The skate turns reddish, and the blade retracts and becomes the main connecting bone in a slab of steak.
action: Lettuce
response: The t-shirt crumples and then shreds before turning into a light green head of lettuce.
action: Straw
response: The warts just peel off and lengthen into straw, which is too heavy to carry. You drop it.
action: Look around
response: This is a kitchen, though it's a bit bare, except for the obligatory fridge and some really corny tune. There's also a tall trio of chef statues. South is the centrifuge room and east is somewhere less hectic.

Some straw, too much to lug around in your hands, is here.

A cheesy spearman is here. Well, he's posed all cheesy.

A bottle of CATHOUSE perfume is here.

You can also see a head of lettuce and a slab of steak here.
action: You look at the perfume
response: It's yellow-gold, like most. The bottle seems to advertise a spicy scent too hot for most people's tastes.

By the way, you were never sure if it was one word or two, and what's more, the company who made it probably didn't care, either. There's something about how it'll free-m-up to love you, which you try to forget.
action: Hot sauce
response: The CATHOUSE perfume turns into a packet of equally over-capitalized and under-spaced hot sauce.
action: You look at the spearman
response: He's got a stupid smile and is giving a thumbs-up with his spearless hand. It's cheesy, not corny. You know the difference. But it is not a REAL cheese. Yet.
action: Parmesan
response: The spearman transforms into something cheesier--parmesan cheese! Unfortunately, it doesn't have one of those cute plastic spears sticking from it, but you can't have everything.
action: Look around
response: This is a kitchen, though it's a bit bare, except for the obligatory fridge and some really corny tune. There's also a tall trio of chef statues. South is the centrifuge room and east is somewhere less hectic.

Some straw, too much to lug around in your hands, is here.

You can also see a pile of grated parmesan cheese, a large packet of HOTSAUCE, a head of lettuce and a slab of steak here.
action: You look at the statues
response: Well, they are actually only six inches tall. But they're skinny enough that you sort of assume they're tall. Well, I'm assuming. There's a loose label on one of them.
action: You read the label
response: "We can help be something to base a whole spicy dish on! It may help you make a run through a border!"
action: You look at the fridge
response: A manila animal forms a lamina over it. Inside is a moldy pancake on a cake pan, but that lame meal is neither yours nor eatable-looking. You close the fridge.
action: You take the label
response: You can read it okay without taking it.
action: Tortilla
response: Poof! The doughy fellows maintain their Mexican-ness and, err, breadiness, but they flatten out into a tortilla.
action: You put steak on the tortilla
response: Hm, a good start. The tortilla's not plain any more.
action: You listen
response: A song with the chorus "He oft partook of the okra pot." The tune and the thought of okra make you gag, even when you realize it's a novelty song and not serious.
action: You put the cheese on the tortilla
response: The tortilla's coming together.
action: You put the hot sauce on the tortilla
response: You open the packet and squirt the sauce in the tortilla. You place the empty packet in a pocket, where you forget about it. The tortilla's almost there!
action: You put the lettuce on the tortilla
response: You got it! A full-blown taco! You can't help but pick it up and admire it!
action: You describe your surroundings
response: This is a kitchen, though it's a bit bare, except for the obligatory fridge. South is the centrifuge room and east is somewhere less hectic.

Some straw, too much to lug around in your hands, is here.
action: You examine the straw
response: Yellowy, rough edges, semi-musty. Just straw.
action: You get the straw
response: Too unwieldy to carry anywhere.
action: Go east
response: This room feels close to something important. The trellis to the east is the only decoration you've seen in this area, and the wall below it seems scraped and beaten up a bit. You can also go west or south.
action: You look at the wall
response: It's scraped away, but not enough to bust through. You see HALLWAY UNDER (UN-)UN-CONSTRUCTION scrawled on it.
action: Wall hay
response: (the scraped wall)
That's not something you can say, do or see here.
action: You look at trellis
response: It arches over the scraped bit of wall, as if the wall wasn't supposed to be there. You could picture a passage through it, somehow.
action: Coat
response: The hot-to-your-tongue taco becomes a warm-to-your-body coat.
action: You look at the coat
response: It's warm and fuzzy and shapeless and as multi-colored as the taco you made it from.
action: You look at what you're carrying with you
response: Item time! You are carrying:
a coat
a tinfoil info-lit
a salient saltine
an idlers' slider
a dope tan notepad
action: West
response: This is a kitchen, though it's a bit bare, except for the obligatory fridge. South is the centrifuge room and east is the room with the trellis.

Some straw, too much to lug around in your hands, is here.
action: East
response: This room feels close to something important. The trellis to the east is the only decoration you've seen in this area, and the wall below it seems scraped and beaten up a bit. You can also go west or south.
action: South
response: This room is a little too undescribed. It's nice to have a break from all this puzzling, but it's almost too easy a break. It feels like the Nick, but you can't explain why. Your slider seems to vibrate a bit.

A passage leads west back to the centrifuge, and another leads north.

You see a plain cask here--someone has cut a small hole in the top.
action: You examine cask
response: It's plain and cedar, with a small hole on top. It's empty.
action: Moor
response: There you go! You're outside, now. Your coat keeps you warm--you managed to slip it on as the scenery changed and the temperature dropped.

You're on a moor. Woods all around don't look inviting, but they also don't look like they can stop you returning to the room.

Woeful Pat, the awful poet, sees he has an audience and administers a dose of his odes.

You see a roadblock that isn't actually blocking any roads.

The poem establishes its singsong rhythm early.
action: Sack
response: You can't see anything here like that, or changeable into that.

The poem drones on, poor and laboring--good qualities in a person but not a poem. Da da DA, da da DA, da da DA.
action: Moor
response: Yes, it is a moor. At least, right now, it is.

The poem drones on, and Pat gestures with a hand to the ear and nod of his head to make sure you're listening, not breaking his meter. Da da DA, da da DA, da da DA. That anapest is getting annoying, and you'd like to get rid of it, somehow.
action: Mope
response: Woeful Pat can't decide if you're mocking him or trying to outdo him. But he is sure you're not listening carefully enough to his poem, so he coughs briefly to get your attention.

The poem drones on. Da da DA, da da DA, da da DA.
action: Ad ad ad
response: You can't see anything here like that, or changeable into that.

The poem drones on, poor and laboring--good qualities in a person but not a poem. Da da DA, da da DA, da da DA. That anapest is getting annoying, and you'd like to get rid of it, somehow.
action: Tap
response: "Ah! You are TAPping your feet to my anapest beat!"

(You may want to PUSH or ATTACK something instead.)
action: You look at your surroundings
response: You're on a moor. Woods all around don't look inviting, but they also don't look like they can stop you returning to the room. You hear bad poetry.

Woeful Pat, the awful poet, is well into a ballad. It's all bad.

You see a roadblock that isn't actually blocking any roads.

The poem drones on, and Pat gestures with a hand to the ear and nod of his head to make sure you're listening, not breaking his meter. Da da DA, da da DA, da da DA.
action: You examine the roadblock
response: It's about eight feet long and really dark and dented about halfway through--well, four-ninths of the way from the right. You are utterly unsure what it could possibly be guarding.

You think back to how your nametag was creased, and how the roadblock probably doesn't change into anything too easy like a broad lock. The moor and the sack already felt a bit easy.

The poem drones on. Da da DA, da da DA, da da DA. That anapest is getting annoying, and you'd like to get rid of it, somehow.
action: Room
response: As you pop back to the room, Woeful Pat looks visibly shocked. You have left him speechless, which is good news, but he is reaching for his pen, which is bad news for some poor soul in the future.

Zapping yourself to the moor hasn't made this room any more exciting.

A passage leads west back to the centrifuge, and another leads north.

You see a plain cask here--someone has cut a small hole in the top.
action: Sack
response: The cask retains its color but looks visibly frayed as its wood turns to burlap. The sack it has become collapses in a heap on the floor. You pick it up.
action: You examine the sack
response: Sturdy burlap. It's empty.
action: Moor
response: Oh, hey, teleporting's easier with experience. Woeful Pat seems hurt that you did not return with a larger audience.

You're on a moor. Woods all around don't look inviting, but they also don't look like they can stop you returning to the room. You hear bad poetry.

Woeful Pat, the awful poet, is well into a ballad. It's all bad.

You see a roadblock that isn't actually blocking any roads.

The poem drones on, poor and laboring--good qualities in a person but not a poem. Da da DA, da da DA, da da DA.
action: Peasant
response: Nothing happens. You worry your magic powers have failed, until a peasant strides out from the edge of the moor, carrying a bale of hay and singing a cheery song about nothing in particular. Distracted, you look over and smile.

"Oh, does THAT resonate with your stone ear?" whines Woeful Pat.

You notice his papers have crumbled (but don't worry, he has PLENTY of written drafts.) He storms off, claiming you will make a perfect arch-villain in his new socially significant blank-verse epic. Or yet another poor henchman who deserves but one line before a horrible fate!
action: Look around
response: You're on a moor. Woods all around don't look inviting, but they also don't look like they can stop you returning to the room.

A peasant is here, carrying some hay over his shoulder.

You see a roadblock that isn't actually blocking any roads.
action: Room
response: Zapping yourself to the moor hasn't made this room any more exciting.

A passage leads west back to the centrifuge, and another leads north.
action: Go north
response: This room feels close to something important. The trellis to the east is the only decoration you've seen in this area, and the wall below it seems scraped and beaten up a bit. You can also go west or south.
action: Go west
response: This is a kitchen, though it's a bit bare, except for the obligatory fridge. South is the centrifuge room and east is the room with the trellis.

Some straw, too much to lug around in your hands, is here.
action: You put the straw in the sack
response: You put the straw into the sack.
action: You put the straw on the wall
response: That would be perfectly sensible, to make the wall impermeable. The scraped wall seems to indicate the need for a hallway, though.
action: Wall hay
response: (the scraped wall)
That's not something you can say, do or see here.
action: You go south
response: Zapping yourself to the moor hasn't made this room any more exciting.

A passage leads west back to the centrifuge, and another leads north.
action: Moor
response: Oh, hey, teleporting's easier with experience.

You're on a moor. Woods all around don't look inviting, but they also don't look like they can stop you returning to the room.

A peasant is here, carrying some hay over his shoulder.

You see a roadblock that isn't actually blocking any roads.
action: You give the straw to the peasant
response: "Oh, thank you! Lord Ablemiser stuck me with this hay when I needed much stronger material to re-patch my house. He pretended not to know the difference. But he did once!"

"Here's a little something I wrote. He said even an economist
wouldn't put emoticons in a poem."

He hands you a paper and heads off. You're sick of poetry, but with the hay weighing you down, you'll never catch the peasant.
action: You examine paper
response: (the poem)
"I'm just a guy who loves his work :) :)
Not like that poet, he's a jerk :) :)
He says he rhymes neater :) :)
And rips on my meter :) :)
I'd like to punch him in his smirk :) :)"

Whoah, lots of smilies, there. They'd drive a grammar pedant ballistic. The paper seems creased on a few diagonals.
action: You look at the diagonals
response: One down the middle and two diagonally up from its base--two parallel to the middle crease bisect the diagonals.

Oh, forget it, let's try the non-technical explanation. From what you remember from being ten, it'll fold into a plane. Maybe one that can't fly very far, but a plane.
action: You fold the paper
response: (the poem)
You're about to fold the poem up, but those smilies launch into a surprising display of emotion. It's an impressive passive resistance--they do it all without any violence.
action: Similes
response: If you added any fancy stuff into the limerick, it wouldn't scan. And it would ruin the poem's straightforwardness. Maybe you could do something else to wipe the smilies off.
action: Room
response: Zapping yourself to the moor hasn't made this room any more exciting.

A passage leads west back to the centrifuge, and another leads north.
action: You put the hay on the wall
response: The wall is now made of hay. Hey, well, I hope you know what you're doing.
action: You look at the wall
response: It's scraped away, but not enough to bust through. In fact, you stuffed hay where the wall was sort of peeled away.
action: You check your inventory
response: Item time! You are carrying:
a poem
a sack
a coat (being worn)
a tinfoil info-lit
a salient saltine
an idlers' slider
a dope tan notepad
action: Hallway
response: Of course! The hay wall you made collapses into a hallway leading east. One you won't even have to duck through!
action: You go west
response: Ug, Frenetic Centrifuge
Exits lie north and east, and they've been behaving since you fixed that dial!

There's a dial here in the middle of the room. It is at 16 and should probably be kept it that way.
action: You go north
response: This room feels close to something important. The trellis to the east is the only decoration you've seen in this area. You can also go west or south.
action: You go east
response: You follow the haywrought throughway...

You are in a room with thick entwined cedars as walls. On one, a spout pouts, waiting for a stoup. You can go back west to the generic room. Oddly, you feel no reason to be scared. You see drawings and holy verse on the walls.
action: You examine verse
response: It's all calligraphic, and it reads

From here, where lumbers slumber, is, lo! Purest oil snout erupts: solution! Ground unsod becomes sound. Lovely volley. A stone
atones!
action: You examine the drawings
response: You see a vermian minerva, a cliche chalice, a lanced candle, and a clean lance. They're probably not for anything, but they're solid idols and add atmosphere nicely.
action: Soil
response: That would really clog up the tap, changing the oils in it to soil.
action: Silo
response: That would really clog up the tap, changing the oils in it to a silo.
action: Missile
response: Bad idea. There'd be more room for that outside where you found the poem.
action: You look around
response: You are in a room with thick entwined cedars as walls. On one, a spout pouts, waiting for a stoup. You can go back west to the generic room. Oddly, you feel no reason to be scared. You see drawings and holy verse on the walls.
action: Oils
response: (examining instead)
You try looking up the spout for a glimpse of the oils, but it doesn't work.
action: You serve
response: You must serve by going forth on your mission of warlikeness and love.
action: Sever
response: Violence or vandalism in such a holy place? For shame.
action: You go west
response: The trellis feels appropriate to guard or indicate the room to the east, now you've been there. You can also go west or south.
action: Moor
response: Oh, hey, teleporting's easier with experience.

You're on a moor. Woods all around don't look inviting, but they also don't look like they can stop you returning to the room.

You see a roadblock that isn't actually blocking any roads.
action: Black door
response: Bam! The fissure in the roadblock covers up, and a black door appears where it was. It's light but bulky--you can probably put or push it where it needs to go.
action: You look around
response: You're on a moor. Woods all around don't look inviting, but they also don't look like they can stop you returning to the room.

You can see a black door here.
action: Moor
response: Oh, hey, teleporting's easier with experience.

You're on a moor. Woods all around don't look inviting, but they also don't look like they can stop you returning to the room.

You can see a black door here.
action: You examine the poem
response: "I'm just a guy who loves his work :) :)
Not like that poet, he's a jerk :) :)
He says he rhymes neater :) :)
And rips on my meter :) :)
I'd like to punch him in his smirk :) :)"

Whoah, lots of smilies, there. They'd drive a grammar pedant ballistic. The paper seems creased on a few diagonals.
action: Missile
response: The smilies seem to waver. But they sever from the verse, grow, and clump together to form a big yellow missile! You reread the poem. You didn't think it would change much without the smilies, but it now seems pointed, warlike, sinister--a restrained, plain-language indictment of not just bad poetry but nastiness in general!
action: Look around
response: You're on a moor. Woods all around don't look inviting, but they also don't look like they can stop you returning to the room.

You can see a missile and a black door here.
action: You look at the missile
response: It's covered with smiley faces and surprisingly nerfy to the touch. You haven't experienced any ill effects when you're around it, so maybe it isn't all that violent or deadly.
action: You look at the poem
response: "I'm just a guy who loves his work
Not like that poet, he's a jerk
He says he rhymes neater
And rips on my meter
I'd like to punch him in his smirk"

The limerick doesn't make you want to lick the mire like Woeful Pat's stuff. The paper seems creased on a few diagonals.
action: You fold the paper
response: (the poem)
You fold the paper, and it looks sort of like a paper plane.
action: Panel
response: Poof! The paper plane becomes a panel. It's light enough to carry, you suppose. Well, it doesn't cause an immediate hernia.
action: You look at the panel
response: It looks kind of electrical. It doesn't seem to have wires, so hopefully you can just slip it where it needs to go.
action: You take the missile
response: Too heavy. You can drag it where you need to, though. Maybe even push it. It's cylindrical. It can roll.
action: Inventory
response: Item time! You are carrying:
a panel
a sack
a coat (being worn)
a tinfoil info-lit
a salient saltine
an idlers' slider
a dope tan notepad
action: You look at the cedars
response: They look nice and even smell nice. A holy verse is carved on one.
action: You examine the drawings
response: You see a vermian minerva, a cliche chalice, a lanced candle, and a clean lance. They're probably not for anything, but they're solid idols and add atmosphere nicely.
action: Red cars
response: Which do you mean, the discolored buttons, the red optical beam, Red Bull Burdell or the red ring?
action: Spout
response: (examining instead)
It can be used to FILL the appropriate receptacle here.
action: Cask
response: The sack stiffens, rises and becomes less blobby. It's the cask again, nice and upright.
action: You fill the cask
response: Gainly laying the cask under the spout, you pour in some oils.
action: You look at the cask
response: It's plain and cedar, with a small hole on top. In it you see oils.
action: You examine the oils
response: You can't see through the cask--or its narrow hole very well--but you remember the oils being thick and somewhat golden. You trust they are sacred enough for your job, though.
action: You examine verse
response: It's all calligraphic, and it reads

From here, where lumbers slumber, is, lo! Purest oil snout erupts: solution! Ground unsod becomes sound. Lovely volley. A stone
atones!
action: You look at what you're carrying with you
response: Item time! You are carrying:
a cask
some oils
a panel
a coat (being worn)
a tinfoil info-lit
a salient saltine
an idlers' slider
a dope tan notepad
action: You look at the coat
response: It's warm and fuzzy and shapeless and as multi-colored as the taco you made it from.
action: Moor
response: Oh, hey, teleporting's easier with experience.

You're on a moor. Woods all around don't look inviting, but they also don't look like they can stop you returning to the room.

You can see a missile and a black door here.
action: Silo
response: The moor's ground, as is, is not stable enough. You need a foundation first.
action: Soil
response: The oils seep into the moor and make it less squishy and sandy.
action: Look around
response: You're on a moor. Woods all around don't look inviting, but they also don't look like they can stop you returning to the room.

You can see a missile and a black door here.
action: Silo
response: The oils seep into the moor, and you back up as a huge silo several times your size takes shape.
action: You put door on the silo
response: The door fits the dotted line in the silo perfectly, swinging slightly before sliding in place with a click.
action: You put the missile in the silo
response: You schlep the missile through the door. You hear some mechanics and whizzing, then "SMILIES MISSILE PROPERLY ALIGNED FOR DEALING A RESULT WITH LUSTER."
action: Fire missile
response: Maybe if you plugged that panel in.
action: You put the panel on  the silo
response: The panel fits into that rectangle handily and even starts to glow. Two buttons appear on it--one says HOOTS, the other TREES.
action: You shoot steer
response: The hoots button glows--you touch it (so hot,) and it changes to a shoot button as its letters shift.
action: You look at the panel
response: There are two buttons, on the left ("STEER") and right ("SHOOT.") Both are an important shade of red, and you'll probably have to push them to figure what they do.
action: Press shoot
response: Boom! The force of the missile launch knocks you back, and you know you'll see no finer inferno than the rainbows that burst before you pass out. You are knocked unconscious, unable to feel the wave of simple, heartfelt, plainly-worded concerns that explode across the land.

You wake up in a castle. Lord Ablemiser is beaming, no longer big, mean.

"That launch deserves A LUNCH!" he booms. "To be had now!
"That launch deserves A LUNCH!" he booms. "To be had now!And how! You learn he is, of course, Noble Ol" Ben. But he feels he hasn't re-earned the title, yet. (Yeh, ok, hokey.)

After a fast, live festival with an orchestra, a carthorse returns you to the Trips Strip.

Congratulations! Sortie node: done!
"Yeah! Heya." says Eric Rice, again. "Nice work up in the sortie. Oo, more stuff. Let me take it. You go get relaxing now in your Roman Manor. Don't worry about that last one, if you don't want to. Someone apprentice adventurer can clean it up." Before you can thank him, he's gone.
Trips Strip
You see what was once a bunch of small malls. Most lots appear vacant or dilapidated.

Some stairs lead down from the wreckage of store I, further than you can see. But no sense looking--you know what's there, and you've taken care of it.

There's a forest here where store F was, but you probably don't need to go back there.

So. Apparently, you have one store area left to clear. But you don't need to. Store R suddenly looks invitingly idyllic, but if you're in the mood for adventure, you may want to look somewhere else first--store m, maybe.
action: Shuffling1
response: SAVEOk.

> L

You see what was once a bunch of small malls. Most lots appear vacant or dilapidated.

Some stairs lead down from the wreckage of store I, further than you can see. But no sense looking--you know what's there, and you've taken care of it.

There's a forest here where store F was, but you probably don't need to go back there.
action: You look at the malls
response: Of the various stores you see, only store r and store m look like you can do anything with them. Store r finally looks like you can visit. A few others seem greyed-out, like in a video game or something. There can't be anything in any of them.
action: Metros
response: The store rumbles, with the collections of small-scale cities disappearing. You see an escalator leading--well, somewhere populated.
action: You look at the escalator
response: The escalator has TO THE METROS scrawled on it.

(You can say the name of the metros now to enter it. There's nothing more hidden in its description.)
action: METROS
response: (entering instead)
You think you hear oohing and ahing in the background at the adventurer who has decided to do more than the bare minimum.
The shops recede as you walk down the escalator...
action: You examine the beer
response: It appears to be AGED RAIN brand beer. Hooray, truth in advertising?
action: Drainage
response: (examining instead)
It smells and looks disgusting. Just the sort of thing that needs to be cleaned up or reprocessed to get this city looking nice again. An empty beer can and a flyer float in it.
action: Examine flyer
response: The flyer seems like an invitation to an ARENA DIG--perhaps an arena that never got built, or a shindig in some arena.
action: You look at the hotel
response: You can't see any such thing.
action: You look around
response: This is some sort of seedy underground intersection with a train station south. You can also go north to what looks like a camp. You see the down escalator you came by. A building to the west advertises itself as The Ol' Hotel.

A large metallic door is to the east. It has a warning graphic repelling any old riff-raff from entering. There's also a sensor off to the side. Probably reads something-or-other to let you in.

That drainage you stepped in is taunting you as much as drainage can. You see a can of beer and a flyer in it. Cleaning it up would help take this city back.
action: You scan the beer
response: Most of the screen goes blue, then a green dot and red dot bounce left and right across the slider screen, and they eventually wind up like so:
RGBBBBBB
action: Scan flyer
response: Most of the screen goes blue, then a green dot and red dot bounce left and right across the slider screen, and they eventually wind up like so:
RBBBBBBG
action: Gardenia
response: In a fit of ecological, aesthetic magic-slinging, you transform the drainage and all the flotsam inside it into a much prettier gardenia. The whole underside is still pretty dingy, but hey, free flower. You take it.
action: Look around
response: This is some sort of seedy underground intersection with a train station south. You can also go north to what looks like a camp. You see the down escalator you came by. A building to the west advertises itself as The Ol' Hotel.

A large metallic door is to the east. It has a warning graphic repelling any old riff-raff from entering. There's also a sensor off to the side. Probably reads something-or-other to let you in.
action: You examine the gardenia
response: It's white, and it's just one flower instead of the whole bush. But it's the only one you've seen in the city proper.
action: Go north
response: As you walk north, you run into someone who is carrying a basket full of corn. You help him pick everything up. Or so you think. As he runs off, cursing you, you look in a corner--a corn ear!

Here in this cross between a platform and farm plot lie the shocking red tents of the terminally un- and under-employed. You are quickly excluded from this once-mum commune, since you seem actually busy. An alley lies to the west, a posh shop is to the east, and back south is where you started from.

A driveway with a yard view leads north. You hear painful music.

That lost corn is still in that corner. Sorry if that sounds corny.

A deadbeat is sitting on the ground here, looking dead beat. His eyes dart between you and the lost corn. Clearly, he resents the work your presence is forcing on him.

A small clover is growing here.
action: You examine the clover
response: You touch the leaves a bit, and they seem to hook into your skin.
action: You scan the clover
response: Most of the screen goes blue, then a green dot and red dot bounce left and right across the slider screen, and they eventually wind up like so:
BBRGBB
action: Velcro
response: Pop! The clover expands and grows scratchier and darker. It is now a long strip of velcro. The leaves appear to have expanded into something resembling mittens. You pick them up.
action: Inventory
response: Item time! You are carrying:
some velcro
a gardenia
a tinfoil info-lit
a salient saltine
an idlers' slider
a dope tan notepad
action: You look at the buttons
response: (the discolored buttons)
They give you this weird urge to push them.
action: You examine dead beat
response: He's wearing some of the hardest-trashed threads you've seen. You know he's a deadbeat because his t-shirt says DEAD BEAT DEADBEAT. Which fits in with this world, yes, but about as half-donkeyed as possible. Oh, and he has a ridiculous goatee, too.
action: You scan dead beat
response: "Whoah, don't tase me, bro. I have civil rights!"
action: You go to the north
response: Since you shave, you can pass as one of the "haves." The beats drown out as you enter the condo. "Eat On!" cries the hired help.

"Neato! ... No tea? ATONE!"

You are inspected and deemed less unworthy than that deadbeat who tried to enter--the one still sitting in the camp--but all the same, you're warned not to try anything funny.

The beats aren't audible here, but conversation voices rant on. The talkers seem to take you for a stalker, but nobody wants to get too close. A barnacled candelabra hangs above, antlers are attached to a wall, and carpets provide garish spectra on the floor.

All in all, this place probably has a high property value, and people would be horrified if something happened to make it drop.

Some dry cake is here. Nobody else is lower-class enough to eat it, but everyone's making sure nobody lower-class nabs it.
action: You scan the cake
response: Most of the screen goes blue, then a green dot and red dot bounce left and right across the slider screen, and they eventually wind up like so:
RBBBBGB
action: Keycard
response: The chatterers would have something to talk about at their next get-together. Like the weirdo who did something scary to that cake and got arrested. Ix-nay on the agic-may 'til they're gone.
action: You look at your surroundings
response: The beats aren't audible here, but conversation voices rant on. The talkers seem to take you for a stalker, but nobody wants to get too close. A barnacled candelabra hangs above, antlers are attached to a wall, and carpets provide garish spectra on the floor.

All in all, this place probably has a high property value, and people would be horrified if something happened to make it drop.

Some dry cake is here. Nobody else is lower-class enough to eat it, but everyone's making sure nobody lower-class nabs it.
action: Go north
response: It's dark that way. You step on a pliers and turn back before hitting any more perils.
action: Go east
response: Ladies with ideals grab your garb. "Step, pest!" they cry. "You'll startle a starlet!"
action: Go west
response: A man with a handkerchief over his nose welcomes you to the Allergy Gallery. You turn back.
action: You go upwards
response: You hear a warden being warned, and soon you're routed to a detour back where you started.
action: You scan the carpets
response: An officious water informs you there are no wines for a swine like yourself. They are reserved for actors and a costar.

The slider makes no noise.
action: Go south
response: Here in this cross between a platform and farm plot lie the shocking red tents of the terminally un- and under-employed. You are quickly excluded from this once-mum commune, since you seem actually busy. An alley lies to the west, a posh shop is to the east, and back south is where you started from.

A driveway with a yard view leads north. You hear painful music.

That lost corn is still in that corner. Sorry if that sounds corny.

A deadbeat is sitting on the ground here, looking dead beat. His eyes dart between you and the lost corn. Clearly, he resents the work your presence is forcing on him.
action: You go south
response: This is some sort of seedy underground intersection with a train station south. You can also go north to what looks like a camp. You see the down escalator you came by. A building to the west advertises itself as The Ol' Hotel.

A large metallic door is to the east. It has a warning graphic repelling any old riff-raff from entering. There's also a sensor off to the side. Probably reads something-or-other to let you in.
action: You listen
response: The sharp harps are out of tune but a change of pace from the beasts. At least.
action: You open the door
response: You hear braying laughter behind the door. "Hey! Some unintellectual's trying to get in. Like we'd make it a piece of cake for them to." Then someone else admonishes the speaker for ending a sentence with a preposition.
action: You go to the west
response: What would a beaten-down city be without an ol' hotel? Both have seen better days, but this place has been trashed hardest. Everything's boarded up, and the only way out is east.

A scary Night Thing is here, sitting on some sort of mattress.

A ketchup bottle lies here, torn apart--and you have a prime suspect in the Night Thing that is roaring nearby.
action: Inventory
response: It's grown wrong, a gigantic hairy eyeless potato clearly not the right girth. And it's wired weird, with a cruel ulcer for a mouth. It seems more in the mood for bellowing than fighting, but it still probably doesn't belong in the hotel. It's too big to fight and too fearsome to get near. It appears to be sitting on some sort of mattress.

Item time! You are carrying:
some velcro
a gardenia
a tinfoil info-lit
a salient saltine
an idlers' slider
a dope tan notepad
action: You examine bottle
response: It is THE PUCK brand ketchup. They apparently put, heck, whatever they want in it! And you'll like it that way!
action: You take the bottle
response: The night thing roars. Though it's drained the bottle of its contents, it still feels an emotional attachment you would be wise not to break.
action: You put the ketchup on the potato
response: (first taking the ketchup bottle)

The night thing roars. Though it's drained the bottle of its contents, it still feels an emotional attachment you would be wise not to break. You need to be holding the ketchup bottle before you can put it on top of something else.
action: You examine the velcro
response: You're not smitten by these mittens--they're like what some kids had to wear when they were younger. Two glovey bits, with a long connecting string. They're made of a bunch of hooks and can probably catch on something if need be.
action: You wear the mittens
response: You put on the velcro.
action: You take the corn
response: The deadbeat almost gets up. "Hey, Man, like, how do we know someone undisreputable doesn't, like, like the Man, man? Hey? Hey?" he says, with no dearth of hatred as he jerks his thumb north. He might not do anything, but his friends might pour out from their tents. You don't need a fight right now.

Maybe you need to strike a blow against some rich people to show you belong.
action: Go north
response: The beats aren't audible here, but conversation voices rant on. The talkers seem to take you for a stalker, but nobody wants to get too close. A barnacled candelabra hangs above, antlers are attached to a wall, and carpets provide garish spectra on the floor.

All in all, this place probably has a high property value, and people would be horrified if something happened to make it drop.

Some dry cake is here. Nobody else is lower-class enough to eat it, but everyone's making sure nobody lower-class nabs it.
action: You take the cake
response: You overhear tales of what happens to those that steal. Someone else takes a turn watching you.
action: You examine the antlers
response: The antlers are just the sort of annoying thing that people only buy to show they own something more expensive than you do. They seem more chipped and worn than you'd expect for something so showy.
action: You scan the antlers
response: Someone comes over to you and says "Put that thing away. They're genuine. And new, too! The owner just bought them! Or shot a seventeen-point buck to get them! Well, I'm not sure, but I didn't see them here last time."
action: You scan the candelabra
response: You couldn't even jump to get close to it. But it's not important. Someone just put it there because they could.
action: You listen
response: The conversation changes subject rapidly and randomly. The conversationalists decry conservationalists.
action: Inventory
response: Item time! You are carrying:
some velcro (being worn)
a gardenia
a tinfoil info-lit
a salient saltine
an idlers' slider
a dope tan notepad
action: You examine the cake
response: The least stale of what's left, but weird and silvery and in no state to taste. Someone sees you eyeing the cake, and you suddenly wish to steal it out of spite.
action: Go south
response: Here in this cross between a platform and farm plot lie the shocking red tents of the terminally un- and under-employed. You are quickly excluded from this once-mum commune, since you seem actually busy. An alley lies to the west, a posh shop is to the east, and back south is where you started from.

A driveway with a yard view leads north. You hear painful music.

That lost corn is still in that corner. Sorry if that sounds corny.

A deadbeat is sitting on the ground here, looking dead beat. His eyes dart between you and the lost corn. Clearly, he resents the work your presence is forcing on him.
action: You go south
response: This is some sort of seedy underground intersection with a train station south. You can also go north to what looks like a camp. You see the down escalator you came by. A building to the west advertises itself as The Ol' Hotel.

A large metallic door is to the east. It has a warning graphic repelling any old riff-raff from entering. There's also a sensor off to the side. Probably reads something-or-other to let you in.
action: You go to the south
response: Er, Train Terrain
You're in a train station. It's a bit dark, but not as bad as to the east, which is where the noise may be coming from--it's louder here than anywhere else. You suspect the darkness to the east is where your destiny lies.

You could go back north, and there's a fuzzy looking wall to the west, too. You notice pointed art and a faded ad on it, but the small recess near the top seems more useful. A rail is to the east--it seems to be sparking quite a bit, so best not to step on it, yet.
action: You go west
response: The big fuzzy wall is that way.

The tracks are east, and the city is back north.
action: You examine the wall
response: The wall looks and feels like steel wool, from top to bottom.
action: You take the wall
response: That's hardly portable.
action: You touch the wall
response: Kind of rough and gritty.
action: You climb the wall
response: The velcro strip is just the thing to climb the wall and reach the small recess.

Er, Train Terrain (on the fuzzy looking wall)
You're in a train station. It's a bit dark, but not as bad as to the east, which is where the noise may be coming from--it's louder here than anywhere else. You suspect the darkness to the east is where your destiny lies.

You could go back north, though you may need to get off the wall first. A rail is to the east--it seems to be sparking quite a bit, so best not to step on it, yet.
action: You examine the recess
response: In the recess, you read Wirin' by Irwin. In event of missing control panel, power spikes on track will be unpredictable.
action: Look around
response: Er, Train Terrain (on the fuzzy looking wall)
You're in a train station. It's a bit dark, but not as bad as to the east, which is where the noise may be coming from--it's louder here than anywhere else. You suspect the darkness to the east is where your destiny lies.

You could go back north, though you may need to get off the wall first. A rail is to the east--it seems to be sparking quite a bit, so best not to step on it, yet.
action: Go downwards
response: You get off the fuzzy looking wall.

Er, Train Terrain
You're in a train station. It's a bit dark, but not as bad as to the east, which is where the noise may be coming from--it's louder here than anywhere else. You suspect the darkness to the east is where your destiny lies.

You could go back north, and there's a fuzzy looking wall to the west, too. You notice pointed art and a faded ad on it, but the small recess near the top seems more useful. A rail is to the east--it seems to be sparking quite a bit, so best not to step on it, yet.
action: Go east
response: There may be an evil lair that way, but it's behind a live rail in the darkness. You'd touch it before you got there.
action: You go to the east
response: You're in a flower shop manned (elfed?) by faeries. You can go back west to the camp.

A small piece of brocade is discarded away from the merchandise. You see scratchings above it.

You can also see some freesia faeries, some heaths and some begonias here.
action: You examine the brocade
response: It's rather plain and white with lots of black bars. It would take a rabider braider than most to weave such a design. Scratchings above it indicate it's not part of the normal merchandise.
action: Scan brocade
response: You feel a bit self-conscious waving your slider around such intrinsically magical beings. But they do not seem to mind.

Most of the screen goes blue, then a green dot and red dot bounce left and right across the slider screen, and they eventually wind up like so:
GBBBBBR
action: Barcode
response: You take the brocade first--you're a bit embarrassed your magic seems more, well, applied than theirs.

The faeries buzz around for a bit, peeved at your boldness. "Well, maybe you will do something for us some day."

The FREE TO FREELOADERS scratching by the brocade vanishes as you take it. Nice magic touch, that.

You turn your back and focus so the faeries can't see you mangle their gift. Or so they aren't jealous, or they don't laugh at how dumb your magic is.

The brocade schlurps and reorganizes into something flatter, but with the same pattern.
action: You examine the barcode
response: It's got the adhesive backing so it looks like you could PUT it ON something. Barcodes just don't exist by themselves.
action: Describe the surroundings
response: "What low serf seeks our flowers?" you hear as you enter. "He must do better than that primrose promiser! A rose leaves us sore! No succor in a crocus either! Players with parsley are rewarded sparely!"

You're in a flower shop manned (elfed?) by faeries. You can go back west to the camp.

You can see some freesia faeries, some heaths and some begonias here.
action: You scan the barcode
response: You receive a rush of insight unlike anything anywhere else in the game!

Jack's Pizza, 5/$10, limit 5 at Aldi!
action: You look at the heaths
response: They're tied together so their stems seem to form a sort of narrow tube. But surely flowers alone aren't going to stop the thumping here.
action: You look at the begonias
response: Reddish, pinkish, white. Kind of fragile, but they seem to silence things a bit, like they could somehow contain the sounds if you knew how to mess with them.
action: Sheath
response: The heaths are (still) merchandise. You don't want to know what faeries do to vandals.
action: Scan begonias
response: Most of the screen goes blue, then a green dot and red dot bounce left and right across the slider screen, and they eventually wind up like so:
BBRBGBBB
action: Noise bag
response: The begonias are (still) merchandise. You don't want to know what faeries do to vandals.
action: You give gardenia to fairies
response: Something you did or thought causes the freesia faeries to buzz...I guess they're magical enough to detect your misspellings. You feel a tingling, but it passes.

They're visibly impressed. "Perhaps you are the word smyth who will fulfill the sword myth! We offer a flower of your choice. But only one. Our flowers, or what you make of them, cannot provoke or participate violence, but they may be able to contain the weapon you need."
Go, bud. Reap irony!
action: You take the heaths
response: "Remember, adventurer! The flowers cannot be used for violence. They may be a suitable vessel."
action: Sheath
response: You turn your back and focus so the faeries can't see you mangle their gift. Or so they aren't jealous, or they don't laugh at how dumb your magic is.

The heath grows, tangles around itself, and lumps into a passable sheath that could carry a decent-sized sword, which you wear.
action: Look around
response: You're in a flower shop manned (elfed?) by faeries. You can go back west to the camp.

You can see some freesia faeries and some begonias here.
action: You go to the west
response: This dead-end alley is littered with words, which almost drown out the intense beats heard elsewhere in the city, and garbage. Only way out is back east.

A motto is here. It's on a placard, which would be wholly unnoticeable and useless among all the garbage but for how bad a motto it
is.
action: You look at the motto
response: Somehow, someone named Too-Apt Pat Ott has managed to make a hash of grammar, logic, math, science and basic human decency in sixty letters. Sixty-four if it were spelled correctly.

I'd tell you what it said, but you-the-person would be the worse for it. It's like Monty Python's funniest joke in the world that way. Even considering it makes you feel worried you'll forget simple stupid stuff, like what's a fruit and what's a vegetable.
action: Scan motto
response: Your gadget gives BBBBGR. Since Motto is only five letters, you wonder what's up, but it's labeled A MOTTO.
action: Tomato
response: The motto--that is, both words and paper--curls up and bundles into a small sphere, and you almost drop it. Amazingly, it's not icky-soft or anything, and it doesn't smell TOO bad.
action: You look around
response: This dead-end alley is littered with words, which almost drown out the intense beats heard elsewhere in the city, and garbage. Only way out is back east.
action: You examine the garbage
response: The garbage smell would make a bear gag--stink bug, gunk bits, etc.
action: You go east
response: Here in this cross between a platform and farm plot lie the shocking red tents of the terminally un- and under-employed. You are quickly excluded from this once-mum commune, since you seem actually busy. An alley lies to the west, a posh shop is to the east, and back south is where you started from.

A driveway with a yard view leads north. You hear painful music.

That lost corn is still in that corner. Sorry if that sounds corny.

A deadbeat is sitting on the ground here, looking dead beat. His eyes dart between you and the lost corn. Clearly, he resents the work your presence is forcing on him.
action: You go west
response: This is some sort of seedy underground intersection with a train station south. You can also go north to what looks like a camp. You see the down escalator you came by. A building to the west advertises itself as The Ol' Hotel.

A large metallic door is to the east. It has a warning graphic repelling any old riff-raff from entering. There's also a sensor off to the side. Probably reads something-or-other to let you in.

What would a beaten-down city be without an ol' hotel? Both have seen better days, but this place has been trashed hardest. Everything's boarded up, and the only way out is east.

A scary Night Thing is here, sitting on some sort of mattress.

A ketchup bottle lies here, torn apart--and you have a prime suspect in the Night Thing that is roaring nearby.
action: You examine the tomato
response: It's as rotten as the motto of Pat Ott's you extracted it from. It is probably even more rotten on the inside, not that you have the bravery to check. Yet it also has that staying power. It doesn't have any mold on it, yet.
action: You squeeze the tomato
response: That's either icky or impossible or both.
action: You throw tomato at the potato
response: A direct hit! The tomato goes into the cruel ulcer, and the Night Thing smiles at first at the ketchupiness of the tomato. Then the inner rottenness and backwards logic from the (oops, a) motto kicks in. The beast wonders what sort of villain would DO that to ketchup. It looks at you in fear, sure you have more where that came from, and retreats into an unseen hole, scratching and clawing.

The mattress the Night Thing was on is slightly but noticeably bumpy. It's also ripped open, and it's concealing something rather badly.
action: You examine Mattress
response: The Smartest Mattress doesn't have a one-page proof of Fermat's Last Theorem in it or anything. It just "remembers" the shape of whatever sat on it for a long, long time. The bump in the mattress is obvious enough that you have to take another look. You find a small machine labeled, apparently, a termite emitter, and you take it.
action: You examine the machine
response: It's a small black box, six inches by six inches. It probably holds a lot of termites. You can switch it when you need to. Someone has scratched a circle with a line through it over a dollar sign. You can't hear or see the termites that should be in there, but hey, faith.
action: You examine Mattress
response: The Smartest Mattress doesn't have a one-page proof of Fermat's Last Theorem in it or anything. It just "remembers" the shape of whatever sat on it for a long, long time. It doesn't seem to have held anything other than the termite emitter.
action: You turn on the machine
response: This place has seen enough abuse. Maybe find one that hasn't?
action: You turn on the machine
response: You activate. They vacate it. It's like a petard--those who prated, depart and ratchet down the chatter. The emitter dies down after the last termite escapes.
action: Keycard
response: The dry metallic cake turns into a dry metallic keycard, which you take for yourself. Hooray, technology.
action: You go south
response: You migrate, ragtime music in your head. From the south, some camped folks decamp for har-hars and rah-rahs. "Roaches scare! Ho!"

You're the camp's scamp now, so to speak. I bet you could even take that corn now!

Here in this cross between a platform and farm plot lie the shocking red tents of the terminally un- and under-employed. You are quickly excluded from this once-mum commune, since you seem actually busy. An alley lies to the west, a posh shop is to the east, and back south is where you started from.

The cordoned red condo you're not welcome back at is to the north. You hear painful music.

That lost corn is still in that corner. Sorry if that sounds corny.

A deadbeat is sitting on the ground here, looking dead beat. Despite your heroism with the cake in the condo, he barely acknolwedges you.
action: Controls
response: The different-colored kernels only flatten out as the lost corn collapses into a circuit board. The controls you possess--for whatever--seem powerful.
action: You check your inventory
response: Item time! You are carrying:
some controls
a keycard
a termite emitter
a sheath
a barcode
some velcro (being worn)
a tinfoil info-lit
a salient saltine
an idlers' slider
a dope tan notepad
action: Go east
response: (first opening the metallic door)
The metallic door's got no handle. It's probably operated by the sensor, which might open if you put something like your keycard on it.
action: You put the keycard on the sensor
response: Hm. The blank keycard doesn't seem to work. Maybe you could jazz it up a bit.
action: You put the barcode on the keycard
response: You unpeel the barcode, slap it on the keycard, and it is a perfect fit! Also, you stuff the adhesive backing in your pocket, where you forget about it until you can find a proper garbage can. You haven't seen any in this city yet.
action: You put the keycard on the sensor
response: What do you know? It works! The door slides open!

What do you know? It works! The door slides open!

The metallic door slides shut.
action: You describe your surroundings
response: This is some sort of seedy underground intersection with a train station south. You can also go north to what looks like a camp. You see the down escalator you came by. A building to the west advertises itself as The Ol' Hotel.

A large metallic door is to the east. It has a warning graphic repelling any old riff-raff from entering. There's also a sensor off to the side. Probably reads something-or-other to let you in.

The metallic door slides shut.
action: Go east
response: You swipe your keycard and go east as the door opens.

It's quiet here, mostly due to the soundproofed walls. It'd make a nice mob combine, but it's a small bunker for nerds who just got sick of the thumping. You suspect the actual entertainment center's in back, and you'd have to learn a secret handshake or something to get there. But you've got a city to save.

A large metallic door is to the west. It's got no sensor on this side, so you can probably just walk back through it.

You can also see some nerds and a lit-up tulip here.

Someone blames the dim-led middle for This Whole Mess.

The metallic door slides shut.
action: You examine nerds
response: They're sitting around nattering about nerd things. They don't look particularly nerdy, but most of their conversation seems to revolve around how smart other people aren't. They're babblier than most but don't seem bribable.

"...butler I rebuilt!"
action: You examine the tulip
response: No fickler flicker or slight lights--its twinkle lets it wink for a long while, with no way to turn it off or on.

A conceders' crescendo follows a claim nerds'd LIKE to help everyday stupid people.
action: You scan the tulip
response: One of them demands to see your slider. They poke around at it, convince you they know more about it than you do, and hand it back
The nerds give amens that MENSA is the greatest social group ever.
action: You scan nerds
response: You don't bring it close to them, but there's some chuckling about how you probably don't know the specifications behind such a neat tool. Nothing, until they remind each other you just don't seem to know what to ask nerds about. Then, GBBBBBR.

"Since I'm not omniscient..." Ish, note his tone. Sarcastic, arctic ass.
action: You show the controls to the nerds
response: The nerds are unimpressed.

A conceders' crescendo follows a claim nerds'd LIKE to help everyday stupid people.
action: You ask the nerds about the mensa
response: "He's not smart enough for us, is he?"

"Well, if he found his way in, he is!"

"Well, he'll have to find the right thing to ask nerds like us about if he wants us to stop talking about him like he's not here."

"If he doesn't know what to ask nerds about, he deserves Ed's snark!" Whoever he is.

Someone shows how mediums are for dummies. Others agree, eager.
action: You check your inventory
response: Item time! You are carrying:
some controls
a keycard
a termite emitter
a sheath
some velcro (being worn)
a tinfoil info-lit
a salient saltine
an idlers' slider
a dope tan notepad

"Since I'm not omniscient..." Ish, note his tone. Sarcastic, arctic ass.
action: You ask the nerds about the sheath
response: The nerds look at each other, wondering why you would ask about that, really. They are sure you have something important to ask them. Maybe somewhere you can't get to or through. They could figure it out if in your shoes.

Hmm. Apparently, when you ASK NERDS, you need to come correct. All the same, you're a bit annoyed, and you wonder if you can maybe play a mean trick on them to get that tulip, instead.

Someone shows how he cut down a stupider disputer. Others agree, eager.
action: You ask nerds about the tulip
response: "We've got plenty of light here. You can have it, if you know what to ask us about. And if the tulip would help."

"...How I do it, idiot."

"Who?"
action: You ask the nerds about the controls
response: The nerds look at each other, wondering why you would ask about that, really. They are sure you have something important to ask them. Maybe somewhere you can't get to or through. They could figure it out if in your shoes.

Hmm. Apparently, when you ASK NERDS, you need to come correct.

"Since I'm not omniscient..." Ish, note his tone. Sarcastic, arctic ass.
action: You ask the nerds about the red bull
response: The nerds look at each other, wondering why you would ask about that, really. They are sure you have something important to ask them. Maybe somewhere you can't get to or through. They could figure it out if in your shoes.

Hmm. Apparently, when you ASK NERDS, you need to come correct. All the same, you're a bit annoyed, and you wonder if you can maybe play a mean trick on them to get that tulip, instead.

"...How I do it, idiot."

"Who?"
action: You ask nerds about the dead beat
response: The nerds look at each other, wondering why you would ask about that, really. They are sure you have something important to ask them. Maybe somewhere you can't get to or through. They could figure it out if in your shoes.

Hmm. Apparently, when you ASK NERDS, you need to come correct.

Someone shows how he cut down a stupider disputer. Others agree, eager.
action: You ask the nerds about saltine
response: The nerds look at each other, wondering why you would ask about that, really. They are sure you have something important to ask them. Maybe somewhere you can't get to or through. They could figure it out if in your shoes.

Hmm. Apparently, when you ASK NERDS, you need to come correct. All the same, you're a bit annoyed, and you wonder if you can maybe play a mean trick on them to get that tulip, instead.

"Since I'm not omniscient..." Ish, note his tone. Sarcastic, arctic ass.
action: You ask the nerds about the flowers
response: Which do you mean, the heaths, the begonias, the merchandise or the gardenia?
action: You ask the nerds about the begonias
response: The nerds look at each other, wondering why you would ask about that, really. They are sure you have something important to ask them. Maybe somewhere you can't get to or through. They could figure it out if in your shoes.

Hmm. Apparently, when you ASK NERDS, you need to come correct.

"...How I do it, idiot."

"Who?"
action: You go west
response: (first opening the metallic door)
The door slides open as you step near it.

This is some sort of seedy underground intersection with a train station south. You can also go north to what looks like a camp. You see the down escalator you came by. A building to the west advertises itself as The Ol' Hotel.

A large metallic door is to the east. It has a warning graphic repelling any old riff-raff from entering. There's also a sensor off to the side.
action: You go to the south
response: Er, Train Terrain
You're in a train station. It's a bit dark, but not as bad as to the east, which is where the noise may be coming from--it's louder here than anywhere else. You suspect the darkness to the east is where your destiny lies.

You could go back north, and there's a fuzzy looking wall to the west, too. You notice pointed art and a faded ad on it, but the small recess near the top seems more useful. A rail is to the east--it seems to be sparking quite a bit, so best not to step on it, yet.
action: You examine the controls
response: This panel features all manner of black and yellow and red doohickeys and there's a small warning message saying REPLACEMENT CONTROLS IN CASE OF SURGE TO TRACKS. They've got instructions, which are surprisingly clear and even leave you wiser about u-boat wires.
action: You examine the instructions
response: They'll be useful once you find a place to put the controls.
action: Up
response: The velcro strip is just the thing to climb the wall and reach the small recess.

Er, Train Terrain (on the fuzzy looking wall)
You're in a train station. It's a bit dark, but not as bad as to the east, which is where the noise may be coming from--it's louder here than anywhere else. You suspect the darkness to the east is where your destiny lies.

You could go back north, though you may need to get off the wall first. A rail is to the east--it seems to be sparking quite a bit, so best not to step on it, yet.
action: You put the controls in the recess
response: They fit well. One of the red buttons starts blinking and whirring, and you flip the switch by it and, BAM! You hear a rush of power. The lights in the tunnel to the east seem to flicker and go stronger.
action: Look around
response: Er, Train Terrain (on the fuzzy looking wall)
You're in a train station. The tracks are east and, it seems, so is the noise--it's louder here than anywhere else. You suspect the darkness to the east is where your destiny lies.

You could go back north, though you may need to get off the wall first. A rail is to the east--it's no longer sparking.
action: Go downwards
response: You get off the fuzzy looking wall.

Er, Train Terrain
You're in a train station. The tracks are east and, it seems, so is the noise--it's louder here than anywhere else. You suspect the darkness to the east is where your destiny lies.

You could go back north, and there's a fuzzy looking wall to the west, too. You notice pointed art and a faded ad on it, but the small recess near the top seems more useful. A rail is to the east--it's no longer sparking.
action: You examine the art
response: It's a typical train depot PSA saying "DON'T PIRATE." You hope the creator wasn't paid. Rotten stuff.
action: You go to the east
response: You go east but reach a thin ledge. It needs to be lightened before you go further. You have no item to help with that.
action: Go north
response: This is some sort of seedy underground intersection with a train station south. You can also go north to what looks like a camp. You see the down escalator you came by. A building to the west advertises itself as The Ol' Hotel.

A large metallic door is to the east. It has a warning graphic repelling any old riff-raff from entering. There's also a sensor off to the side.
action: Go east
response: You swipe your keycard and go east as the door opens.

It's quiet here, mostly due to the soundproofed walls. It'd make a nice mob combine, but it's a small bunker for nerds who just got sick of the thumping.

A large metallic door is to the west. It's got no sensor on this side, so you can probably just walk back through it.

You can also see some nerds and a lit-up tulip here.

"...butler I rebuilt!"
action: You ask nerds about the ledge
response: More annoying banter. Perhaps you could disperse them with the right item. They'd deserve it. Though maybe if you keep bugging them, they'll get exasperated and give you better hints than what to ask nerds about.

You hear a MENSA-y yesman encourage someone to repeat himself.

The metallic door slides shut.
action: Inventory
response: Item time! You are carrying:
a keycard
a termite emitter
a sheath
some velcro (being worn)
a tinfoil info-lit
a salient saltine
an idlers' slider
a dope tan notepad

The nerds give amens that MENSA is the greatest social group ever.
action: You turn on the machine
response: It's empty now.

You hear a MENSA-y yesman encourage someone to repeat himself.
action: You examine info-lit
response: Reason So Near from Sane Sean, Farce Facer and Saltier Realist:
--If you can change stuff, why can't the people who made the gadget and slider? Or why couldn't they find someone off the street? Perhaps they're the real enemy and you're the pawn.
--If they really wanted you to clean things up, why can't you take both the cabinet items?
--That NEW DOOR is not really ONE WORD. Same as the guy who can lift it! They are two short words, easier than one big scary seven-letter word.
--Anyone smart enough to untangle this world won't get any fulfillment from doing so. So there, stupider disputer!

It'd all be distressingly persuasive gotcha-logic if you hadn't been able to flip that toga. But this is a fantasy world, so there's a chance he's wrong.

"...How I do it, idiot."

"Who?"
action: You ask the nerds about the rail
response: The nerds look at each other, wondering why you would ask about that, really. They are sure you have something important to ask them. Maybe somewhere you can't get to or through. They could figure it out if in your shoes.

Hmm. Apparently, when you ASK NERDS, you need to come correct. All the same, you're a bit annoyed, and you wonder if you can maybe play a mean trick on them to get that tulip, instead.

Someone shows how he cut down a stupider disputer. Others agree, eager.
action: You ask the nerds about the thin ledge
response: They form a grin ring, but you close your eyes a bit.

"...How I do it, idiot."

"Who?"
action: Scan machine
response: The slider makes no noise.

"Since I'm not omniscient..." Ish, note his tone. Sarcastic, arctic ass.
action: You ask the nerds about thin ledge
response: "You might as well ask dorks like Karkdoss about something that inconsequential!"

The nerds give amens that MENSA is the greatest social group ever.
action: You ask the nerds about the slider
response: The nerds look at each other, wondering why you would ask about that, really. They are sure you have something important to ask them. Maybe somewhere you can't get to or through. They could figure it out if in your shoes.

Hmm. Apparently, when you ASK NERDS, you need to come correct.

"...How I do it, idiot."

"Who?"
action: You ask the nerds about the Store
response: Which do you mean, store b, store c, store d, store e, store f, store g, store h, store i, store j, store k, store l, store m, store n, store o, store p, store q, store r, store s, store t, store u, store v, store w, store x, store y or store z?
action: You ask the nerds about the store r.
response: The nerds look at each other, wondering why you would ask about that, really. They are sure you have something important to ask them. Maybe somewhere you can't get to or through. They could figure it out if in your shoes.

Hmm. Apparently, when you ASK NERDS, you need to come correct. All the same, you're a bit annoyed, and you wonder if you can maybe play a mean trick on them to get that tulip, instead.

Someone blames the dim-led middle for This Whole Mess.
action: You ask the nerds about the store m.
response: The nerds look at each other, wondering why you would ask about that, really. They are sure you have something important to ask them. Maybe somewhere you can't get to or through. They could figure it out if in your shoes.

Hmm. Apparently, when you ASK NERDS, you need to come correct.

You hear a MENSA-y yesman encourage someone to repeat himself.
action: You take tulip
response: Someone shoots a hand out. "You have to ASK NERDS the right thing before you can get it. What do you want it for? ASK us, don't TELL us."

That was kind of abrasive. You think of the places you haven't been and the obstacles to getting there.

The nerds give amens that MENSA is the greatest social group ever.
action: You ask NERDS about the light
response: Apparently you haven't seen the light for what to ask nerds about. A few smart-people in-jokes later, you feel too aliterate to retaliate, worried it might take a thousand years to guess.

A conceders' crescendo follows a claim nerds'd LIKE to help everyday stupid people.
action: You ask NERDS about the lair
response: Apparently you haven't seen the light for what to ask nerds about. A few smart-people in-jokes later, you feel too aliterate to retaliate, worried it might take a thousand years to guess.

"...butler I rebuilt!"
action: You ask NERDS about the train
response: Apparently you haven't seen the light for what to ask nerds about. A few smart-people in-jokes later, you feel too aliterate to retaliate, worried it might take a thousand years to guess.

"...How I do it, idiot."

"Who?"
action: You go north
response: Here in this cross between a platform and farm plot lie the shocking red tents of the terminally un- and under-employed. You are quickly excluded from this once-mum commune, since you seem actually busy. An alley lies to the west, a posh shop is to the east, and back south is where you started from.

The cordoned red condo you're not welcome back at is to the north. You hear painful music.

A deadbeat is sitting on the ground here, looking dead beat. Despite your heroism with the cake in the condo, he barely acknolwedges you.
action: You ask the deadbeat about the sheath
response: He doesn't seem to know much about that. You'd be worried if he could help you much, actually.
action: You scan dead beat
response: "Whoah, don't tase me, bro. I have civil rights!"
action: Go south
response: This is some sort of seedy underground intersection with a train station south. You can also go north to what looks like a camp. You see the down escalator you came by. A building to the west advertises itself as The Ol' Hotel.

A large metallic door is to the east. It has a warning graphic repelling any old riff-raff from entering. There's also a sensor off to the side.
action: You go to the west
response: What would a beaten-down city be without an ol' hotel? Both have seen better days, but this place has been trashed hardest. Everything's boarded up, and the only way out is east.

A ketchup bottle lies here, torn apart--and you have a prime suspect in the Night Thing that was here.

The mattress still conforms to the shape of the night thing that sat on it.
action: Go south
response: Er, Train Terrain
You're in a train station. The tracks are east and, it seems, so is the noise--it's louder here than anywhere else. You suspect the darkness to the east is where your destiny lies.

You could go back north, and there's a fuzzy looking wall to the west, too. You notice pointed art and a faded ad on it, but the small recess near the top seems more useful. A rail is to the east--it's no longer sparking.
action: You read the ad
response: It references some dead fad while proclaiming TRANSIT FOR ARTISAN AND TSARINA.
action: You examine the art
response: It's a typical train depot PSA saying "DON'T PIRATE." You hope the creator wasn't paid. Rotten stuff.
action: You go to the east
response: You go east but reach a thin ledge. It needs to be lightened before you go further. You have no item to help with that.
action: You read the PAD
response: You just like it. The color, the feel. Other people have computers, but your notepad is yours. Currently you can consult it about: --notepad, lecture, stores, goat
--board
action: You look at what you're carrying with you
response: Item time! You are carrying:
a keycard
a termite emitter
a sheath
some velcro (being worn)
a tinfoil info-lit
a salient saltine
an idlers' slider
a dope tan notepad
action: You consult the PAD about the board
response: You're past the bit about the introductory puzzles, and you note you only need to solve two regions
action: You go west
response: The big fuzzy wall is that way.

The tracks are east, and the city is back north.
action: Go north
response: This is some sort of seedy underground intersection with a train station south. You can also go north to what looks like a camp. You see the down escalator you came by. A building to the west advertises itself as The Ol' Hotel.

A large metallic door is to the east. It has a warning graphic repelling any old riff-raff from entering. There's also a sensor off to the side.
action: Up
response: Everything starts okay, but just as you get a glimpse of the top, the escalator starts speeding down more quickly. You try jumping a step, but it doesn't matter. Eventually, you're thrown to the bottom of the escalator, a bit more tired than before.
action: You ask NERDS about the burdell
response: The nerds look at each other, wondering why you would ask about that, really. They are sure you have something important to ask them. Maybe somewhere you can't get to or through. They could figure it out if in your shoes.

Hmm. Apparently, when you ASK NERDS, you need to come correct. All the same, you're a bit annoyed, and you wonder if you can maybe play a mean trick on them to get that tulip, instead.

"...How I do it, idiot."

"Who?"

The metallic door slides shut.
action: You ask NERDS about the trick
response: Apparently you haven't seen the light for what to ask nerds about. A few smart-people in-jokes later, you feel too aliterate to retaliate, worried it might take a thousand years to guess.

The nerds give amens that MENSA is the greatest social group ever.
action: You ask NERDS about the pirate
response: Apparently you haven't seen the light for what to ask nerds about. A few smart-people in-jokes later, you feel too aliterate to retaliate, worried it might take a thousand years to guess.

Someone blames the dim-led middle for This Whole Mess.
action: You ask NERDS about tinfoil
response: The nerds look at each other, wondering why you would ask about that, really. They are sure you have something important to ask them. Maybe somewhere you can't get to or through. They could figure it out if in your shoes.

Hmm. Apparently, when you ASK NERDS, you need to come correct.

"...butler I rebuilt!"
action: You ask NERDS about the noise
response: The nerds look at each other, wondering why you would ask about that, really. They are sure you have something important to ask them. Maybe somewhere you can't get to or through. They could figure it out if in your shoes.

Hmm. Apparently, when you ASK NERDS, you need to come correct. All the same, you're a bit annoyed, and you wonder if you can maybe play a mean trick on them to get that tulip, instead.

You hear a MENSA-y yesman encourage someone to repeat himself.
action: Inventory
response: Item time! You are carrying:
a keycard
a termite emitter
a sheath
some velcro (being worn)
a tinfoil info-lit
a salient saltine
an idlers' slider
a dope tan notepad

"...How I do it, idiot."

"Who?"
action: You examine the sheath
response: It's a dull grey, with the words FOR GREAT QUIETNESS inscribed in some Gothic font.

Someone shows how he cut down a stupider disputer. Others agree, eager.
action: You examine emitter
response: It's a small black box, six inches by six inches. It's empty now, you hope. Someone has scratched a circle with a line through it over a dollar sign. It's probably empty after your hijinks.

"...How I do it, idiot."

"Who?"
action: You look around
response: It's quiet here, mostly due to the soundproofed walls. It'd make a nice mob combine, but it's a small bunker for nerds who just got sick of the thumping.

A large metallic door is to the west. It's got no sensor on this side, so you can probably just walk back through it.

You can also see some nerds and a lit-up tulip here.

"...butler I rebuilt!"
action: You examine the door
response: It's very solid.

A conceders' crescendo follows a claim nerds'd LIKE to help everyday stupid people.
action: Odor
response: You can't see anything here like that, or changeable into that.

Someone shows how he cut down a stupider disputer. Others agree, eager.
action: You examine the walls
response: They've got those perpendicular ridges in sets of three that kill sound. The nerds won't shut up, though.

"Since I'm not omniscient..." Ish, note his tone. Sarcastic, arctic ass.
action: You wear the sheath
response: You put on the sheath.

Someone blames the dim-led middle for This Whole Mess.
action: You scan the walls
response: The slider makes no noise.

"...butler I rebuilt!"
action: About yourself
response: You're wearing generic, comfortable and inoffensive clothes, which have enough pockets for a modest inventory.

You hear a MENSA-y yesman encourage someone to repeat himself.
action: You check your inventory
response: Item time! You are carrying:
a keycard
a termite emitter
a sheath (being worn)
some velcro (being worn)
a tinfoil info-lit
a salient saltine
an idlers' slider
a dope tan notepad

A conceders' crescendo follows a claim nerds'd LIKE to help everyday stupid people.
action: You put the tulip in the sheath
response: (first taking the lit-up tulip)

Someone shoots a hand out. "You have to ASK NERDS the right thing before you can get it. What do you want it for? ASK us, don't TELL us."

That was kind of abrasive. You wonder if there's a way to disrupt their little gathering if you can't figure what to ask.

The nerds give amens that MENSA is the greatest social group ever.
action: You take off the sheath
response: It'd be too awkward to carry.

Someone blames the dim-led middle for This Whole Mess.
action: You look at the sheath
response: It's a dull grey, with the words FOR GREAT QUIETNESS inscribed in some Gothic font.

You hear a MENSA-y yesman encourage someone to repeat himself.
action: You go west
response: (first opening the metallic door)
The door slides open as you step near it.

This is some sort of seedy underground intersection with a train station south. You can also go north to what looks like a camp. You see the down escalator you came by. A building to the west advertises itself as The Ol' Hotel.

A large metallic door is to the east. It has a warning graphic repelling any old riff-raff from entering. There's also a sensor off to the side.
action: Go south
response: Er, Train Terrain
You're in a train station. The tracks are east and, it seems, so is the noise--it's louder here than anywhere else. You suspect the darkness to the east is where your destiny lies.

You could go back north, and there's a fuzzy looking wall to the west, too. You notice pointed art and a faded ad on it, but the small recess near the top seems more useful. A rail is to the east--it's no longer sparking.
action: You remove the sheath
response: It'd be too awkward to carry.
action: You look at your surroundings
response: You're in a flower shop manned (elfed?) by faeries. You can go back west to the camp.

You can see some freesia faeries, some heaths and some begonias here.
action: You go to the north
response: Here in this cross between a platform and farm plot lie the shocking red tents of the terminally un- and under-employed. You are quickly excluded from this once-mum commune, since you seem actually busy. An alley lies to the west, a posh shop is to the east, and back south is where you started from.

A driveway with a yard view leads north. You hear painful music.

That lost corn is still in that corner. Sorry if that sounds corny.

A deadbeat is sitting on the ground here, looking dead beat. His eyes dart between you and the lost corn. Clearly, he resents the work your presence is forcing on him.

The beats aren't audible here, but conversation voices rant on. The talkers seem to take you for a stalker, but nobody wants to get too close. A barnacled candelabra hangs above, antlers are attached to a wall, and carpets provide garish spectra on the floor.

All in all, this place probably has a high property value, and people would be horrified if something happened to make it drop.

Some dry cake is here. Nobody else is lower-class enough to eat it, but everyone's making sure nobody lower-class nabs it.
action: Go north
response: It's dark that way. You step on a pliers and turn back before hitting any more perils.
action: Go west
response: What would a beaten-down city be without an ol' hotel? Both have seen better days, but this place has been trashed hardest. Everything's boarded up, and the only way out is east.

A ketchup bottle lies here, torn apart--and you have a prime suspect in the Night Thing that was here.

The mattress still conforms to the shape of the night thing that sat on it--but it also has a bump in one corner.
action: You take the machine
response: You already have that.
action: You check your inventory
response: Item time! You are carrying:
a termite emitter
some begonias
a barcode
some velcro (being worn)
a tinfoil info-lit
a salient saltine
an idlers' slider
a dope tan notepad
action: You put the keycard on the sensor
response: What do you know? It works! The door slides open!
action: You go east
response: You swipe your keycard and go east as the door opens.

It's quiet here, mostly due to the soundproofed walls. It'd make a nice mob combine, but it's a small bunker for nerds who just got sick of the thumping. You suspect the actual entertainment center's in back, and you'd have to learn a secret handshake or something to get there. But you've got a city to save.

A large metallic door is to the west. It's got no sensor on this side, so you can probably just walk back through it.

You can also see some nerds and a lit-up tulip here.

The nerds give amens that MENSA is the greatest social group ever.

The metallic door slides shut.
action: Noise bag
response: The begonias twirl and create a bag. One with weird triangular spikes on the inside. You exclaim surprise at it--the bag whooshes every time you say something.

"Since I'm not omniscient..." Ish, note his tone. Sarcastic, arctic ass.
action: You open the bag
response: You open the noise bag.

Someone blames the dim-led middle for This Whole Mess.
action: You give the bag to NERDS
response: They aren't big on material things. They probably prefer to show how smart they are.

You hear a MENSA-y yesman encourage someone to repeat himself.
action: You ask NERDS about the bag
response: The nerds look at each other, wondering why you would ask about that, really. They are sure you have something important to ask them. Maybe somewhere you can't get to or through. They could figure it out if in your shoes.

Hmm. Apparently, when you ASK NERDS, you need to come correct. All the same, you're a bit annoyed, and you wonder if you can maybe play a mean trick on them to get that tulip, instead.

A conceders' crescendo follows a claim nerds'd LIKE to help everyday stupid people.
action: You use the bag on NERDS
response: Use is a bit too vague for this game's parser to understand. You can SWITCH something, or PUT something IN/ON something, or even ATTACH something to something. You can PUSH a button or OPEN something, as well. Specific items should clue you what to do if you EXAMINE them.
action: You put the bag on nerds
response: Putting things on the nerds would achieve nothing.

You hear a MENSA-y yesman encourage someone to repeat himself.
action: You look at the bag
response: It's labeled OPEN TO CAPTURE NOISES.

"Since I'm not omniscient..." Ish, note his tone. Sarcastic, arctic ass.
action: You open bag
response: That's already open.

The nerds give amens that MENSA is the greatest social group ever.
action: Close bag
response: You close the noise bag.

"Since I'm not omniscient..." Ish, note his tone. Sarcastic, arctic ass.
action: You look in the bag
response: It's labeled OPEN TO CAPTURE NOISES.

"...How I do it, idiot."

"Who?"
action: You drop bag
response: I noticed you used a period to separate commands. Unfortunately, the parser in Inform seems to have an extremely obscure bug (#1011 at inform7.com) that interacts with the solution to this game if you separate commands with periods. It was noticed near the release deadline, and it manifests itself when you refer to an in-game item or person or thing as one in a series of commands, usually three or more.

This warning won't appear again. Hit any key to continue.
You open the noise bag.

The nerds give amens that MENSA is the greatest social group ever.

You shouldn't need to drop that. You have enough hands and pockets.

Someone blames the dim-led middle for This Whole Mess.
action: You drop the bag
response: You shouldn't need to drop that. You have enough hands and pockets.

Someone shows how mediums are for dummies. Others agree, eager.
action: You ask NERDS about the noise
response: The nerds look at each other, wondering why you would ask about that, really. They are sure you have something important to ask them. Maybe somewhere you can't get to or through. They could figure it out if in your shoes.

Hmm. Apparently, when you ASK NERDS, you need to come correct.

"...How I do it, idiot."

"Who?"
action: You open the bag
response: That's already open.
action: You go to the north
response: You'd probably be recognized and arrested.
action: You examine the bag
response: It's labeled OPEN TO CAPTURE NOISES.
action: You put the noise in the bag
response: Tautology?! Got ya, lout!
action: Noise bag
response: The begonias twirl and create a bag. One with weird triangular spikes on the inside. You exclaim surprise at it--the bag whooshes every time you say something.
action: You take the cake
response: You feel a slap on your hand from someone who mentions Doc Bleak gave a creep a crepe once. A bold cake blockade! Someone else takes a turn watching you.
action: You listen
response: The conversation changes subject rapidly and randomly. "It can't be a real toxin. It gives relaxation!"
.
action: You open the bag
response: That's already open.
action: You turn on the machine
response: You activate. They vacate it. It's like a petard--those who prated, depart and ratchet down the chatter. The emitter dies down after the last termite escapes.
action: You examine the bag
response: It's labeled OPEN TO CAPTURE NOISES.
action: Keycard
response: The dry metallic cake turns into a dry metallic keycard, which you take for yourself. Hooray, technology.
action: Go east
response: You swipe your keycard and go east as the door opens.

It's quiet here, mostly due to the soundproofed walls. It'd make a nice mob combine, but it's a small bunker for nerds who just got sick of the thumping. You suspect the actual entertainment center's in back, and you'd have to learn a secret handshake or something to get there. But you've got a city to save.

A large metallic door is to the west. It's got no sensor on this side, so you can probably just walk back through it.

You can also see some nerds and a lit-up tulip here.

Someone blames the dim-led middle for This Whole Mess.

The metallic door slides shut.
action: You ask NERDS about the wall
response: Which do you mean, the fuzzy looking wall, the scraped wall or the cedar wall/walls?
action: You ask NERDS about the controls
response: The nerds look at each other, wondering why you would ask about that, really. They are sure you have something important to ask them. Maybe somewhere you can't get to or through. They could figure it out if in your shoes.

Hmm. Apparently, when you ASK NERDS, you need to come correct.

Someone blames the dim-led middle for This Whole Mess.
action: You ask NERDS about the noise
response: The nerds look at each other, wondering why you would ask about that, really. They are sure you have something important to ask them. Maybe somewhere you can't get to or through. They could figure it out if in your shoes.

Hmm. Apparently, when you ASK NERDS, you need to come correct. All the same, you're a bit annoyed, and you wonder if you can maybe play a mean trick on them to get that tulip, instead.

You hear a MENSA-y yesman encourage someone to repeat himself.
action: You examine the tulip
response: No fickler flicker or slight lights--its twinkle lets it wink for a long while, with no way to turn it off or on.

"...butler I rebuilt!"
action: You examine walls
response: They've got those perpendicular ridges in sets of three that kill sound. The nerds won't shut up, though.

You hear a MENSA-y yesman encourage someone to repeat himself.
action: About yourself
response: You're wearing generic, comfortable and inoffensive clothes, which have enough pockets for a modest inventory.

Someone blames the dim-led middle for This Whole Mess.
action: Inventory
response: Item time! You are carrying:
some controls
a keycard
a termite emitter
a noise bag (open but empty)
some velcro (being worn)
a tinfoil info-lit
a salient saltine
an idlers' slider
a dope tan notepad

Someone shows how mediums are for dummies. Others agree, eager.
action: You ask NERDS about the quest
response: "He's not smart enough for us, is he?"

"Well, if he found his way in, he is!"

"Well, he'll have to find the right thing to ask nerds like us about if he wants us to stop talking about him like he's not here."

"If he doesn't know what to ask nerds about, he deserves Ed's snark!" Whoever he is.

The nerds give amens that MENSA is the greatest social group ever.
action: You ask NERDS about the dungeons and the dragons
response: More annoying banter. Perhaps you could disperse them with the right item. They'd deserve it. Though maybe if you keep bugging them, they'll get exasperated and give you better hints than what to ask nerds about.

Someone shows how he cut down a stupider disputer. Others agree, eager.
action: You ask NERDS about the station
response: They form a grin ring, but you close your eyes a bit.

"...How I do it, idiot."

"Who?"
action: You ask NERDS about the thin ledge
response: "You might as well ask dorks like Karkdoss about something that inconsequential!"

Someone blames the dim-led middle for This Whole Mess.
action: You ask NERDS about the mensa
response: Apparently you haven't seen the light for what to ask nerds about. A few smart-people in-jokes later, you feel too aliterate to retaliate, worried it might take a thousand years to guess.

"Since I'm not omniscient..." Ish, note his tone. Sarcastic, arctic ass.
action: You ask NERDS about the anagrams
response: Apparently you haven't seen the light for what to ask nerds about. A few smart-people in-jokes later, you feel too aliterate to retaliate, worried it might take a thousand years to guess.

Someone blames the dim-led middle for This Whole Mess.
action: You ask NERDS about the walls
response: (soundproofed walls)
The nerds look at each other, wondering why you would ask about that, really. They are sure you have something important to ask them. Maybe somewhere you can't get to or through. They could figure it out if in your shoes.

Hmm. Apparently, when you ASK NERDS, you need to come correct.

You hear a MENSA-y yesman encourage someone to repeat himself.
action: You ask NERDS about the tulip
response: "We've got plenty of light here. You can have it, if you know what to ask us about. And if the tulip would help."

A conceders' crescendo follows a claim nerds'd LIKE to help everyday stupid people.
action: You ask NERDS about METROS
response: The nerds look at each other, wondering why you would ask about that, really. They are sure you have something important to ask them. Maybe somewhere you can't get to or through. They could figure it out if in your shoes.

Hmm. Apparently, when you ASK NERDS, you need to come correct. All the same, you're a bit annoyed, and you wonder if you can maybe play a mean trick on them to get that tulip, instead.

You hear a MENSA-y yesman encourage someone to repeat himself.
action: You ask NERDS about the darkness
response: "What, you want us to do everything for you? We're exhausted from building this soundproofing. But whatever. Here. Have this lit-up tulip."

"...How I do it, idiot."

"Who?"
action: Go east
response: You hear an even worse noise as you walk across the tracks. You run back across where you can reflect how it would be nice if you had something in that noise bag to combat...whatever it is there.
action: You go to the east
response: You swipe your keycard and go east as the door opens.

It's quiet here, mostly due to the soundproofed walls. It'd make a nice mob combine, but it's a small bunker for nerds who just got sick of the thumping.

A large metallic door is to the west. It's got no sensor on this side, so you can probably just walk back through it.

You can also see some nerds and a lit-up tulip here.

A conceders' crescendo follows a claim nerds'd LIKE to help everyday stupid people.
action: You ask NERDS about the darkness
response: "What, you want us to do everything for you? We're exhausted from building this soundproofing. But whatever. Here. Have this lit-up tulip."

"Since I'm not omniscient..." Ish, note his tone. Sarcastic, arctic ass.

The metallic door slides shut.
action: Go east
response: You hear an even worse noise as you walk across the tracks. You run back across where you can reflect how it would be nice if you had a weapon in that sheath.
action: You check your inventory
response: Item time! You are carrying:
a lit-up tulip
a keycard
a termite emitter
a sheath
some velcro (being worn)
a tinfoil info-lit
a salient saltine
an idlers' slider
a dope tan notepad
action: You go east
response: You swipe your keycard and go east as the door opens.

It's quiet here, mostly due to the soundproofed walls. It'd make a nice mob combine, but it's a small bunker for nerds who just got sick of the thumping.

A large metallic door is to the west. It's got no sensor on this side, so you can probably just walk back through it.

You can also see some nerds here.

"...How I do it, idiot."

"Who?"
action: Sword
response: You can't see anything here like that, or changeable into that.

Someone shows how he cut down a stupider disputer. Others agree, eager.

The metallic door slides shut.
action: You look at the sheath
response: It's a dull grey, with the words FOR GREAT QUIETNESS inscribed in some Gothic font.

"...butler I rebuilt!"
action: You scan tulip
response: "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting to get different results!" one of them says. Stiff high-fives follow all around.

Someone blames the dim-led middle for This Whole Mess.
action: You go west
response: (first opening the metallic door)
The door slides open as you step near it.

This is some sort of seedy underground intersection with a train station south. You can also go north to what looks like a camp. You see the down escalator you came by. A building to the west advertises itself as The Ol' Hotel.

A large metallic door is to the east. It has a warning graphic repelling any old riff-raff from entering. There's also a sensor off to the side.
action: You scan tulip
response: The slider makes no noise.

The metallic door slides shut.
action: You look at the keycard
response: It's plain and metallic, with a barcode that might help with optical scanners.
action: Go east
response: You hear an even worse noise as you walk across the tracks. You run back across where you can reflect how it would be nice if you had a weapon in that sheath.
action: You take the bottle
response: Trust me. You don't need it.
action: You sit
response: (on the the slider's screen)
That's not something you can sit down on.
action: You sit on Mattress
response: On that mattress? Eww.
action: Sword
response: The words go slippery, claiming they didn't mean themselves, giving passive-aggressive threats. But it is too late--they fade, and a sword appears materially.

You sensibly put the sword--as slippery as the final words--into your sheath.
action: You go east
response: Er, Train Terrain
You're in a train station. The tracks are east and, it seems, so is the noise--it's louder here than anywhere else. You suspect the darkness to the east is where your destiny lies.

You could go back north, and there's a fuzzy looking wall to the west, too. You notice pointed art and a faded ad on it, but the small recess near the top seems more useful. A rail is to the east--it's no longer sparking.

Your lit-up tulip gives a welcoming anemic glow. You're ready to tackle whatever's lying craven in the cavern.

You're in a formerly dark passageway that houses the force responsible for all the pain in the metropolis. You feel like a movie star, with the beats pulsing in the background to lead you on to defeating--oh, wait. The beats ARE what you're trying to defeat.

A siren kicks in, to make things even more head-achingly techno up in here. It's off to your side. It's noisy enough, you're not getting near it.
action: You examine the siren
response: Blue and red and flashing and very loud. You'd love to pound it into a powder.

RRIIEEUUWW. That siren just won't shut up. Man, you just want
to pound it into a powder.
action: Scan siren
response: Most of the screen goes blue, then a green dot and red dot bounce left and right across the slider screen, and they eventually wind up like so:
BBGBR

RRIIEEUUWW. That siren just won't shut up. Man, you just want
to pound it into a powder.
action: Resin
response: The siren makes some even more spastic noises before grinding into resin powder. You scoop it up and put some on your hands, which feel sticky now. You feel your chances of defeating the beats has risen, unless you rinse.
action: Look around
response: You're in a formerly dark passageway that houses the force responsible for all the pain in the metropolis. You feel like a movie star, with the beats pulsing in the background to lead you on to defeating--oh, wait. The beats ARE what you're trying to defeat.
action: Go east
response: There's no easy way out. But you sense you have what you need.
action: Scan beats
response: Most of the screen goes blue, then a green dot and red dot bounce left and right across the slider screen, and they eventually wind up like so:
GBBRB
action: Beast
response: The beats turn into a beast which also yells, but at least it's not that constant electronic thumping. The thing has to take time to breathe. It's an improvement. Well, for your survival chances.
action: You examine the beast
response: It's blob-shaped with one tooth and one eye and inside-out headphones that still transmit music.
action: You examine the sword
response: It's sheathed now. It's not really worth admiring. The handle looks slippery.
action: You attack the beast
response: The sword is yours, and you grab it firmly in your resined hands!

Your sword acts as a microphone, converting the beast's beats to equally horrendous lyrics and providing feedback that makes it wince. It gives an owly yowl and runs off, sobbing. People can finally think again! "You're quite a Smiter, Mister! You gave the monster no terms! You merit this mitre!" someone says. But all you want is to get on with your quest. The escalator in the undesired underside is rigged to go up. You get a pared parade and, for slower fun, plant a sunflower before returning to the Trips Strip.

Congratulations! Metros node: done!
"Yeah! Heya." says Eric Rice, again. "Nice work up in the metros. Oo, more stuff. Let me take it. You go get relaxing now in your Roman Manor." Before you can thank him, he's gone.
Trips Strip
You see what was once a bunch of small malls. Most lots appear vacant or dilapidated.

You see a down escalator here, but it's not worth revisiting the metros.

Some stairs lead down from the wreckage of store I, further than you can see. But no sense looking--you know what's there, and you've taken care of it.

There's a forest here where store F was, but you probably don't need to go back there.
action: You examine the malls
response: Of the various stores you see, only store r looks like you can do anything with it. Store r finally looks like you can visit. A few others seem greyed-out, like in a video game or something. There can't be anything in any of them.
action: Roster
response: (examining instead)
The roster on the front of store R reads: "People who have earned a vacation: you (well, go on!)"
action: You enter
response: You've been there, done that. Big city life is not for you.
action: You enter the store r.
response: It's closed and locked, and you won't find a key. Maybe you can do something else to it.
action: Resort
response: Store R rumbles and reforms into something far posher. A huge resort! You see, in the distance, a manor that seems made for you. "I know what you're looking at!" calls Old Man Almond. "You've earned it! For defeating Red Bull Burdell!"

Before you reply you haven't, he's already run behind store 7, yelling "Go! Rest!"
action: Resort
response: (examining instead)
Man, it's beautiful, spacious and sunny. Even sunnier than the Trips Strip, which is much nicer since you started cleaning up, but still...

(You can say the name of the resort now to enter it. There's nothing more hidden in its description.)
action: Resort
response: (entering instead)
You stride into the resort thinking "Gee. Damn. Endgame." But it is a mirage! You're gamier than to let that bother you, though, even though you hardly seem to be in paradise.

Tiles, tiles, tiles. As far as you can see. Different colors, but this doesn't look like a comfortable place for a nice long vacation. Your slider jostles a bit.
action: You scan the tiles
response: Most of the screen goes blue, then a green dot and red dot bounce left and right across the slider screen, and they eventually wind up like so:
B
action: You look around
response: Tiles, tiles, tiles. As far as you can see. Different colors, but this doesn't look like a comfortable place for a nice long vacation. Your slider jostles a bit.
action: You check your inventory
response: Item time! You are carrying:
a tinfoil info-lit
a salient saltine
an idlers' slider
a dope tan notepad
action: Islet
response: The tiles crumble and shift around.

Well, this is a little more idyllic. But it's all sand and so small, it can't be the one you were promised. You can see land way to the east.

You see a rudimentary swing hanging from a tree here.

You see a large-ish rock here.
action: You examine the swing
response: The swing is made of twine and hangs from a tree branch high up. You won't get to untie it, but you can see something scratched on the tree.
action: You examine tree
response: It has ALOFT scratched into it. An arrow points down to the swing, as if to say, the tree can't help you fly.
action: Wings
response: The old swing's ropes defray and the seat somehow transmogrifies. You see a pair of wings. They don't look like they'll last too long, but they're better than nothing. You take them.
action: You check your inventory
response: Item time! You are carrying:
some wings
a tinfoil info-lit
a salient saltine
an idlers' slider
a dope tan notepad
action: You look around
response: Well, this is a little more idyllic. But it's all sand and so small, it can't be the one you were promised. You can see land way to the east.

You see a large-ish rock here, but it seems less potentially useful now you have the wings.
action: You go east
response: You put on the wings for your flight. The wings last just long enough for you to get to the landmass you see before shredding into the wind. But it probably doesn't matter now--you're across to some sort of mainland.

You've reached an odd low woodland. There's a gigantic set of poles off to the east. Also, a toolshed that's in bad shape.

A spore, about a foot long, is here. Imagine what it could grow into.

A sprig of some tree or weed you can't identify is here.
action: You examine the sprig
response: Very fragile in its present form.
action: Grips
response: The fragile sprig pops into a pair of suction grips, which you take.
action: You examine the spore
response: It looks too delicate as is to support any weight.
action: Ropes
response: The spore grows more quickly than you could imagine, into a couple of long ropes tied together. You wind one around your waist. The combination of grips and ropes is probably enough to make climbing gear. You don't need the toolshed for tools.
action: You examine toolshed
response: It's metal, with no visible entry or even windows. You notice some outcroppings.
action: You look at the outcroppings
response: They are something you could put your feet--no, the edge of them--on. They look sturdy enough to hold you, but the problem is, they don't lead anywhere.
action: You scan toolshed
response: Most of the screen goes blue, then a green dot and red dot bounce left and right across the slider screen, and they eventually wind up like so:
GBBBRBBB
action: You examine the poles
response: They are too vertical and smooth to climb. You can't push them--they look quite sturdy and are at least twenty feet tall--but maybe, if they were at an angle... Or you could get a grip somewhere.
action: Slope
response: The poles rumble and slide. You run away, fearing they may go vertically--then you're a bit disappointed to see they're still at a forty-five degree angle.
action: Toeholds
response: That'll do it! The toolshed crumbles, leaving only the small outcroppings--which somehow fly into the slope.They're plentiful and stable. You could probably climb up now. You probably don't need those tools you made.
action: You climb
response: (the the slider's screen)
I don't think much is to be achieved by that.
action: Look around
response: You've reached an odd low woodland. There's a gigantic slope you could climb off to the east. You see toeholds on the slope.
action: You go to the east
response: You make it up the slope with some effort and surprisingly little risk. You didn't even need any climbing gadgets. The toeholds are more like footholds, really.

An arid, trod dirt road. East is siesta.

Oh dear. A horde. Uprisers--surprise--protesting YOU! A full-blown riot.

The rioters decry The Villain In The Villa. The one they're blocking you from. Well, you weren't expecting airtight logic.
action: You examine the horde
response: Well, you have to admit, there's a wide variety of people protesting you, even if they're not explaining why. The riot will probably be blocking your way to the east, but they don't seem to be attacking you, which is nice.

You probably can't take the whole riot at once, but it'd be nice to have a way to weed out most of them.

"GO, CURSE-SCOURGE!" the rioters chant.
action: You listen
response: Silent.

The rioters accuse you of animal cruelty: making monotremes into metronomes.
action: Continue
response: Quite quiet.

The rioters decry The Villain In The Villa. The one they're blocking you from. Well, you weren't expecting airtight logic.
action: Scan horde
response: Most of the screen goes blue, then a green dot and red dot bounce left and right across the slider screen, and they eventually wind up like so:
BBRG

The rioters lambaste your work in the forest with a meat slab.
action: Trio
response: Your word seems to have no effect. But that's just because the least enthusiastic people in the back leave first. Others follow--one of them even drops some chain links. And soon, just three people remain. The most energetic and dedicated, of course, but altering that triangle can't be too hard, can it?

It's still a protest. But while three's a crowd, they look similar.

You're presented with accusations you'd make the holiest hostile.
action: Look around
response: An arid, trod dirt road. East is siesta.

Three can still be a protest as well as a crowd, apparently. They're blocking your way east.

You can see some chain links here.

Some bitter lug says you're the litterbug throwing darn glass in his grassland.
action: Links
response: (examining instead)
A bunch of ovular links hooked together. Out of the hands of rioters, it'll cause less achin'. You notice they are Made In China. But they're still more violent things than you'd like, this near your manor.

The remaining protesters decry The Villain In The Villa. The one they're blocking you from. Well, you weren't expecting airtight logic.
action: Scan links
response: Most of the screen goes blue, then a green dot and red dot bounce left and right across the slider screen, and they eventually wind up like so:
BBBGR

One carries an AVENGE GENEVA sign. You've never been there.
action: Kilns
response: The links burst and swell into luxury kilns. The yelling's loud as ever but increasingly directed at the kilns and not you. The protesters seem distracted.

Some bitter lug says you're the litterbug throwing darn glass in his grassland.
action: You look at your surroundings
response: An arid, trod dirt road. East is siesta.

Three can still be a protest as well as a crowd, apparently. They're blocking your way east.

You can see some kilns here.

"HILLSIDE SHILL, DIE!" they chant.
action: You go to the east
response: They still outnumber you. And they're still angrier, too. Gotta calm them down.

The visceral cavilers continue their masculine calumnies.
action: Inventory
response: Item time! You are carrying:
some ropes
some grips
a tinfoil info-lit
a salient saltine
an idlers' slider
a dope tan notepad

The tough-on-sin remaining protesters continue on shouting.
action: You examine the kilns
response: You certainly managed to summon the deluxe version. I guess all that practice earlier in the game, you learned how to give your anagrams OOMPH. You gaze at your work proudly, but it's not work you can work with further.

"HILLSIDE SHILL, DIE!" they chant.
action: You examine the protesters
response: They're all smeared with--huh? Looks like clay?

The remaining protesters seem particularly upset you destroyed store I & R.
action: You scan the protesters
response: Most of the screen goes blue, then a green dot and red dot bounce left and right across the slider screen, and they eventually wind up like so:
GBBBBRB

The remaining protesters frame themselves as lackers, you as a slacker.
action: Potters
response: The trio grows even more lethargic. A fellow in a smock mocks the whole charade before throwing the smock in a corner. He talks with his two friends. Shortly, they see the kilns nearby. They go to work happily.
action: You go east
response: happily.You hear a shout from the south and see a man too ham-nosed to be handsome. He washes down some walnuts of wan lust with liquid from a purple metal can labeled Sado-Soda.

"I am RED BULL BURDELL!" he shouts, in a voice neither earthy nor hearty. "From my ROOTS to my TORSO!"

He's the size of a large hut, bellowing real thug laughter. "Ever since I came over in a CANOE from the OCEAN, I forged my RESPECT SCEPTER from iron noir and put it to great use! Once, you rodents snorted."

Moving from angered to enraged, he throws down a battle tablet, which shatters.

"I will not waste sweat. GET OUT!!!! My ideal time? IMMEDIATELY! Nuance is nuisance!"

The potters flee with their kilns, which had handy wheels you didn't notice, to a mowed meadow. Bad time to maunder unarmed.
action: You go to the east
response: Not with Red Bull Burdell around you aren't.

"GET OUT!!!!" yells Red Bull. "Loser role's yours, pasty patsy!"

His boot swings within an inch of your chin again.
action: You look at the red bull
response: His face is covered with crass scars. He's more muscly and less clumsy than you, and yet, he has a toe that sticks out. You think back to Achilles for some reason.

"GET OUT!!!!" yells Red Bull. "You should BLUSH, SHLUB!"

His boot swings within an inch of your chin yet again.
action: You scan the red Bull
response: He kicks the slider out of the way! You were only able to read BRGBBB. He's not going to let you near it.

"GET OUT!!!!" yells Red Bull. "Turn, runt!"

His boot swings within an inch of your chin, prompting one of your finest feints.
action: You kick the toe
response: It'll be clear when you need violence. And how. Hopefully.

"GET OUT!!!!" yells Red Bull. "You're SO THIN, you'll get NO HITS on me!"

His boot swings within an inch of your chin. Be neat if he got beaten.
action: Tug toe
response: "No go, goon!" you yell, grabbing his toe.

You hold on as he yells "HA! Inept!" ...
"THE PAIN!" Burdell's toe yellows, and he yells "OW!" first irately, then tearily, before facing reality--he is shrinking!

You ignore the predator's teardrops through a rain of "No fair!"

Then he moans "No Mas," fleeing the feeling. Ya won! No way!
action: You look at your surroundings
response: An arid, trod dirt road. East is siesta.

It's nice and peaceful here, but it's not quite home.

You can see an idlers' slider here.
action: You take slider
response: You take the slider, again.
action: You go east
response: You're in a beautiful, big residence. I could ramble about the marble, praise a spire, note the toaster rotates, or sanction what it contains, but really--you sense one last hurdle hurled in your way to happiness.

The darned exits are all around, but you just want to do less
than nothing. Your slider rattles for hopefully the last time.
action: You look at the slider
response: Your slider's not near anything, but it's registering GBBRB. That can't be for the manor itself, though.
action: You exist
response: That is all that's left to do. It's time to become an adventurer emeritus. Perhaps one day you will resume it, but for now, the allures of your laurels are too great. Doing without the outwith, you begin your being binge, mentally writing the happiest epitaths to your vaunted, er, adventure. Where IS that notepad?
I...what? End a pad with a deadpan: TREMENDOUS = ME (ENDS TOUR).

Final rank: a smart gamin' anagrammist.