Unreal City
by Joey Jones (2016)

From imaginary games jam. Based on the review: "Unreal City" As you wander the streets, every bar you walk into has a different procedurally generated social ecosystem, and in any given one you can level up from shunned stranger to grudgingly accepted regular to well, it depends on what there is to do there. The vibe is Fallen London meets No Man's Sky, but where Fallen London lets you live a flaneur's power fantasy, here you're going to be trying to carve out a niche or two for yourself somewhere. Some reviewers have complained that it promises a vast social universe, but establishing credibility in a new place is so tedious that they wind up frequenting the same place. But isn't that how we live our lives? Oh, and it's an afterlife sim where your decisions mold your character in a way that eventually manifests itself on your physical bodythink Alasdair Gray's Lanark. The "spying for the heavenly authorities" plot took long enough to get off the ground that I never bothered.

action: %
response: I couldn't afford paradise. Hell, even hell was beyond my pay grade. I could only shell out for Unreal City, a kind of purgatory for seasoned drinkers. I'd been a barfly in my living years, why stop when I'm dead?

LAYING OUT CITY...
GENERATING CLASS...
DECIDING DRINKS MENUS...
DECIDING NUMBER OF REGULARS...
NAMING THE BARS...
ASSIGNING OPINIONS TO PEOPLE...
ASSIGNING PEOPLE TO BARS...
1 -2 -3 -4 -5 -6 -7 -8 -9 -10 -11 -12 -13 -14 -15 -Table of Barrooms (row 1)  | The First Hurdle | Groundfloor | working | Regular | 5 | (row 2)  | Now You Done It | Upperfloor | dive | Gastro | 1 |
(row 3)  | The Treacherous Assistant | Groundfloor | working | Regular | 4 |
(row 4)  | Thirst | Groundfloor | professional | Niche | 1 |
(row 5)  | The Broken Sequence | Outdoor | working | Regular | 3 | (row 6)  | The First Law | Groundfloor | working | Regular | 3 |
(row 7)  | Vino Morte | Rooftop | professional | Niche | 2 |
(row 8)  | Heaven's Doughnuts | Basement | working | Gastro | 7 |
(row 9)  | The Final Vision | Basement | upperclass | Regular | 6 | (row 10)  | The Big Question | Groundfloor | working | Niche | 5 | (row 11)  | Faust's Nephew | Groundfloor | dive | Regular | 5 |
(row 12)  | Slip Heights | Groundfloor | professional | Gastro | 4 | (row 13)  | The Black Squid | Outdoor | professional | Regular | 3 | (row 14)  | The Zenith | Outdoor | dive | Regular | 4 |
(row 15)  | One More Drop | Upperfloor | professional | Gastro | 2 |

The entry portal for Unreal City opens out at the lonely termination of two dead end roads. Neon signs blaze through the fog. The only places to get a drink round here are The First Hurdle and Now You Done It.

The main strip is just a little on from here.
action: About yourself
response: As good-looking as ever.
action: You look
response: The entry portal for Unreal City opens out at the lonely termination of two dead end roads. Neon signs blaze through the fog. The only places to get a drink round here are The First Hurdle and Now You Done It.

The main strip is just a little on from here.
action: You go
response: You'll have to say which compass direction to go in.
action: Pump
response: +1 rep.
action: Y.
response: cheapglulxe quit with exit status: 0
action: %
response: Warning: to avoid formatting issues, the game requires a screen width of at least 160 columns; right now the window in which the game is running has a width of 70 columns. If you are able to, please make the window in which the game is running bigger, then press Return.
Warning: to avoid formatting issues, the game requires a screen width of at least 160 columns; right now the window in which the game is running has a width of 70 columns. If you are able to, please make the window in which the game is running bigger, then press Return.

The game is detecting that the window's width is still too small (70 columns instead of 160 ideally) ; we strongly recommend to make the game's window bigger. If you are unable to (for instance, if you are playing this game online), we recommend downloading an interpreter like Gargoyle or Frotz and use it to play this game. We apologize for the inconvenience!
The game detected that you must be playing from a Web interpreter, or at least from an interpreter that cannot handle time effects. Those time effects are used extensively by the game; your experiences will then probably be somewhat far from the game as intended by the author, although its playability will not be impacted. For the full experience, we recommend using interpreter software such as Gargoyle or Frotz, but we're glad you are playing any version!

Do you wish to consult content warnings for this game?
action: Y.
response: Content warnings for this game:

This game contains a bloody/gory scene, standard curse words, and a few scary scenes, and the character you are playing is suffering from depression and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).
action: You press enter
response: Finally, to set the mood, you could listen to the game's official playlist, which is made of the songs that Charlotte is listening to throughout the adventure.
Playlist Spotify: [LINK]
Playlist Youtube: [LINK]

[Press any key to begin the game...]
action: You press enter
response: 5pm. You start noticing an unpleasant feeling of hunger for the first time today. You have to feed your body. You stay there lying down for ten more minutes, thoughts rushing and crashing in your head as usual. But for once, your brain doesn't shut down the thought, and today you convince yourself almost easily that you need to pull yourself out of bed to eat something. You sigh, then get up.

Life On Mars?

Type "help" for information and instructions.

Everything is shrouded in half-darkness, as always. Your sleeping bag is rolled in a ball, crumpled up in its usual spot in the corner of the room. In the opposite corner are your chair and computer desk. Your computer's looping the same playlist, as always. You spend most of your time here, although you go to the greenhouse from time to time. This is fine.

To the north, a little alcove leads to the greenhouse door. The corridor leading to the rest of the base is south.
action: You examine computer
response: It's just a terminal, a monitor and peripherals; all the work and the computations are done by the central computer of the base, located underground, a gigantic computer built patiently by robots one mission after the other. The base computer centralises and interprets all the data coming from the base's systems, from the humidity in the greenhouse to the air pressure in the airlocks; whenever needed, it sends orders to Bill and Bob, who are in a way its arms and legs. It was made to control thousands of systems and dozens of robots, but since the majority of the base is closed off, it is rather underused; right now it spends its days showing your emails and playing music.

[To check your emails and/or answer them, use the command >CONSULT EMAILS or >EMAILS]
action: You consult the emails
action: You return
action: You press green button
action: P.
response: From: desk@aresmail.com [Mon 17 Sept 01:15 PM]

Dear all,

A key ring was found and brought to the reception desk. The key ring holds a dozen keys, as well as a rubber logo of the Barcelona soccer team, a key chain shaped like a "Playboy"-style bunny head, and another
one shaped like a marijuana leaf.

The owner of this key ring can pick it up at the front desk in the main
entrance.

Have a nice day,
Greg
[i'm sure Tacker laughed when he saw that]
[it sounds like the guy in the office in front of his, the one he likes to whine about]
action: P.
response: From: diagnosticcentre@aresmail.com [Mon 17 Sept 2018 12:00
AM]
Cc: Undisclosed recipients

Dear all,

It's that time of the day again; here is the daily report from the diagnostic centre:
[always the same, these emails]

Sunday, Sept. 16th 2018: No anomaly detected
[i bet he is sick of sending them]
Have a nice day,
[Kind regards,]
Best regards,
[Sanjay Duplantier]
Sanjay Duplantier
[for the Diagnostic Centre]
for the Diagnostic Centre
[yeah, told you so]
action: P.
response: From: dianepeters@aresmail.com [Sun 16 Sept 2018 12:12 PM]

I am profoundly sorry if my previous email was not well received. I must
admit that I was simply worried when hearing about what Colonel Klein told me, and it is possible that my previous email was poorly worded. I
can assure you that your psychological state is the only thing that I'm
interested in here.
[i was harsh, she comes back with her tail between her legs]

I apologize if you have interpreted my explanation as an attempt to repress your feelings. It was, obviously, not the goal. I was simply [at the same time, she crossed the line here]
looking to draw your attention to facts that have been clinically proven in psychology, that you may not know about and that could help you see and interpret the situation from a different
angle.

I would still like you to tell me more about this memory, and what it means to you. Take your time if you need it.
[how am i supposed to trust you now?]

Waiting for your reply,
Take care of yourself,
Dr Diane Peters
action: P.
response: From: mickdoherty@aresmail.com [Sun 16 Sept 2018 11:01 AM]

Hello Charlotte,

I'm working at the Launching Department -- I don't know if you remember
me? We briefly chatted at a reception that happened a few days before the
launch.

I have a favor to ask you, if you don't mind: the schoolteacher in my son
Anthony's class (he's 9) asked them to find a famous person to whom they
could write a letter and ask them a few questions. And you are a famous
person, and all the kids know you, so I was wondering if by any chance you would accept doing this. Of course, we will probably need to get the
OK from our hierarchy, but I wanted to ask you first if you would would like to do it... It'd mean a lot to him! Tell me what you
think.

Best regards,
Mick Doherty
[that's cute, Mick, but I have other things on my mind right
now...]
[well, i'm sure that our hierarchy is minimizing what's going on
to everyone]
["oh no, she's fine, she's just a bit sad"]
["of course, send it to her, it'll take her mind off things"]
[people can't possibly understand what it represents]
action: P.
response: From: dianepeters@aresmail.com [Sun 16 Sept 2018 10:45 AM]

Hello Charlotte,
[ah right, that email...]

Recently, Colonel Klein paid me a visit, and he seemed very concerned about your emotional state. He told me about a series of emails you exchanged with him, in which you maintained having pushed a button in the
shuttle just before the accident, which according to you was what caused
the explosion. However, according to him, and the engineers under his orders, it is impossible that you could have pushed this button.
[i may have reacted badly when I saw this email...]

I'd like you to tell me what this memory means to you. It seems like [when i read it again, she wasn't as aggressive as I thought]
it is something important, and that is likely carrying an emotional meaning   [but still, it's not very professional]
that must be heavy to carry in your situation. I would have liked it if       [you don't force your patient to talk about something
they don't want to talk about, right?]
you had told me about it earlier; it is possible that working on
this memory could help relieve your pain, and allow you to move forward.

I would like to draw your attention to the fact that it is very much possible that this memory does not correspond to an action that actually
happened. The works of several psychologists have shown that memories can     [but is she telling the truth?]
be constructed and modified by the brain in certain situations, including     [or are Klein and the others pulling the
strings?]
situations of post-traumatic stress disorder. In your case, it could represent an adaptation strategy that your brain adopted in response to
this catastrophic event: the fact that it was accidental, unforeseeable
and without any logic may be too much to take in. Which does not mean that    ["just make up an explanation, Dr Peters"]
you cannot function normally in other ways; it is a process that is very      ["something that sounds plausible, so that she gets that idea out of her head"]
different from hallucinations or sensory malfunction, which are more worrying symptoms.

Waiting for your reply,
Take care of yourself,
Dr Diane Peters
action: P.
response: From: media-dept@aresmail.com [Sat 15 Sept 2018 10:51 PM]

Charlotte Tournier,

The following downloads were successfully completed:
Cyclicity of Catastrophe — The Rain (full album)
[oh yeah, right, I downloaded that]
This is an automated message; please do not reply.
Regards,
[i should listen to it, it sounded like good doom metal]
The Media Department
[there, i'll add it to the playlist]
action: P.
response: From: communicationdept@aresmail.com [Sat 15 Sept 2018
10:42 AM]

Dear all,

Don't forget! Tonight on Euronews, in the show "New Deals" hosted by Patrick Lecouturier, at 7pm French time, the Colonel Gérard Puiseux will answer questions on Ares Space's exploration program, the current mission, and prospects for the future. Another chance for Ares Space to
let the mainstream audience know about its technologies and the breadth
of the scientific and economic benefits of such an extraordinary mission.

Have a nice day,
The Communication Department of Ares Space

[pfff, propaganda]
[i can see it from here]
["yes everything is fine, of course it has been tough"]
["but the mission continues, even if we had to slow the pace
down"]
["we're taking it slow with her, but her morale is good"]
[I could let the truth be known to everyone, I should]
[they should know the truth]
[but at the same time, people wouldn't get it]
[even Dr Peters doesn't get it, so...]
[you have to live it to understand]
action: P.
response: From: colonelfrankklein@aresmail.com [Sat 15 Sept 2018
09:59 AM]

Hello Charlotte,

For the last time, I'm asking you to stop insisting. It is
literally impossible, whatever you may say.

The ship did not stop sending frequent backups of the black box, all through the trip. We have in our possession two copies of the ship's parameters when the accident happened: an incomplete one sent by
the ship, and one coming directly from the actual black box that was recovered by the base's robots, which we received a few days after
the accident. Hence, when I tell you that this button wasn't pushed, by you or anyone else, you must believe me; we have definite proof
of what we're saying here.

I do not doubt that you are sincere, but think a little, will you?
You
went through a horrendous crash that was most likely traumatizing; your
brain may have some misfires these days, and if I tell you that I'm absolutely certain that you didn't do it, then you didn't do it. I imagine
those are the repercussions of the accident. Take some rest and come back
quickly to 100% of your abilities. We need you.

Colonel Frank Klein.

[...]
[he can say whatever he wants, i pushed the button]
[they're lying to me]
[they want to make me doubt so I don't go insane]
[i must be available to them, so that the program isn't slowed
down]
[so that they don't end up with a total mission failure]
[so that they can tell the story of the heroic survivor who
overcomes hardships to give Mars to the Earth]
[people love stories like that, and it makes the market share tick
up]
action: Space
action: You listen
response: Cemetary Gates, by Pantera. Haunted, tormented, violent, and
those screams of pain at the end...
action: You examine the bag
response: Crumpled in the corner of the room where you sleep, the zipper wide open (you never close the zipper, because of the nightmares). When your bed is an air cushion about half a centimetre thick tied to a plastic sleeping bag, what's the use of making your bed every morning? It's keeping you warm, it's true, but as for the rest, it's neither very comfortable nor soft; everything is Spartan here. You feel like if you could sleep in a real bed, with a thick mattress and blankets that would wrap all around you and give you some soft, comforting heat, if you could sleep in it for one night -- no, a week -- a month -- or, rather, an eternity -- it would solve all your problems.
action: You examine the chair
response: As all the furniture in the base, this chair was built from a few metal rails, put together by the robots before you got here. The air cushion they fixed on it is a joke, not even a centimetre thick. You hate this chair, it is always cold, uncomfortable, and these days it seems even more unstable than usual. So you wriggle around on it when you have nothing to do, or when you're waiting for an email to arrive, and one of these days it will collapse and it will serve it right.
action: Go north
response: Through the glass door on your right, you can see the base's greenhouse, which enables you to survive for now -- and for how long? There are a few weird vegetables and a couple of herbs valiantly attempting to survive in this cold and hostile Martian soil, constantly monitored by the central computer for optimal conditions. South is the room where you live; the bathroom is north.
action: You examine the vegetables
response: Behind the Plexiglas door to the east is the base's greenhouse, where a few plants attempt to survive in the martian soil.
action: Go north
response: You don't need to go to the toilet, and your next shower can wait. In any case, who cares about your body odor here?
action: You take the vegetables
response: You aren't inside the greenhouse.

Your stomach rumbles, and the sensation of hunger is pretty intense. You have to find something to eat, to appease it for a while.
action: You enter the greenhouse
response: You open the door and enter the greenhouse.
Martian greenhouse
It's warm in here, almost too warm. The Martian soil is cold, harsh, and the plants that are trying to grow here need to always be humid enough, which is accomplished with the drip irrigation system, constantly monitored by the central computer. The handful of plants and the few vegetables you're supposed to eat try their best to survive under those conditions, far away from their natural ecosystem. They look weak and tired, almost depressed; you wonder if, despite all the computer's efforts, they will last for much longer. You can exit the greenhouse by going west.
action: You get the plants
response: Odd, you thought you saw something move behind a leaf. You pull your hand back quickly and freeze. It's impossible, unless...
action: You take the plants
response: Slowly, you go around the leaves where the movement seemed to come from...

Something red, that...

Ah! It's fine, it's one of the station's robots. For a moment you thought that... But no, it's impossible -- of course you're alone in this station. It could only be the robots.
action: You examine the robot
response: The little red robot is Bob. You don't really know why, but that's the name he's been given. He's one of the two robots that live with you. They move around, but they don't have consciousness, and they aren't really capable of interacting with you -- robotics hasn't evolved fast enough to make robots that would be able to keep you company. They are controlled by the central computer, which gives them all sorts of tasks to perform in the base, from taking care of the plants to cleaning the rug, or even analysing samples.
action: You take the vegetable
response: You scratch and dig the soil a bit, and you find two carrots which look edible, as well as some mushrooms of adequate size, and a few leaves from a lettuce. You gulp down what you just harvested; the vegetables are rather bland, and whatever little taste they have has very little resemblance to vegetables from Earth, which makes eating them a strange experience. In no more than five minutes your meal is over, if you can call that a meal; you brush the soil off your hands as you get to your feet. The robots will take care of replanting when the sensors in the ground will have detected that the vegetables have been picked.

Ah, you have an email -- your computer just made that noise.
action: Go east
response: The greenhouse's only exit is west.
action: Go west
response: You open the door and exit the greenhouse.
By the greenhouse
Through the glass door on your right, you can see the base's greenhouse, which enables you to survive for now -- and for how long? There are a few weird vegetables and a couple of herbs valiantly attempting to survive in this cold and hostile Martian soil, constantly monitored by the central computer for optimal conditions. South is the room where you live; the bathroom is north.
action: You go to the south
response: Everything is shrouded in half-darkness, as always. Your sleeping bag is rolled in a ball, crumpled up in its usual spot in the corner of the room. In the opposite corner are your chair and computer desk. Your computer's looping the same playlist, as always. You spend most of your time here, although you go to the greenhouse from time to time. This is fine.

To the north, a little alcove leads to the greenhouse door. The corridor leading to the rest of the base is south.
action: You look at the computer
response: It's just a terminal, a monitor and peripherals; all the work and the computations are done by the central computer of the base, located underground, a gigantic computer built patiently by robots one mission after the other. The base computer centralises and interprets all the data coming from the base's systems, from the humidity in the greenhouse to the air pressure in the airlocks; whenever needed, it sends orders to Bill and Bob, who are in a way its arms and legs. It was made to control thousands of systems and dozens of robots, but since the majority of the base is closed off, it is rather underused; right now it spends its days showing your emails and playing music.
action: P.
response: From: majorchristacker@aresmail.com [Mon 17 Sept 2018 04:42
PM]

Hello Charlotte,
[hm, what does Tacker want?]

A little mission for you today, if you feel up for it. We'd like to try to redo some calculations on base operations, energy consumption, nutritional needs, all that stuff. So, could you try to go to the storeroom and tell us what's left there? Actually, what would be most useful for us would be to know how many protein loaves are left in the [haha, he'll never say "recycled shit"]
storeroom. Let us know as soon as you can, so we can look into this over
here.

Take care of yourself.
Tacker
[alright, well let's go count those bits of tofu then]
action: P.
response: From: dianepeters@aresmail.com [Mon 17 Sept 2018 04:58 PM]

Hello Charlotte,

I would like to offer, once more, an apology for yesterday's events.
I
hope that this incident will not prevent us from continuing our therapeutic process together. I am available whenever you want if you feel
the need to communicate via video messages; just let me know when.

Waiting for your reply,
[yeah well you're gonna wait a while]
Take care of yourself,
Dr Diane Peters
action: You take the bag
response: You gaze at that pathetic bed, then you sigh. It's really fine where it is.
action: Go south
response: You stop in front of the corridor and stare at it. You don't like this corridor. It takes you away from your comfort zone. Of course, you're alone in here. But tell that to your heart, which is already beating fast.
Corridor
You've never liked this corridor -- more precisely, you've always felt a bit queasy when walking in it, and you don't really need that right now. It is small, rather narrow, and the neon that's supposed to light it is blinking a pallid light. You really don't have a good feeling about it. That's also why you moved your sleeping bag to the main room north, so you don't have to walk in this corridor every night to go to the quarters, which are located next to the deactivated door at the south end of the corridor.
action: Go south
response: On the other side of the door, it is pitch black, or almost. This is the remainder of the base, which circuits have been deactivated after the catastrophe. Resources are rare, we can't afford to leave you access the whole base, which was designed to be used by the four of you. We put everything you might need in one wing. Let us know if you need anything else, but you should be fine. The storeroom is next to the door, towards the east; westwards, a bit further around the corner, is the dorm where the crew was supposed to sleep, which is now empty, and the corridor runs north to the main room.
action: You go east
response: The storeroom is a small room, narrow but long, with metal shelves running along the walls, and the kitchen nook at the back -- a sparse one, with a sink and two electric burners. Of course, almost all the supplies were lost in the accident, and what remains here are the survival rations, so to speak. The shelves are thus almost all empty, apart from the two closest to the door, which are reasonably full; although most of it is that "space tofu", like everyone called it, even if there are other things like the sauces, your last shred of humanity. You can exit to the corridor by the deactivated door.

You can see a yellow robot here.
action: You examine the robot
response: That's Bill. Bill and Bob, the base's two robots. Aside from their color, they are rigorously identical -- no difference whatsoever in their duties or their personalities, since they don't have any. They are dumb robots, servants to the central computer, who mostly do the upkeep of the base. In any case, they just don't stop -- they probably have more work than what they've been designed to do, since you don't do any of the tasks you were supposed to do. It's just as well: they're more efficient than you anyway. You need some time, or something else, but clearly not more orders to follow.
action: You count the sauces
response: No need to worry about salt, there are infinite supplies of it on Mars. As for sauces, there is barely half a dozen of small samples that aren't dehydrated, and several dozens -- fifty? a hundred? -- of dehydrated ones. So, not really enough to eat those every day.
action: You count the loaves
response: Alright, let's see.

You put your arm behind the pile of tofu on the shelf, then in a big sweeping motion you push all that off the shelf. The tofu loaves fly and crash on the floor. This mayhem is of course pretty childish, but it makes you happy, and you burst out laughing.

You bend down and start picking up the tofu loaves, putting them on the shelves by groups of five as you count them. You count out loud, to fill the silence, and to avoid losing track of the number. Finally, after ten minutes or so, you get to the end of the pile. "One sixteen!" you proclaim proudly. Then you repeat this number in your head several times, so as not to forget it. You should now go reply to the Major's email.
action: You look
response: The storeroom is a small room, narrow but long, with metal shelves running along the walls, and the kitchen nook at the back -- a sparse one, with a sink and two electric burners. Of course, almost all the supplies were lost in the accident, and what remains here are the survival rations, so to speak. The shelves are thus almost all empty, apart from the two closest to the door, which are reasonably full; although most of it is that "space tofu", like everyone called it, even if there are other things like the sauces, your last shred of humanity. You can exit to the corridor by the deactivated door.

You can see Bill here.
action: You examine the sink
response: A metal sink, almost normal except for the shape of the faucet: some kind of curved metal tube, with a motion detector. Of course, like all the water sources on the base, the water that flows is methodically recovered, treated and reused; you and the plants need it. But it's not really like you were lacking water here either: there's quite a bit of ice on Mars, and moreover the fuel cells which power the base (partly, the other part is coming from the Sun) create water as a byproduct when releasing energy. But all that costs energy or hydrogen, so everything is controlled and reused, in an effort to waste as little as possible.
The sink is currently switched off.
action: Go west
response: On the other side of the door, it is pitch black, or almost. This is the remainder of the base, which circuits have been deactivated after the catastrophe. Resources are rare, we can't afford to leave you access the whole base, which was designed to be used by the four of you. We put everything you might need in one wing. Let us know if you need anything else, but you should be fine. The storeroom is next to the door, towards the east; westwards, a bit further around the corner, is the dorm where the crew was supposed to sleep, which is now empty, and the corridor runs north to the main room.
action: Go north
response: You've never liked this corridor -- more precisely, you've always felt a bit queasy when walking in it, and you don't really need that right now. It is small, rather narrow, and the neon that's supposed to light it is blinking a pallid light. You really don't have a good feeling about it. That's also why you moved your sleeping bag to the main room north, so you don't have to walk in this corridor every night to go to the quarters, which are located next to the deactivated door at the south end of the corridor.
action: Go north
response: From: uawunion@aresmail.com [Mon 17 Sept 2018 05:00 PM]

Dear colleagues,

Today, the United Aerospace Workers feel it is their responsibility
to
blow the whistle on the working conditions at Ares Space. Those working
conditions are getting worse and worse, between unpaid hours of overtime
and uncertainties surrounding the end-of-year bonus, as well as the pressure the company is putting its employees under.

those working conditions two months ago, shortly before the catastrophe we
all know about. Ever since then, the working conditions have not improved,
and have even gotten worse. We report and criticize the following facts,
which appeared within the last six weeks:
- the constant changes in the workers' schedules;
- the older model of shuttle being brought back in the factory
without
any complementary training given to the workers, which also puts
new
entrants at a disadvantage;
- the contradictory orders and constant reconfiguration of the missions
(order, content, durations, etc.), which betrays a clear lack of organization for the last six weeks;
- inadequate psychological support and follow-up provided to employees.
This also adds to our previous grievances, which were about the late payment or even sometimes the non-payment of overtime, or difficult schedules in the manufacturing unit when, as the recent events unfortunately show, ensuring both quality and security is paramount, and
this requires to have qualified personnel be able to work under good conditions.

We ask for our grievances to be heard by corporate management, and we wish
to be given an interview with Mr Schwartz as soon as possible to discuss
those points.

Have a nice day,
Your UAW representatives

[good for them, i guess...]
[pffff]
[who's going to help me get out of this?]
action: P.
response: [alright, time to reply to Tacker]
action: Reply
response: From: majorchristacker@aresmail.com [Mon 17 Sept 2018 04:42
PM]

Hello Charlotte,

A little mission for you today, if you feel up for it. We'd like to try to redo some calculations on base operations, energy consumption, nutritional needs, all that stuff. So, could you try to go to the storeroom and tell us what's left there? Actually, what would be most useful for us would be to know how many protein loaves are left in the storeroom. Let us know as soon as you can, so we can look into this over
here.

Take care of yourself.
Tacker
action: Reply
response: From: majorchristacker@aresmail.com [Mon 17 Sept 2018 04:42
PM]

>    Hello Charlotte,

> A little mission for you today, if you feel up for it. We'd like
to
>try to redo some calculations about the base operations, the
energy
>consumption, nutritional needs, all that stuff. So, could you try
to
>go to the storeroom and tell us what's left there? Actually, what would
>be most useful for us would be to know how many protein
loaves
>are left in the storeroom. Let us know as soon as you can, so we
can look
>into this over here.

> Take care of yourself.
> Tacker
action: Type
action: You send
response: TackerThere are 116 loaves of recycled poop on the shelf,
116 loaves of recycled poop on
the shelf, 116 loaves of recycled poop on the shelf...
action: You send
response: the shelf, 116 loaves of recycled poop on the shelf...And if one astronaut should have to go and poop,
action: You send
response: astronaut should have to go and poop,there would be 117 loaves of recycled poop on the shelf.
action: You wait
response: [hahahaha]
[there, sent]
action: You wait
action: You listen
response: Schottkey 7th Pathby Aphex Twin. Incessant crackling and a
stubborn melody, played by an echoey synth.
action: Go south
response: You've never liked this corridor -- more precisely, you've always felt a bit queasy when walking in it, and you don't really need that right now. It is small, rather narrow, and the neon that's supposed to light it is blinking a pallid light. You really don't have a good feeling about it. That's also why you moved your sleeping bag to the main room north, so you don't have to walk in this corridor every night to go to the quarters, which are located next to the deactivated door at the south end of the corridor.
action: Go south
response: On the other side of the door, it is pitch black, or almost. This is the remainder of the base, which circuits have been deactivated after the catastrophe. Resources are rare, we can't afford to leave you access the whole base, which was designed to be used by the four of you. We put everything you might need in one wing. Let us know if you need anything else, but you should be fine. The storeroom is next to the door, towards the east; westwards, a bit further around the corner, is the dorm where the crew was supposed to sleep, which is now empty, and the corridor runs north to the main room.

What are you still doing there, you wretch? What's the point?
You're useless here, the robots are doing all the work.
The harmful thoughts are coming back... It's hard to avoid them these days. And you know that when they start, the only thing there is to make them stop is curl up in a ball in your bed and empty your mind, meditate, or sleep. That's the way it is. Maybe it'll eventually get better.
action: You go south
response: The door is controlled by the central computer, which is itself controlled by the base. In any case, you really don't need any more of empty, dark, depressing spaces; you have enough of that right now.
action: Sleep
response: You look at your sleeping bag, and you suddenly feel an overwhelming weariness taking over, like it often happens. What's the point of all this? Why do all this, why does it matter? Your only desire right now is to curl up in a ball. And who will prevent you from that? You can do whatever you want.
do whatever you want.Alright, that's enough for today. Weariness, fatigue, emptiness are heavy to bear, and you feel like you're going down a bad slippery slope. The best strategy is to go to bed, meditate, empty your head, let yourself drift in sleep; luckily, you've always managed to find sleep quickly and whenever you wanted it, ever since you were little.

You slip inside your sleeping bag, and close your eyes. The thoughts are still racing in your mind, but you know the solution. You start counting, slowly, starting from fifty -- you and Dr Peters discovered that counting down only triggered visions of space shuttles, launches, stress, in your brain, and only brought the trauma back. Slowly, softly, steadily, focusing on every single syllable...
action: Sleep
response: Fifty...
action: You keep going
response: Fifty-one...
action: Continue
response: Fifty-two...
action: Keep going
response: Fifty-three...
Fifty-three...
Fifty-four...
action: You press the Space
response: Fifty-five...
Fifty-six...
action: You wait
response: Fifty-seven...
action: You wait
response: The walls are blank, the colors grey and green. A periscope in front of you; it's up.
action: You look through the periscope
response: The periscope is way up. You jump to reach it, but you can't grab it.

Behind you, Eduardo smiles at you. "I'll help you."

You feel his hands on your hips, and you jump, and you manage to hang to the periscope, then to climb up the tower, way up.

You are standing on the submarine's metal hatch. You look around. Everything is dark, it's sunset. The sky is reddish, the water a dark blue. Not a wave, like a clear mirror made of water. Far away, an island.
action: You get down
response: You get down inside the ship.

The walls inside are straight, and covered with instruments and dials that you cannot read clearly. You friends are by the ceiling, floating around -- you are under water, which leaked into the hull. A red button lies on the floor.
action: You wait
response: You push the red button, and the other three scream, shriek. You don't feel anything, but you jump. Their screams are very distinctly real and hurt your ears.

The fire extinguisher next to you starts blowing steam out, like a pressure cooker. A horrible whistling noise, a high-pitched noise, getting louder and higher, like an alarm or a plane going down. Eduardo looks at you, as if he wasn't understanding what was happening to him, his eyes full of reproach.

With an expression full of hate, Michel lunges for you, and you push him back. His head hits a crossbar and he starts bleeding inside his space suit. He starts melting inside his space suit, all you can see are red bubbles and his face decomposing quickly, his skull tearing off. You want to close your eyes but you can't.

An explosion, and shrapnel floats parallel to you, in slow motion. Pieces of metal, the dials' hands, glass, knifes.

You can't stop looking at Eduardo's face, torn apart by thousands of projectiles, his skin peeling off his skull in big shreds, the red color of his muscles, the red of his blood, his cry of pain, his face crumbing away, his skin tearing off...

You turn around, and a grenade is right in front of your face, you see every single one of its details, and then it freezes, then explodes in your face...
action: You wait
response: [AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH]
action: You wait
response: You wake up, screaming, shaking, tense, sitting up, then quickly on your feet, but then just as quickly back down on all fours, curled up in a ball.

Your heart is beating very fast, too fast, it's going to shut down on you. Your breathing is nothing but loud whimpers, gasps, sobs.

After a few seconds, or minutes, of this intense terror, you manage to control yourself somewhat again, with great difficulty. That one was vivid. They all are. Dozens of terrible details that haunt you. Morbid dreams that you can still remember, even the little details, weeks later. All similar, all different, all terrifying.

It's hard, but you get back up, and you stretch with a big sigh. You hate the days that start with nightmares. You can never quite shake them off, and the cloud hangs over your head the whole day through. Every day starts with a nightmare these days.
action: Loo
response: Everything is shrouded in half-darkness, as always. Your sleeping bag is rolled in a ball, crumpled up in its usual spot in the corner of the room. In the opposite corner are your chair and computer desk. Your computer's looping the same playlist, as always. You spend most of your time here, although you go to the greenhouse from time to time. This is fine.

To the north, a little alcove leads to the greenhouse door. The corridor leading to the rest of the base is south.

Apparently, you have a new email.
action: P.
response: From: diagnosticcentre@aresmail.com [Tues 18 Sept 2018
09:00 AM]

Hello Charlotte,

Our instruments picked up some anomalies in the base this morning,
and
the procedure is that we must inform you about them.
[interesting...]

Those measurements are ones produced by sensors placed in the room where
beds for the crew were set up. Our previous measurements indicate that you haven't been using this room for sleeping for a few weeks, but we still measured important traces of organic life, most notably heat and some breathing.
[huh?]

[i would never have done that!]
it is totally fine, but the procedure is such that we have to inform you
of any activity that's out of the ordinary. The other explanation, which is admittedly a bit more worrying, is that you were subject to a temporary sleepwalking episode during the night, which is possible. [sleepwalking? what next?]
If this is the case, we ask you to inform your referring
psychiatrist, Dr Peters.
[oh god]

Have a nice day,
[the third explanation the third explanation]

Kind regards,
[no, it's silly]

[enough of your crap]

[what if i wasn't alone]
[come on stupid girl]
[you're not making any sense]
[knock it off]
[i'm not alone]
[that's why i'm so scared of this room]
[i felt it]
[NO enough with your bullshit]
action: P.
response: From: toodope@karatemail.com [Tues 18 Sept 2018 10:11 AM]

Hey Charlotte,

I haven't really had much time the last few days, I'll tell you
about it later if you want. But I was just thinking about the email you sent me, and it sucks. Is there anything I can do? let me know.

Later,
Tom

[hmm]
[he's worried]
[but at the same time what can he do]
[alright, i'll reply]
action: You wait
response: From: toodope@karatemail.com [Tues 18 Sept 2018 10:11 AM]

>    Hey Charlotte,

> I haven't really had much time the last few days, I'll tell
you
>about it later if you want. But I was just thinking about the
email
>you sent me, and it sucks. Is there anything I can do? let me
know.

> Later,
> Tom

Hey Tom,
That's sweet, but no. Unforun
action: You wait
response: From: toodope@karatemail.com [Tues 18 Sept 2018 10:11 AM]

>    Hey Charlotte,

> I haven't really had much time the last few days, I'll tell
you
>about it later if you want. But I was just thinking about the
email
>you sent me, and it sucks. Is there anything I can do? let me
know.

> Later,
> Tom

Hey Tom,
That's sweet, but no. Unforu
action: You wait
response: From: toodope@karatemail.com [Tues 18 Sept 2018 10:11 AM]

>    Hey Charlotte,

> I haven't really had much time the last few days, I'll tell
you
>about it later if you want. But I was just thinking about the
email
>you sent me, and it sucks. Is there anything I can do? let me
know.

> Later,
> Tom

Hey Tom,
That's sweet, but no. Unfor
action: Type
response: That's sweet, but no. Unfortunately.
action: Type
response: That's sweet, but no. Unfortunately. I feel like nobody can do anything to help
me
action: Type
response: me, it's a drr
action: Type
response: From: toodope@karatemail.com [Tues 18 Sept 2018 10:11 AM]

>    Hey Charlotte,

> I haven't really had much time the last few days, I'll tell
you
>about it later if you want. But I was just thinking about the
email
>you sent me, and it sucks. Is there anything I can do? let me
know.

> Later,
> Tom

Hey Tom,
That's sweet, but no. Unfortunately. I feel like nobody can do anything to help
me, it's a dr
action: Type
response: me, it's a dreadful feeling.
action: Continue
response: me, it's a dreadful feeling. In fact, it's silly, but
action: You keep going
response: me, it's a dreadful feeling. In fact, it's silly, but I don't know if I'm feeling better.
action: You continue
response: I'm feeling better. I mean, I understand that its
action: Continue
response: From: toodope@karatemail.com [Tues 18 Sept 2018 10:11 AM]

>    Hey Charlotte,

> I haven't really had much time the last few days, I'll tell
you
>about it later if you want. But I was just thinking about the
email
>you sent me, and it sucks. Is there anything I can do? let me
know.

> Later,
> Tom

Hey Tom,
That's sweet, but no. Unfortunately. I feel like nobody can do anything to help
me, it's a dreadful feeling.

In fact, it's silly, but I don't know if I'm feeling better. I mean,
I understand that it
action: Keep going
response: not a linear process, if you see what I mean
action: Keep going
response: not a linear process, if you see what I mean..
action: Continue
response: not a linear process, if you see what I mean...
action: You keep going
response: not a linear process, if you see what I mean... I don't know if I'm going to get out of it.
action: Keep going
response: going to get out of it. Get out of that, that state.
action: Continue
response: going to get out of it. Get out of that, that state. I don't know if it's
possible given the situation, you see.
action: Continue
response: possible given the situation, you see. I know that people get over it, that kind of stuff,
but they're not as alone as I am.
action: Keep going
response: but they're not as alone as I am. They have friends, support networks, crutches.
action: You continue
response: crutches. Help.
action: Continue
response: And me...
action: Continue
response: And me... I only have you, almost.
action: Keep going
response: And me... I only have you, almost. And y
action: Keep going
response: From: toodope@karatemail.com [Tues 18 Sept 2018 10:11 AM]

>    Hey Charlotte,

> I haven't really had much time the last few days, I'll tell
you
>about it later if you want. But I was just thinking about the
email
>you sent me, and it sucks. Is there anything I can do? let me
know.

> Later,
> Tom

Hey Tom,
That's sweet, but no. Unfortunately. I feel like nobody can do anything to help
me, it's a dreadful feeling.

In fact, it's silly, but I don't know if I'm feeling better. I mean,
I understand that it's
not a linear process, if you see what I mean...

I don't know if I'm going to get out of it. Get out of that, that state. I don't know if it's
possible given the situation, you see. I know that people get over it, that kind of stuff,
but they're not as alone as I am. They have friends, support networks, crutches. Help.
And me... I only have you, almost.
action: Continue
response: (By the way, I'll have to tell you some other day about what my
shrink did to me.
action: You keep going
response: shrink did to me. I was livid.)
action: You continue
response: shrink did to me. I was livid.) And you, even with you it's not really it,
action: Continue
response: it, it's just epistolary.
action: Keep going
response: it, it's just epistolary. We're constantly leaving
messages on each other's voicemail, so to speak, but we're not really there for each other.
action: Continue
response: I hope you see what I mean by that.
action: Keep going
response: I hope you see what I mean by that. It's been so long since I saw a face...
action: Continue
response: face... Send me
a picture, any picture.
action: You continue
response: a picture, any picture. Take care of yourself, and don't worry about me.
Charlotte
action: You continue
response: [there, sent]
action: Go north
response: From: majorchristacker@aresmail.com [Tues 18 Sept 2018
11:13 AM]

Hello Charlotte,

We got a problem: Bob seems stuck in the crew quarters!
[what?! how is that even possible?]

The central computer tried to fix him, even rebooting him, but it didn't work. We even tried to take over manually, but we don't know why
he's responding but not moving, no matter what we try.

It's really weird!! So, rather than sending Bill to the rescue and maybe
cause him to get stuck because of the same thing (but what could it be?!)     [but those robots are indestructible, they're not
supposed to be stuck, ever!]
we'd like you to go check it out. To see if it's something in the room,
or if it's a software or hardware bug. Let us know what you can find, and
if you can't see anything unusual we'll have to try to trace the bug in
the code and update both of them.

Let us know quickly please!! Thanks!!
Tacker
[that can't be? what the hell is this, shit!]
[they never break down, those robots never have any kind of
problem]
[unless something
attacked him]
[well shit, they can trudge along on the surface of mars, a stupid
rug is not gonna...]
[it's something
else]
[all that is not exactly reassuring...]
[what about the email
from the diagnostic centre?]
[fuck, i need to calk down right now]
[you're not alone you're
not alone i'm telling you not alone]
[STOP your shit]
[alright, let's go, i'm sure it's nothing]
action: Go north
response: Through the glass door on your right, you can see the base's greenhouse, which enables you to survive for now -- and for how long? There are a few weird vegetables and a couple of herbs valiantly attempting to survive in this cold and hostile Martian soil, constantly monitored by the central computer for optimal conditions. South is the room where you live; the bathroom is north.
action: You go to the west
response: There is nothing this way; you can go south to the main room, or go inside the greenhouse. You could also go in the bathroom to the north, but you don't really feel like it.
action: Go east
response: You open the door and enter the greenhouse.
Martian greenhouse
It's warm in here, almost too warm. The Martian soil is cold, harsh, and the plants that are trying to grow here need to always be humid enough, which is accomplished with the drip irrigation system, constantly monitored by the central computer. The handful of plants and the few vegetables you're supposed to eat try their best to survive under those conditions, far away from their natural ecosystem. They look weak and tired, almost depressed; you wonder if, despite all the computer's efforts, they will last for much longer. You can exit the greenhouse by going west.
action: You get the vegetables
response: You absentmindedly nibble on a vegetable, which you find bland and tasteless. You need something heartier, with more proteins than this.
action: Go west
response: You open the door and exit the greenhouse.
By the greenhouse
Through the glass door on your right, you can see the base's greenhouse, which enables you to survive for now -- and for how long? There are a few weird vegetables and a couple of herbs valiantly attempting to survive in this cold and hostile Martian soil, constantly monitored by the central computer for optimal conditions. South is the room where you live; the bathroom is north.
action: You go to the south
response: Everything is shrouded in half-darkness, as always. Your sleeping bag is rolled in a ball, crumpled up in its usual spot in the corner of the room. In the opposite corner are your chair and computer desk. Your computer's looping the same playlist, as always. You spend most of your time here, although you go to the greenhouse from time to time. This is fine.

To the north, a little alcove leads to the greenhouse door. The corridor leading to the rest of the base is south.
action: You go south
response: On the other side of the door, it is pitch black, or almost. This is the remainder of the base, which circuits have been deactivated after the catastrophe. Resources are rare, we can't afford to leave you access the whole base, which was designed to be used by the four of you. We put everything you might need in one wing. Let us know if you need anything else, but you should be fine. The storeroom is next to the door, towards the east; westwards, a bit further around the corner, is the dorm where the crew was supposed to sleep, which is now empty, and the corridor runs north to the main room.

You should really do something about this robot -- but first, eating, quickly.
action: Go east
response: The storeroom is a small room, narrow but long, with metal shelves running along the walls, and the kitchen nook at the back -- a sparse one, with a sink and two electric burners. Of course, almost all the supplies were lost in the accident, and what remains here are the survival rations, so to speak. The shelves are thus almost all empty, apart from the two closest to the door, which are reasonably full; although most of it is that "space tofu", like everyone called it, even if there are other things like the sauces, your last shred of humanity. You can exit to the corridor by the deactivated door.

You can see Bill here.
action: You get Bill
response: He rolls rather quickly -- and what's more, he weighs a ton.
action: You get the loaf
response: Appease the hunger once and for all, even if it means eating one of those disgusting loaves. You take one from the top of the shelf and start removing the wrapping.

The loaf is almost small enough that it would fit whole in your mouth. Eurgh, why did you think about that -- now you're just picturing having your mouth completely filled with this thick and tasteless paste. You close your eyes and breathe, then eat one bite. Of course, it is tasteless; you take a pinch of salt and put it directly in your mouth: it's tolerable, but really not quite edible yet. Anyway, it never is. Had the payload not gone up in flames, you would have had all sorts of spices and herbs to plant, and even a few extra chemical aromas; but right now, with nothing of the kind, it's just unbearable.

After ten minutes of that disgusting sensation in your mouth, you painstakingly finish the loaf. You feel satiated, except that you feel like throwing up. Eating here is a struggle, a difficult and really not a gratifying one. No wonder you feel depressed, and you're sure that a plate of beef bourguignon would heal you in a heartbeat. Five months before taste comes back...
action: You go to the east
response: You can only leave the storeroom by going west.
action: Go west
response: You go back towards the deactivated door, which is half shrouded in darkness; you feel knots in your stomach, tied there by a feeling of foreboding. You're filled with fear, without exactly knowing why.
By the deactivated door
Is it darker here than it was moments ago? Oddly, it does seem so. You don't feel very safe anymore all of a sudden; it's like everything was darker, the darkness thickening, growing more menacing from behind the door, like your reflection was blurrier. You close your eyes for a few seconds, but when you open them, it's the same thing, and your heart is racing even more. Maybe the fear of going towards the quarters to the west.
action: Go west
response: Alright, when you gotta go... You take a deep breath before going towards the...
action: Go west
response: A little flash of light to your left, in your peripheral vision. Behind the door. At least you think? You turn and face the door, slowly. It can't be, still, must be a...
action: Go west
response: NO you weren't mistaken you jump out and run as far as you can from this darkness but you end up in front of the quarters and they're in darkness too -- breathe, breathe goddamnit, calm down calm down.

You can only gasp for air, which is burning your lungs; your head is spinning, your vision is blurring, your stomach is in a knot. Pure terror runs in your veins. Is there something, someone there? Impossible, impossible you tell yourself. But then why do you have this feeling of being watched, surrounded by a sinister shadow? You try to calm yourself by staring at the small light that's blinking in the dark room north; it's Bob, and he needs you.
action: Go north
response: One last scream filled with rage, pain, fear. Come you, you have to come in now!

You step forward slowly, shaking, your teeth clenched and your jaw as tense as it's ever been. You force yourself to relax it, you breathe through the mouth heavily but slowly. Singing, right, that would help. Singing anything, something rythmic, something catchy. You hum with a frail voice as you keep moving forward.

One step into darkness -- that's good -- it'll be okay, don't focus on it, it's just a dark room -- two steps -- everything's okay -- fuck i'm entirely in darkness -- it's okay it's okay -- focus on something else

Everything's fine. You take one more step, then another one, and nothing happens. Behind you, the light from the corridor makes you feel safer. You're not too far from Bob. It's almost over. A few more steps...
action: Go north
response: [what was that]
action: Go north
response: [shit - AAH]
action: You go north
response: [cold]
action: Go north
response: [wet]
action: Go north
response: [slimy]
action: Go north
response: [on my
ankle]
action: Go north
response: [around
my ankle]
action: Go north
response: [RUN]
action: You go north
response: You are standing in front of the room where the bunk beds were set up; the light from outside shines on the foot of one of the beds, against the wall. It was supposed to be the dorm, the crew quarters where everyone would go sleep at night. The only
action: F north
response: On the other side of the door, it is pitch black, or almost. This is the remainder of the base, the circuits of which have been deactivated after the catastrophe. Resources are rare, we can't afford to leave you access to the whole base, which was designed to be used by the four of you. We put
action: You go to the north
response: [AWAY]
action: You go to the north
response: [SHIT]
action: Go north
response: [calm down]
action: Go north
response: [CALM down]
action: Go north
response: [calm DOWN]
action: You go north
response: Everything's ok. Nothing to fear. Nothing.
action: You go north
response: [WHAT WAS THAT]

Caaaaalm down, caaaaalm down.
action: Go north
response: Caaaaalm down, caaaaalm down. [I
FELT IT I'M TELLING YOU I FELT IT]
action: You go to the north
response: Yes.

Me too.

[what are we going to do]
action: Go north
response: [i'm going crazy]
action: Go north
response: [i'm going crazy i'm hallucinating]
action: Go north
response: [IT will come back]
action: Go north
response: [it's gonna come back drive me insane kill me]
action: You go north
response: [i want it to go away]

[i don't want to be insane]

[i don't want to die]

[i want to survive this]
action: Go north
response: Your right arm reaches for your computer. You don't really feel like you're in your body anymore. A sensation of lightness, detachment. You see yourself opening the "MUSIC" folder of your computer. You find it easily, you click on it, and the speakers boom out this happy music. Exactly what you want. Joy. Waves. Sun. You are in California. You smile. You let the music take over. Your body is dancing like it never danced before. You close your eyes and abandon yourself to the music.
action: You wait
response: After six hours of school, I've had enough for the day
action: Dance
action: You go to the north
action: You run
response: You'll have to say which compass direction to go in.
You can see Bob's little red diode blinking alone in the dark.
action: You get Bob
response: Get in, take him, or flip him, and get out. Easy. Come on, show a bit of courage. Come on come on come on.
action: You get Bob
response: Get in, take him, or flip him, and get out. Easy. Come on, show a bit of courage. Come on come on come on.

Come on, now you need to go rescue Bob. Take a deep breath...
The little robot cries small beeps from time to time, like a little distress call.
action: You get Bob
response: Get in, take him, or flip him, and get out. Easy. Come on, show a bit of courage. Come on come on come on.
The little robot cries small beeps from time to time, like a little distress call.
action: You take Bob
response: Get in, take him, or flip him, and get out. Easy. Come on, show a bit of courage. Come on come on come on.
You can see Bob's little red diode blinking alone in the dark.