Dead Like Ants
by C.E.J. Pacian (2009)
Genres: Fantasy

You play as a young woman in red overalls, a red worker ant. Every spring, five dangerous creatures visit the tree and threaten the village, and every spring, the Queen sends one of her daughters to negotiate with them. This spring, the Queen wants you to be that daughter.

action: %
response: It's spring, finally. The hard winter months are a fading memory, and the branches bud and blossom with bright colour.

The Queen has sent for you.

It'll be the first time in your life that you've spoken to your own mother.

Malarkey in a tree, by C.E.J. Pacian

[Type 'About' if this is your first time playing.
Type 'Credits' to see who made this possible.]

This village - your home since birth - sprawls across and up the sides of the tree hollow. Spittle cottages, fungal fields and twig farmhouses are set among the knotted wood on all sides, even clinging to the roof high above.

From here you could head in to the Queen's chamber, or out to the sunlit world beyond the hollow.

Close by, a group of your sisters tend to a herd.
action: You examine the sisters
response: Slender, long-limbed women, a lot like yourself, though of all different ages. They wear red overalls.
action: About yourself
response: A slender, long-limbed young woman - not very long ago a girl. Your compound eyes have a bright sheen to them and your antennae twitch eagerly through the air.
action: You examine the overalls
response: Your overalls are comfortable and durable.
action: You go inside
response: Not opulent, as you might expect, but twilit and homely. Simple, finely crafted lamps cast a warm glow over the phloem walls.

Cots line one side of the chamber, each holding a formless, swaddled bundle.

The Queen, your mother, sits elegantly upon her throne. She meets your eye and beckons to you.
action: You talk to Queen
response: You clear your throat and curtsy. "Hello, your highness."

The Queen smiles benevolently. "My favourite daughter. I have a very special task for you."

(You could ask her about the task, her wings, herself, or your brothers.)
action: You ask her about herself
response: "You've worked for the village for so many years," you begin, "so
action: Topics
response: You could ask her about the task, her wings, the five creatures, herself, or your brothers.
action: You go outside
response: You curtsy before you leave.

"Good luck," the Queen says, "my favourite daughter."

This village - your home since birth - sprawls across and up the sides of the tree hollow. Spittle cottages, fungal fields and twig farmhouses are set among the knotted wood on all sides, even clinging to the roof high above.

From here you could head in to the Queen's chamber, or out to the sunlit world beyond the hollow.

Close by, a group of your sisters tend to a herd.
action: Go outside
response: The fertile brown bark of the tree stretches in all directions: up into the blue sky, down to the exotic green jungle, and curving around on itself both sunwise and widdershins.

The entrance to the Tree Hollow Village is set into the bark here. Just below it, a sturdy old branch stretches out into the distance, splitting into three smaller branches. Suspended magically between the three branch-tips is a pulsating whorl of bright colour.

One of your sisters lies curled up in the furrowed bark, dead.
action: You examine the whorl
response: Your faceted eyes struggle to make it out in any detail. A spiral of flickering colour seems to dance in time with the wind.
action: You touch the whorl
response: The whorl of colour is too far away.
action: Go downward
response: This tree is a huge enough world in itself. Leaving it seems pointlessly suicidal.
action: Up
response: You cover your mouth and swear. Holy shit.

Your eyes have never been that good over long distances, and this has got to be the longest distance you've ever seen. The green jungle stretches off to the horizon - something you had always thought a myth - where a jumble of strange shapes seem frozen in the act of rearing up into the sky.

Tall, green-topped structures stand in a great cluster around the tree that you call home. They can't be other trees, surely?

Obvious exits: Down
action: You examine the shapes
response: You haven't the faintest clue what they might be. All you can tell is that they're enormous, and so far away that you find it difficult to conceive of the distance.
action: You examine the horizon
response: Stunning. Confusing to look at. Do the land and sky stretch on forever in parallel? Do they meet at the horizon? Or is it something else even harder to understand?
action: You fly
response: The word "fly" is not necessary in this story.

(If this was an accidental misspelling, you can correct it by typing OOPS followed by the corrected word now. Any time the story points out an unknown word, you can correct a misspelling using OOPS as your next command.)
action: You go downwards
response: The fertile brown bark of the tree stretches in all directions: up into the blue sky, down to the exotic green jungle, and curving around on itself both sunwise and widdershins.

The entrance to the Tree Hollow Village is set into the bark here. Just below it, a sturdy old branch stretches out into the distance, splitting into three smaller branches. Suspended magically between the three branch-tips is a pulsating whorl of bright colour.

One of your sisters lies curled up in the furrowed bark, dead.

Obvious exits: Up, Down, In, Out, Sunwise, Widdershins
action: You go outside
response: Branch Tip, Beneath the Rainbow Net
Someone has stretched a vast net from the tip of this branch to the tips of two others high overhead - an impressive feat, to say the least. Flurries of blossom sail past on the wind, catching in the net and painting it bright, quivering colours.

A solitary black figure stands in the centre of the net above.

Obvious exits: Up, In
action: You examine the blossom
response: Hundreds of colourful petals float past on the wind. Those that have become trapped in the net above tremble in the breeze.
action: Up
response: You set your feet on the net. You have a natural aptitude for walking at all angles, but it helps that the net happens to be quite sticky.

From here, thin threads of silk extend in every direction, weaving a circular net in the air that catches delicate petals of blossom. The net seems remarkably sturdy, for something so insubstantial, and you're confident you can get down from here with ease.

A tall, pale widow stands in the centre of the net, watching her threads with keen interest.

Obvious exits: Down
action: You look at the widow
response: A tall, pale woman: slender and long-limbed, clothed in a flowing black dress. There's an icy, elegant beauty to her that almost takes your breath away.

Her eight eyes watch the world from behind a black lace veil that stops just above her voluptuous red lips.
action: You talk to the woman
response: "Um," you begin, "excuse me..."

The widow turns to face you and smiles broadly. "One of the Queen's little darlings! What a pleasure to meet you."

She leans forwards to kiss you and, surprised, you step back.

"You poor creature," she says. "You needn't be frightened of me. I'm just a lovelorn woman with a penchant for bright blossom."

(You could ask her about her husband, kissing, the net, the Queen, or the tree.)
action: Topics
response: You could ask her about her husband, kissing, the net, the Queen, or the tree.
action: You go outside
response: You curtsy before you leave.

"Good luck," the Queen says, "my favourite daughter."

This village - your home since birth - sprawls across and up the sides of the tree hollow. Spittle cottages, fungal fields and twig farmhouses are set among the knotted wood on all sides, even clinging to the roof high above.

From here you could head in to the Queen's chamber, or out to the sunlit world beyond the hollow.

Close by, a group of your sisters tend to a herd.

Obvious exits: In, Out
action: Go outside
response: The fertile brown bark of the tree stretches in all directions: up into the blue sky, down to the exotic green jungle, and curving around on itself both sunwise and widdershins.

The entrance to the Tree Hollow Village is set into the bark here. Just below it, a sturdy old branch stretches out into the distance, splitting into three smaller branches. Suspended magically between the three branch-tips is a pulsating whorl of bright colour.

One of your sisters lies curled up in the furrowed bark, dead.

Obvious exits: Up, Down, In, Out, Sunwise, Widdershins
action: Leave
response: Branch Tip, Beneath the Rainbow Net
Someone has stretched a vast net from the tip of this branch to the tips of two others high overhead - an impressive feat, to say the least. Flurries of blossom sail past on the wind, catching in the net and painting it bright, quivering colours.

Obvious exits: Up, In
action: Up
response: You set your feet on the net. You have a natural aptitude for walking at all angles, but it helps that the net happens to be quite sticky.

From here, thin threads of silk extend in every direction, weaving a circular net in the air that catches delicate petals of blossom. The net seems remarkably sturdy, for something so insubstantial, and you're confident you can get down from here with ease.

A large silk bundle has been tied to the centre of the net.

Obvious exits: Down
action: You look at the bundle
response: A fair size, kind of curved. No telling what might be inside it.
action: You open the bundle
response: Outside the village, you hear it's important to respect property rights.
action: You go south
response: You walk sunwise around the tree trunk, stopping when you encounter the next branch growing out from its bark.

The fertile brown bark of the tree stretches in all directions: up into the blue sky, down to the exotic green jungle, and curving around on itself both sunwise and widdershins.

A thin, young branch sprouts from the bark at your feet, rapidly dividing into a forest of smaller twigs, each decorated with thick, colourful blossom.

Obvious exits: Up, Out, Sunwise, Widdershins
action: Up
response: You cover your mouth and swear. Holy shit.

Your eyes have never been that good over long distances, and this has got to be the longest distance you've ever seen. The green jungle stretches off to the horizon - something you had always thought a myth - where a jumble of strange shapes seem frozen in the act of rearing up into the sky.

Tall, green-topped structures stand in a great cluster around the tree that you call home. They can't be other trees, surely?

Obvious exits: Down
action: Go downwards
response: A thin, young branch sprouts from the bark at your feet, rapidly dividing into a forest of smaller twigs, each decorated with thick, colourful blossom.

Obvious exits: Up, Out, Sunwise, Widdershins
action: Go outside
response: This peaceful clearing is surrounded on all sides by wiry twigs bearing blossom. At its centre, a stubby knot spirals out of the youthful bark, its top glazed over with amber.

A long-haired artist stands at his easel - paintbrush and palette in hand.

Obvious exits: In

The artist turns to offer you a warm smile. "Aha! Just what this scene was missing: a model."
action: You examine the artist
response: A young man, though still a fair bit older than yourself. His features have a refined gentleness to them, and he moves with a leisurely grace.

The artist is carrying a paintbrush and a palette, and he's wearing a little black dress and a red cloak.
action: You talk to the artist
response: You inch closer to the artist, uncertain how to begin.

"Relax," he says. "I don't bite."

(You could ask him about the Queen, the tree, the painting, his cloak, or art.)
action: You look at the painting
response: It's clearly supposed to be a painting of the view in front of the artist, but your engineer's eye easily picks out numerous inaccuracies. The colours are too bright, the blossom too vague, the sky too blue. And yet, for all that, it seems almost more real than the scene itself.

The centre of the canvas is blank and untouched.

The artist leans towards you. "It really needs something interesting to go in the middle, doesn't it? Something sitting on that knot of bark..."
action: You look at the knot
response: Just the right height for sitting on.
action: You sit on the knot
response: You sit on the smooth amber atop the knotted bark, feeling rather self-conscious. One of a thousand sisters, you've never been the centre of attention before.

"That expression," the artist says. "Whatever it is, don't change it."

And with that, he begins to paint you.
action: You change the expression
response: You attempt a smile. It feels kind of strange.

The artist bites his paintbrush in alarm. "No, no... Your expression is just perfect as it is."

You relax your face, and the artist sighs with relief.

It's not easy to sit still like this, feeling the artist's eyes on you, wondering how you'll appear in the end result. But it's not like you've never had to bear hardships before, so you sit through it.

"Don't change your expression," the artist chides.
action: You wait
response: As you sit in the sun, surrounded by colour, you watch the artist's brush flowing over the canvas. Idly you wonder if you could ever take up painting as a hobby. You're sure you might be able to cadge the supplies together, especially if you succeed in your task, but could you really teach yourself?

"There," the artist says, "all done. Stand up and come over here."
action: You stand
response: You stand up awkwardly.

The artist smiles and gestures at the canvas. "Go on," he says, "take a good look."
action: You examine the painting
response: Taking pride of place in the canvas, surrounded by colourful blossom, is your likeness: sitting uneasily, and smiling in a most peculiar way. Undeniably you, and not any of your sisters.

"So?" the artist asks. "What do you think?"

(You could gasp, gawp, or praise.)
action: Praise
response: "It's amazing!" you gush. "Most of my sisters can't even recognise me, but this... Thank you so much!"

The artist sniffs and wipes his cheeks with his delicate hands. You realise that he's crying. "It means a lot to me that you like it.
I'm actually going to give it to your mother. It's part of our arrangement."

"What arrangement?" you ask, only half interested, still looking in awe at the canvas.

"I have to eat," the artist says. "Not often, but more than I'd like. I'm very sorry."

He reaches into his cloak and retrieves a small, snub-nosed revolver. You're still smiling, quizzically. It almost doesn't make sense to you.

Without realising it, you die happy.

***YOU WERE EATEN***

The Queen smiles at your enthusiasm, perhaps a little sadly. "Every spring," she says, "five dangerous creatures come to the tree and threaten my nest. So I send one of my daughters to negotiate with them, and each year they give us no trouble. This spring, I want you to be that daughter."

You curtsy again from sheer surprise. "Your majesty! I would be honoured!"

Not opulent, as you might expect, but twilit and homely. Simple, finely crafted lamps cast a warm glow over the phloem walls.

Cots line one side of the chamber, each holding a formless, swaddled bundle.

The Queen, your mother, sits elegantly upon her throne.

Obvious exits: Out
action: You go outside
response: You curtsy before you leave.

"Good luck," the Queen says, "my favourite daughter."

This village - your home since birth - sprawls across and up the sides of the tree hollow. Spittle cottages, fungal fields and twig farmhouses are set among the knotted wood on all sides, even clinging to the roof high above.

From here you could head in to the Queen's chamber, or out to the sunlit world beyond the hollow.

Close by, a group of your sisters tend to a herd.

Obvious exits: In, Out
action: Go outside
response: The fertile brown bark of the tree stretches in all directions: up into the blue sky, down to the exotic green jungle, and curving around on itself both sunwise and widdershins.

The entrance to the Tree Hollow Village is set into the bark here. Just below it, a sturdy old branch stretches out into the distance, splitting into three smaller branches. Suspended magically between the three branch-tips is a pulsating whorl of bright colour.

One of your sisters lies curled up in the furrowed bark, dead.

Obvious exits: Up, Down, In, Out, Sunwise, Widdershins
action: You go to the west
response: You walk widdershins around the tree trunk, stopping when you encounter the next branch growing out from its bark.

The fertile brown bark of the tree stretches in all directions: up into the blue sky, down to the exotic green jungle, and curving around on itself both sunwise and widdershins.

This thick branch is dotted with dozens of coiled grey shells - most of them broken or shattered to some degree.

Obvious exits: Up, Out, Sunwise, Widdershins
action: You examine the shells
response: Grey and utilitarian, they seem very well constructed indeed. You wonder how exactly so many of them came to be in such a state of disrepair.
action: Leave
response: Gargantuan broken shells cast a cold shadow over this narrow path as it winds between them. Conspicuous among the ruin is a single intact shell, spiral and grey, with a smart wooden door set into its opening.

A knotted piece of rope hangs beside the door, dangling over a brass plaque.

Obvious exits: In
action: You read the plaque
response: Cornu Aspersa Esq.
Attorney at Law
action: You examine the rope
response: A very finely constructed piece of rope - not much use for practical work, but certainly nice to look at. It's been knotted in a way that suggests pulling on it.
action: You pull it
response: You pull the rope. Somewhere inside the house, a bell rings.

The door is answered by a smartly dressed gentleman with no arms or legs. "Ah yes," he says. "You're expected. Please, come right in."

He leads you inside, up some stairs, around a corner and down a slope.

The floor and ceiling of this room are both curved, and you're not entirely sure which way up you are. Antique chairs and a coffee table are stuck to the carpet with discreet blobs of tree sap. Bookcases line the walls like the slats of a folding fan.

On the coffee table are a jar of sauce and a rotary telephone.

A limbless aristocrat stands here, balanced on his tail.

Obvious exits: Down

"Good thing you turned up, what?" the aristocrat says. "There might be something you can help me with."
action: You examine bookcases
response: Lining a curved room with huge bookcases is the kind of inspired but futile feat of engineering that you're always both impressed by and derisive of. The books seem kind of interesting, though.

Your eye's also drawn to a framed photograph sitting on the shelves.
action: You look at the photograph
response: The photograph seems to be of a portly old gent with no arms or legs. Limblessness aside, though, he's clearly no close relative of the aristocrat.

"Ah yes," the aristocrat says, "the old owner of this place. Still a few things of his around, you know."
action: You read the books
response: It would be a bit rude to stand in the aristocrat's house reading his books.
action: Topics
response: You could ask him about help, the Queen, the spiral house, his arms and legs, or the tree.
action: You examine the jar
response: The label recommends serving with escargot, whatever that is. It's closed.

The aristocrat clears his throat.
action: You open the jar
response: Opening a jar of sauce. Seems like an easy enough task. You take the jar in both hands and grip it firmly, twisting the lid in an anti-clockwise motion. The jar opens.

"Excellent," the aristocrat says. "Most excellent indeed. I'll dine well over the coming weeks, though she could have sent a less scrawny specimen."

Your heart skips a beat. Does he mean-?

The aristocrat head butts you, and everything goes black.

***YOU WERE EATEN***

The Queen smiles at your enthusiasm, perhaps a little sadly. "Every spring," she says, "five dangerous creatures come to the tree and threaten my nest. So I send one of my daughters to negotiate with them, and each year they give us no trouble. This spring, I want you to be that daughter."

You curtsy again from sheer surprise. "Your majesty! I would be honoured!"

Not opulent, as you might expect, but twilit and homely. Simple, finely crafted lamps cast a warm glow over the phloem walls.

Cots line one side of the chamber, each holding a formless, swaddled bundle.

The Queen, your mother, sits elegantly upon her throne.

Obvious exits: Out
action: You look at the throne
response: A high-backed and ornate chair, perhaps the most comfortable chair in the hollow.

The Queen is sitting on the throne.
action: Curtsy
response: You curtsy. You're very good at it by now.

The Queen smiles benevolently. "Don't be frightened, my child. Head out into the branches and make me proud."
action: You go west
response: You walk widdershins around the tree trunk, stopping when you encounter the next branch growing out from its bark.

This thick branch is dotted with dozens of coiled grey shells - most of them broken or shattered to some degree.

Obvious exits: Up, Out, Sunwise, Widdershins

The fertile brown bark of the tree stretches in all directions: up into the blue sky, down to the exotic green jungle, and curving around on itself both sunwise and widdershins.

The base of this branch has partially split through, and some strange shimmering mirror is wedged between the two halves.

Obvious exits: Up, Out, Sunwise, Widdershins
action: Leave
response: Rainwater has collected in this cleft in the branch, forming a calm, clear pool that perfectly reflects the blue sky.

A pointed hat is floating on the mirror surface of the pool.

A delicate damsel sits on a twig, crying softly to herself.

Obvious exits: In, Out She makes a big show of pretending she hasn't seen you.
action: You look at the hat
response: Emerald blue and ridiculously tall. Not that you know much about fashion, but it would go rather nicely with the damsel's outfit.

You can feel the damsel peeking at you hopefully.
action: You get the hat
response: The pointed hat is too far away. You'd have to swim in the pool.
action: You talk to the damsel
response: You carefully approach the delicate damsel and ask her if everything is okay.

She raises her head and wipes her dainty nose on her wrist. "Does everything look all right? I was flying over that pool and my hat fell in. Now I can't get it back because if my wings get wet I'll drown."

(You could ask her about the pointed hat, her wings, the mirror pool, the Queen, the tree, or swimming.)
action: You examine her
response: A delicate waif of a girl, crying into her tiny hands. Your heart breaks for her. Her dainty wings glitter with rainbow light.

The damsel is wearing an emerald dress and some high-heeled shoes.

The damsel meets your eye. "It's rude to stare," she says, "if understandable."
action: Swim
response: (in the mirror pool)
You wade out into the water until it's up to your armpits and then try kicking and splashing to move. It doesn't work. You just end up face down, making a lot of noise and trying to only breathe in when your head is above water.

With a melodious giggle, something lands on your back. Delicate hands take tight hold of your hair, and push your face down into the pool. Thrumming wings beat into the water, throwing up stronger splashes than your feeble attempts to struggle. As the life starts to leave you, a set of small, but very sharp teeth close around the back of your neck.

***YOU WERE EATEN***

The Queen smiles at your enthusiasm, perhaps a little sadly. "Every spring," she says, "five dangerous creatures come to the tree and threaten my nest. So I send one of my daughters to negotiate with them, and each year they give us no trouble. This spring, I want you to be that daughter."

You curtsy again from sheer surprise. "Your majesty! I would be honoured!"

Not opulent, as you might expect, but twilit and homely. Simple, finely crafted lamps cast a warm glow over the phloem walls.

Cots line one side of the chamber, each holding a formless, swaddled bundle.

The Queen, your mother, sits elegantly upon her throne.

Obvious exits: Out
action: You go west
response: You walk widdershins around the tree trunk, stopping when you encounter the next branch growing out from its bark.

This thick branch is dotted with dozens of coiled grey shells - most of them broken or shattered to some degree.

Obvious exits: Up, Out, Sunwise, Widdershins

The base of this branch has partially split through, and some strange shimmering mirror is wedged between the two halves.

Obvious exits: Up, Out, Sunwise, Widdershins

The fertile brown bark of the tree stretches in all directions: up into the blue sky, down to the exotic green jungle, and curving around on itself both sunwise and widdershins.

The branch here writhes out from the trunk as if racked with agony. Its cracked bark and gnarled flesh sprout bizarre clusters of twisted fungi.

Obvious exits: Up, Out, Sunwise, Widdershins
action: You leave
response: Strange, asymmetrical fungi sprout out from within this branch, splitting the bark and corrupting its offshoots into weird, bloated shapes. One particularly corpulent mushroom bulges out of the bark beneath a tall, healthy twig.

The twig ends in a bright green leaf.

An enormous knight towers over the area, clad in black armour. It shows only the vaguest interest in the soft white baby lying at its feet.

Obvious exits: In

The baby reaches out vainly towards the leaf.
action: You examine baby
response: Enormous. Pale. Soft. Its mouth a gaping black hole.

It reminds you painfully of your brothers. Only much, much bigger.

The baby reaches out for the leaf and wails in frustration.
action: You look at the knight
response: A giant of a person, covered from head to toe in thick black plate mail. Its helmet sports a ridiculous pair of curved horns.

The baby emits a high, keening wail. You cover your ears.
action: You talk to the knight
response: The knight does not respond. Deep inside that ridiculous helmet, it's possible that the knight can't even hear you.

The baby looks at you as if it's not really sure what to make of you.
action: You talk to the baby
response: The baby just gurgles stupidly.
action: You examine the helmet
response: The smooth faceplate of the knight's helmet has only the slightest of slits to see through. Ridiculous horns curve up from the helmet and into the sky.
action: You examine the leaf
response: It would look rather delicious, if you were much of a leaf eater.

The baby reaches out for the leaf and wails in frustration.
action: You eat it
response: You've never been much of one for eating leaves.
action: You get it
response: The leaf is tantalisingly out of reach.

The baby emits a high, keening wail. You cover your ears.
action: You climb the horns
response: That is not something you can climb.

The knight shifts slightly on its feet.
action: You look
response: Strange, asymmetrical fungi sprout out from within this branch, splitting the bark and corrupting its offshoots into weird, bloated shapes. One particularly corpulent mushroom bulges out of the bark beneath a tall, healthy twig.

The twig ends in a bright green leaf.

An enormous knight towers over the area, clad in black armour. It shows only the vaguest interest in the soft white baby lying at its feet.

Obvious exits: In

The baby stretches out a fat-fingered hand towards the leaf.
action: You look at the mushroom
response: It looks like it must be swollen with rotten ooze. But it could probably take your weight.

The baby looks at you as if it's not really sure what to make of you.
action: You eat it
response: The mushroom does not appear to be edible.

The baby reaches out vainly towards the leaf.
action: You get the leaf
response: You stand on tiptoe and grasp the fresh green leaf in your hands.
With one tug, it separates from its twig, and you fall forwards, towards the baby. It catches you in its fat fingers.

You smile, holding out the leaf triumphantly.

The baby pulls you towards its gaping mouth. Wait, this wasn't what you-

***YOU WERE EATEN***

It's done. For another year, the village is safe. Now come the spring festivities, the rejoicing and singing.

Queen's Chamber (sitting on the throne)
Not as nice as your mother's place, but you've made yourself comfortable here. Simple, finely crafted lamps cast a warm glow over the phloem walls.

Cots line one side of the chamber, each holding a formless, swaddled bundle.

One of your daughters leans a framed painting against the wall and curtsies, before leaving hurriedly.

Sounds of merriment and raised voices carry into the chamber from outside.

Obvious exits: Out
action: You look at the painting
response: A bright, expressionistic portrayal of one of your daughters - you've no idea which one. She's smiling in the most peculiar way. There's something about this painting, some portent or emotion that you can almost but not quite grasp. But then, there always is, and it's always different.

You'll leave the painting out, for now, to remind you - as you're sure he wanted it to. And then you'll have it stowed away with the others.

Sounds of merriment and raised voices carry into the chamber from outside.
action: About you
response: Not young any more, but still elegant and beautiful. Your wings are as breathtaking at ever.
action: You leave
response: (off of the throne)
You stand up from your throne. Your daughters will be waiting for you outside, eager to celebrate the renewal of the seasons.

Sounds of merriment and raised voices carry into the chamber from outside.
action: Go outside
response: You step serenely out of your chamber, into the village. A thousand of your daughters await you, cheering happily, waiting for you to begin the spring festival. Blissfully ignorant.

You raise your hand in salute, and spread your wings.
action: Xyzzy
response: Unbidden, some ancient instinctual meme crawls up from your subconscious. Your lips dance of their own accord. "Xyzzy," you say.

You begin to twitch and shudder, your tiny brain cartwheeling into an ouroboros of self-referential insanity. "Xyzzy," you repeat.
"Xyzzy."

You don't even notice as your legs give way and you collapse to the ground. Your senses have closed in, your mind shut down. And all that is left... is xyzzy.