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This is the fourth scene in a text-based actual play of the Veil, by Fraser Simons (@frasersimons), brought to you by our MC, River (@pixelatedcoyote), and players Will and Yoshi (@yoshicreelman) playing as Zinc and Cio, respectively. Prior scenes are linked at the end of this post. This scene is a flashback, and would chronologically appear after Scene 1.2.
Content Warning: Violence.
Zinc’s feet slammed against the floor like cinder blocks, too loud for the camo to compensate for. He saw the individual's form turn to offset his charge. The individual--now helpfully labeled Hostile 1--spun Zinc around and slammed him into the teller’s counter. He could feel the weight of H1 bearing in on him, standing on his foot, pressing the base of his spine into the counter’s edge. He could feel the vertebra in his spine move as if worked by the world’s most sadistic chiropractor. H1 had grabbed Zinc’s gun hand, he could feel the fingers searching down his arm towards his gun. This must mean his other hand has the gun--if there is a gun.
Initiating cortex backup... “Wrong arm,” Zinc grunted with pain as he raised his empty arm up to Hostile 1’s center mass and engaged his plasma torch.
“Please don’t die.”
The torch burned through Hostile 1’s armor with an acrid smell. Ballistic plastic, they must have known the guard was carrying a slug thrower. “Oh, I won’t.” H1 growled through the distortion. The pain did give H1 pause, however. They stopped pressing and broke the grapple with Zinc. He was no longer pressed against the countertop, but he had no path to the money or the vault except through H1. Somewhere in the back of Zinc’s psyche, he could feel his AI judging him. Zinc pushed his fist hard into the hostile’s wound, changing the angle of his arm slightly to aim up towards the heart. “Don’t make me do this,” Zinc whispered, certain he finally had control of the situation. “Stand down, call off your friends. This ain’t worth dying over.”
For whatever reason, Hostile 1 decided to laugh and cement their fate. Zinc side stepped and drove his fist hard into the hostile’s wound, aiming up towards the heart. The torch flickered on and off, and he sighed as he guided the now visible body to the floor. His fingertips began glowing as he touched the corpse’s interface jack. “Pull everything you can. Focus on ID and specs on that camo. Maybe we can upgrade.” He grimaced as he scanned for the second hostile, his thoughts straying to his own increasingly strained camo system. “Time is a factor.”
Suspending backup. Accessing ... The seconds crawled by. Any moment another hostile could round the door into the teller’s space, and Zinc would be back to square one. Data downloaded... Data decrypted, Displaying. The comm stored a student id and a handful of wrestling pictures. When Zinc looked back to the corpse, he saw Malcolm, previously known only has Hostile 1. The man’s face was unlined by age and sported the faintest of red stubble around the jaw. In his hands, he’d held nothing. No knife, no cutting edge energy weapon. Nothing. The last of Malcolm’s thoughts appeared on Zinc’s feed. He’d been chanting silently to himself, “No future. No future. No future.” We now have elevated permissions in the bank’s Veil systems. Exempting us from their cloak. At least two more perps remained. An unknown quantity of cash was stolen. The haulers either knocked out or or bribed. But maybe none of them were armed. Maybe they’d flee now that their comrade was dead. They say that dead men tell no tales, but that adage is close to a century out of date. No. They’d have to come for their friend as soon as they steeled themselves, and they would come soon. “No weapons? No future? The hell…” Zinc sprinted back towards the vault, dropping his camo. He yelled, “Malcolm’s dead! You got a death wish too, I’m right here! Otherwise, take your friend and leave!” He stands in the entrance of the vault, daring the thieves to approach.
“SHIT!” a voice shouted from outside, clear as day. A young adult approached the bank’s rear entrance with their hands up. They wore a formless coat and baggy pants, and their face was obscured by an old-school hockey mask. They said “Fine. You win, asshole. We surrender.” They turned slightly towards the parking lot and continued, “Cipher, turn off your toy!” As they entered the bank, and Zinc’s AI labelled them Hostile 2. As H2 continued, they began to vanish, but snapped abruptly back into focus. The Veil in the bank shimmered as it returned to its default configuration. A third now entered, heavier than the other two, also wearing a mask. The two dragged Malcolm’s body out the door, leaving only the stink of charred fiber and flesh. 25% of the money is missing from the vault. Your demands did not specify the disposition of the money. Zinc stood for a moment looking into the vault. Then he sighed. “Damn it. About that technicality …” The first scene can be found here. The second scene can be found here. The third scene can be found here.
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This is the third scene in a text-based actual play of the Veil, by Fraser Simons (@frasersimons), brought to you by our MC, River (@pixelatedcoyote), and players Will and Yoshi (@yoshicreelman) playing as Zinc and Cio, respectively. Prior scenes are linked at the end of this post.
Most of the revelers have started to stir, and Lisbet takes her leave. The capacious warehouse begins to fill with the smells of breakfast, savory and sweet breads, rices, bacon, tofu scramble, all with an undertone of Old Bay.
Zinc wakes to complete silence, holding his eyes shut against the morning light. The smells roil his stomach. The Breath assaults his mind. “The quiet helps me forget.” With his aural implants disabled, he can’t even hear his own voice. But he can feel the rhythmic vibrations pulsing through his body. He stands, wobbles, and opens his eyes, searching for his host. He finds them, and issues a short series of reinitialization commands before walking over. “Morning Cio.” “What have I told you don’t swim against the tide, swim to the side, get out of the current or… or you’ll end up looking like you do now.” Cio holds a new cup of steaming coffee, offers it to Zinc, and gestures at the sugar and cream, “It’s above average at best, but given how you look, how tastes is probably the least of your concerns.” As Zinc manages the coffee, Cio continues, “I know you might just be recovering, but when it rains it pours. I’ve got a friend who’s in a spot of trouble. I want to toss her a life preserver, but I’m afraid that the current is too strong for just one person. I don’t want to get sucked into the storm.” Cio takes a moment, sips from their coffee, and runs their eyes over Zinc really assessing his state, “I don’t know the bearing the siren is whispering in your ears, but it’s clear to me, if it guides you into another storm, you won’t survive it. For me, there’s choppy waters ahead, but with two sets of hands on the oars we should be able to keep the ship true.”
Zinc stares down into his mug of coffee, trying to parse his companion’s words. After a long sip, he makes eye contact. “Of course I’ll help you. Owe you that much at least. But … “ Zinc shifts his weight uncomfortably. “Last night you offered to take my confession. I’m ready now, if you’re still willing. I’ve done a terrible thing Cio.” Zinc’s AI remains quiet. No words come across the interface, only the slightest indication of withholding. Cio nods, “If you are ready, then let’s talk. There’s a room, originally an office, that should work for a quiet conversation.” Coffee still in hand Cio leads Zinc through a door and up a staircase to an office overlooking the warehouse floor. The office is disheveled, some mostly empty industrial shelves, a plastic and metal desk pushed against the far wall, and half a dozen chair like objects circled around an a cable spool “coffee table” with some empty bottles of hard liquor strewn about. “It’s not pretty, but this should do.” Cio takes a seat on one of the upside down dark green plastic grated boxes acting like a stool. They turn to Zinc, and wait quietly. Zinc sits down and spends a long moment inspecting every corner of the room before speaking. “I killed someone yesterday. I mean, I thought he deserved it. He tried to steal my delivery. I had to … “ His voice trails off. “He was just a kid, Cio. Just a dumb kid. I didn’t know.” Zinc transfers a video file to Cio‘s interface. It is a POV of the incident from the moment the guard was dropped. He waits in sullen quiet, and continues speaking once Cio has finished. “No future, no future, no future … Have you ever heard that before?”
Cio sits still, eyes on Zinc as the confession trickles out. A small nod of acknowledgement, as the words, video, and information wash over them.
A voice rang out through the warehouse, “My brother! I thought you might still be here!” The words have a musical quality to them, almost as if sung. The light in the large, empty venue space becomes more yellow and brighter, reminiscent of how sunlight once looked. The voice, and the alterations to The Veil, emanated from one young man, Sunny. He was a corporate ladder-climber, a Kool-Aid drinker, a boot-licker. Worst of all, he was a supervisor. He shouldn’t have known Zinc’s whereabouts, but here he was all the same. He strode through the room effortlessly, making a bee-line for Zinc. His feet landed deftly between the discarded cups and empty sleeping bags. “I am so very sorry to tear you away from your merrimaking, brother,” again with the false endearment, “but administration absolutely requires your presence.” His smile beams. In his vision, his star is always ascending. All is right with his world.
The first scene can be found here. The second scene can be found here. This is the second scene in a text-based actual play of the Veil, by Fraser Simons (@frasersimons), brought to you by our MC, River (@pixelatedcoyote), and players Will and Yoshi (@yoshicreelman) playing as Zinc and Cio, respectively. The first scene can be found here. “She took out our glass eye / put her false teeth in the tumbler / cork up the bottle of dye” ~ After the Ball Cio woke up to the dull, red light of Baltimore’s mid-morning sun. The nitrogen-filtered light had finally crept in through the low-lying warehouse’s windows. The band’s PA hummed with anticipation, but the air hung low and damp and salty.
Cio’s head was swimming. Last night had been wild. It was crowded, too many people showed up, well, maybe not too many, but more than they expected. I guess that just shows the state of the world, Cio thought. Everyone wants an escape, and what better way than to get lost in a night of dancing and music.  They rolled over to push themself up. They looked down at their hand. The temporary tattoo there was clearly supposed to be "The Great Wave off Kanagawa", but the colors were off, the detail was lacking, and it was a bit smudged. Probably had to do with the incorporation of Breath into the ink.
That was a strong dose, they thought. I'll have to talk to Lisbet about toning down the concentration. Giving feedback on something someone else has created, is always a delicate dance, especially so when the person is the one making your drugs. They pulled themself into a sitting position, and scanned the room. Revelers were strewn about the floor amongst cast off food wrappers and drinking vessels. Cio stepped over bodies to the sound deck, connected a mem stick, and started the playlist. Ocean waves crashed from the speakers. Although soft at first, they would build up over the next 30 minutes. They nimbly stepped over cables and sat on the outer edge of the elevated DJ platform, moving with grace and care a casual observer wouldn't expect of someone their size. Cio was only 5' 10", but was also stocky with a big protruding belly. Their big brown arms looked soft, but hid a deceptive amount of muscle and grace beneath them. Now sitting, they untied their hair and let the long straight black hair tumble down to their waist. They pulled an old wooden wide toothed comb from the inner chest pocket of a tattered brown overcoat. They ran it through their hair a couple of times, clearing any debris that might have taken hold. Tying their hair back up in a bun, they sat and watched all those that remained slowly start to stir, and make their way out.
The former revelers slowly began to stir in batches. A few stretched and got back to life immediately, but most awkwardly fumbled around looking for their interfaces to turn the audio intrusion off. The woofers, of course, did the lionesses’ share of the work. It’s hard to ignore an alarm that shakes the floor beneath you. Cio’s interface told them that the first batch of coffee was done, and that the brew was started manually a few minutes ago. They heard the clink-clink-clink of several mugs being set down on the counter. “Seems there’s a little trouble bringing the tide in today,” commented Lisbet. Her rich baritone stood well above the cresting of the next wave. She was a slight, reedy woman with angular features. Most people would assume she was being sarcastic, but Cio knew her well enough to sense the concern and the unspoken question beneath it, Why are they waking up so slowly?
There had been a lot of demand on Breath lately. Volume isn’t always something that smaller suppliers can handle with grace. Lisbet always broadcast grace and poise, but she was clearly bothered. She knit her eyebrows as the pause expanded into full seconds. The first of the revelers broke then tension by pouring themselves a cup of coffee. They offered to Lisbet, and she politely accepted asking for it black. They do the same for Cio. Cio takes the offered cup of beige liquid. Taking a sip, they hold the cup to their face breathing in deep and trying, but failing to hide to slight cringe of too much sweetener. They nod, thanking the reveler, before turning to Lisbet. “I’m sorry,” she said, after the groggy partier staggered away. “That’s no way to talk to a friend, and especially not a friend who called for a favor.” She poured a very precise volume of cream into her cup, apparently not trusting the reveler to get it right, and continued, “I had my doubts about the purity and efficacy of this batch. I ran some tests and found that I needed to up the concentration. It was a rush job.” “I don’t know exactly what they cut it with, either. Didn’t have time to ferret-out the fillers. I only had time to verify that it was safe at the doses I distributed.” Her accent made all her t’s and d’s pop, giving them an odd sense of finality. There’s safe and then there’s safe. She meant her test subject didn’t have a seizure or a violent episode, not that it wouldn’t erode your heart muscles or worse. Cio nods along with everything she says, as it's all matter of fact. She already knows all the criticisms. Waiting till she finishes, “Thank you for the last minute job.” The “I owe you”, left unsaid. Lisbet doesn't usually show up the morning after, it must be urgent.
Cio began to see that Lisbet’s trademark perfect poise and posture was reduced to a mere imitation. Her activity tracker showed that she'd been active for 47.61 hours straight, and had accumulated several times the typical movement for that time span. 7.18 hours ago, she removed DYVR--a low-level stimulant--from her shop. A bad swim wouldn’t cause this reaction. A tiff with a supplier prompts immediate action, but not this frenzy. She was hunting. She was in crisis mode, and fraying at the edges.
Cio glances at Lisbet's hand as she absent mindedly plays with a steel grey ribbon. That ribbon along with the double visit to Greenmount Cemetery means she tried to both acquire Murmur's Grace's services and was rejected. “It's OK, the waters may look turbulent to you now, but here from the shore, I can see calmer currents. I can and will help.” Cio glances at the the back of their palm and the smudged temporary tattoo, clearly indicating the repayment of the recently acquired debt. Lisbet grumbles at the metaphor. She gets to the point, “This batch was tainted. All my customers were affected, some of my some of my competitors’ clients as well. I do not know what is going on, but I--we--cannot afford another bad batch. Please find the source, my friend.” This is the first scene in an experimental text-based actual play series formatted and run specifically for publication on the Gauntlet Blog. We are using The Veil by Fraser Simons (@frasersimons), available here. River (@pixelatedcoyote) takes on the role of the MC, while Will P and Yoshi (@yoshicreelman) play as Zinc and Cio, respectively. We have included the text of the moves as they come up and a bit of our out of character banter to lift the veil a bit on our process. We hope you enjoy! And now ...
A Simple Handshake (Zinc 1.1) “Offer with one hand, but arm the other” ~ Grunt, Mass Effect It was an older bank. It had security cameras mounted everywhere, as useless as barnacles. Recorded audio and video couldn’t be trusted to oversee the transfer of cash into the bank. You needed something messy to watch, and verify, and put their ass on the line. That meant a human. Tonight, that was Zinc. The armored car’s guard approached Zinc cautiously. “That’s the last of them. Can you accept the delivery now?” he asked. The guard hadn’t been nervous when the transfer started, but perhaps responsibility over all that money had been wearing on him. Or maybe it was the rumor that couriers like Zinc carried dangerous AI that could jump through your gear and rewrite your brain.
Roy “Zinc” Newton scratched at the base of skull absent mindedly. “Is it all there?”, he muttered under his breath. The response in his mind was instant and inaudible. Zinc breathed deep, failing to calm himself. Louder this time, “Gotta say, you are making me a bit nervous.”
Zinc rolled his shoulders and gave their surroundings another scan. “Seems safe enough to me, so tell me, what are you really feeling, man?” “Sorry! You’re the first, uhhh, augmented courier I’ve worked with” said the guard, setting his feet and returning to his full height. “I think I’m just jumping at shadows.” He holds out his comm connector. Zinc’s AI sends him a canned line about checking the safety of your surroundings since the cert process takes the user’s full attention. It’s the exact same message it’s sent before every direct connection. Yet another piece of background noise in this world. Even the AI seemed bored of the message at this point. After this, tell me what it’s like to have quiet, the AI commanded.
“Yeah, yeah, ok,” Zinc responded, pleased at the implied compliment. Through his HUD, Zinc powered up his enhanced audio sensors and switched his vision to scan quickly through the multi-spectrum. The guard would certainly notice Zinc’s ears start spinning and his eyes begin to cycle through various colors, but that would be worth a laugh. He made a bit of a show of it, smiling as he visually scanned the area.
The guard relaxed his shoulders and began to crack a genuine smile. His lips had just parted in appreciation when he cried out and thrust his chest forward. He landed with a heavy thump and curled into the fetal position when the second burst of the tazer drone forced his back and legs straight again. We didn't hear that. No hostiles in scanned area the AI accused. But there had to be SOMEBODY here. Drones like that are operated by remote, or at most have a rudimentary autopilot.
“Engage active camo. And scan again!” Zinc ducked down and grabbed the guard’s revolver. The cutter had emphasized the word experimental, so Zinc winced as the camo flipped to active status in his HUD for the very first time. “Find him!” He roared at the AI as he rolled and sprinted for cover from the drone. “And jam that damn drone!”
The scan revealed one hostile outside and another in the hallway. Both should have been in plain view, but they must have been using active camo as well. They were using The Veil itself to cover their sound, most likely the sound dampening technology used to keep conversations from the offices from leaking out.
Zinc’s AI indicated that it had shut down the drone, and that the hostiles were planning something with it. That was fast overridden with the AI grumbling We are likely exposed and indicating the plastic barnacle on the ceiling. Even if they hadn’t seen Zinc drop behind the desk in person, they could well have hacked the cameras and have a pretty good idea where he was before he’d cloaked. A deep, distorted voice vibrated through the bank office, “Stay down, courier. No funny business, and nobody else has to get hurt.” The hostile drove the threat home by powering up some sort of weapon. Active camo, compromised security. They might just be fucking with you through The Veil, but that’s a dangerous gamble to make.
Zinc set his optical implants to cycle rapidly through the entire multi-spectrum, hoping that their camo would appear briefly in at least a few wavelengths. He risked a quick glance over the desk, trying to locate the one in the hallway. He whispered. “Likely exposed? Figure it out.”
The processing required to continue cloaking operations and access nearby equipment exceeds the rated limits of this system--PROCEEDING Distracted as he was, Zinc could barely process the internal audio message. “What was that about limits?” That was new. “Hold on …” The different light and radio frequency bands scrolled through Zinc’s vision. Infrared? No. Filtered optical bands? No. Ultraviolet? Weak, but possible. RF bands? The attackers’ comms had small antenna so weren’t emitting that much, but it did indicate they had at least one more member in a vehicle in the parking lot. The ultraviolet would have to do. It’s not a wavelength that gets much play indoors anymore. Fluorescent lamps were too hot and inefficient in a warming world, but some businesses never made the move. A good Fluorescent lamp, even with all its drawbacks, could last basically forever. And this old bank was loaded with the blue-heavy, flickery dinosaurs. They have control over the cameras. Your last uncloaked position is compromised the AI informed Zinc. I have no particular interest in being recompiled tonight, you should surrender. It always used “we” and “us” when it talked about the outside world, or even their cramped, shared internal world. It only ever called itself “I” and Zinc “you” when it made demands. Before Zinc could disagree, the AI began to justify itself. I--we--haven’t confirmed custody of the money. The person laying on the floor is still the carrier, contractually speaking. Our obligation has not technically begun.
“I’m sure Elysium Holdings will appreciate that technicality. We do this. Target to disable, not kill.” Switching to UV, Zinc sprinted towards the blur just entering the room. His augmented legs drove him forward at great speed while the AI placed a targeting overlay on the blur. The confidence intervals were low, way too low. He had to get into plasma torch range without being noticed or this was going to get very ugly.
Zinc’s feet slammed against the floor like cinder blocks, too loud for the camo to compensate for. He saw the individual's form turn to offset his charge. The individual--now helpfully labeled Hostile 1--spun Zinc around and slammed him into the teller’s counter. He could feel the weight of H1 bearing in on him, standing on his foot, pressing the base of his spine into the counter’s edge. He could feel the vertebra in his spine move as if worked by the world’s most sadistic chiropractor. H1 had grabbed Zinc’s gun hand, he could feel the fingers searching down his arm towards his gun. This must mean his other hand has the gun--if there is a gun.
Initiating cortex backup… By Tomer Gurantz, Keeper of the Squamous Beast Below
Back in early November, Steven Stewart, being inspired by a Cheat Your Own Adventure (CYOA) play-by-post thread in the Gauntlet Slack, created a new #cyoa_play channel specifically for the purpose of running more such games. The first was The Fire Under The Mountain, a Gamma World, gonzo-inspired CYOA game. This was a somewhat normal CYOA, however Steven did set up an NPC in the first scene, and declared that if we ever rolled doubles, then we’d have to narrate something bad happening, such as the death of this extra character. As it turned out, they were safe the entire time! This game was played during one and half weeks by Steven Stewart, James Ryan, Andrew Hauge, Jim Crocker, and Tomer Gurantz. Come, join us... Page 1 You stand with all your worldly possessions in your hand, a steel spear, a glow stick which will give enough light as a candle for a few days, and your most prized Possession, the Magical Yeti Cup of keeping things both warm and cold. Beside you, your fellow villager Iridium weeps, pointing as smoke, fires, and laser beams rain down on your humble village. A death bot has finally found your village. You and Iridium were out picking the special magical weed that the village elders like to smoke. You know in a month's time the Deathbot will have finished its job, clearing the land, leaving a smooth gray surface, sterile of life, with little white lines on it and a giant empty building of blue and gray with the giant letters “W A L M A R T” on it. strange letters that the elders do not know the meaning but know it means death. Behind you lies the path up the mountain. That path you have been told leads to one of the Ancient Villages or Fortresses. To the East lies the Irradiated Grass Sea, home to who knows What, but definitely mutants. Maybe they will be friendly. No one has spoken of the north lands. To the South is what is left of your Village. Iridium pulls themselves together and looks at you. “Now Strider of the Weed (your village name) which way do we go?”
Page 420 You place the purple buds of the dry magical weed in your Magical Yeti Cup, say the mystical phrases, and clap two times. You don't have to wait long before it warms, and exudes the reassuring scent of the magic-weed. Iridium doesn't partake, sitting nearby, weeping quietly. Iridium never partakes. You take off your shirt, and place it over your head and the vessel, allowing the sacred fumes to fill your lungs, breathing deeply. The sound of lasers and burning and gentle weeping slowly recede, replaced by other things… You hear a familiar voice trying to tell you of a place to go. You feel giant letters being seared into your head. You see a path made of glowing neon under the earth. You sense a change in air pressure, perhaps rain. You taste bitter, burning meat on your tongue, tinged with sadness. And smell crushed herbs and brush of a neighboring land. Which of these signs is meant to help you? You think you know. You lift your shirt to make a decision.
Page 47 You trudge Eastward down the slope, the setting sun low behind you. Iridium walks numbly a few paces behind you. You cross the Verge, the charred, barren strip of land between the hills and the Sea of Grass, quickly, and plunge into the stunningly verdant chest-high blades. It’ll be dark soon, and you’re tired, but the eerie tracers of the path of the Deathbot still linger in your vision, rising from a spot somewhere in the depths of the Sea. The soft emerald glow the veins of the grass emit are just enough to travel by as the dark descends, but this is also when the MowBots roam these plains. What do you do?
Page 68 Iridium looks at you and looks at themselves. You have been trying to hit on them since your coming of age ceremony. It was only because they wanted to get out of the village they agreed to go with you in the first place. They finally say “Oh Frac whatever” (a curse in your language). “I will keep watch first. But no funny business.” You snuggle up with them with the green glowing grass all around you. The herbs are still giving you a good buzz although now you are very hungry and having a hard time going to sleep. You hear some strange hooting way off in the distance to the east of you but Iridium doesn’t say anything. They look half asleep themselves but may be watching. You luckily can’t hear any more screams from the village, just the smoke still ascending as the deathbot now starts to clean up. As you think about how your life is changed and how some fried and smoked giant locusts would be great, Iridium rolls over getting closer to you in the cold. They have fallen asleep.
Page 31 As you slip into unconsciousness, a strange sensation overtakes you, and you feel strange dreams threading themselves into your awareness. Snatches of sounds, colors, action, events... "...tear down this wall!" "I cast Magic Missile..." "... we're going, we won't need..." "When in the course of human events..." "STELLA!" "I... just have to tell you how I'm feeling, maybe make you..." "...scruffy-looking nerf..."
Page 77 You focus on the strongest signal, and zoom in. There is a planet, lush and thriving. You see a moon up in the sky. Wait, that is no... A transmission: "_...reluctant to provide us with the location of the Rebel base, I have chosen to test this station's destructive power on your home planet..._" You find yourself walking through a narrow tunnel, underground, dark and smooth. Iridium follows behind you asking, "Strider! Strider! Can you even hear me? Where are you leading us?" You hear a sound from behind you, an initiation of a great rumbling. A great weapon. A large neon beam, glowing, under the earth, down the tunnel, as it sears the meat off your flesh, and leaves nothing but bones and dust. THE END... but, cheat by going back to page 31 and choosing:
Page 67 You wake up totally jazzed about your vision. The dawn is coming up over the wavy green glowing grass. Iridium wakes up irritated and cold, and eyeing you like maybe you did something while you were sleeping last night. You don’t even bother reminding them they fell asleep on watch. You are just getting to the part about “Stella” when they point behind you saying “did it sound like that?”. You whip around and see three strange humans. One is a purple and very statuesque looking woman about 7 feet tall. Another is green and hunched over with pointy ears. It is obviously a man, you can tell due to its lack of clothing. The last you can’t tell as it is covered in a Prismatic poncho that almost goes to the ground with a large deep hood. Mutants you think. The small green one is holding a stick thing out with a small metallic box. Blazing out of it are words of your vision in a buzzy voice.
Page 64 Iridium approaches the three mutants confidently. So many thoughts quickly float through your head. Does Iridium know these mutants? Or does Iridium know how to put them down? Make friends with them? Know their weakness? It turns out, none of these things. The large purple statuesque looking woman points at Iridium and appears to control them with her mind. The green one hands Iridium a strange device, which Iridium then turns and points at your chest. The loud sizzling sound is the last you hear, before the world goes dark. THE END... but, cheat by going back to page 67 and choosing:
Page 25 The mutant in the poncho nods slowly upon hearing your words. "One small step for man," they intone, clapping hands together briefly. The other two figures follow suit, looking first at Iridium and then back at you. The green one bows slightly, and pulls a sack out of one of their pouches. They retrieve a handful of purple pellets, and offer one to you and one to Iridium. "A whole new world."
Page 163 You step on the pill and crush it with your foot. A purple gas escapes... more gas than could possibly fit in that little pill. You immediately hold your breath to avoid breathing in what appears to be toxic fumes, but the mutant in the poncho steps on your foot, and you gasp in pain, sucking in that gas. You brace for pain. But it doesn't come. Instead you feel your consciousness expand. You... "you" starts to become a fuzzy concept. "We"? Yes, we are now five mutants... Iridium and Strider no longer exist on their own. We travel the wasteland, giving others purple pills. And then soon we are 12. And then 94. And then 513. And our army sweeps across the land, growing larger, and larger… THE END... but, cheat by going back to page 25 and choosing:
Page 99 You take the pill and dry-swallow it. It's coppery-tasting and maybe tingles a little as it goes down. "Hello, Host" you hear a voice say inside your head. "I hope that we will find harmony after our trial. I am sorry that this will hurt at first." Sharp pains shoot through your guts as you feel something happening down there. Ah. Clarity now. It wasn't a pill. It was a seed, and now it's growing.
Page 54 You look to Iridium, concern on your face. "Umm... I think I feel something growing inside of me", you state, knowing that Iridium is the most well regarded healer of this generation. Iridium turns to you, reaches their hand out to touch your belly, and concentrates. Their eyes roll up slightly into their head, and they have a glazed look, as they concentrate their powers on your being. After a moment, their focus returns, and they stare you straight in the face, with a calm and happy look. "You have been blessed. They will be twins, and they will bring new light into the world... if you can keep them safe." The mutants bow to you, and head to the North. You look West, behind you, and think of your distant village, and the holy mountain next to it. You hear the buzz of a Death Bot in the far distance to the East. You look at Iridium, and see a look of hope and expectation in their eyes you haven't seen before.
Page 56 The green naked mutant stops and spins. He twiddles with the controls and there is static followed by a blaring out of a very charismatic voice speaking in a language you almost understand “Ask not what your country can do for you but what you can do for your country”. The prismatic poncho mutant has a very raspy voice and when it speaks you get an overpowering smell of decaying roses. “Make .... it .... so.... Number ...... One......” The statuesque mutant saunters over towering over the two of you. In a seductive motherly voice she booms, “We thank you for your gift to us, we have been waiting a long time. I gift you the gift of quickening.” She leans over giving you a full kiss on the mouth. Deep inside you feel your insides expand. It is all going a lot faster than you can process. You scream out as it feels like your body, especially your belly, is expanding faster than you could ever think until it burst open. Right before you die in the green glowing grass, you make out six figures walking away. Two of them small, child size. One turns and looks at you as they walk away and you see a very strange mix of your features and Iridium in their face. THE END... but, cheat by going back to page 54 and choosing:
Page 3 With no hesitation, you turn west and stride back the way you came, back through the wastelands, past the strange sights and perils which once felt threatening to you. The world is new, and the world has changed, and now hope shines in your heart. You crest the hill to the blackened earth where your village once stood, and kneel silently in the middle of it. The Deathbot has been distracted from its task, it seems, and all that stands as evidence of it is a square of dull paved gray in the center of the village. Here, then, is where you will make a home to last for years to come, where you have always made your home. And yet, something is new. Iridium begins clapping their hands in a rhythm, voice lifting high above the ruins of humanity in this strange world. You join in, eyes closed, and if you listen closely, you feel as though you can almost hear the singing of a multitude echoing back to you, the multitude of all those who are to follow, all those who will look back to this village as their birthplace, the birthplace of a new world. THE END. |
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