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Text Adventure Playthrough #9: Slouching Towards Bedlam
I just now realized that we’re playing the original version of the game as it was released for the 2003 IFComp. There’s also a 10th Anniversary Edition implemented in Inform 7 available. The newer version would probably have fewer problems understanding our commands. If we at some point restart completely from the beginning, we could use that version instead. This might be a bad idea though.
I noticed there was a 10th anniversary edition after making the thread and first post, and switched over without updating the opening credits. Here they are:
Slouching Towards Bedlam
An entry in the 9th Annual Interactive Fiction Competition (10th Anniversary Edition) by Star C. Foster and Daniel Ravipinto
Release 2 / Serial number 140613 / Inform 7 build 6L02 (I6/v6.33 lib 6/12N)
[First time players should type ‘about’. Credits are available via ‘credits’.]
>s
Bottom of Stairs
The stairs end here at a solid metal door labeled “Basement - Private” leading northward.
Triage obediently appears.
>u
Cunningly extending and contracting its wheels, Triage easily follows up the stairs…
Side Corridor
This narrow, dusty corridor runs parallel to the shop beside it and contains nothing more than a rickety staircase leading up and down and a small door leading west.
Triage trundles patiently along beside.
>nw
1428 Fleet Street
Set off to one side of the Market, this area is reserved for a myriad variety specialist shops - uniform clothiers, engine-programmers, fortune-tellers. The largest, set on the south side of the street, is decorated with a gaudy sign which reads “Du Monde’s - Mechanist of Repute Since 1803.” Along the same building - to the southeast - lies a small door which reads, simply, “1428.”
Triage silently rolls to a stop.
>s
Du Monde’s
The shop is dark, and crowded with haphazardly stacked, yet neatly organized piles of machinery. To the south, there is a worn wooden counter, cracked with age and covered with innumerable nicks, scratches, and dark burn marks. Behind the counter are rows and rows of drawers, labeled in some arcane script. The faint scent of gas clings to the walls.
The shop’s show window and door look out on Fleet Street to the north. A second door lies behind the counter to the east.
A woman leans over the counter, working on something with intense concentration.
Triage trundles patiently along beside.
>show damaged book to woman
Du Monde briefly glances over it, her smile tightening slightly. “Fascinating little myths these boys are capable of,” she concedes.
Quick as a flash, her hand snakes beneath the counter, returning to slam a tiny brass object onto the countertop.
“A gift,” she says, “for the inquisitive.”
In a heartbeat, the thing is airborne - a tiny whirlwind of metallic wings and grasping arms.
The pain is excruciating.
If there are words for this…
/(reference|point|metaphor)\
...they have not yet been written.
/(:timeline/date/1919:wbyeates/secondcoming)\
It starts simply enough. Nothing occurs for the first week. It takes that long to incubate.
/(the darkness drops again; but now I know)\
At the end of that time, James is quite sure he has followed in the footsteps of both Brand and Xavier, but bravely holds on. His bravery serves him poorly as within ten days time he has managed to infect all of the orderlies. Another week, and they have infected their families, their friends, and every patient in Bedlam.
/(that twenty centuries of stony sleep)\
Reggie doesn’t notice a thing. It’s business as usual - and business is good. A week after the incubation he has infected seemingly half of London—his clients, his barmates, his family.
/(were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,)\
Alexandra goes on with business as usual. By the time her incubation is complete, the Cypherists are once again meeting. Ironically, she infects the only group of people who could possibly have understood what was going on.
It all goes fairly quickly after that.
/(and what rough beast)\
It spreads - subtle and strange…sudden lost memories, new forms of action and, universally, a reaching, grasping curiosity…
/(its hour come round at last)\
The lost begin to gather together - first in twos, then in growing crowds - to speak nonsense at one other.
/(slouches towards)\
The language of the angels - of Babel - fills the streets of London, and then every city in the world.
/(bethlehem)\
The death shroud of humanity becomes the birth caul of something ... new -
/(?behtlehem?)\
inhaling its first breath
/(BEDLAM)\
preparing to cry out
/(to be born?)\
its Name.
***/(finishendcompleteconclude|periodmomentpointspacetime))\***
/(reachedfoundendfinishcomplete|possibleprobablyonlyoneinofmany))\
/(nowfurtheryetaheadrelease-APPENDIX-B-availableaccessableopen))\.
/(?? RESTARTperiodfirstrevisit ?? RESTOREbackrecallrelease ?? UNDObackreverseunmake ?? APPENDIXfurtherjumpyet ?? QUITleaveenddone ??))\
>
Nice work! The same thing happens with the diary, which was kind of expected.
Now to follow Pegbiter’s suggestion of fixing the magnetophone.
Flat 2D
Despite being small and cluttered with bits and pieces of electronics, this one room flat gives the impression of being quite clean and hygienic; no dust or dirt lurk in its bright corners. The east wall holds a mirror, and is neatly lined with evenly spaced picture frames. A large table, clearly a workshop space, takes up the west wall beneath an arched window.
A shadow stretches lazily from the window across the floor.
The flat’s single exit lies to the south.
Triage trundles patiently along beside.
>
Thanks for clarifying what version we’re playing.
I was not expecting Du Monde to kill us just like that.
>put module in panel
>close panel
>press switch
>put module in panel
The Aetheric Amplifier nestles perfectly into the open slot.
>close panel
The expansion slot panel closes.
>press switch
The toggle switch switches off.
>press switch
The toggle switch switches on.
>x magnetophone
A stout metallic box, approximately two feet long by a foot deep. On its side is a small label which reads “Wheatstone/Cooke Aether-Magnetophone Company,” beneath which is a panel, opened to reveal a small, empty socket.
Its front contains a simple toggle switch, a button labeled ‘transmit’, and the long graceful curve of a cygnet speaker. At its back is a small valve, connected to a rubber tube which trails along the floor.
>press transmit
>x tube
How did Du Monde kill us? something with wings, what the…
Oh, and can we please jump out of the window, like TimovieMan suggested?
Am I the only one who thinks Du Monde is an awesome character?
And do we know how to communicate with/through the magnetophone? Do we tell some part of it (about) calling CQ?
I was not expecting Du Monde to kill us just like that.
Me neither.
Well, if not the Cypherists, who’ll help us then? Can anyone?
And do we know how to communicate with/through the magnetophone? Do we tell some part of it (about) calling CQ?
Something along the lines of
> transmit
> calling CQ
> transmit “Calling CQ”
May require some trial-and-error. If the magnetophone is fixed, of course.
The truth can’t hurt you, it’s just like the dark: it scares you witless but in time you see things clear and stark. - Elvis Costello
Maybe this time I can be strong, but since I know who I am, I’m probably wrong. Maybe this time I can go far, but thinking about where I’ve been ain’t helping me start. - Michael Kiwanuka
After that, all basic reasoning goes out the window and we might as well follow suit.
Why is Du Monde awsome? And what about that pin of hers, can we get it somehow and use it?
>press transmit
The button stays depressed as long as it is pushed, then releases. Nothing more happens.
>x tube
You can’t see any such thing.
>
How did Du Monde kill us? something with wings, what the…
My guess would be something similar to that spider-thingy that fetched those files back in the archives.
Maybe different in appearance but similar in effect to the mechanical bird in The Last Express?
> x magnetophone
There must be something we can do to transmit?
Given the puzzles in this game, it can’t be much more difficult than putting that module inside that panel - which we already did.
The truth can’t hurt you, it’s just like the dark: it scares you witless but in time you see things clear and stark. - Elvis Costello
Maybe this time I can be strong, but since I know who I am, I’m probably wrong. Maybe this time I can go far, but thinking about where I’ve been ain’t helping me start. - Michael Kiwanuka
maybe the valve does something
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