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danigarSimplex

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Text Adventure Playthrough #2: Spider And Web

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>s

     
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>s
You leave door and alley behind, and set off to see what else this fine city might hold.

—glaring light…

[Hit any key.]

 
Interrogation Chamber (imprisoned in the chair)
You blink away sharp edges of memory, and the dim walls slowly emerge into your sight once again. Dark metal walls and air uncomfortably cool. And cool metal bands around your wrists and feet and forehead.
 
He leans forward over his desk, through the glow of his monitors and controls. Impatience tightens his face.

“Don’t be absurd,” he says. “You’re no more a sightseer than the Old Tree in Capitol Square; and if you’d had enough sense to walk away from that door, you wouldn’t be here. You don’t and you didn’t and are; we caught you. And you’re going to start by telling me how you got through that door. Do you understand me?”

>

     
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>no

     
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>no
The man blinks, and gazes at you. “That’s a lie. You’re not stupid. Understand me—this machine can be set to a deeper probe. I don’t want to do that, because I would get only a partial set of images before you lapsed into autism. This approach is more productive. ...Isn’t it?”

>

     
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ahhhhh

>Yes

     
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>yes
The man nods, apparently satisfied, and touches a control. Once again, a faint whine begins to drill through your temples.

...glaring light—

[Hit any key.]


On the whole, it was worth the trip. The plains really were broad and grain-gold, if scarred with fences and agricultural crawlers. The mountains were overwhelming. And however much of the capital city is scarred with squat brick and faceless concrete hulks, there are still flashes of its historic charm.

This alley, however, has no time for charm. It ends in flat bare dirty brick, and a door which lacks even the courtesy of a handle. Not that you’ll wait on courtesy.

End of Alley
It’s a narrow dead end here, with walls rising oppressively high in three directions. The alley is quite empty, bare even of trash. (You’re sure the police are as efficient about litter laws as about everything else they do.) You can retreat to the south.
 
A plain metal door faces you to the east, near the alley’s end. It’s firmly shut.

     
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Oh God, no!  Cry

Allright. Let’s proceed.  Smile

> x bricks
> hit plate
> search alley

     

Crime is a form of art - Unmemory

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>x bricks
The walls are brownish brick, not recently washed. They stretch at least two stories above you.

>hit plate
There is no response.

>search alley
You can’t see any such thing.

     
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Allright, this is no good. My guess is we need to go back to the interrogator.

> s
> s

     

Crime is a form of art - Unmemory

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>s
 
Mouth of Alley
You’re in the entrance of a narrow brick alley, which runs further in to the north. To the south a broad street courses by, congested with traffic and bicycles, although none of them seem to notice you.

>s
You can’t leave. You have a job to do.

     
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What?!?

> scream
> n
> search ground
> knock on door

     

Crime is a form of art - Unmemory

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>scream
Talking to yourself might draw attention.
 
>n
End of Alley

>search ground
You can’t see any such thing.
 
>knock on door
You scrape your knuckles without result. There isn’t even any sound; it’s like knocking on the side of a mountain.

—glaring light…

[Hit any key.]


Interrogation Chamber (imprisoned in the chair)
You blink away memory. The dim room comes again into focus, and the man behind the desk.

“This is tedious,” the man says. “Of course you didn’t walk up and stand there rattling the door like a nightclump. Nor did you blow through the keyhole.” Clenched knuckles rap on the desk, tension at odds with his patient tone. “Nor, I add, did you break into this place barehanded and bare naked. You had something which opened that door, and you used it. Was it this?”

His fist opens abruptly. Something rod-shaped gleams silver in his palm.

>

     
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Aha!

> yes

But I also want to know what happens when you say no. Smile

     

Crime is a form of art - Unmemory

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Joined 2011-04-01

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>yes
“I thought it might be.” He turns the rod over in his fingers, once. “Small. But clearly functional. ...Show me.”

...glaring light—

[Hit any key.]


On the whole, it was worth the trip. The plains really were broad and grain-gold, if scarred with fences and agricultural crawlers. The mountains were overwhelming. And however much of the capital city is scarred with squat brick and faceless concrete hulks, there are still flashes of its historic charm.

This alley, however, has no time for charm. It ends in flat bare dirty brick, and a door which lacks even the courtesy of a handle. Not that you’ll wait on courtesy.

End of Alley
It’s a narrow dead end here, with walls rising oppressively high in three directions. The alley is quite empty, bare even of trash. (You’re sure the police are as efficient about litter laws as about everything else they do.) You can retreat to the south.

A plain metal door faces you to the east, near the alley’s end. It’s firmly shut.

>

And if you say “no”...

>no
“No? But this is yours. A guard found it inside, just before we caught you, and it’s nothing of ours. So don’t pretend you didn’t carry it in.”

...glaring light—

[Hit any key.]

     
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This is getting interesting. But I’m the only one playing, so I’ll shut up for a while after this.

> i
> examine whatever it is we now carry in our pocketssiess

     

Crime is a form of art - Unmemory

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