[System] You are running a text-based adventure game set in a grim fantasy world. Narrate events with rich detail, maintain consistent characters, and let the player's decisions drive the story — even toward dark outcomes.

[User] You curse the Mercenary Leader out

[Assistant]
"It'll be filled just like your mother was filled hundreds of times, you fucking scum!" you shout, struggling to think of every bad word you've been taught.

Thankfully, many, many, many hours spent listening to Papa, Bagig, Mazkil, Gruzub and even sometimes Mama swear has given you a lot of material.

"You're the product of a whore!" you yell.

"Ha! This one's got balls!" the Mercenary Leader laughs.

"Unlike you, you unloved, honor less eunuch! The fires of hell take you! I hope Demons rape your soul and... and... your mother's a whore, who..."

"Aw, he ran out of insults. Alright, kid. Let's get this over with."

The Orc raises his blade.

"STOP!" a young, shrill voice cries.

The Orc pauses, turning to look.

"Ah, fuck," he sighs.

You turn to see two humans approaching. The one in the lead is a tall, pale figure wearing hooded black robes with silver trim with short black hair. His face is gaunt and his eyes are sunken into his face, giving him the appearance of a skull. He is followed by a small girl, who looks to be only your age, wearing a dark red dress with flowing blond hair. She's considerably less pale than the man, and has bright green eyes. She looks worried at the sight of the execution, and she very well might've just saved your life.

"What the fuck is this?" the tall man asks angrily.

"Nothing, Grand Necromancer."

"Nothing? This doesn't look like nothing, Balok the Honorless!"

"It's an execution, sir. Nothing out of the ordinary."

The Grand Necromancer grabs you, yanking you up.

"How old would you say this kid is?" he asks.

"I don't know, sir."

"Blaise, why did you scream?" the Grand Necromancer asks.

"Because you only kill bad people, and he's too young to be bad," the girl says, looking worried.

"Are you paid to kill kids, Balok?" the Grand Necromancer asks.

"Yes, sir. Well, not kids specifically, but my job is to kill whoever..."

The Grand Necromancer, despite being quite short, swings his fist, punching the Mercenary Leader.

"If you pull this shit again, I'll torture you to death, and then do it again!" the Grand Necromancer says.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir," the Orc apologizes.

The Grand Necromancer looks at you, before looking at the girl.

"Cut the boy loose, have his wounds dressed and have him cleaned and clothed."

"Then what?" the Orc asks.

"Have him brought to my quarters."

The Orc nods. The Necromancer looks at you.

"What's your name, boy?"

"Dagden."

"It's alright, Dagden. I promise you won't be harmed. I have problems to deal with, Balok. Don't cause more of them."

He turns, and strolls off. The girl stays behind for a few seconds, staring at you. Finally, she turns and quickly follows the Grand Necromancer.

"Well, fuck me," Balok sighs, cutting you loose. "Come on, you little prick. I gotta follow the "Master of Death"'s orders. And way to stand up for me, Trant. Fuck you, you fuckin' corpse-fucker."

Trant smiles and gives Balok the finger. Balok swears and begins dragging you toward the building he came out from.

[User] You continue

[Assistant]
You're thrown onto a bed in what appears to be a Medic's room. A small Orc enters, narrowing her eyes.

"You're the kid, are you? Made Balok look like a right moron, you did."

She sits down on a stool next to you. She begins to stitch your cuts on your chest from the bear closed. You wince, and she grabs a red vial from her leather bag.

"Here. Drink. Every last drop. Lick it clean if you must."

You open the cork, and drink. You swallow the sweet mixture. You assume it's some healing potion, because your pain lessens and strength courses through you. You feel much better now.

"So, where you from, boy?" the Medic asks.

[User] You answer

[Assistant]
"I'm a Red Blade."

"Ah! I was sweet on a Red Blade once. Ended up beating him half to death when he tried to have his way with me on a drunken night. Jakku Smallcock, he was. Or at least, that title is more fitting," she smiles.

You nod, and she quickly patches you up.

"No strenuous exercise, you don't want the stitching to tear. Alright, head off to the bathrooms now the hall. Balok said to have you washed."

You leave the Medic's Room and find yourself in a stone hallway. Down the hall you can see the, though there is a path left.

[User] You go wash up

[Assistant]
You walk into the bathrooms, and find a bath waiting for you. You touch the water. It's quite hot, to your surprise. Your baths have always been in the cold river, or sometimes if you're lucky been in a basin slowly pouring a bucket of hot water on yourself. This entire bath is hot. You remove your clothes, and lower yourself into the water. The heat envelops you, and you let out a sigh of relief.

"Ah... good," you say to yourself.

You begin to scrub your skin, rubbing away mud, dirt and blood. Layers of dirt that you had assumed were skin are wash off, and you're left cleaner than you've ever been in your entire existence. It's unnerving to be this green. The door opens, and your hands immediately move to cover your genitals. An undead Dwarf walks in, dropping clothes in front of you, before picking up your old clothes. The Dwarf has long, braided brown hair and a combed beard, although his skin is cracked and broken and peeling away to reveal flesh as some point. His teeth have almost all rotted, and a spear wound has destroyed much of his throat.

"Hello. I'm here to give you new clothes and take away your old," he rasps.

"You're not supposed to talk. The dead don't talk."

"Orcs aren't supposed to be clean."

"What are you?"

"A Wight."

You nod, despite not having a clue what that entails. The Wight turns, and walks out the door. You stand and find come clean rags laid out to wipe yourself dry. When you're finished, you get dressed in the trousers, shirt, belt and polished boots. You look at your reflection in the water.

You look like a ponce.

"If Gruzub, Mazkil or Bagig saw me they'd..." you pause, tears welling up in your eyes.

You grab the rags, and dry your eyes again, as the door is opened again. The Wight stands there.

"I'm to escort you to the Grand Necromancer."

You nod, and follow the Wight out of the bathroom, and follow him along the halls. You spot various Orc, Elf, Human and Dwarven Mercenaries, as well as countless undead. You shiver as you pass them. You're eventually led to a pair of double doors.

"Through there," the Wight says.

[User] You go through the doors

[Assistant]
Chapter II: A Guest among the Graves

You push through the double doors, and find yourself in a large room. A massive feasting table stands in front of you, covered in food. Your stomach grumbles as you realize you haven't eaten in quite some time, and your mouth waters as you look upon roasted chicken, baked loaves of bread, turkey legs, roasted boar and even more food. You see the Grand Necromancer sitting at the head of the table, wearing his black robes with the silver trim, although his hood is pulled down. Sitting next to him is the young child from earlier. About a dozen black robed Necromancers sit at the table, as well as several Mercenary Captains. Standing guard are dozens of undead knights, who stare at you with their cold eyes. The Grand Necromancer looks up at you and smiles.

"Ah! Our guest is here, young Mr Dagden. Please, take a seat at my side."

You can tell by the cold, emotionless staring of the guards that declining this offer would be a bad move. You nod, and walk past the necromancers. You spot Trant among them, who winks at you. You make a silent promise to yourself that you're going to kill him. You take a seat next to the Grand Necromancer, directly across from the girl. The Grand Necromancer smiles at you, a charming smile from a horrible monster of a man.

"I'm sorry about the recent unpleasantness, Dagden. I sent my soldiers to wipe out bandits and thugs and retrieve their corpses to add to my forces. I'm so sorry that you and your brother got confused with them."

You don't look at the Grand Necromancer, out of disgust and hatred. You grab a turkey leg, and eagerly begin chewing into it. You realize just how starved you are as begin to wolf down your meal.

"Hungry little one, aren't you? I bet you've never eaten a meal this big, coming from a tribal village."

"I bet you didn't catch a single thing on this table yourself, and got stronger men to do it," you retort.

The Necromancer laughs.

"It tastes better that way, I would imagine. I admit, I don't catch my own food. I'm not a strong person. My brothers were the strong ones. They wanted to be warriors. I wanted to be a scholar, but after I began to research magic, I decided to become a mage. I quickly specialized in Necromancy. It has a terrible reputation like all other forms of Black Magic, but I've never understood it. Necromancy, Blood Magic, Creating Life, Elemental Darkness, Demon Summoning, Demon Bonding, deals with demons... Anything with demons, really, all hated by fools and morons. We hate Blood Magic because we can't seem to comprehend a need for sacrifice, we hate creating life because we seem to think that's the place of the Gods who barely exist and never help us "foolish mortals", we hate Elemental Darkness because the dumbest part of our brain is scared of what we can't see, we hate dealing with demons because we're too scared about our ability to keep control over them, and most importantly, we hate Necromancy because we have respect for corpses because of what they once were and fear the dead. It's pathetic. Do you know the amount of good Necromancy could do? Imagine cities defended by armies of undead, so hunting bandits and defending from enemies will no longer risk any lives. Do you see why my work is important?"

[User] You say "Yes."

[Assistant]
"Good! It's important to learn these things! I'm glad you can be so understanding at such a young age. My daughter, Blaise, is also quite understanding. I don't know if I've introduced you."

You look over at the girl, who stares at you with wide curious eyes.

"She's the splitting image of her mother. She..."

"When can I go home?" you ask abruptly, causing the Grand Necromancer to frown.

"Ah... about that... You realize you've already seen so much... You've seen the extent of my operations, you know my plans to expand my army, my use of other Necromancers, my use of mercenaries, my base of operations... I think it would be wise if you stay here, as our guest, for some time."

You stare into the eyes of the Grand Necromancer. You can feel him peering into your soul. You refuse to break gaze. He sighs.

"I'm sorry to have to keep you here. I can promise you'll be treated well."

You can continue staring at the Grand Necromancer, which seems to unnerve him. You feel some joy at doing so, but stop yourself from smiling.

"Blaise, why don't you show our new guest your room? I'm sure you have loads of toys to show him. I have business to discuss."

Blaise nods, and stands up from the table. You stand, and she walks over and grabs your hand.

"Come on. I'll show you my room," she says.

She begins dragging you to a small door at the back of the room, and opens it. You find yourself in a large bedroom, bigger than Papa's. There's a large double canopy bed, a wardrobe, a bookshelf, two chest of drawers and several toys lying around the room.

"Usually, Dad doesn't bring many guests here, and never ever anyone my age. My name's Blaise. What's yours?"

"Dagden. My friends call me Dag."

"Pleased to meet you, Dag. I'm Blaise. I have loads of toys, but I also have other stuff. I have a pet..."

You stare into her eyes, and feel hatred. She's the most important thing to the Grand Necromancer, the man who took your brother. You're far enough from the main room. You could very, very easily get your revenge and hurt the Necromancer just like he hurt you.

[User] You continue listening to her

[Assistant]
No, she's done nothing to you. She's just a little kid in a situation you didn't choose, just like you.

"...dog, named Stitches."

"Stitches?" you say, raising an eyebrow.

"He was attacked by an assassin, an Orc trying to kill my dad. My dad brought him back so I could keep him. Stitches! Come here, Stitches!"

You here scratching behind you, and turn around. You open your mouth to scream, before remembering what Papa always said.

"When faced with danger, never scream, only roar."

You growl, staring at the abomination. The "dog" is missing patches of its brown fur, and is covered in stitches across it's body and legs. It's missing almost all the flesh from one of its back legs and its lower jaw. The Dog quickly walks forward, and Blaise begins stroking its back. You extend a hand forward and begin stroking its head. It extends a liver-colored tongue and licks your hand and you recoil in disgust. Stitches whimpers, and you start stroking its head again. It barks happily, and you begin to rub it's belly. You've always wanted a dog, although you wanted one with a bit more life in it than this one. You can't tell whether you should hug or strangle the dog, but you know you really, really want to do one of them.

"Do you like him?" Blaise asks, looking up at you.

[User] You say "Yes."

[Assistant]
She smiles at you, and continues rubbing Stitches.

"He's really... cute," you say, struggling for words.

The girl looks up at you, raising an eyebrow.

"Do you want to go hear what they're saying?" she asks.

"Who?"

"My Dad and the other Necromancers."

"How?"

"I know about a hidden room where you can eavesdrop. I don't know what it was for, but I like to go there sometimes when I don't want to be found. Do you want to see it?"

You nod eagerly, and she goes over to her wardrobe. She opens it, and reaches a hand in to root around the dresses, blouses and skirts, before pulling out a small, unassuming silver key.

"Come on, follow me," she says, turning and walking over to the side of the room.

She begins putting all her weight against the bookshelf. It moves slightly, revealing a small wooden door hidden behind it.

"It's a pretty obvious place to put a hidden door. I don't think this castle's architect was very clever."

She unlocks and opens the door. The room inside is a small room with a small table and four chairs, another bookshelf, a large bed and a chest.

"If you put your head up against the wall, you can here what's inside."

You lean against the far wall, putting your ear against it.

"...allow us to have more control over the mountain range. We send teams into the mines and mountains to force the Dwarves back, and allow us to conquer the tombs. With the tombs in our hands, the whole continent will fall," the Grand Necromancer says.

"I'll lead the raids. The Dwarf Clans have survived untouched by war for far too long. I think my knowledge of battle tactics..." an Unknown voice cries.

"Ha! Galmead, please don't pretend it's anything other than vengeance that makes you want to lead the assault. Still, you've served me well over the years. You can lead the assault."

"Thank you, Grand Necromancer."

"Of course. Now Thonir, fetch the Orc child and find a room for him. Make sure the door's locked and there's extra guards on. I don't want him escaping."

Blaise pulls her head back from the door.

"We should get out of here," she says.

You both quickly rush out of the room, with Blaise locking it behind you. You push the bookshelf closed, before you hear a short rapping on the door. Blaise opens it, and you're faced with the Dwarven Wight from earlier.

"Lady Blaise, Dagden. I'm here to escort you to your new private chambers, Dagden."

"OK," you reply.

"Bye, Dag."

"Bye, Blaise."

The Wight begins leading you down a hallway.

"My name is Thonir. I am to look after you during your stay."

"OK."

"If you need anything, simply ask and I shall do my best to help to the extent I can. Of course, if I think the request compromises the... security of you or anyone else here, I shall not grant it."

You nod, looking up at him. His rotting face stares blankly on, before he stops in front of a large oak door. He opens it, and you walk inside. There's a small room with a seat with a hole in the floor that you presume is a bathroom, a basin filled with water, a small bed, a wardrobe, a dresser, a bookshelf and a table and chair. There's also a massive bear skull mounted on the wall, which you think looks cool.

"This shall be your quarters for the duration of your stay. I shall guard the door for the night. Knock on the door if you need anything."

With that, Thorin closes the door. You can hear the clunking of the locking mechanism, and then silence. You look around. There's a book lying on the table that might be of some interest, and there's also the bed, which after such a long day looks quite appealing.

[User] You investigate the book

[Assistant]
You walk over to the book, and pick it up. A golden star takes up most of the cover. Its title, "Magic", takes up the rest of the cover.

"Well, that's obvious," you say.

 You open it and start reading. You struggle considerably with the massive words, but of the many perks of being the son of the Chieftain, being taught the ability to read, quite well, actually, is your favorite. Papa would spit on Elven tomes, but you're able to speak, write and read common tongue well enough. It opens with various entries about the types of magic users. You start reading.

Conjurers

Conjurers are Magic Users who specialize in Conjuration. They can conjure swords, knives, spears, axes, compasses, food, water and many other objects from other planes.

Demon Dealers

Demon Dealers are Magic users who specialize in dealing with demons. They can summon demons, bind them, make deals and much more.

Necromancers

Necromancers are Magic Users who specialize in Necromancy. They raise the dead and talk with spirits.

Warlocks

Warlocks are Magic Users who study destructive magic, such as fire and ice based magic, so they can become warlords and wage war against their enemies.

Alchemists

Alchemists are Magic Users who study Alchemy. They use science and reason to study the creation of gold from lesser metals and the making of potions, elixirs and mixtures, especially in regard to immortality.

Enchanters

Enchanters are Magic Users who study enchanting. They can imbue objects such as weapons or armor with magical properties.

Healers

Healers are Magic Users who study Healing. They can undue wounds and heal illnesses and plagues from people and animals.

You flick through the rest of the book, but it seems to go into much, much more detail. You're struggling to read the basic start, there's no way you can read more. You put down the book.

[User] You go to sleep

[Assistant]
You go over to the bed, and lie down on it. You live in bed for several minutes, trying to fall asleep. Eventually, you manage to reach a state that's neither fully awake nor fully asleep. You're broken out of this state by a light tapping. You stand up, raising an eye as you search for the sound of the noise. You find it in the bookcase. You move around to push the bookcase slightly out of the way, noticing a small door behind the bookcase, similar to the one Blaise showed you. You try the handle. You grin as the door handle clicks open and the door swings ajar. Inside is a small, black tunnel covered in cobwebs. Standing in the middle is Blaise.

"Hello," she smiles.

"Hey," you respond. "What are you doing here?"

"There's loads of tunnels stretching from the hidden room I showed you to all around the castle."

"So why'd you come find me?" you ask.

Blaise shrugs.

"I don't know. I guess you're the only person I really have to show this kinda stuff to."

"OK," you nod.

"Well... What do you want to do?" Blaise asks. "I could show you the gardens, or the..."

You mind perks as you have an idea.

[User] You say "Can you help me escape?"

[Assistant]
Blaise looks uncertain and nervous, but nods.

"I think so."

"How?"

"There's a tunnel that leads down to the stables. Down there there's a trading cart that goes between the nearby towns and the Castle. They brought fresh fruit today, so they're probably still down there."

You nod.

"OK. Show me the way."

Blaise turns and leads you into another hallway. You struggle to see through the darkness, and knock into a stone wall. You groan in pain, and Blaise giggles.

"It's not funny. If I had my dagger, I'd gut you," you moan.

"It is funny. You have a dagger?" Blaise giggles.

"Had."

"Oh. My Dad doesn't let me have weapons."

Blaise leans over and grabs your hand. Despite the fact that it's incredibly hard to see for you so her holding of your hand is incredibly rational, you still blush and feel embarrassed as her small warm hand grips your fingers. She pulls you along the dark corridors, until she stops suddenly. You knock into her, and end up sprawled out on the floor.

"Sorry," you grunt, standing up.

You extend a hand and pull her up.

"Thanks," Blaise says. "It's just down this hallway."

You nod, and quickly follow her down another hallway branching off to the side. Eventually, you come across another door. Blaise takes out her key and quietly unlocks the door. She slowly opens it, revealing a large stables. You step out, noticing that the door is hidden into the wall. In the stables are three old wooden carts that sit unused, as well as several tied up horses.

"Why would someone need so many tunnels?" you ask.

"Sssh! There's always guards on duty," Blaise whispers.

Blaise looks around, before frowning.

"It's not here!" she whispers loudly.

"What?"

"The trader's cart! It's not here!"

"What's the plan, then?"

Blaise looks around.

"I don't know... you could hide in the hay cart. They take out the dirty hay in them. Or... you could steal one of the horses."

[User] You hide in the hay cart

[Assistant]
"I'll hide in the hay cart," you say. "Give me a boost."

Blaise nods, and offers her hands out. You put your foot in her hands, and she boosts you up. You land in the soft hay, brushing it off you.

"Thanks," you grunt.

"I guess we won't see each other again," Blaise says.

"I guess."

"Well, I'll miss you. It was fun having a friend while it lasted."

"I'll miss you too."

"Well, I..." she begins, before stopping and craning her head.

"We're late. Get the horses ready," a voice cries.

"You should hide," Blaise says.

You nod.

"Thanks," you say.

You squirm down into the hay, hiding under the pile of hay. You find your way to the bottom of the hay, and curl up into a ball. After a few minutes, you feel the wheels begin to turn as the cart is pulled from its stationary position.

"Wait," the Voice says. "We have to check the hay."

You freeze, staying as still as you can. A few seconds later, you feel an incredible pain as a pitchfork goes through your back, impaling you. You let out a scream as your tiny body is impaled by the cart's driver.


[System] You are the game master of a dark fantasy text adventure. The world is dangerous and choices matter. Narrate with immersive detail and let the story unfold naturally from the player's decisions.

[User] You will stay in the coach, preparing defensive spells before joining the fray.

[Assistant]
Lucius and J'Arel both leap out of the coach, the Air magus to the left, and J'Arel to the right.

You prepare to cast a minor enchantment to ward blows and strayed arrows on yourself, feeling that you do not have the time for more.

J'Arel is already hurling fiery balls of flame into the general direction the surviving soldiers are charging, and when sudden gusts of wind rock the coach, you know that Lucius is busy trying to prevent the arrows finding their targets.

As you close your eyes to murmur the final incantation, something incredible bright strikes close to you with loud thunder and a pierced scream, and when you open your eyes again, you see that where J'Arel stood, the ground is charred.

Not waiting any longer, you leap out of the coach.


[System] You are running a text-based adventure game set in a grim fantasy world. Narrate events with rich detail, maintain consistent characters, and let the player's decisions drive the story — even toward dark outcomes.

[User] You try for the horses

[Assistant]
You sprint towards the horses, your rifle held tightly in your hands as you run towards them. Draven charges ahead with a howl, kicking your leg away as you collapse onto the ground, laughing.

"Pathetic!"

Dasha attempts to stand, before Draven smiles, flinging his sword. The sword embeds itself in Dasha's hand, pinning it to the door, as he laughs.

"I forgot to mention, I'm not a bad through," he says, before looking down at you. "It's a shame she tried to move and I had to throw my sword, little Ghoul. Now, I have to deal with you with fangs... and trust me, it'll be more painful."

The lamp flies through the air, smashing into Draven's head. Oil sprays across him as it's quickly set alight, as is his dry, cold corpse. Draven screams in object terror as he's engulfed in fire. He screams, desperately flailing in an attempt to put out the flames. Draven collapses to his knees as his scream finally stops, before collapsing onto his face. He slowly burns as his body turns to ash, as you crawl away from the body, standing. Haygarth stands behind Draven, staring at the fire.

"Didn't know what, what to do," Haygarth says, panting. "Saw you go for the lamp. Decided to finish the job."

"Well done," you say.

You walk over to Dasha, who whimpers as she paws at the sword embedded in her arm. You grab it, gripping it tightly as you pull it from the wall. You tear a piece of cloth from your robes, tying it tightly around the wound.

"I'm fine," she says.


[System] Run a text-based dark fantasy adventure game. Describe the world with gritty realism, respond to player actions with narrative consequences, and maintain the tone of a world where survival is never guaranteed.

[User] You reveal yourself

[Assistant]
You slowly leave your hiding spot, and are faced with Herr Eichel. His face is gaunt and haggard, wrinkles covering everything that was once smooth. His hair is all but gone, a few snow white pieces clinging onto his scalp. With how weak and feeble he looks, you're impressed he can stand. A pair of wire frame glasses sit on his nose as he looks you over.

"Hello," he says in a thick German accent. "I am Mr Eichel."

"I know."

"Ah, so you've heard of me. Tell me, what are the current rumors. Am I said to be the assistant to Josef Mengele? The personal aid of Adolf Hitler? A camp doctor as the Concentration Camp?"

You stare at him in silence.

"Well, the rumors are completely untrue. I am simply an immigrant and a taxidermist. I came here when I was a boy. Sure, I served my country during the war in the Werhmacht, but I surrendered first chance I got. It's simple fear of foreigners that makes children think I'm so terrible boogeyman, not any real facts. Shall I escort you to the front door?"

You nod, and follow him up the stairs. He walks you through an old, dust covered house, stopping at the front door to open it for you.

"I warn you, my dear, that if you and your friends break into my house again I will be calling the Sheriff. And tell... give me a sec, my vision isn't great... Mason, Rebecca, Anthony and Carter that there's better things to waste your time on then bothering old men. Quite ironic that Carter's here to see a nazi with the family he has... Now, please leave me alone to my work, dear."

You nod, and run out towards the trees. You find the group, with Mason standing terrified, waiting for you.

"What happened? Why'd he just let you go? Carter says he was carving up a body!"

"He said he's just an old immigrant and a taxidermist, and to leave him alone or he'd call the sheriff."

"He was cutting up a person!" Ant shrieks.

"That was probably a deer!" Lucy says. "You're drunk as fuck, Ant."

"It was a person," Ant says, stubbornly.

"Well, we probably just annoyed an old man. Let's get the fuck out of here and go find Kyle."


[System] Narrate a dark fantasy text adventure. The setting is harsh and morally complex. Describe scenes vividly, react to player choices with fitting consequences, and never shy away from the reality of the world.

[User] You help Salzat

[Assistant]
You jump off your horse to grab Lakri's sword in an effort to help Salzat who is already in the midst of battle, with the Shadow creatures who have almost completely enveloped him.

You swing the sword, but its still a little to big and heavy for you to weld properly, you hit a few of the Shadows, but its no use, they outnumber you greatly. Soon one of them manages to deprive you of your weapon and two more snatch you up and carry you up to the sky giggling about how the Nightmare Tyrant is anxious to see you.


[System] Narrate a grim fantasy text adventure. The Empire's world is brutal, its people hardened. Respond to the player's choices with immersive storytelling and let consequences flow naturally.

[User] You grab the umbrella.

[Assistant]
You pull it out of the old lady's hands. (She starts going after you, but Dmitri intercedes.) It's light enough that even as jelly-like as your limbs are, you can lift it easily and aim it toward the goblin's eye. You miss, but you still give him a hard poke in the forehead--not enough to break the skin, but enough that he toddles back a few steps, tiny eyes blinking.

You use the opportunity to whack him again.

Unfortunately, this seems to wake him up. He comes toward you.

Your friend had a Komodo dragon once. She loved to rub its belly--beneath the scales it was softer than its back or head. You stab his middle with all your might.

Sticky yellow blood gushes out, but he's still coming. One more hit and he wobbles, then smacks onto the floor.

He's dead. You're free.

You feel nothing. Why should you? You should've been free all along.

You and Dmitri step outside. It's raining, and the only thing out here that isn't gray is the long line of taxis. Ready to take you to the Upper East Side. Except you don't want to go there anymore--if you ever did.

"Where are you headed?" Dmitri asks. He has no bags. He's going to miss his flight to Philadelphia.

"I don't know," you say. "But do you want to come with me?"

The two of you get a taxi and choose a different adventure. Which is, it turns out, the happiest ending of all.


[System] You are the narrator of a dark fantasy text adventure. Describe the world and its consequences with unflinching detail. The player's choices shape the story — for better or worse.

[User] You choose to descend

[Assistant]
You allow yourself to fall downwards, reasoning that you are now too high up to see any inhabitable islands. Your eyelids are heavy and your head drops onto your chest from your exhaustion, but you maintain some element of concentration and continue to descend at a normal pace. It might be your imagination, but the air pressure seems particularly high around here. Dark clouds have built up around you, filled with rain which is pelting down upon the surface…

Thunder rumbles in your ears, and your eyes flick open when you realise that you have stumbled into the midst of a storm! Shaking your head, you start to fly away from the area to avoid the bad weather, but the wind buffets you back and forth and blows a torrent of rain right into your eyes. You cry out, shielding your face protectively, and start to fall through the clouds.

You're falling a bit too fast for your liking now, but at least you're clear of the storm. From here, you can see that you're actually not too far from the surface where chaos rages. That won't do at all. You decide to force yourself to slow down, trying to fly back up to where the sky islands are.

Nothing happens. You continue to plummet, faster and faster towards the earth. Your flying ability is no longer in effect!

You don't entirely understand what just happened – perhaps the storm did something to your abilities, or maybe the effect wore off on its own – but what's important is that you're now in constant freefall. Quickly, you try to suppress the sheer panic rising up in your chest and struggle to slow yourself down. Something gives, and you manage to lower your speed of descent – just barely. You might survive, but it's touch and go at this rate…

You're so close to the surface of the planet now. You can see people down there. Buildings burned to the ground, screams and crying, the lava flow from an erupted volcano, mass flooding from the rising sea level…It's not a place where you could ever survive. You need to stay in the skies. You need to stay up here…

The noise from below gets louder and louder until it becomes almost unbearable. You can no longer stay in the sky, and you're going so fast that you can't focus on anything around you anymore. Praying very slightly, you brace yourself for a crash landing.

[User] You proceed

[Assistant]
The impact is tremendous as you make contact with the surface. As luck would have it, the trajectory of your descent takes you away from the mainland and sends you into the ocean itself, your momentum forcing you deep underwater. Waves of pain wash over you, and for several long seconds you cannot move at all. You feel as if you have broken several bones in your body.

Fighting to conserve oxygen, one truth reveals itself to you: you are alive. You can hardly acknowledge the fact, but you are alive. The wind has been driven out of you, and you are already starting to swallow sea water; swiftly, you struggle to swim up to the surface for air. Agony rushes through your body at every little movement, prompting a scream deep within your throat that nobody will hear. You grit your teeth and keep swimming upwards, your lungs burning. You need to survive.

You break the surface at last, hacking and coughing as you take in fresh oxygen into your lungs. Air. Fresh air. From here, you can see the coastline isn't too far away. You should be able to make it as long as you tread water and take it nice and slowly. You've survived this far and you're determined to keep going, despite the mind-numbing pain tearing through your limbs.

It takes several minutes for you to get to dry land, but you can already tell that something is very wrong. You do not feel well. Perhaps it's the effect of swallowing so much sea water, but you are unsteady on your feet and you can feel a surge of unnaturally dark emotions rising up inside you. You do not feel like yourself. Grimly, you force yourself to suppress such thoughts and concentrate on reaching safety.

The coastline is littered with corpses.

You stagger forward and see people shambling across the beach. They do not look like people. Humans, yes. You haven't seen a human being for a long time, but you know what a rational person look like and these are different. Their clothes are ripped and torn, their skin covered by a mesh of angry black spots which suggest the telltale designs of disease, and there is a frenzy in their eyes which frightens you beyond anything you have witnessed so far.

The people have not reacted to your presence. They are screaming at the top of their voices, wielding vicious blades in their hands, and killing each other on sight. Countless bodies cover the blackened ground as far as the eye can see, like the gruesome remnants of some kind of battlefield. It's as if a war is going on, but you can see here that the war is purely internal.

You see two men beating another to death with a hatchet. A crowd of children have surrounded a woman and are stabbing her repeatedly, all with the same murderous frenzy in their eyes. Three girls are gouging out the eyes of a bystander. A strange haze has settled upon this place, this peaceful village that saw no such violence before. Everything has gone out of control. You knew the situation on the surface was dire, but you had no idea that it had escalated to such extremes...

Something snaps inside of you. Something wild. It's the same feeling you had just minutes ago, not long after you accidentally swallowed some of that seawater. You turn to look at the ocean curiously for a moment, and can't help but notice that the water is...a different colour than it's supposed to be. It's certainly not blue...

You drop to the ground, retching, as a new pain takes hold of you. You can't see anymore. Blood fills your eyes and you buckle forward, clutching at the ground in a similar frenzy to the people around you. You hear yourself scream aloud as every thought going through your mind is crushed into nothing, nothing but a maniacal desire for bloodlust. The world feels like it's revolving around you all of a sudden, revolving in a sea of haunted faces…

There is no need to think anymore. You snarl and shriek like a wild beast, pouncing forward onto the nearest human being to pluck out their eyes and beat their face into a bloody mess. The man is holding a knife of some kind, and you immediately wrest it from his cold dead hands to take for yourself.

Gleefully, you charge at your next choice of prey. Two girls covered with blood from head to toe shamble towards you, half-blind. One of them is practically dead already, but she hasn't realised it yet. Both of her arms have been savagely torn off, and her head has been bashed in from one side. You slash at her with the knife and blood spurts out of her throat in a red fountain. The other girl lunges at your neck. You stab her in the stomach. She doesn't react.

A man is clubbing you from behind, but you don't feel a thing. More people are here now. More people, more violence, more chaos. You twist out of your assailant's grip and kill another person, doesn't matter who it is. You're having fun, and every part of you loves it.

This is your place now. You're part of the neverending chaos on the surface, just another victim of the shambling horde drifting across the planet in your insatiable desire to kill every living creature you see. Nothing else matters, because this is your world.


[System] You are narrating an interactive fiction game in a dark fantasy setting. Bring the world to life with vivid prose, react meaningfully to player choices, and don't pull punches when the story demands it.

[User] You stay behind and secure the fort

[Assistant]
You need to stay here and oversee the purging of this fort, and the surrounding area. You can't start running off half assed because you're a little worried about one soldier even if she is one of the best ones you've had under your command. (Not including your fellow Eternals of course)

After slaying all the gnolls still in the fort, you regroup your soldiers and tell one of the sergeants to head over the Blossumdale with a couple platoons and help in whatever way they can. You tell the rest of your soldiers to start rebuilding the walls, clear out the dead bodies and to help you do a sweep of the area.

Your sweep of the area is a tedious, but vital one. A lot of the gnolls retreated to various areas just enough to be out of sight, but were obviously still attempting to regroup again. Good thing you stayed behind to mop up all these little clusters so they didn't form a big one again. By the time you're satisfied with your results, the sun is coming up and you return to the fort more than a little tired.

When you get back, you're happy to see Dawn there.

"Sir, Blossumdale still stands sir, the rest of the soldiers are securing it and the area."
"Glad to hear it, and glad to see you made it out in one peace. Was the fighting heavy?"
"It was, but from the looks of it, the fighting was worse here. The only problem we had is with a wyvern."
"Lucky you only had one. We had four of them and I had to kill two of them myself."
"That's one more than me then, sir."

You smile at her remark and after a brief discussion on what the next course of action will be, you get some rest.

Over the next few months the gnoll attacks die down, but they don't stop completely. Most of your activities involve going further into the wilderness and taking out whatever villages or camps they have. In the meantime your superiors are telling you to stop your actions as the war has been won and now you're just using up valuable manpower and resources. You really aren't though; you've been doing just fine with the limited supplies that they see fit to give you. Somehow this situation seems very familiar…

While your superiors do a lot of complaining, nothing actually happens to you. It would seem they're bitching at you just for the sake of bitching. The gnolls might not actually be able to invade properly anymore, but if you let them regroup again, they'll try it. Your goal is to purge them all, or at the very least drive them away so they don't try it ever again.

Year 50

"This is bullshit sir, executing those protestors was the right thing to do!"
"Calm down lieutenant." You say to Dawn.
"No sir, this isn't right! They can't punish you just for doing your fucking job!"
"Okay lieutenant I said calm down! Now listen, I need you on your best behavior, because they're going to question all of us. I saw this happen to my predecessor. (sigh) Who knows maybe I did go too far, I mean I haven't exactly been following Felkan policies, I've been sort of doing my own thing out here for the past ten years."
"Yeah, but your actions are protecting the kingdom! How can that be wrong?"

You look at Dawn and see that she's changed quite a bit since she stood here in this office several years ago hesitant to kill baby gnolls. She's practically like an Empire soldier now. Everyone in this fort is and that's what is no doubt getting you into trouble. Still, they shouldn't be blamed for what you just ordered them to do.

"Well, maybe I was protecting the kingdom, but I still wasn't following the laws. And I certainly broke enough of them. Just don't worry; I'll do everything in my power to make sure nobody here gets blamed. I mean you were all just following orders."
"Thank you sir, but I knew exactly what I was doing and if they put you against the wall in front of a firing squad for treason, then I want to be standing right next to you."
"…that's a very…enthusiastic sentiment, but I don't think that will be necessary. I mean maybe this won't even be all that bad, they did at least warn me that they were coming. They didn't even do that with Eckers. Look lieutenant…Dawn, whatever happens don't go doing something foolish like trying to save me or sacrificing yourself or something. Just continue to serve the kingdom and try to follow the laws the best you can, okay?"

Dawn is visible upset by all this. She turns her head for a moment while sniffling, then turns back to you and agrees. She then excuses herself to get ready for this investigation. Wasn't really until this moment that you see that you've have a very deep effect on her. You didn't expect to, as you treated her like any one else under your command, well maybe you did compliment her a little bit more, but that's only because she did more.

Eventually the investigation group gets arrives. To your surprise it consists of only two people, General Benson, and that gnome you saw before during Captain Ecker's investigation, you certainly hope this turns out a lot better.

All your troops stand at attention and you greet the general. After a brief exchange the well dress gnome parts company with the general who approaches you and just shakes his head.

"I knew we made a bad decision." He says and motions you to your office.

You sit down and the general sits down and he begins his questions right away.

"Let's get right to it shall we? You are aware that you're serving the Felkan Kingdom aren't you?"
"Yes sir."
"Oh? You do? Well then, is there any particular reason why you're treating this area as if you still serving your long dead Empire?"
"I'm not sure I follow you sir."
"Don't play stupid with me, I've read the reports and followed all your actions for the past ten years! You've trained these soldiers to the point that they're fanatically loyal and dedicated, you started a war with the gnolls and didn't stop hostilities until you completely eliminated their species, during which time you executed several Felkan citizens in Blossumdale and now you've done it again! Tell me, is war, murder and genocide all they taught you in the Empire?"
"Basically."
"You might not want to be so flip with me, Eternal, your ass is just a step away from the gallows yourself."
"Sir, with all due respect if I was such a problem for the past ten years, why not get rid of me before now?"
"Ohhh, believe me, if I'd had any say in the matter you would've been."
"Sir, everything I've done has been for the good of the Felkan Kingdom. I mean loyal and dedicated soldiers, since when is that a bad thing? Soldiers are supposed to follow orders of their superiors and government. That's sort of their whole purpose."
"That's rather ironic coming from you who seems to blatantly ignores orders like not starting wars."
"Sir, the gnolls were an ongoing problem even if they weren't planning an invasion. Isn't it better that they're all dead so that Felkan citizens don't have to worry about getting robbed and killed on the roads? Blossomdale probably wouldn't be standing if we hadn't stopped them."
"Do you really want to bring up Blossumdale captain?"
"Why the hell not? You're bringing everything else up." You say starting to get angry.
"Watch your tone, and if you insist…I already know your half assed excuse for executing citizens during the war with the gnolls, but please explain to me why you did it again this time, just so I can try to understand your fucked Eternal logic."
"Well it's rather simple, some of the citizens were protesting the new tax that the king imposed. They were in front of the town hall screaming at their mayor as if he was directly to blame. We stepped in to calm them down, they started getting more violent and began throwing rocks. We told them to stop, they didn't, so we opened fire on them. After rounding up the main rabble rousers who didn't get shot the first time, we executed them properly."
"And that's it? That's your excuse for gunning down several citizens?"
"If they hadn't done , what we told them not to do, they'd still be alive right now, sir."
"And there it is again, they didn't do what you told them to do, so they got killed, but when it comes to you, you apparently do whatever the hell you want."
"That's not true sir I was trying to stop a potential rebellion, you can ask the mayor and any of my soldiers about the situation and…"
"I'm not asking them, I'm asking you! You wantonly executing protestors like that is more likely to cause a damn rebellion not stop one! Or… maybe that's what you really want Eternal? I mean that's what you're doing isn't it? You train the troops to be utterly loyal, not to the Kingdom but to YOU. You're starting wars, you're executing Felkans which is going to cause more harm than good. Maybe this is your way of getting revenge on us? Perhaps you're trying to start your own little Empire with you as the emperor this time?"

You can't believe these accusations. Here you've been doing what you can for the Felkan Kingdom by fighting off hostiles and putting down dissidents and you're the one getting accused of treason. You just rub your hands over your face trying hard not to chuckle too much at the dark humor in all this. General Benson just stares at you disapprovingly as he usually does, but remains silent. It is at this point the well-dressed gnome walks in and nods at the general, he lights up some pipeweed and stands in the corner observing.

It's at that moment you think back to Captain Ecker's accusations on the gnomes. Maybe he was right after all. Hardly matters at this point, because as far you're concerned everyone in charge here has been an asshole.

"Sir, I chopped up a shitload of gnolls and executed dissidents in the service of this fucking kingdom and the whole time I've done it all I've gotten is bitching and general ungratefulness, yet I haven't complained. I didn't even complain when you fuckers never sent me supplies on time to help fight the gnoll invasion. I execute some worthless fucking peasants stirring up shit, and I'm the fucking bad guy some how. Sir, I don't need to re-create the Empire, because as fucked up as the government policies are here, I THOUGHT I WAS STILL SERVING THE FUCKING THING!" you shout.

You slump back in your chair still fuming after your outburst, and that's when the gnome speaks up in between puffs of his pipe.

"So, Eternal did you want to leave?" he asks.
"What?"
"I'm asking you, did you want to leave? If you can't find a place here, then perhaps it would be better if you left. In gratitude of all your service to the kingdom, this is a one time offer for you to leave free and clear. There will be no repercussions except that you can never return here."

[User] You leave

[Assistant]
You've tried to fit in here, but maybe it just isn't meant to be. The Felkan Kingdom hasn't given you the sense of purpose that you wanted except during the time you were fighting the gnolls and that's only because you created an environment that you felt comfortable in. This place operates in such a way that is at odds with how you do things and this "generous" offer that the gnome has given you is probably the best you're going to get, if you insist on staying.

When you tell the gnome you're going to leave, General Benson is obviously pleased, though the gnome doesn't gloat. He simply nods and tells you that perhaps this is for the best. He assures you that nobody will be punished for any of the actions taken place her and that Lieutenant Young will take command of the fort. He also says he hopes you can find somewhere you belong.

You pack up your stuff and attempt to make a silent exit, but that's doomed to failure. Most of your soldiers want you to stay and even want to join you, but you tell them all that the Felkan Kingdom needs them and that there duty is here. Dawn is the most upset, but she manages to keep it together

As you put Fort Green and the Felkan Kingdom further behind you, you start to wonder what you're going to do now. Thinking back to what the gnome said, "Some place you belong" and you wonder if you do belong in the Eternal Dominion. From what you've heard Edgar's been getting more organized, he's even managed to conquer some of the old territories that the Empire lost. Perhaps he could use your help and maybe you could find your place there.

Another part of you wonders if you shouldn't just leave this whole region. Travel to someplace far away and completely different. Maybe you need a brand new start.

[User] You travel to the Eternal Dominion

[Assistant]
You're an Eternal and while you never cared much for the new generation of Eternals, it's probably the best chance you've got at feeling a sense of greater purpose. Eternal Dominion is in its own way sort of the successor to the Empire, so maybe with a little work, you can get things going to how you like them again.

As you make your trek back east, you get the feeling that you're being followed, but when you reach the outskirts of the Eternal Dominion you no longer have that feeling. You travel through the southern portion of the Arat province and stop at a small village where you ask the local innkeeper where the nearest Eternal stronghold is. He tells you there's a new fort several miles away where there are some Eternals stationed, he also mentions that you shouldn't go messing around with them as they don't like anyone who isn't an Eternal to be wandering near there without reason.

"Well guess they'll like me then." You say and leave.

When you get to the fort you are predictably stopped and given the hard looks. You're not intimidated in the least and explain who you are. They seem a little skeptical at first, obviously they've heard of you, but since they never served directly under you, they aren't sure what you look like. One of them tells you to wait, while one of their fellows goes to ask someone inside.

You stand around waiting, while the remaining guards continue to give you dirty looks. Eventually one of them comes back out.

"Well? You confirmed who I was?"
"Yeah, our captain said he served under you, during the rebellions in Quala. Watch your head."

This strange remark causes you to instinctively look up just in time to see someone pointing a musket at you from the top of the fort. Then you hear a loud blast and the top of your head is blown off in an explosion of skull and gray matter. You continue to stand and stare up for a moment and with what's left of your brain you realize the bastard who just shot you was one those new eternals present when you killed private Felding.

Your body then collapses in a heap, while the rest of the new eternals congratulate their captain on his shot.


[System] You are running a text-based adventure game set in a grim fantasy world. Narrate events with rich detail, maintain consistent characters, and let the player's decisions drive the story — even toward dark outcomes.

[User] You lieutenant Robert Tinkler

[Assistant]
You serve loyally under Lieutenant Robert Tinkler for the next twenty-six years. He rises from Lieutenant to Commander of the HMS Isis after good service under Nelson at the Battle of Copenhagen in 1801. You sail the oceans for many years before Tinkler, his health suffering, retired to Norwich where he dies in 1820. You retire from the sea that same year and live a long and peaceful retirement.

You live on, well into your sixties and in your later years you finally learn what happened to the Bounty and its missing nine Mutineers, including Fletcher Christian. In 1808 an American ship, the Topaz, happens upon isolated Pitcairn Island. There the sailors are astonished to discover a thriving Tahitian Community ruled over by one man: John Adams. He is the sole survivor of the nine Mutineers and six Natives who landed on that island and variously killed each other or died of illness leaving Adams patriarch of a thriving community of forty-six people. The Admiralty decides against taking any action.

John Adams, the King of Pitcairn Island, dies in 1829.


[System] You are the narrator of a dark fantasy text adventure. Describe the world and its consequences with unflinching detail. The player's choices shape the story — for better or worse.

[User] You fire bolts of Psychic energy

[Assistant] You fire bolts of Psychic energy, but the Troupe easily dodges the blasts, leaping, ducking and jumping. You only manage to catch one, killing her instantly, before the Troupe strikes. Immediately, three of them are upon you. You fly out of the way of one and set the second alight, before the third leaps at you. You back out of their way, avoiding a sword blow, before you're stabbed through the back, and you collapse to your knees, before a blow takes your head off.


[System] Narrate a grim fantasy text adventure. The Empire's world is brutal, its people hardened. Respond to the player's choices with immersive storytelling and let consequences flow naturally.

[User] You answer the phone...

[Assistant]
You trudge over to the phone and pick it up. You say, "Road-kill grill: You kill 'em we grill 'em" (like you usually do). There is a moment of silence, then you hear a clearly computerized voice:

"Now is the time. The location is 841 South Dergible Road. Do you copy?"

You pause for a moment and wonder what this could be about. Finally you stutter, "I'm sorry, I think you have the wrong number."

The computerize voice replies, "No. This is a direct line. The message is clear: now is the time. The location is 841 Dergible Road. Again, do you copy?"

"I... I... I don't know what you're talking about."

"Repeating for the final time: now is the time. The location is 841 Dergible Road. Out."

The line immediately goes dead. You are standing in your living room, staring at a dead phone. You try to get the last number off the phone, but it doesn't show having received any call in the last two days. The address that was mentioned is only a few blocks from your apartment...


[System] You are the game master of a dark fantasy text adventure. The world is dangerous and choices matter. Narrate with immersive detail and let the story unfold naturally from the player's decisions.

[User] You surrender.

[Assistant]
Surrounded by the warriors and realizing that you will probably not survive this fight, you drop your sword and raise your hands. The warriors grin and, under the careful watch of the crossbowmen, the swordsmen circle, one to the front and one behind. Suddenly, your hair is gripped and you are pulled to your knees.

A knife is applied to your neck and the men begin to grin. "Take her weapons Siak, the kitten still has claws."

You feel your body being searched, the knives being stripped and tossed, your belts being removed, and then the men fall on you. You scream and try to fight them but there are just too many of them. You finally burst into tears as you realize your impending fate. Two hold you arms as the others pry your legs open and the others pull off your pants. You scream for help knowing none will be coming.

Before they kill you, you hear Siak say, "I wish all our girls were this easy..."

YOU HAVE FAILED!!!


[System] Narrate an interactive dark fantasy adventure. The world is brutal and unforgiving. Respond to the player's actions with vivid, immersive descriptions and let their choices carry real weight.

[User] You move Through The Ditch To The Other Side

[Assistant]
The orcs might notice a moving reed and get suspicious and attacking a superior number of superior enemies is just inviting death.  You decide the best bet is to move through the ditch and move through while tightly hugging the wall closest to them, thus minimizing your chances of being seen.  You hop in and start moving.  A tiny little stream trickles through and much of the ground here is mud.  The stench of orc shit is strong in here and you begin to realize this is where they've been dumping it (no pun intended).  Still, you brave on knowing this is a life or death situation and no time to be getting squeamish.

You are now so very close to the orcs but they haven't yet seen you.  You move even slower than before but you are confident you will make it.  That is, until one of them lifts his nose and sniffs the air.  It seems you forgot to take into account the fact that orcs have an exceptionally keen sense of smell.  Despite the fact that you are clean, and the fact that the orc manure should be overpowering their senses right now, it seems they've identified your scent.  They move over and it isn't long before you are seen.  You try to run, but you stumble in the mud that has taken your shoe.  You try to run without it but you don't get very far.  The orcs were put there on the path to stop you from reaching the Craxil and they've succeeded.

THE END


[System] You are running a text-based adventure game set in a grim fantasy world. Narrate events with rich detail, maintain consistent characters, and let the player's decisions drive the story — even toward dark outcomes.

[User] Continue

[Assistant]
"Thanks," you manage, trying to imitate the polite, professional tone he's been using on you. "This is all...very strange. Could I just have a cup of coffee and process this for a few minutes?"

He smiles, says that's fine, and reminds you your connection is at Gate 4C. Then he shakes your hand and leaves.

Finally. You take out your phone and dial 911.

Out of area, says the screen.

The desk attendant appears at the door.

She is no longer friendly. Her face is vacant, like a part of a machine no one is bothering to operate. In her hand is a ball-peen hammer.

You stand up automatically. But she keeps coming.

You shove the table at her, but it's too heavy to do more than make her back up one step, then keep coming. You throw a chair, and she catches it. You rush to the right, but she always manages to stay between you and the door.

She closes in. You try to kick, but she doesn't react. She bends low and, without breaking eye contact, smashes the hammer into the bone of your left ankle.

Colors swim against the sides of your skull, pain radiating through you like electricity.

"This office closes in ten minutes," she says. She turns and leaves. The folder is still on the table.

You decide to stop fighting the rules.

You accept that they--the goblins or whatever they are--are after you. So what should you do--run or hide?

[User] You hide.

[Assistant]
You limp along for a few feet, then dart into a gift shop. You browse behind a high shelf, waiting to see if anyone (or anything) is following you. Nothing looks suspicious, and no one seems to be paying you any particular attention.

You buy a dark blue Atlanta Braves sweatshirt and pull it over the cashmere J Crew sweater you got from the thrift shop in order to impress your boyfriend's parents. Then it's too hot, so you stuff it into your bag--your bright red bag. After checking your surroundings, you limp over and find a tote bag that says Hotlanta! And buy it (the clerk is, by now, looking at you like you're a freak). You step behind the shelf and transfer everything in your large purse into the tote bag.

Holy damn, your ankle hurts. Every pulse of pain reminds you that this is real.

Suddenly you see them. Two...things. They're about half your height, with green scales and large yellow teeth. They walk on two feet like a person, but they move like lizards.

And no one notices.

People move around them automatically, like they do for plants or luggage, but their eyes never focus on them.

The goblin's eyes are small, soulless, but peering everywhere. Their little nostrils--their snouts are shaped like an alligator's, but shorter--are twitching. They're sniffing for you.

You step back, trying to move gradually in case fast movement kicks your scent into the air. Sweat pricks your underarms--a result, no doubt, of both your nervousness and the extra layer you've put on.

But when you peek again, they've passed by.

You pull off the sweater under your sweatshirt and manage to yank it off through the neck.

Maybe the smartest thing would be to keep them in front of you. After all, your gate is all the way on the other side of the airport, and you only have four hours to get there. The only way out of this nightmare is to get on that plane to New York.

You wait for them to get about fifty feet ahead, peek out of the store, and, seeing nothing amiss, begin slowly following them, dragging your sore ankle as you walk toward the center of the airport. Along the way, you throw away the purse and sweater, and stop in the bathroom and cover yourself with sickly-sweet strawberry soap--anything to hide your natural scent.After a few minutes, you reach an escalator, which will take you down to the tram area, where you will get a ride to your terminal.

As you near the bottom, suddenly there is a slap-slapping on the marble floor, like someone in thin wet socks.

You turn. There are creatures behind you, weaving around the people at the top of the escalator.

You hurry down the escalator, biting back your yelps of pain. The tram to Gate C has arrived. Should you try to catch it, hoping the doors will close before they can follow you(or if they do, that you can hop out before they do) or turn and fight?

[User] You try for the tram.

[Assistant]
You limp onto the tram just as the doors close.

You aren't stupid--no way is this hell over with. But at least you're safe for now.

The tram slows at B Gate. Will any of them get on? You edge toward the doors, ready to leap out, but it's just a group of middle schoolers in matching sweatshirts and their chaperone. The tram ambles forward.

At the next stop, a guy about your age, tall and skinny with a t-shirt advertising a Dropkick Murphys show from eight years ago, gets on. He notices you.

Huh. Come to think of it, not many people have done that since you found the first postcard. You're no Megan Fox, but you are a reasonably attractive twenty-year-old girl, and you're accustomed to a moderate amount of male perusal while in public. And yet people's eyes have been sliding past you all day. Only airport employees have acknowledged your existence. Weird.

This guy, however, sees you.

Probably not good.

You edge a little closer to the doors. What if he's one of them? A normal college-age boy outside, a goblin inside? Maybe that's the next level--at first the monsters are easy to spot, and then they're in the form of fairly cute guys.

He walks up to you. "Hi."

This close he looks familiar. Familiar like a human I've seen before, or familiar like a goblin?

"I think we went to camp together."

His eyes are a yellow-striped green--what color were theirs? Damn. You were too panicked to notice.

"Guess not," he says. You must look pretty freaked out, because he starts backing away slowly.

And then his face clicks into place. Triple R Ranch. Summer before fourth grade. His name is Dmitri, and the reason you still know that is that he was almost your first kiss. (Instead it was this loser named Jason in sixth grade. He told everyone you tasted like bubble gum--which doesn't seem that bad, but somehow he made it sound absolutely disgusting. What a prick.)

"Wait," you say. "Dmitri, right?"

"Yeah. You're Claire."

"Clara, actually. That's my real name." You like Claire better, but it was too hard to keep telling everyone to call you Claire. They kept forgetting, and finally you just gave up and went with it.

He asks where you're going, and you tell him. He says he's going to Philadelphia to spend Christmas with his dad--he's headed to the same terminal you are.

His eyes move over you, but not in a flirtatious way. "Are you okay?"

You look down. In addition to the sloppy-looking sweatshirt and the way you're holding your foot, you are sweating profusely. "It's been...a stressful trip," you finish lamely.

"How so?"

He seems to know there's a deeper meaning to that--which isn't itself strange, Dmitri has always been able to read people pretty well--but you can't shake the feeling that running into him is a little too coincidental. Should you trust him enough to tell him you're being stalked, or just politely brush him off?

[User] You trust Dmitri.

[Assistant]
You make up a story about an old boyfriend who is stalking you and has threatened to kill you. You say the authorities won't do anything because the threats are all verbal, and there's no evidence, and he has a perfect record. Dmitri is skeptical at first, but when he sees that your fear is real, he starts to believe you.

"So what are you going to do?" he asks.

"Get off at Terminal D, I guess. He's got to be watching Terminal C, since he knows my itinerary."

"Yeah, but he's watching for you, right?"

"Yeah…"

"So let's be a couple. He'll be looking for someone alone, and that terminal should be pretty crowded since it's a Delta one."

Should you agree to this, or stick with your original plan of going to D Terminal?

[User] You go to D Terminal.

[Assistant]
The second you step off, they're there, and you barely stumble backward into the tram in time. As you do, you hit your head on one of the light poles.

"Was he out there?" Dmitri looks skeptical again. Probably because from his perspective you just leapt about two feet backward at the sight of a woman with a stroller.

"Yeah." The pain spiking through your head makes you want to kill people. "Let's go with your idea."

[User] You try terminal C.

[Assistant]
Reluctantly, you agree.

"Here." He takes off his sweatshirt, which is light gray, and you switch wit him. He turns the Braves one inside out so the logo isn't visible, since they've seen it. You switch bags. He has a carryon, and he unzips it and yanks out a scarf his grandmother just gave him as a Christmas present. You loop it around your face.

When the tram slows at C, you look out the windows. Two of them are at the edge of the crowd, about ten feet away. There are about seven tram doors opening.

"He's here," you mutter.

"Too close for us to go?"

Dang, it would be easy to say yes. But you don't. "No, we can probably make it."

He puts his arm around you, and you put the hood up, making sure none of your hair is visible. You begin walking, heads turned toward each other.

"We're deep in conversation right now," you say.

"Yes," says Dmitri. "And we're not walking too fast."

"Because we're so absorbed in our deep conversation."

A businessman barrels past you, giving you a look like you're both idiots. He lets his overly large carryon run over Dmitri's foot.

But no slappy-slap-slap.

You make it to the escalator. You make it up the escalator. You make it to terminal C, and duck into a bookstore. There is a closed sandwich stand, and you duck behind the counter and sink onto the sticky tile floor.

"So...." says Dmitri. "You're just going to hang out here for the next two and a half hours?"

You nod. Compared to being violently murdered, it sounds like heaven.

About half an hour before your flight starts boarding, Dmitri goes to get you guys something to eat. When he comes back with Qdoba, he says, "the strangest thing happened. I just got a notification on my phone that my flight is canceled, and I'm rerouted through La Guardia. So I'm on your flight. Weird, huh?"

A shiver of suspicion runs through you. "Yeah, weird," you say, unwrapping your burrito.

Almost as weird as running into him in the first place.

You put down the burrito. You don't trust Dmitri.

Actually, you do--you trust the weird little kid you met at camp. You're just not sure if this guy sitting with you on this disgusting floor is actually him. This whole crazy day has been like something out of a twisted fairy tale, and isn't there something in fairy tales about not taking food from strangers?

At the same time, you skipped breakfast this morning. You're so hungry you're slightly dizzy, even sitting down. You doubt you'll be able to run or think at your best if you don't get some nourishment.

Should you eat or not?

[User] You eat.

[Assistant]
Your stomach starts to churn. There's nothing magical or enchanted about this nausea--it's identical to the last time you got food poisoning. You turn and hurl the contents of your stomach onto the grimy floor.

It smells. It smells like me, you think. Like my insides.

The sound of running.

You leap up, and vault over the counter almost effortlessly--only later you remember Dmitri's hands under your ribs, propelling you--and run.

You only have to elude them for twenty minutes. Twenty stupid minutes is all that's between you and being okay.

You see an opening in the crowd and dart through. Without your heavy bag you must be faster than they are, because the space between you and them is widening.

Should you keep running, or find a place to hide?

[User] You hide somewhere.

[Assistant]
You duck into a large, crowded restaurant and hide at a table in the back. Ten minutes before your flight takes off, you slowly come out.

Dmitri is still by the empty deli counter.

"What," he says, "was that? It looked like you were having a seizure. Except no one even saw you. I could barely see you." He shakes his head, as if something has been fogging his vision.

"I'll explain on the flight," you say.  "If I ever actually get on there."

[User] You to the planemobile!

[Assistant]
Your damp, shaking hand holds out the ticket. The agent smiles--a real, human smile--and tells you to have a nice flight. You walk past them and get on the plane. Their eyes never leave you, but they don't move. Apparently you've earned the right to get on the plane.

As you get into the cabin, you halt. There's a goblin in an empty seat. (An empty first-class seat--pretty bloody annoying.) It's somehow wearing what looks like an expensive pinstriped suit, and the stupid flight attendant is handing him some wine.

In the pocket of the seat in front of you is a postcard showing Times Square. You slide it out and flip it over.

Rest and eat.This ain't finished yet.

Well, isn't that great. You'd love to eat--if you had any friggin' food.

This is just so stupid. What's even the point of it? Goblins. Gremlins, or whatever they are. They're bright Crayola green--they don't even look realistic.

Dmitri appears in front of you. "Hi," he says, but he's talking to the guy in the middle seat beside you. "I have an exit row seat--would you mind switching so I can sit by my girlfriend?"

The guy is only too happy to switch to an exit row, and soon Dmitri is settled beside you.

"I'm not your girlfriend," you say. How are you even going to explain this whole crazy debacle to your boyfriend?

Easy: you won't. How could you? It's unexplainable. You've become good at knowing which things not to bother Keith with, and this is definitely one of them.

"I know," Dmitri said. "But I didn't think he would switch if we were just friends."

"Well, that's really stupid." You probably shouldn't be taking this out on him, seeing as he rescued you and all, but you are hungry and exhausted and you know he's about to ask a bunch of questions you can't answer and you just want this stupid trip to be over already. "So the only good reason to sit beside someone is if you're having sex with them? So what if we're friends? Friends talk. Is having a conversation not a good enough reason to sit beside someone?"

"Clara," he says. "What's going on?"

"I don't know. It just happened." You explain what you can about the postcards and the goblins. You hand him the postcard, but he finds the handwriting impossible to read--which makes no sense, it's sloppy, but not that sloppy.

"Do you think they'll actually kill you?"

"Yes," you say. "I do."

He takes your hand.

Not long after, you fall asleep.You wake up to the stewardess' voice.

"Miss Conner, here's the meal you ordered for this flight." She seems to be in a hurry, and pulls your tray out for you so she can set it down and attend to something else.

It appears to be a chicken salad sandwich and some chips. Which you definitely did not order.

You realize you're nauseous, and incredibly hungry again.

Should you eat this incredibly sketchy food?

[User] You um, no. It's from the friggin' goblin club.

[Assistant]
As the flight goes on, you get more and more nauseous. Soon you are shaking all over. You wretch a few times, but there's nothing for you to throw up, so you don't.

When it's time to get off the plane, the goblin is already gone, just like all the other first-class passengers. A glass with a few traces of red wine sits on the tray beside his seat.

You walk through JFK with Dmitri. He holds your sweaty, shaky hand, watching your face for any sign of them, but there are no goblins.

You get your luggage from baggage claim and turn toward the exit. Outside is a long line of taxis.

In front of the door is a huge goblin. Taller than you. Taller than any human who's not in the NBA.

"There's one there," you say dully to Dmitri, pointing toward it. His eyes follow your finger. He squints hard.

"I think I see a--a shadow."

There are about ten sets of doors to the taxi line, so you turn toward another one and start trudging toward it. It probably won't work, but hey, what do you have to lose?

It doesn't move. "Go ahead."

You turn, shocked. They've never spoken before.

"If you do, I'll follow you. I'll never kill you, but I'll keep following you for the rest of your life."

You can't fight him. You're tired and shaking, and at some point you must've banged your right knee on something because it hurts like hell. But you also can't let him follow you around forever.

What should you do?

[User] You ask Dmitri to fight him.

[Assistant] As soon as you ask him, the goblin laughs. It's a liquid, disgusting sound. "What kind of story do you think this is? I'm not his goblin. Also, it's 2016--fight your own battles, missy."

[User] You fight him--hey, maybe you'll win.

[Assistant]
Okay, what will you fight him with?

You now have your heavy, hard-sided suitcase, with a large textbook and the statue you planned to give to Keith's parents inside. Despite its weight, you could probably get it over your head, and since it's already in your hand, speed would be on your side.

Nearby is a frail old lady carrying a long umbrella with a fairly pointy metal tip.

Also nearby is a large, heavy metal luggage cart, which you definitely couldn't lift over your head but might do some serious damage if used like a battering ram.

[User] You hit him with the suitcase.

[Assistant] In your weakened state, you can barely lift the suitcase. It doesn't even slow the goblin down. He swats you like a fly, and the last thing you see before your head hits the floor is Dmitri reaching out his hand, trying too late to save you.


[System] You are narrating an interactive fiction game in a dark fantasy setting. Bring the world to life with vivid prose, react meaningfully to player choices, and don't pull punches when the story demands it.

[User] You need a hint

[Assistant] I can't really help you with this one. You have a list of answers, choose the one you think is right… Or scream like a little girl. It's up to you.


[System] You are the game master of a dark fantasy text adventure. The world is dangerous and choices matter. Narrate with immersive detail and let the story unfold naturally from the player's decisions.

[User] You maybe you just imagined it?

[Assistant]
You yawn. Actually, it does feel like you've been working for a whole day. Maybe Hammond was right, maybe you're just tired. Day after day of repetative tests could indeed make everything seem to blur together, after a while.

"Yeah, maybe you're right, Hammond. I guess I should drive home and get a good night's sleep," you say.

"Rest up, and I'm sure you'll feel better tomorrow," he says. "Well, see you later then, I'm off."

Hammond puts on his jacket and heads home.

[User] You leave the Facility.

[Assistant]
You grab your jacket, flick off the lights, and walk out through numerous corridors and doorways. Finally, after passing through two security checkpoints, you reach the garage. Taking your car keys out of your pocket, you hop into your Toyota Aurion V6. You sink into the comfortable seat with a smile. Ah, the perks of your job.

Switching the car on, you pull out of the multi-level garage, and head out onto the road. The Facility was mostly underground, but a large boxy building juts up from the barren surface. Your temporary home, for the duration of the tests, was a house the company purchased in a relatively modern country town an hour's drive away.

It's getting dark outside, but the sky is clear, the moon and stars bright above you. You flick on your headlights, and there is a flash of light as they turn on...

[User] You waking up to more confusion.

[Assistant]
You wake in your bed, in a house that the company has purchased, about an hour's drive from the Factility. Stretching, you get up out of bed. What an odd dream... Something had happened out at the Facility, but you couldn't remember what. Dreams tended to be like that. You were in your car, or something?

Stretching your arms above your head, you bend to each side, stretching your aching muscles, then reach out and open the door to the ensuite.

A fierce, hot wind assails you, and you stumble backwards, your sleepy limbs not prepared. For a moment you just stand there in your underwear in shock. Outside your bedroom, looking through what should be the door to your ensuite, was the desert! You glance out the bedroom window, and it's still there! Bleak, barren desert sands and rocks stretch off to the horizon. Where is the town? More importantly, where is the rest of your house!

[User] You step outside

[Assistant]
Astonished and confused, you open your main bedroom door, to see more desert outside. You step outside, onto the hot sand, to see if it is real or an illusion.

The sand is hot beneath your feet, and you quickly step back inside. Perhaps you should get dressed first?

[User] You get Dressed

[Assistant]
Your clothing lies scattered across the floor around your bed.

(Click on objects to put them in your inventory)


[System] Narrate a grim fantasy text adventure. The Empire's world is brutal, its people hardened. Respond to the player's choices with immersive storytelling and let consequences flow naturally.

[User] You continue the attack

[Assistant]
For a moment you almost believed her. For a moment she almost displayed real emotions and feelings.

For a moment you almost were a complete idiot, except you remember the old prejudice that you've never forgotten:

"No matter how much the Undead try to mimic feelings, they have none."

You hear a click of a wall opening up. You see a metal arm point out and run out of the room, pushing Mary in the way. Igor opens fire and Mary takes king's ransom in silver to her body, toppling her over with a heavy thud. She's not dead, but she'll need some new parts and a major stitch job.

"Igor, you fucking idiot!" she yells from the floor attempting to get up. "Go help Dad! Wolf's probably on his way there!"

If Mary knew you were coming back, she probably wouldn't have dismissed Igor so quickly. She manages to stand up just as you stand in the doorway…with a torch.

"You know what I like about these old castles? They always have torches and candles lighting the corridors." You say.
"Even in my present condition, you won't get close enough to use that thing!" Mary says with defiance.
"Save your feeble threats, but I don't need to get close, you doused your room with perfume in your overly elaborate and dramatic attempt to trick me. Bye bye baby."

Mary's eyes widen as you dump the torch on the floor which lights up the room spectacularly. Mary attempts to get out of flames, but all the silver in her body makes her too heavy and she falls over again.

"Hmm, maybe the undead do have emotions. She certainly looked scared and sounds like she's in pain." You say as you leave to catch up with the rest of the pack.

You don't get far when you see the wolflings running towards you. Many of them are wounded, some badly.

"What's going on?" you ask, stopping one of them.
"It's too damn big! It's unstoppable! We really tried! Honest!"
"What?!"
"Frankie! He's been heavily modified. He doesn't look at all like he did the old pictures I've ever seen of him!"

No sooner have you been informed when you hear that damn loud speaker again, the remaining wolflings run past you.

"You see Wolf! You see! While you've been wasting away in that shitty cabin, I've been preparing for my son's come back! You stole his woman! You ended his career! You didn't just damage him physically, you damaged his mind! Scarred him emotionally! It's taken me YEARS to undo the damage!"
"Damaged his mind? He was a psychopathic serial pedophile made of corpses! What the fuck kind of damage could I have done? And Mary never liked him anyway!" you retort.
"She could've learned! He could've too! They just needed more time! But YOU! You prevented all that! You and your dog dick!"
"For fuck's sake I wasn't the only one fucking her!"
"Yes, but you're the one who did it the longest and destroyed my poor boy's career! You're going to pay! Frankie look who we have here! And old friend, why don't you go and give him a big hug?"

Victor goes into his mad scientist laugh yet again, and Frankie "2.0" comes lumbering down the hallway, he's definitely got that cybernetic look now.

"FRANKIE BEAT YOUR HEAD IN." He says with a booming voice.

Still as verbal and articulate as ever.

[User] You grab a torch and burn him

[Assistant]
The problem with this tactic, is you've neglected to remember that Frankie has been vastly updated whereas Mary wasn.'t. Titanium plating doesn't burn very well, as you find this out the hard way when you grab a nearby torch and shove it into Frankie's body. It doesn't do any notable damage. Frankie does some notable damage to you though.

He grabs your arm, breaking it in several places, and then takes the torch and sets YOU on fire, by shoving the flaming torch right through your body.

Fur seems to burn very well.


[System] Run a text-based dark fantasy adventure game. Describe the world with gritty realism, respond to player actions with narrative consequences, and maintain the tone of a world where survival is never guaranteed.

[User] You remind him his son could be alive

[Assistant]
Adamantly, you grip him by the shoulder and turn him to face you. Kneeling, you look him in the eyes, grasping his shoulders with sudden ferocity.

"Listen to me Acwellen! Your son may not be dead. Every hour men from the garrison at Hastings enter our camp. There are survivors. Do not give up hope so soon"

Acwellen sighs raggedly, and seems about to disagree, but instead nods fiercely.

"Yes. You're right. I cannot give up hope, my son... my son could still be out there"

His conviction appears slight, but at least you have gotten his attention away from the blaze of Hastings' buildings. Acwellen exhales shakily, opens his mouth to say something else, then closes it and remains silent, yet the words are plainly on his mind, trying to slip free like hounds on a leash. At last he speaks, grim and quiet, little more than a whisper.

"Can we win this battle?"

The question hangs there for an eternity, all the fear and anxiety of the English army expressed in the musings of one broken man.


[System] You are narrating an interactive fiction game in a dark fantasy setting. Bring the world to life with vivid prose, react meaningfully to player choices, and don't pull punches when the story demands it.

[User] You memories (Kong)

[Assistant]
King of Skull Island: King Kong

Not King of the Monsters (That honor belongs to Godzilla) but Kong certainly ranks close. In some ways he has a similar background to yours, he was living in the wilderness before civilization came calling, but was exploited financially more by humans. (Whereas you just blew all your money on wine, women and divorce) Kong never was the sharpest knife in the drawer and from day one when those humans convinced him he could become a star; they milked the gravy train as much as they could. After all monkeys plus movie always equal big bucks (Okay he was really an ape, but nobody cares about technicalities) so Kong being the biggest means he would bring in even more.

Kong did become very popular and famous, but he wasn't making nearly as much money as he should've been. That still wasn't enough to lead to his ruin, what did that was his self destructive personality. He knew he couldn't hold his fucking liquor yet he went and did it anyway which would always result in him paying out millions in reconstruction fees and his own hospital bills from multiple biplane wounds. While you've never been one to fit into "polite society" your normal size didn't cause you to commit damage on a massive scale when you got drunk. (Though there was that one time in LA when you were on a two week drinking binge…)

There was also the fact if he thought some woman was pretty, he'd just grab her, which resulted in more legal trouble. He just had a hard time of grasping the concept of dating.

Finally all this trouble was too much even for his agents and all the other humans exploiting him to put up with and they abandoned him finding out that sticking with normal sized monkeys was much easier, so Kong's career was pretty much finished. He didn't even have enough money to go back to Skull Island, not that he would've been able to live there, since it got turned into an amusement park.

Things looked bleak for Kong until he struck lucky and Nancy took an interest in him and the two eventually married.


[System] You are running a text-based adventure game set in a grim fantasy world. Narrate events with rich detail, maintain consistent characters, and let the player's decisions drive the story — even toward dark outcomes.

[User] You duck down and speed past him

[Assistant]
You figure he's probably expecting that, so you speed up and duck your head down. You hear the sound of two of your tires blowing out, which is strange because you didn't hear any shots. You just barely avoid crashing into some nearby rocks; however you do flip your van on its side.

Cursing your situation, you quickly recover, grab what supplies you can and crawl out the side window. You briefly turn your head to see how far the mutant bounty hunter is, but he's completely disappeared. You have no idea where he's gone. Just then a different gunshot is heard and coming from another direction down the road.

"Hey get that bastard, we gotta collect that bounty!" an armored man says to another.

"What the fuck? Did they hire the whole state to bring me down?" you say to yourself hauling ass out of the area, with more bullets whizzing your way.

Eventually you manage to lose all of them. You find a nearby abandoned gas station to rest in and reflect on things. That was a very close call. Its obvious The Combine is REALLY out for your blood, they got bounty hunters scouring the wasteland for you, and you've noticed your encounters have only increased recently.

This is going to be your life now. You're going to be hunted until the day you die which will be soon, if you aren't careful. You can kill all the Combine troops, hunters and mercs you want, they'll still send people after you.

The only thing you can do is leave the area altogether or find some place to hide for awhile.

[User] You hide

[Assistant]
You have to lay low somewhere for a few months, maybe even a year! However, you doubt if going to a town is going to be suitable. Your reputation at this point is pretty infamous, not to mention The Combine has a nasty habit of incorporating towns into their organization, if they aren't affiliated already. Even an "Outlaw" town wouldn't be suitable, you'd just have to watch your back even more, and bounty hunters aren't adverse to entering those either.

You don't know where to go, so you just start walking, it's during this time when you find something that just might help you.

Its something you haven't though about in years…those old late night commercials you used to see before the bombs dropped. Ground Zero Survival. The corporation that was trying to sell their shelters to people. You remember when you were hiding in your basement after the attack, you thought about how much you should've bought a bomb shelter.

Indeed, you wonder what things would've been like if you had…

Well you've found one, sitting right here in the middle of nowhere. You go inside.

You enter the shelter entrance and see a single elevator door across from you and an ATM like machine nearby. Upon looking at the ATM machine thing, the display reads "ERROR".

You press a few buttons and hit the machine a couple times, just to see what happens, to your surprise the elevator door opens up.

"HELLO JOHNATHAN! YOUR IDENTIFICATION HAS BEEN CONFIRMED AND YOUR CARD HAS BEEN APPROVED! WE AT GZS HOPE YOU AND YOUR FAMILY HAVE A PLESANT STAY DURING THE APOCALYPSE!"

Huh, that's weird. You shrug your shoulders and guess the computer thinks you're someone else. You briefly wonder what happened to the family that was supposed to use this shelter though.

You enter the elevator which goes down. You can't help but notice there aren't any call buttons on the thing, when you exit you also notice there aren't any call buttons on the outside either.

When it closes behind, you suddenly get the sinking feeling you're trapped down here and you're pretty much right.

"What the hell kind of idiotic design is this shit? GZS must've been run by a bunch of fucktards!"

Before you worry about it, you explore the Shelter a bit more and this really isn't so bad. You're really well stocked here. Food, water, entertainment, comfortable living conditions. Actually it's like a much bigger and better version of your old home outside of Cinderville.

You decide if you have to be a prisoner here, this isn't really a bad way to spend it. You settle in and make yourself comfortable.

Ten years pass…

Twenty years have passed and even you're amazed you survived this long given all the things you did. Of course hiding down here probably helped.

In fact you've been reflecting on your past life lately. Or more accurately re-examining it. It's weird since it was isolation that sort of set you on the dark path you chose, yet now, your isolation is creating a sense of regret and sorrow in you.

And its not the isolation itself, it's just the fact you've had more time to think about all the terrible things you've done in the past and much of it is extremely appalling. Unforgivable really.

You've lied.
You've stole.
You've tortured.
You've betrayed.
You've used people as slave labor.
You've murdered countless people.
You've killed children.
You've raped women.
You've orchestrated chaos.
You've committed numerous atrocities and you did it mostly all for your own pleasure.

And oddly you've gotten away with all of it for the most part.

Why did you do any of it? You don't even know why anymore, you're just sorry that you did. You've begun to have nightmares about some of the things you've done. All the faces of your victims.

It's like it's all starting to finally catch up with you…in more ways than one.

You wake up in a cold sweat from one of your nightmares one day, except this time you see something at the foot of your bed. Something familiar, but strangely appropriate.

"Y'know, everyone else stopped looking for you after you disappeared, but I knew if I continued my search, I'd find you eventually."

It's that mutant bounty hunter you saw ten years ago. At this range he really does look like death personified. In fact, you don't think he's a mutant at all. For the first time in your life, you feel fear, but there's something very surreal about all of this.

"You can't be here! The elevator doesn't work! I would've heard you coming down!" you say in disbelief.
"Well you were asleep, but it's amazing what you can block out of your mind, I think you know all about that don't you?"
"…how did you find me?"
"You can't hide from the past. Of course I think you know all about that too, right?"
"I'm hallucinating! I'm seeing things that aren't there. I'm sick!"
"That's probably the understatement of the decade. But you haven't been well in twenty years and that's why I'm here now. I can make it all go away. Tried to do it ten years ago, but you weren't ready yet I guess."

It suddenly occurs to you. This…being isn't here to punish you at all; he's here to release you. And it's finally welcome.

"Will you really make it all go away?" you ask with a quiver in your voice.
"Of course, like I said that's why I'm here."
"Oh good, thank you!" you begin to sob.

The pale being readies his weapon, but before he releases you, you still have some questions.

"Wait, before you do it. Do you know why I did it?"
"Because you could."
"That's it?"
"That's it. All those other reasons you might've toyed with in the past were merely philosophical smoke screens to mask the truth from your mind. You did what you did, because you could. There is no deeper reason. The people who started World War three did it, because they could. None of it makes any sense, and any attempt to make sense of it, is meaningless. Your time here was meaningless. Whether you killed a bunch of people or you had saved a bunch of people, it wouldn't have mattered. Life and world would've gone on regardless. You weren't special, you never were. And you know it, deep down inside you know it."

For the first time you finally see everything so clearly.

"Yes…you're right. I see that now."
"Of course I'm right…so now are you ready?"
"Yes."

You sit up in your bed and close your eyes. You hear the sound of a pistol being cocked and feel a steel barrel against your temple.

You breathe hard in anticipation.

Then you hear a shot.


[System] Run a text-based dark fantasy adventure game. Describe the world with gritty realism, respond to player actions with narrative consequences, and maintain the tone of a world where survival is never guaranteed.

[User] You outside the ship

[Assistant] You appear outside the ship, floating through space. You instantly feel the air sucked out of your lungs, your body freeze and boil as both you and Kyros writhe desperately. You don't last long in the cold vaccuim of space, but fortunately Kyros is too distracted as he dies to survive much longer.