[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 point her in the direction of your captain

[Assistant]
Shrugging your shoulders you point her in the direction of Captain Eckard to which she immediately marches off to. You don't think anything will come of it though. You do your job and Eckard's always been alright with you for the most part. At most you'll get him yelling at you for getting into a conflict with a superior officer.

Your thoughts are wrong however.

When the female captain confronts Eckard, she and he end up getting into a greater argument. Apparently they've been minor rivals in the past and this "lack of discipline" displayed by you just fuels her arguments that he isn't a fit for commanding a fort.

She eventually leaves in a huff with her men, but still arguing with Eckard and saying that she'll see that he's relieved of his command and replaced with someone more competent.

Captain Eckard is also now pissed at you for bringing this on him, he takes your lute away, breaks it and tells you that you won't be playing anymore and if he catches you doing it again he'll have you whipped.

A few months pass as normal, but then the other boot finally drops. Whatever connections the female Captain had she's used them, and Captain Eckard is demoted and transferred out of the fort along with some of the others who seemed to be "disciplinary problems". Guess who's name showed up on that list?

You're all transferred to areas where the fighting is a lot worse. You are sent to the Nuro front much to your dismay. Once again you're fighting hordes of undead on a mass scale. Never having fully gotten over your first conflict at Nuro, your nerves and well being in general is always on the verge of breaking with each skirmish and battle. You don't even have your music to keep you in a calm state of mind anymore either. It's actually amazing you survive.

You soon hear about how the Grand Alliance outsted a necromancer called Trelik from the Brot Kingdom. That makes you feel somewhat better, but that hopefulness is soon brought low when you hear about the successful attack on Brot that happens soon afterwards. A Necromancer from Nuro reportedly conquered the entire Kingdom with undead giants.

Your morale is further lowered when you hear that your company is being sent to help the Grand Alliance take it back again.

When you actually see the dead monstrosities, your fragile will shatters completely.

When the battle commences, you're just about useless in battle. Your dumb luck also runs out and you're unable to fight or even retreat your way out of this one. The undead giants might be big, but they're also faster than what they appear to be.

One of them charges into your company line which at this point is trying to get out of the way and swings his club striking several. You being among them.

You eventually land several feet away from the main part of the fighting, broken and bloody. You're unable to move and just quietly moan in pain until you bleed out and die from your extensive wounds. You're not even useful for the Necromancer to raise for his ever growing army.


[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 shadow shelter for lost girls (Dendrin's Input)

[Assistant]
"Planning on turning this place in an orphanage and calling it Uncle Shadow's shelter for lost girls?" Dendrin mocks. You knew this was coming.
"I'm really in no mood, you know." You reply.
"Oh you're always in a mood. Just never a fun one."
"Well get your jabs in now and get it over with, I know you want to."
"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about. If you think I'm going to make fun of you and this situation you've misjudged me as usual. On the contrary, I think it's very brave of you to take on such an unfamiliar responsibility at your age."
"I wasn't left with much choice, now was I?"
"Sure you were, you could've just left the girl to die along with her mother. You didn't though, I imagine for several reasons. Such as your not so secret need for living mortal company, or your dormant paternal instinct that apparently has gotten stronger in your later years. Even I didn't see that one coming until you took in this girl's mother a decade ago."
"Yeah… let's not bring her up right now."
"My apologies. Anyway this should certainly be fascinating to observe."
"And there it is, the whole reason for your interest. Something new to view. Glad I can always be a constant source of amusement to you Den."
"Eternal you're more than a source of amusement for me and I think you know that. I still believe as I did when I let you live during your shadow indoctrination ceremony that you are destined for important things."
"Well let me know what those important things are when you find out."
"It may be that you're already involved in them."

Before you can make a retort about Dendrin's usual vagueness, you wake up.


[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 will take out as many goblins as it feels safe to do, then face the rest with your sword.

[Assistant]
As one of the archers comes in range and launches an arrow at you, you pick it up with a thin strand of air and redirect it to hit the other archer in the throat, which dies gurgling in a foul language you do not understand.

Thrusting your left hand forward and uttering a single syllable of power, you focus what power remains for you to safely use, and thrust it into a powerful weave that rips one of the remaining goblins apart from the inside.

Shocked by the display of power, the goblins are close to breaking point. You draw your short blade and charge them, and the darkness and their fear hides your exhaustion well from them.

Before you reach them, your blade glimmering in the starlight like the sword of an avenging angel - at least in the goblins' eyes -, they drop their weapons and flee.

Too exhausted to pursue them, you slump down on the ground and decide to rest for a while.


[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 shoot the pair of them

[Assistant]
You really don't want to do this, but you don't see any choice.

"Sorry." You say and point the gun at Lifto who has just gotten off of you.
"Wait." he says which is just enough give you pause due to your nervousness and give Lifto time to grab the gun from you, or at least attempt to grab it because you actually manage to struggle for half a minute before he accidently shoots you with it.

The gun goes off, you catch a bullet in your throat and you fall backwards into Klepto.

"Holy shit! I didn't mean…" Lifto shouts.
"SUZY! NO!" Klepto screams.
"What the fuck did you do Lifto!?" Fatty yells.
"Goddamn it!" Shrimpy exclaims.

At this point the rest of the shouting becomes one loud noise to your dying ears. As your vision starts to blur, Klepto cradles you in his arms trying to tell you to fight off your impending death.

It doesn't work.


[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 dodge?

[Assistant]
If Jon taught you one thing, it is how to dodge like it is your job, and it kind of is. Sort of. I don't know, just kill the damned thing.

You leap over the rock and attempt a triple double-axle barrel roll in midair and land on the dragon's head. For some reason, this works and you manage to dodge the dragon's fire breath in the process with your sixth sense.

The dragon thrashes his head against the cave walls, but you manage to cling on while avoiding having your body smashed to a thousand bloody bits. You hack at the dragon's head with your sword, but it may as well be a butter knife for all the good it does against the tough dragon scales. Maybe you should have dodged over toward one of those fancy looking magic swords.

Shut up. I have this under control.

Ok. Whatever you say, Mr. Hero.

"Hey, dragon, you suck."

"I will not have a mortal make mockery of me!" the dragon bellows. "Get. Off. My. Head."

The dragon swings his mighty tail at you, but once again, you manage to use your sixth sense to dodge all of the attacks. The dragon repeatedly pummels himself in the head with his own tail to the point where he shatters both his scales and his skull. You drive your sword into the crevice and perform a super-duper double whammy backflip with a 720 degree spin off the dragon's head as he bursts into flames.

"Wicked. Now how the hell am I going to haul all this shit down the mountain?"

…

What, aren't you going to finish the story?

Yeah, just give me a second.

What the fuck is the problem? I won, I want to marry my princess and lose my damn virginity already.

I'm just struggling to comprehend how you turned into a jedi.

A what?

Never mind.

…

Word of your victory quickly spreads across the land. The king of Irelandshire showers you in gratitude and offers you his daughter as a bride, which you decline because you proved to be a noble and heroic knight and you already have a bride. You take some of the dragon's treasure back home with you and build a series of castles and forts at strategic points across the countryside. Your future kin are keeping this kingdom for life. Historians and bards alike flock to scribble down your life story and paint it in song.

Your wedding to Princess Anne is a legend in its own right: drunken revelry at its finest. Samwellington entertains the masses by sticking himself with pointy knives and not screaming in pain, good old pork lard. Jon and The Rabid Fox have a friendly sparring match, showcasing some of the finest swordsmanship since your melee. Jon later demonstrates another kind of swordsmanship with his wildfire gingersnap of a wife. On the table. Next to one of the cakes. The king gets drunk and accidentally burns down the stage while a troupe of troubadours are performing. No one important dies.

Most importantly, you finally get to bang Princess Anne, that blue-eyed blonde haired big bosomed goddess of your dreams: a night of ecstasy ends in an explosion of pleasure with many more to come.


[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 deny that you have anything to do with the Gahl'vuhr Sehn

[Assistant]
"I promise you that I have nothing to do with the Gahl'Vuhr Sehn," you tell him in a sincere tone of voice. Even as you speak, you realise that the vehicle you took from the airship has the telltale emblem of the Gahl'Vuhr painted on its front, and hope that the Tenur does not think to look. You hold his gaze, mindful of his current temperament. "Can you offer me shelter today upon this island? It would be nice to have someone show me around."

You play upon his insecurities and any remaining doubt vanishes from his face. He smiles with both mouths. "Of course," he says, extending one hand towards you. "Come this way. I would be happy to be your guide for today." You take his hand, and notice the colour of his skin tone fluctuate ever so slightly. "Whilst we walk, perhaps I can tell you a little about the history of this island. Our ancestors first colonised this region of the skies over three hundred and fifty years ago..."

He clearly likes to talk and you spend some time getting acquainted with the Tenur male, who seems quite smitten with you. You're not sure that you find Tenurs particularly attractive in return – they do have two mouths in their head, after all – but you are keen to take advantage of his feelings. You decide not to risk going back to your vehicle and instead remain with your guide for the rest of the day.

One thing leads to another, and you start making enquiries about possible lodging and settlement upon the island. You soon learn that the Tenur man can put you in touch with various contacts in town. Money is no problem here; rather, Tenurs value work and resources to trade rather than currency, and you work to secure a steady job for yourself. The island is in need of miners, couriers and helpers for building work and you soon find an available position.

After that, the rest of the week passes quite quickly. You become close friends with the Tenur man and become acquainted with many people in his circle, as well as other Tenurs at your place of employment. A settlement has been reached. Before the end of the week, you even procure a name for yourself so as to fit into Tenurian society. Annabel. That's what you call yourself now. Annabel. It has a nice ring to it, and you refuse to answer to anything but that. Nobody can call you Unworthy anymore.

An entire month passes, and you find that you are enjoying month here with the Tenurs. The vehicle you used to travel here is found smashed up just a week after that, turned into scrap metal. Apparently, the locals here really don't like the Gahl'Vuhr Sehn. It's a good thing you didn't associate yourself with the organisation, because the people here seem so friendly otherwise.

Months turn into years, and you soon forget about the chaos happening on the surface far below. There's nothing to fear here. There is frequent news about the other islands which have fallen, but the Tenurs are a proud people and often talk about how the humans have destroyed themselves. It's nothing for you to be concerned about, really, so long as that kind of destruction doesn't affect your daily life.

You amass enough resources to improve your place of residence, and even start moving in with a few Tenur males who are interested in you. In fact, you become quite popular upon this island. You spend your resources wisely and save when you can. You have much to look forward to. You start to think about the future, about marriage and children and what prospects you have for them upon this island. The future is bright. This island is not going to fall, after all. The people here have amassed enough energy and resources to keep it going for a long, long time.

You end up settling permanently upon the Tenurian island, content with the life you lead right now. Not a day goes by where you regret your decision. Sometimes you gaze up into the sky and wonder about the crew of the airship that saved you, about the captain and Mother Ghared. They probably didn't survive. You are glad to live on.

After falling from a great height, there is no longer anything that can hurt you anymore.


[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] Continue

[Assistant]
The wintry winds howl a horrible wail, whipping white watery snow against the weathered watchtower's westernmost wall. Yes, it is indeed a dark and stormy night, but darker and stormier and maybe just a tad more purple than your run-of-the-mill dark and stormy night.

Somewhere deep in the forest a unicorn frolics in a magical glade, as elves watch and scamper amongst the trees, polishing their bows with the blood of dwarves.

"Killed a big fat one today, Elfrond," says Elfmoor. "Bastard was trying to chop down a cherry tree. Can you believe it, a fucking cherry tree? Sacrilege."

"Have you ever wondered why we hate the dwarves so much?" asks Elfrond.

"What do you mean? They're fucking dwarves! And this one chopped down a tree. A cherry tree. Only thing that rivals my love of trees are cherries. And music. And song. And like five other things."

"Yeah, I've just been thinking lately. How did we get these sweet bows, if we didn't chop down a tree to shape them. And how do we burn fires without firewood? And why exactly do we hate the dwarves?"

"It's canon. Don't ask questions."

"What's a cannon?"

Suddenly, the elves quit bickering. Something that only happens once in a thousand years occurs. The glade explodes with magical aura as the unicorn releases its legendary rainbow fart. Magical anomalies, such as this, signal only one thing: the birth of a hero.

Elfmoor takes a big whiff of the magical aroma. "B. E. A. Utiful. Times like this make life worth living."

Elfrond shakes his head. "Elfmoor, we're immortal. I've seen this like ten times already. And every time this happens, it means something evil is about to come afoot."

"But the hero always wins."

"Have you ever heard the term collateral damage?"

"Is that a sword?"

And there you have it. The magical unicorn fart that marks your birth. How exciting! I wonder what type of hero you will grow up to be.

[User] You heroic knight, heroic knight!

[Assistant]
Ah, the noble knight in shining armor. And they say chivalry is dead.

You are born into a loving but stern peasant family in the hamlet of Forest Hill. Your formative years are a medley of hardship, merriment, and hard work. While most of the other children in the hamlet are content to play ragamuffin children's games and live out their lives in this quaint corner of the woods, you aspire to greatness, spending every evening selling turnips and every night mucking shit from the stables. With all this (paltry sum of) loot, you are able to afford sword and shield lessons from the guardsmen.

One fine autumn evening, you and your sword master Jon are finishing a sparring session.  Jon is bigger and faster than you are, but you have taken his lessons to heart. Training swords are blunted, but they hurt all the same when they whack you.

Jon's sword arcs toward your shoulder. You raise your shield, and the wood splinters. With a quick twist of the wrist, you yank the shield downwards, catching Jon's sword in the process. He is open; here is your chance. You swing your sword…

"Dodge!" you shout, dropping to the ground. Jon's fist sails an inch above your head. You toss your shield and lurch from your knees into Jon. The pair of you grapple on the ground. Dust flies. Both of your swords are lost in the ruckus.

A fist catches you square in the gut. Once, twice, three times. You spit in Jon's eyes and roll to the side, and stagger to your feet. A leg comes sweeping toward you.

"Dodge!" you shout, jumping back. You avoid the leg, but tumble onto your ass. Before you can regain your feet, a boot hits your chest, shoving you back into the ground.

Jon stands above you and smirks. "You know what you forgot to do?"

You nod, knowing.

"You forgot to DODGE!"

You share a hearty laugh. At first, Jon would shout 'dodge' to train you to avoid taking hits, now it is your job to shout it when you train. He even sends kids around to throw shit at you randomly during the day. That really sends the message home. You have come so far that the art of dodging has almost become a sixth sense. 'If they can't hit you, they can't kill you,' Jon had reasoned.

The pair of you head to the watch house to clean up. The building is small and reeks of sweat and mildew. The hamlet only has three guards, so upgrading their housing has not been a top concern of the local Baron. You are just thrilled the hamlet has guards at all.

"You're getting good, kid. Real good," says Jon, stripping his leather armor. "I think you're ready for some real patrol work. We just got a report the other night about some disappearances on the Baron's Road. It's probably just some bandits, but we need to take care of it. You in?"

[User] You hell yeah you're in.

[Assistant]
"Hell yeah I'm in."

Jon nods. "Glad to hear it."

This could be your big chance to finally prove yourself. You need to get your name out there if you want to have any chance of receiving a knighthood someday. They do not just hand those things out like… well, nobody has ever actually handed you anything except a nice big steaming pile of shit. Peasantry blows.

Under cover of darkness, you and the three guards head out along the Baron's Road in the back of a covered wagon. No one has ever thought of ambushing bandits in a covered wagon while guised as merchants. Surely, the plan will go off without a hitch.

Samwellington the Fat jitters in his seat. You are not sure if it is because he is scared or hungry. How Sam became a member of the guard is beyond your imagination. Jon trusts him for some reason, and that is good enough for you. "Nervous kid?" he asks.

That you might eat me. "No. If Jon says I'm ready, then I'm ready."

Bowie bobs his head. "It's best to trust Jon. I didn't once and then my world went to shit. That draugr attack during the winter of '69 was brutal… I still have nightmares."

Jon rolls his eyes. "If you hadn't st-"

"Hey, let's let bygones be bygones," says Bowie.

"Hey do you hear that?" you ask.

"Sorry, my stomach rumbles when I travel," says Samwellington.

"No, not-"

The horses whinny and bolt. One of the wheels catches a snag in the road and topples over. Luckily, you land on Samwellington's gut. Jon cuts a hole in the wagon covering and climbs out into the night, and you and Bowie follow.

"Oh, fuck…" Jon clutches his sword in both hands and rushes.

Two trolls tower over the corpses of the horses and the wagon driver, tearing chunks of bloody flesh with the effort you would rip apart a boiled chicken.

[User] You help Jon.

[Assistant]
In your eagerness to fight at Jon's side, you forget the most important lesson of your training: always dodge.

A troll whips a horse leg in your direction. Off balance and off guard, you cannot avoid the hurling limb as the hoof nails you in the shoulder, severing your sword arm. Blood spouts like a geyser from your body as you crumple to the road.

"Bowie, help Jon!" Samwellington shrieks. "I've got the kid." Samwellington stumbles to your side and rolls you onto your back. "Hang in there little buddy. It's going to be alright."

Blood loss is making you delusional. It is the only way to explain what is happening. Samwellington draws his dagger and sticks himself in the gut. He drags the blade across his stomach, slips his hand into the incision, and pulls out a chunk of his own fat. He smacks the lard on your wound and it sticks in place, stemming the blood flow.

"Can you walk?" asks Samwellington.

"Can I walk? Can I walk! I just had my fucking arm cleaved off. What the fuck do you think?"

"Yeah, an arm, not a leg. Don't be a baby."

"Sam we could really use your fat ass over here," shouts Bowie. "Any motherfucking time!"

You hear a gurgle and a gasp just before Bowie's head goes sailing through the air. Samwellington gulps and scurries away to hide behind the wreckage of the wagon. What a coward. Oh well, at least he saved your life.

Leaning against your sword, you stagger to your feet. One of the trolls ravages Bowie's headless corpse. The crunching and snapping of bones sickens you, and you fight the urge to hurl as bile tickles your throat. Jon appears to be holding his ground against the other troll, but once his friend finishes devouring Bowie's corpse, even Jon won't be able to fend off their combined savagery. You have to do something quick or all of your worthless lives will be over.

[User] You throw your severed arm as a distraction.

[Assistant]
You doubt you will be of much use as a combatant, so you may as well make yourself useful in some other fashion.

You grab your severed arm and wing it as hard you can toward the trolls. The troll feasting on Bowie ignores the bloody mess of flesh, but Jon's troll clambers after it on all fours. A deep sadness seeps into your bones as you hear the troll crunch your arm in its jaws. Heroes are not supposed to be eaten.

Jon slices the back of the trolls' knees, and the troll howls in agony as its legs buckle. Jon leaps onto its back and cleaves the head clean off with one swipe with your arm still clenched between its teeth.

"Go Jon," Samwellington cheers. The fat coward is still cowering behind wreckage from the wagon.

"Why don't you try and help?" you snarl.

"I am helping. I'm providing emotional support."

You roll your eyes and look back in time to see Jon finish off the second troll.

"Wow, that was fast," you say.

Jon shrugs. "A little emotional support can go a long way. Nice job yourself. You didn't even need to have your sword arm attached to the rest of your body for it to be useful. Try dodging next time though."

"I don't know if there will be a next time. How can I fight without a sword arm?"

Jon winks. "I know a guy: magic fellow and what not. He should be able to do something for you." Jon raises his hand. "Hold on one second. I'll be right back."

Jon darts into the forest and you hear the lovely sound of steel biting into flesh and the accompanying screams.

"Sam, why don't you go back to the hamlet and draft the report," says Jon, emerging from the forest, "add five dead bandits to it. I'll take our buddy here to the hedge wizard."

With that, you and Jon part ways with Samwellington and enjoy a relatively droll venture to the hedge wizard's hut. You understand why he is only a hedge wizard. The hut is a ramshackle smattering of twigs and leaves that appear to be held together by nothing but mud and bird poop. The entire place smells worse than a popcorn fart. This may not have been the best idea, but before you can raise your concerns with Jon, he hollers out.

"Hey, Osprey, get out here. I need a favor."

"Is that you Jon?" You hear weird pops and bangs from inside the bird poop hut. "Just a second."

"Take your time," says Jon. "No hurry."

After a few minutes, a bent white-bearded man with smoldering eyebrows and a staff teeters out of the hut amidst a cloud of smoke. The smoke shrouds Osprey and follows him around. It smells of rancid cheese and burning bird shit.

"Whew," Jon attempts to wave the stink away, "what were you doing in there?"

Osprey's eyes light up. His lips twist into a smirk as he cackles. "Wizard things."

"Oh, Dear God."

Osprey's smile vanishes as he notices you and totters over. He grabs your head in both hands, lifts your chin, peers into your eyes, and prods your chest with a bony finger. A chill courses through your bones. He proceeds to violate your personal space for several minutes while you do your best to avoid suffocating in the smoke.

"Mmhmmm," he says to himself. "Just as I thought. The boy is missing an arm."

You roll your eyes. "How observant."

Osprey whacks you upside the head with the staff. "Mind your manners, boy, or I'll turn you into a leprechaun." He shakes his head. "Ain't nothing sadder than a leprechaun."

"Not even a smelly old man living in a bird shit hut?"

Osprey clobbers you with the staff again. "I'll have respect from you boy. This is no joking matter. You ever see a leprechaun you give that poor bastard nothing but your sincerest sympathies." He smacks you with the staff one more time for good measure. "Now about that arm. I can fix you right up. Get you a brand new ethereal arm. Those things are sweet: impervious to physical damage. Magic will fuck you up though."

Osprey begins nodding his head and drawing weird symbols in the ground with his staff while mumbling to himself.

"Jon," you whisper, "I really don't think this is a good idea. This guy is cracked."

Jon scoffs. "Posh. You want to be a knight, right? Well, a knight needs both arms."

[User] You bring on the magic.

[Assistant]
Truer words have never been said. Well, they probably have, but you cannot think of any at the moment.

"Alright," you nod, "bring on the magic."

"That's the spirit." Osprey bumbles around finishing his runes. He mutters some incantations, bops you on top of the head a few times with his staff and bursts into poetry.

A wizard did it, a wizard bid it.

An arm grew, fresh and new.

Ethereal, but not imperial.

As we live in a realm, surrounded by elm.

Nature's magic, is never tragic.

My rhymes are bad, but I'm not mad.

This spell worked, 'cause Cyrus twerked.

Just like that, a sprite and shiny ethereal arm appears from your shoulder. You clench your fist and feel the power pulsing through your… veins? Jon claps politely as Osprey bows.

The hedge wizard slaps you across the back, smiling. "Now don't go committing sins of self-pleasure with that thing. You might rip something important off."

You gulp.

Osprey cackles and slaps you some more. He seems to like hitting you. "You can shoot magic energy blasts out of that thing too. I thought that might be useful for a hero."

Jon shakes his head. "If you want to be a heroic knight, don't do that. Knights aren't magic. Only trouble can come of it. This isn't a wizard's tale."

Osprey shrugs and wanders back into his hut. The door creaks shut and you soon hear the calamity snap back to life. He pokes his head out to offer one last piece of advice. "You treat them leprechauns with respect, boy, you hear me?" He slams the door shut and that is that.

"What do we do now?" you ask Jon.

"Well, I'm going to go back to the hamlet and make sure everything's in order. You should go try out your new arm and get used to it."

You consider that a smashing idea and head off to the neighboring kingdom of Irelandshire to seek out one of these mystical leprechauns. With the help of several drunken and boisterous natives, you learn the not-so-secret location of the Valley of Rainbows where the leprechauns supposedly abound. They warn you not to go though because it is a sad and wretched place. Obviously, you ignore them.

Hundreds of rainbows dot the easy to access valley, and you have little difficulty tracking one down to its end. Naturally, a great pot of gold sits next to it, but no leprechaun.

You try calling for them, taunting them, begging them, praising them, but none appear.

"Well at least I'm rich."

You pack as much gold as you can onto your horse (which isn't anywhere near the entire pot since gold is heavy, yet it's still enough to buy a castle or two) and prepare to return home.

As you approach the precipice with the cave that leads out of the valley, a shrill cry booms from deep in the heart of the valley.

[User] You you're rich. You're going home.

[Assistant]
Where is your sense of adventure? Heroes aren't supposed to be in the game just for the money!

What about for princess bosom?

Princess bosom is nice, but even with that you are still only a cheap imitation of a true hero. Besides, I do not see any princess bosom in the area, and no, you cannot buy princess bosom. You must earn such luxuries.

Are you telling me I don't actually get to go home?

No, you can go home if you want. I'm merely giving you an opportunity to reconsider because I am a kind and kindred spirit. Eh, who am I kidding? I'm kind of a dick, but my offer still stands.

[User] You piss off, you're going home with your booty.

[Assistant]
You elect to go home with your wealthy horde of treasure, as you have every right to do so. I applaud your resolution. That takes cajones. Even divine intervention cannot derail you from your path.

With your newfound riches, you decide to take a luxury cruise on the C.Y.S.  Generic Heroine. She is truly a gallant vessel. You dine on raw oysters and baked clams, which you eat off the bare breasts of dashing dames. At night, mermaids sing scandalous songs as they swim along with the ship, attempting to lure foolish sailors and passengers into their clutches, but not you, no, you are too wise. You simply listen and enjoy the sweet melodies.

The seas stay smooth and calm and you enjoy a pleasurable sailing experience. Pirates only attack once, and with your bitchin' ethereal arm, you smash and bash them to bits, claiming their brig as your own. You even remembered to heed Jon's warning and not use the magical energy blasts to preserve your status as a heroic knight.

"How was your trip?" Jon asks as you arrive in port.

"Profitable."

Samwellington's mouth waters as he sniffs the seafood on your breath. "Do you have any more clams?"

"I hope so," says Jon, ignoring Samwellington. "You missed the king's tournament. Sooooooo much shit went down."

"Jon found a fire-crotch." Samwellington beams gaily. "And killed a no good dirty evil wizard."

Jon nods. "The future looks bright. That's for damn certain."

The three of you leave the docks and head into the city, ready to raise hell and fuck bitches make sweet tender love to beautiful maidens. What, did you think I would be spiteful and have you die of the Great Pox or be devoured by the kracken?


[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] Continue

[Assistant]
Repression of Reality

The Future...

"I'm home!" you shout as you enter the shelter loaded with goodies.

As you unburden yourself of your haul, you hear the end credits of a movie playing on the TV.

"See? I told you I wouldn't be that long. I got here just in time to put on another movie! In fact I got some new ones from that redneck encampment. I know most of them are a bunch of assholes, but they're always up for trading and that Mel guy keeps 'em mostly in line. Plus they got bigger things to worry about now that they're at war with the Cult of Tiamat."

You open up your bag and go through some of the DVDs you picked up in trade. You pick one and exchange it out for the one that was playing.

"I haven't seen this one in a long time. I'm glad we'll be able to watch it together." You say.

As the movie starts playing you return to unloading your bags occasionally looking up to watch the movie playing.

"So speaking of the Cult of Tiamat. I meant to tell you I…uh…ran into Bobby a few days ago."

You unpack some of the canned food you found. Sure you still have tons of food to last for years, but it never hurts to have more.

"See? This is why I didn't tell you! I knew you were going to get mad! I wasn't trying to hide it, I just…well you know how your temper is and I didn't want you getting all jealous and screaming at me.

You finish unpacking the rest of your bags and place most of the items on the table where you plan on going through a complete inventory later, right now though you just want to relax. You strip down to your underwear and sit on the couch to watch the movie playing.

"One of my favorite parts is coming up...(sigh) are you still mad? Look I told you, nothing is going on with Bobby and me! Just because that bitch Diana is dead doesn't mean I'm going to get back with him! Bobby's got other sisters you know? Besides, he's pretty much firmly entrenched in his beliefs now. I only think he's cordial with me, because we once had something. I mean being friendly isn't a crime. I mean it's a good thing. One less person for me to worry about blowing my head off."

You briefly glance over at the TV before returning to your argument.

"Oh that's fucking low. Don't you think I wish it didn't have to happen? I wish every day that things could've been different, but you know what? They weren't, so you need to just fucking deal with it!" you shout and get so angry that you punch the mannequin positioned on the sofa and its head falls off and tumbled to the floor.

"Shit. Oh shit. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Let me help you." You say and scramble to pick up the head.

You reattach the head and inspect it for damage; fortunately you didn't do any save for a minor loss of paint near the ear.

"Hold on…there. Not so bad. Look I'm sorry I got angry, but you shouldn't have said that to me. You know I still feel bad about that. I don't want you throwing that back in my face okay?"

You kiss the mannequin on the cheek and cuddle up next to it while holding one of its hands.

"I accept your apology too. Like I said, you really shouldn't get so jealous. You know you're the only one for me. Let's just finish watching the movie together, then maybe later, who knows?" you say and giggle a bit.

You finish watching the movie as planned, and then afterwards you take your companion to the bedroom where you have an interesting time with certain attachments that you've made to him.

After relieving your tension you roll over next to your companion and turn your head to look at it. You still can't believe how you stumbled upon one that looked a little similar to him.

Sometimes you wonder about your sanity and if one day you'll just completely lose yourself in your made up world, but then you think you never did before no matter how hard you tried. And you certainly won't now, besides what's a little retreat from reality every now and then?

"Goodnight Johnny." You say and kiss him before going to sleep.


[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 go talk to the Normals

[Assistant]
Since the Freaks are firmly behind the Ring Master, you might as well talk to the Normals, the problem is you have to talk to someone with some pull with most of them, and Remarkable Randal is the only one who has that in any great capacity and getting him to side with Charley is out of the question.

At least directly.

It's possible you could talk with Madam Orbec and get her to convince Randal to change his stance since he follows anything she says; also she's less likely to throw something at your head when she sees you approach.

You head towards Madam Orbec's tent, which has an air of creepiness surrounding it. You enter the tent and immediately get your usual welcome.

"Geek! Begone from this place! Do not assault the spirits with your foulness!" Madam Orbec commands.
"They're dead; I don't really see how my smell can affect them."
"It's not your odor that offends the spirits, it's your aura! We do not want you in our presence! Away with you, we have no wish to be involved in your underhanded dealings!"
"How do you know what I'm here for?"
"Fool! I am Madam Orbec! I see all that the spirits see! You're working with that miscreant Charley in an attempt to take over the Carnival and you're hoping to influence me so that I may in turn influence Randal to convince the normals to side with him."
"Well since you know…Madam?"

Madam Orbec begins to clutch her head and writhe on the floor talking to herself.

"Yes. But no! Maybe? Perhaps. If he can pull it off. Is he capable? I doubt it. We must try. Whatever, just get him out of here!"

Madam Orbec suddenly stops and slowly sits up.

"You need to expose those of the small craniums."
"What?"
"The Pinheads. You need to show their true nature to the public."
"True nature? What're you talking about? Why"
"That is all the spirits have told me, their reasons are not to be questioned, but I have been advised to help you in your treacherous endeavor if you accomplish this objective. Now leave and do not return unless you are successful."

At this point Madam Orbec seems to go into a cationic trance. You take your opportunity to leave and ponder what the hell her cryptic ramblings were about. All you know for certain is that you have to do something to the Pinheads. Expose their true nature, though you can't imagine what that could be.

You could try spying on them and see what you can find out, or maybe a more direct approach would work.

[User] You spy on them

[Assistant]
You head towards the Freak side of the carnival and try to find the Pinheads, when you see them you notice they're all congregated together in a relatively secluded area. Almost as if they're in a meeting. How odd.

They haven't seen you yet, so you take the opportunity to get closer by sneaking around behind them and hiding behind a barrel. You prop your back up against it, close your eyes and pretend to be passed out, just in case someone passes by, wondering what you're doing. You then attempt to listen and you can't believe what you're hearing…

"So George did you hear what's going on in Germany?"
"Yeah, it wouldn't surprise me if we had to go to war with them…AGAIN."
"Well maybe a war would be good for the economy."
"Maybe, I doubt if it could get any worse."
"Yeah, but if we go to war that means less people coming to this Carnival, and that's not good for our income."
"Oh I don't know about that. History has shown that in hard times, people are actually more inclined to want to escape reality and that's what this Carnival is all about; escaping reality."

The Pinheads are discussing world matters! All this time they've been acting like idiot children and they're actually intelligent! You get enthralled by more of their conversation. They begin discussing literature, science, philosophy and other topics that are far above your comprehension or even a normal person's comprehension.

Unfortunately since you're not actually watching them and just listening, you don't see what some of them do. The Pinheads realize you've been spying on them mainly due to your powerful smell which is unmistakable at this range. A couple of them did a bit of sneaking around on their own while the others continued the conversation to keep you put until they got into position.

"Psst! Hey Geek, over here!"

You open your eyes just in time to see a baseball smash into your face, breaking your nose. You curl in a fetal position while holding your nose and resisting the urge to yell. You pretend you're still drunk, hoping you can throw them off suspicion. It doesn't work though. The Pinheads have been fooling everyone for so long they're experts in seeing through a fake act as pathetic as yours and even if they couldn't they still wouldn't want to take the chance of you blabbing.

"Shoulda stayed in your cell today Geek." are the last words you hear as a crowd of angry little squinty faces stare down at you, before they beat you to death and then dump your body in the clown tent.

You really don't want to know what happens after that.


[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 let the James Brothers take care of the situation

[Assistant] While you watch Jesse manages to pull the trigger of his pistol and shoot the conductor in the chest. As the man falls to the ground Jesse shoots him again in the head. While the man lies bleeding on the floor and gun smoke rises in the carriage a second passenger springs to his feet, gun in hand. "Jesse," Frank yells out in warning and raises his own gun.


[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 get help from the Ebony Claw

[Assistant]
If Rook is already extending his hand, you might as well take it at this point. You're at least on better terms with him than you are with Garrick.

As for Tanya, well you're going to have to just cut your losses you think on that one. It's obvious that isn't going to work out and you need to accept that despite how you might feel.

Since you aren't exactly sure how to contact Rook, the only place you can think of to go is the Poison Blade Inn since that's the best known Ebony Claw Syndicate hang out.

You don't know what kind of greeting you're going to get, but you're going to have to be on your guard, but then you always are.

You make your way to the Poison Blade Inn and along the way, you soon start getting hostile stares at various people. You're definitely not in a friendly neighborhood.

When you actually enter the Poison Blade, everyone immediately looks at you.

"What the fuck do you want?" one of them demands.
"I need to contact a man by the name of Rook, I have important business with him. Specifically information." You reply.
"Is that so? Well how about you tell me and I'll go relay it to him and he can decide. Rook is much too busy to be dealing with the likes of you."
"Uh huh, look I dunno what your problem is with me exactly but I'm not your enemy, we're on the same damn side so…"

At this point the one speaking to you spits on your boots and gets in your face. Several more members close in on you at this point. This could get really ugly.

"My problem…OUR problem with you is you fucking killed many of our friends and associates. Now you just walk in here like you think you own the place? You're Guild scum, no you're worse than Guild scum. You're a fucking rat. You think if you sell out those assholes that's going to make you good with us? Better think again. I don't give a fuck what deal you made, you're not coming in here demanding shit. If you got important information for Rook, he'll contact you directly himself. YOU wait for him. Now I suggest you walk right back out that door and don't come back unless you're actually invited."

Sensing that despite being taken off the hit list, your "immunity" only gets you so far. If you caused trouble here, you are not making it out alive. You just nod and back slowly out of the Poison Blade Inn and make your way out of the neighborhood as quick as possible.

After leaving immediate danger, you start to wonder if joining the EC is the way to go after all since it seems like everyone in it hates you. On one hand you can't be too surprised, but on the other now it seems like a less favorable choice. Instead of having the boss angry at you, you'll have the rest of the damn organization angry at you. You can't fucking win, maybe you need to just get the hell out of the city altogether. That would certainly solve a lot of problems.

In the mean time, you might as well find a new place to stay while you figure things out. You head to Hell's Own Inn since it's at least some place that you know and can consider hospitable.

Before you can however, you are suddenly grabbed while passing an alley and slammed up against a wall. You're then punched several times before you can even react and your pistol is taken away.

"Go for your sword and it gets shoved up your ass traitor!" Tanaya says.
"Tanya, wha…" you utter and then get another fist in the face causing you to crumple.

Tanya then begins kicking you and you curl up while shouting for mercy and asking what the hell is going on.

"STOP! STOP! What the hell did I do?!" you utter.
"You have the balls to ask that? You know what the fuck you did! You've been talking with the Syndicate!"
"Tanya…I…"
"Don't insult me by fucking lying! I SAW you! I've been following what you were up to since I didn't think you'd meekly accept Garrick's orders. I didn't however believe that you'd go full fucking traitor! How the hell was I so damn stupid to trust you?!"
"Tanya, it's not what it seems! I'm…I'm…"

You can't even come up with a good lie though it doesn't matter since Tanya isn't really in a mood to listen, let alone believe you. She grabs your neck with one hand is slowly crushing your windpipe as you dangle off the ground. Her eyes are even giving off a faint reddish glow, it's like you've unleashed her demonic side.

You try to beg for her to listen one last time.

"Tan…(cough) (ack)"
"Shut up, just shut up! I should have known better! Should have known you weren't different! Didn't think you'd be worse though!"

If you weren't on the verge of dying, you'd swear that Tanya's words aren't just about your betrayal of the Guild. She's obviously taking this personally. Your suspicions are confirmed when you see Tanya's eyes water a bit just before she breaks your neck.


[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 help them

[Assistant]
You haven't completely given up on your conscience. These people didn't do anything to you; they were probably just trying to find some place to be.

"Hold on! I got a medical kit!" you shout and run to go fetch it along with small wooden plank and some rope. When you come back the entire family seems to have calmed down a bit, you remove the trap from his leg and look at it. You didn't use anything with blades, so its just broken, not punctured in any way.

"Damn, it's a good thing I didn't use that bear trap I found, your leg would've been completely severed! Now if I remember reading this right, I have to reset the leg…"
"Wait! You mean you've never done this before?" the man shouts.
"Well no, but I've been reading! Now brace yourself!"
"No Wait! AAAAAAAAGH! SHIT! That hurt!"
"There now I just have to tie this splint thing around your leg, and you'll be all set, well more or less. What the hell are you people doing out here anyway? Shouldn't you be in a shelter or something?"

The woman answers your question.

"We were supposed to, but when we got to the GZS shelter we bought it wouldn't let us in! It just ate our debit card and said error! We tried like hell to get in, but the elevator door just wouldn't budge. When the bombs hit, we were in the shelter entrance foyer, and stayed there for a few days, but we realized we couldn't stay there forever, so we left and tried to find a nearby town that we might try to continue life as usual, but the one we found was quite unfriendly, they wouldn't even let us stay! This catastrophic event has made people paranoid and hostile!"
"Huh. People were like that before the bombs; did you think they'd be different afterwards?" you say.

Now the man speaks again, as he attempts to sit up

"Well I'd at least expect some hospitality. When we got there, they looked at us like we were going to loot the entire town."
"Probably thought you were, you know its going to take a while before most folks become trusting again. People are going to barely trust people they know. Hell, I heard they were rioting in the city before the bombs dropped. So I'd imagine there are lots of bad types out there willing to kill people over supplies as simple as fresh water."
"But you helped us."
"Yeah, I guess I did…"
"Is this your store? Looks like you were better prepared than we were."
"Uh…yeah, okay well I guess you guys can stay out here for awhile until you're ready to move on. Good luck."

As you turn to leave the woman speaks again.

"Hey wait! You mean you're not going to let us in? You'd just leave us out here? We told you, we were low on gas! And now my husband Jonathan has a broken leg! How are we going to get by?"
"So, you can drive can't you? Look, this isn't my problem. I helped out, because I realized you guys weren't bandits or some shit, but I'm not here to take care of you. I have my own concerns."
"But…"
"Let it go Doris, I guess we should be grateful he fixed my leg and didn't kill us."
"Are we going to be okay Dad?" the boy asks, speaking up for the first time without yelling.
"We'll see Tyler, we'll see."

Ah fuck, you started to give shit and now it's coming back at you.

You turn around, and give in.

"Alright, you can come in, but you're staying in the topside of the store, you can even stay until your leg heals, but after that, you gotta go. I don't have supplies to sustain all of you indefinitely."

The family is very grateful, and moves in immediately.

Over the months you all get to know each other a little better though you still don't exactly tell them how you "acquired" this place. You just say your "Uncle Billy" gave it to you when he died.

Soon Jonathan's leg is much better, but you're wondering if you shouldn't let them stay on a more permanent basis; however as it turns out, that's exactly what Jonathan had in mind for his family except YOU weren't included.

This treachery for your good graces comes as a surprise one night, when Doris suddenly wakes you up by banging on the trap door, yelling about how she thinks there's someone out side and how Jonathan went to check, but she thinks he's in trouble. You immediately grab your shotgun and go see what's wrong.

You barely get out the front door, and you're suddenly hit in the head, knocking you to the ground. Jonathan grabs your shotgun and points it at you. Doris and Tyler come to the doorway.

"Doris, take Tyler down into the underground…this'll be over soon I hope." Jonathan replies grimly.

Doris nods and then looks at you, with a sad expression.

"We're sorry about this…we really are…" she says and then takes her son away leaving just you and Jonathan. You stand up and brush yourself off.

"So, were you planning this all along or what?"
"Well…I dunno…nowadays, you don't really plan anything, it just sort of happens y'know?"
"Oh yeah, I know."
"Well you can understand that this is a good place for me and my family, and I can't allow you to just kick us out."
"Stupid bastard, I was just thinking about letting you all stay on a more permanent basis." you laugh. This response surprises Jonathan, and it almost looks like he's going to change his mind, but he doesn't.

"…It's too late now. You'd never trust me now, and I'd always think you'd try to get revenge. You have to leave. Besides you said it yourself one time, there aren't an indefinite amount of supplies, to sustain all of us."
"Well you might as well pull that goddamn trigger John, because I'm not leaving."
"Come on, man I'm serious! I'll do it. I don't want to, but  I got a family to think about and there's nothing that's gonna make me change my mind…look I'll let you leave with some supplies. How about that? I mean you can take one of these vehicles or even mine! Just you gotta leave, we're taking this place now. I'm sorry."

Well it's not much of a choice, but it may be more preferable than death. Though you can't help but think of the irony that how you tried to do the right thing and got fucked in the ass big time, while when you murdered Billy and his wife, you hit the damn jackpot.

[User] You insist on staying

[Assistant]
"Fuck you John, I'm not making it that easy for ya. You think it's really that easy to kill someone? You go right ahead."

You're hoping that you're just calling his bluff and he really won't shoot you, whether he was or not, he hesitates long enough for you to take advantage of the situation.

You dive into Jonathan's legs as hard as you can, causing the both of you to fall to the ground, he attempts to get you off by smashing you in the head with the shotgun butt, however you knock it from his hands and re-break his leg, this time so the bone comes through. He bellows in pain, and then you kick him in the face.

You pick up the shotgun and point it at him.

"You stupid motherfucker! I woulda let you stay here! If you'd just…bah! You're right, it's too late now, and you fucked…ARGH!"

A shot rings out and a sharp pain shoots into your side, causing you to fall. You look over in the direction of the store and its Doris holding one of the hunting rifles, though it seems she's not entirely comfortable with it and her second shot misses, giving you time to retaliate.

"Bitch!" you say and swing the shotgun in her direction blowing a hole in her side as well, though hers is instantly fatal.

"DORIS!" Jonathan screams before he crawls in your direction in some vain attempt for revenge.

"Told ya, it's not that easy to kill someone, unless you've done it before…" you remark and finish off Jonathan.

You're bleeding profusely and in a lot of pain, and you briefly wonder if you're going to survive your wounds, but that wonder comes to an end, when another shot rings out, hitting your upper body dropping you. It's Tyler holding your pistol, silent, with tears in his eyes upon seeing his dead parents.

You give up, even if you had the strength to pick up your shotgun, you're not going to kill a kid. In fact you figure you probably deserve to die anyway given that you've killed two couples now who didn't really deserve it. You decide to give some last minute advice to this newly orphaned lad, who's going to surely have a hard time of it now, but still he might survive if he listens to your words…

"Don't trust anyone kid…nobody."


[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 charge the trio

[Assistant] You run forward, leaping through the air as you slam into one of the three, stabbing him through the neck. The others grab you and a knife is painfully brought across your throat, before your limp body is released.


[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 kill Ivo

[Assistant] This monster has caused harm to your sister and he will pay for what he has done. You take the gun Carla gave you and aim it at Ivo. Before he has a chance to react you pull the trigger and the bullet hits him just below his knee.  He falls backwards onto the ground grabbing his leg and screaming in agony. You're about to fire another shot when Westfield grabs the gun out of your hand. He quickly shoots you in the stomach and like Ivo you fall backwards onto the ground. Westfield stands over you and is about to shoot you again when a bullet hits him killing him and removing a portion of his face. His lifeless body slumps over and lands on its side. You manage to turn your head see it's Carla who shot him, she walks to the middle of the lobby ignoring you and grabs Victoria by the hand, she must figure it's already too late to save you. Carla begins firing at someone else but you don't have any strength to turn your head to see who, it's most likely the two men with Ivo that Westfield had mentioned earlier. Carla is able to get out of the apartment building with Victoria. Westfield is dead and your sister is safe, that fact comforts you and makes dying far less painful.


[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 enforce your will

[Assistant]
This ungratefulness doesn't exactly help you NOT become a dictator…

You saved the Combine, you saved civilization, you fucking saved humanity, you aren't going to let it fall apart after all the shit you've been through. Not after you finally believe in it.

Using the newly acquired technology from the cyborg base you establish a more intimidating presence in the Combine towns. Having depleted most of their fighting power during the CE War they really can't do much to stop you. There are a few initial protests, but a few executions squash any hint of rebellion.

Five years pass…

It's been ten years since the bombs dropped and you first entered Fort Justice when it was only known as "The Compound". Of course Fort Justice goes by the name Fort Bane

Expansion eventually occurs again, in a less diplomatic way now though. Typically the option is given for the town to submit peacefully to the Combine, or else it will be incorporated by force. The first town to suffer this fate of the new Combine ruthlessness is that old remote town you found nine years ago, Lost Springs.

The next one is a distant place called Ashtown. They put up a good fight, but eventually they too fall and put under martial law. When you come across them, you even start forcing open the underground Shelters that were created by GZS and incorporate the misguided souls who decided to hide during the nuclear holocaust under your ever expanding territory. Most of those folks put up little to no resistance. While they were cowering under the Earth YOU were surviving and making the blasted world a safer place for humanity.

Despite the whispered discussions among everyone wishing you were dead, nobody actually does anything. The reason? The same as always. Your way works and has shown results.

Yes you've had to be brutal; yes you've had to make some harsh decisions, but you've done it for the greater good. You've completely eliminated lawlessness within most areas, as most of the nearby raiders have asked for Combine citizenship since it's actually more profitable to be a soldier than a bandit. You gladly accept them. (Amusingly they're some of the most loyal citizens) Trade thrives, and the only thing the Combine citizens need to fear is YOU.

The Combine is no longer a collection of small towns and a fort, it's an Empire and it can only grow. You've made all this possible, yet you know it is only you who can hold it together. You begin to ponder successors and while you know there are many who would covet your position, you also know that none of them are worthy. Its times like this that you wish had a child with Marina. Someone who could carry on the divine right as it were. As you know Marina's never once gotten pregnant in all your years with her, but you wonder if it's you, for all you know maybe that trip to the city didn't make you sterile. Maybe SHE'S sterile.

You wonder…

[User] You take another lover to try to create a successor

[Assistant]
The power has gone to your head in such a way that you've finally crossed that one line that was your downfall.

You order your troops to scour the Combine for the women known to be fertile and to bring them to Fort Bane all for the purpose for you to pursue some delusional notion of spawning a successor. The fact that tearing most of these women away from their established families doesn't make you anymore popular. Of course that doesn't bother you. The fact that you've basically bullied these women into submitting to you doesn't make you anymore popular. But again that doesn't bother you either.

What should bother you is that Marina finds out very quickly what you're doing. She's very hurt by this infidelity. She's stood by you from the very beginning, indeed she was the whole reason why you're in the position you are in the first place, and now you've treated that sacred bond and loyalty like it never meant anything to you.

Perhaps if you had addressed this to Marina, she MIGHT have even understood your desire and allowed you to proceed with your plan to a limited degree, she is a pragmatic sort after all. But you didn't even do that, instead you made her an embarrassment as you carryon with other women some of which are little more than common whores, in fact you never get ANY of them pregnant, which pretty much confirms that you WERE sterile all along.

Of course by this time you're so wrapped up in your new decadent activities that you forgot why you were doing it in the first place. This new reckless and careless behavior does not become you, and Marina has finally had enough of it. Part of her may still even love you, but she'll not be made a fool of and treated like this.

One night, while you're eating a meal, you take a large swig of water. It tastes funny at first, but you dismiss it since funny tasting water's not exactly too unusual. You just order another bottle of it to be brought to you…then you start to feel dizzy.

You stand up only to collapse on your dining floor. One of your servants goes to help, but then Marina appears to tell him to stop.

"Ma…Marina? What's going on?" you say as her figure begins to get blurry.
"A change. You always wondered who would take your place, and I've decided that I'm the only one worthy enough to do it. Don't worry, The Combine will live on, even if you will not. At least that was one thing you did right. I'm very sorry it had to end this way…I take no pleasure in this…but you can't betray your king maker without some sort of consequence. I'll try to remember the good times… Goodbye."

And with your last breath, Marina kicks you in the face.


[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 catch up to Olivia

[Assistant]
You briskly walk down the hall and catch up with Olivia. As you do, you recall that the last time the two of you talked, she was rather hostile with you.

"Hey Olivia, listen, I'm sorry if I offended you or something."

You say, attempting to mend whatever you broke earlier.

"Can't we just start fresh? Forget whatever I did to make you angry?

You ask hopeful, extending your hand to her. She glances at it, then at you, and sighs.

"Sure, why not. Forgetting things seems to be a pattern for us anyway."

Olivia replies, shaking your hand gently. You smile in response, though her off-hand sarcastic remark confuses you slightly.

"So, where are you headed off to?"

You ask.

"To the lunchroom, it's lunch time after all."

Olivia responds, rather impassively.

"Fair enough, so, mind if I sit with you?"

You ask, hoping you can maybe find out more about her. You're starting to think that your feeling that you knew her was off, but you still want to make sure. She glares at you as the two of you enter the lunchroom.

"You remember I said I had a boyfriend, right?"

She asks.

"Of course."

You say, not dissuaded in the slightest.

"Then fine, we can sit together."

You smile, relieved that she agrees to sitting together. As you approach your seats, you think over what you should talk to her about.

[User] You ask about her past

[Assistant]
At this point you decide you shouldn't pry into her love life, so you ask her about her past. You pose the question, and she looks at you with a hostile expression that leads you to believe you may be entering a risky topic.

"My past? Why do you care?"

She asks.

"Just curious is all. I can tell you about my past first if that helps..."

You reply defensively. Olivia stares at you angrily, which you take to mean you better start talking.

"A-alright then. Well, I grew up in this city until I was about...let's see now, twelve I think. Then my sister got accepted into some fancy private school, and we had to move about an hour away. I still remember that we had to pick up and pack in like a day with no real notice. While in this other city my father...passed away."

You say, remembering him. Your father was by no stretch the greatest father ever, but he was able to pay you attention from time to time and had no large faults, so you have fond memories of him. Olivia's expression gets a bit softer, probably because she feels bad that she had you bring up a sad topic. You continue on as normal.

"Then my sister got accepted into another private school, that private high school in this town. So, we moved back here after being gone for six years. Once I came back I met Ian, though I haven't seen any of my old friends..."

You finish, remembering that you did have some friends that you left behind originally, but you never did find them. Come to think of it, with how fast you left you're not even sure if you had to say goodbye to them to begin with. Olivia looks at you, seeming like she wants to say something.

"I see..."

Is all she manages to say thought. You're not sure why, but it seems like the topic has gotten her a tad depressed. She packs up her lunch and stands.

"I have to go now...talk to you later."

She says. You give her a wave goodbye, but feel a bit disappointed she didn't talk about herself at all. You sigh and exit the cafeteria, deciding to try asking her about her past some other time. The rest of the day goes by without much happening, and when you arrive home nothing exciting happens either. The night passes and you lay in your bed, staring at your alarm clock, quite pleased that tomorrow is a Saturday.


[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 compete in the melee.

[Assistant]
It is best to stick with your strong suits. You have combat training and can dodge with the best of them in the melee. From what you understand, dodging is frowned upon in jousting. Besides, you would have to borrow a horse from someone, and you do not have the money to ransom the horse if you lose. Debtors do not make good heroes.

Jon decides to enter the melee as well.

The morning of the tournament dawns crisp and cool with a slight breeze, just enough to give the ladies' skirts a nice billowing. You feel a familiar stirring in your loins, and it is driving you insane. As a fledgling hero, you have been saving yourself for your future princess bride, but dear God has it left you on edge, not that you have not had offers. Jon was right; your scar is a chick magnet. You practically have to beat them off.

A gaggle of girls giggle as you walk past them. Bitches.

Whoa, where did that come from? That is not very heroic. The proper term is 'wenches.' Remember that next time, fledgling hero.

With your minor slip into villainy over, you prepare for the melee and take your place in the fighting field. There appear to be fifty or so participants as you try to pick out some of the people the Baron told you about. You see Mad Moose McDoogle in his clumsy antlered helmet, Sir Richard Lionsmane with his shaggy locks, Sir Henry Williams a.k.a. The Rabid Fox, the Weasel brothers in their matching silver gilded armor, and Bucktooth Barry among others.

"Save your energy," says Jon. "Let the others wear themselves down. They'll make a mistake eventually. Then you can strike when they're weak and out of position. And stay by me. We might both be able to get knighthoods out of this."

"Don't worry. I got your back Jon."

A blast from the bugle signals the start of the melee. The clamor of blunted steel on blunted steel rings through the fairgrounds. You and Jon fight back-to-back, just as you did against those trolls several years ago. You two are not the only ones fighting on teams. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the Weasel brothers and Mad Moose McDoogle charge The Rabid Fox.

The Rabid Fox looses ground as the trio attempt to surround him. He isn't dodging. He's parrying. He's done for. The Rabid Fox's and one of the Weasel brother's swords shatter on impact. Mad Moose McDoogle peels off the attack and rounds on the Weasel brothers, catching them unaware. He knocks them both down and out just before The Rabid Fox charges him in turn.

A sword slashes inches from your cheek, and you regain your focus. Dodge, slash, dodge, dodge, slash, dodge, trip, kick. Another one bites the dust.

The fighting continues until there is just you, Jon, The Rabid Fox, who has not only obtained a new sword but a horse as well, and Bucktooth Barry left.

Maybe you should turn on Jon now?


[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] The police might be helpful for once!

[Assistant]
This man clearly wants to get rid of you, so 5 minutes later you have been given clear instructions to reach the closest police department, being wished "good luck" and had the door locked right behind you as you left the flat.

 You walk towards the police department as fast as you can because the whole "I can't remember a thing" is freaking you out. Wait, maybe the thing that's freaking you out is that man dressed in a dark blue suit who is following you. Isn't he?

 "Damn, someone traded my memories for a DAMN MENTAL ILLNESS CALLED PARANOIA", you think

[User] You keep walking not giving a damn, it's probably nothing

[Assistant]
"Whatever, I'm freaking out for nothing. Screw him if he's following me, let him run and chase me and interrogate me if that's his intention", you think as you keep walking.

 For some reason I think you wouldn't have thought that way before having your memories erased. I'm not sure what would you have thought, but not that, certainly; whatever, let's go back to the interesting thing.

 You reach the Police Department with no problems at all, so you suppose your "pursuer" simply happened to have the same route as you. After some minutes thinking on what the hell are you going to tell the police officer in front of you, and noticing that you don't even have a wallet or some sort of identification, or money, or ANYTHING (except for a cool-looking lighter stored in your right pocket), you decide a serious approach will be the best way to finish this. Problem is, taking "a serious approach" is complicated in your current position:

You: "Hi, do you think you could you help me with some problem I have?"

She: "What is it?"

You: "Thing is… I'm really… disoriented… I've woken up in a house I didn't know, with no identifications or anything, and I can't remember anything about myself. The owner of the place didn't recognize me, but he suggested I came here"

She: "Well… Eh… I think it's the first time I've heard something like that. Be honest: Are you on drugs and/or alcohol?"

You: "O.o… No, not that I can remember… Why does everyone ask me that question?"

 After a while, she informs you that they have no reports of any missing person who might fit your description. She also says that an investigation to find out who are you may start if you wish so, and while they are at it you could go see a psychiatrist or they could give you a new, temporal identity and some money so you can go and do something useful, you fucking junkie (alright, she doesn't use those words, but that's the impression you get, anyways)

[User] You decide to go to a psychiatrist until the investigation is over

[Assistant]
Seeing a psychiatrist and waiting for the police to fix your problems sounded well. During a week you slept in a room the police lent you (out of pity) that was located in the police department and went to see the psychiatrist. The bad thing is, this "doctor" wasn't exactly the best in his promotion, because after some sessions in which he found absolutely nothing, he decided to send you straight to a mental asylum, saying you had some sort of "schizoidal paranoia" that had been provoked by the prolonged usage of toxic substances, or something like that. Well, maybe it's your paranoia what makes you think he's making all of that up, but you'll never be sure of that, HAHAHAHA

 So you complained to the police, you asked for a new doctor… but no, the Fucking psychiatrist had the labs analyze a sample of your blood he took during your first session and in there he found a combination of toxic stuff that could be a worthy opponent to whatever is on Keith Richards's blood, so no one believed you.

 At the present time, a cop has come and told you a van from the "medical center" is about to arrive to take you to your new location, leaving the room right after informing you. And he didn't lock the door! This may be your last chance of escaping your fate at the mental asylum, although being back out on the streets with no memories, home, or anything sounds pretty bad, too. Not to mention, the stupid psychiatrist would probably say that you're a dangerous individual and must be terminated

[User] You trying to escape is not worth the risk, let's just go to the Psychiatric Hospital

[Assistant]
Two nice guys enter your room, introduce themselves, and tell you everything is going to be ok. They lead you to a van, and once in front of it, your (unconfirmed) paranoia tells you getting in the van will be bad. REALLY BAD.

You: "AAAAAAAAAA let me go back to my room!!!" *turning and starting to run back towards the building*

Man #1: *grabbing you* "Oh, I thought we wouldn't have to do this for once!"

Man #2: *forcing you into a straitjacket and pushing you into the van* "Nah, it happens everytime… Shame, he seemed to be pretty relaxed a moment ago"

Man #1: "you can never trust these guys…"

 They lock you inside the van, letting the straitjacket on you. You still think something bad is going to happen, but understanding that no matter how much you cry they won't give a damn, you shut up as the driver and the other guy talk happily.

 Your paranoia, however, turns out to be right. As the 2 assholes who were sent to pick you up keep on talking like… assholes… the one driving doesn't pay enough attention to the traffic and you all end up crashing into a truck You all die pretty quickly, which is obviously quite bad for you

END


[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 find a world to settle on

[Assistant]
"None of us chose to fight, that fate was forced on us by the mad warlord Kyros," you say. "I know we'll never regain our lost lives. But we can get something close. Find us a world to settle on."

"Terrific! I'll be sorry to see you finish before the jobs done," Elios says, winking. "But you can remake your lives, we can remake ours, we'll all live happily ever after."

"Are there many worlds outside the reach of the Imperium?"

Elizabeth pulls out a datapad and begins tapping on it.

"Setting parameters... out of reach of Imperium... lack of Chaos, Ork or Dark Eldar attacks... out of reach of Tyranid swarms... suitable climate for human body... few destructive elements... oh, why are there so many hits? Oh yes, forgot to factor in the Tau... OK, we've got a few hits. Let me sort through them."

After a few minutes of researching the planets, Elizabeth has three possible worlds to settle on.

The first is a familiar world, because it's yours. The planet is the one you were raised on, where your people lived and died for endless generations. Kyros' looting of the planet has caused some damage, with the Great Lakes drained to a serious extent, leaving them a third of their size. The woods are half their size, with the remaining woods now overrun with Orks. Despite these issues, the planet is still one the Tribals would be happy to see, it's climate near perfect for you.

The second planet is known as Hararan-IV, the fourth planet I'm it's solar system of Harandan. The planet is for the most part sea, spotted with islands. The planet is prone to pirates, who land to rest, repair their vessel and resupply from the planet's rivers and abundant jungles. It's one or the few planets entirely free of Orks. It has a wealth of life, food, water and other resources, although it suffers from extreme tsunamis that could be a serious issue.

Finally, you have New Marsbourth. Unlike the two other planets, New Marsbourth is a bustling planet. Although it operates outside of the control of the Imperium, it has grown significantly, a huge population that farms, manufactures, works and lives. The planet is controlled by several warlords, fighting for control of the planet. This permanent state if war has drawn mercenaries, seen the manufacture of massive fortresses and the assembling of huge armies, which has warded off any attacks. You could easily become the largest military faction on the planet and attempt to wrest control, or build up a large, isolated community and see how city life is for you.

[User] You home

[Assistant]
It's a pretty simple process. Amadeus seems eager to get rid of you, so when he's told to take the ship back to your homeworld, he's gleeful.

Once your arrive, the Staine siblings have another question.

"Just to be sure, what is it you want to be done?" Dirge asks, as you squeamishly notice that the eat living in him has sired babies.

"What do you mean?" you reply.

"Well, so you want us to let you off with a small amount of supplies so you can continue your nomadic, tribal lifestyle as you once did, or do you want us to help you set up a little city, a hub from which you can operate and enjoy our little technological boons?"

Huh. What an interesting question. What DO you want? Are you actually planning to abandon all the technologies you've been using to resume a tribal life?

[User] You tribal Life

[Assistant]
"As you wish," Durge says.

It's only a matter of days as you ferry  soldiers to the planet. Eventually, you find yourself with the other tribals, Goliaths and gladiators on the planet. You stand by Fay, looking at the plains, now considerably bigger, that you grew up in.

"Well, we're home," Fay says.

"We are. Well, let's see where this goes," you reply.

Now, the future is yours.

[User] Three Years Later...

[Assistant]
Tribal

Life is hard. Kyros' scouring of the planet for resources has driven many plant and animal species that you once relied on for food extinct. You're required to travel even more constantly than you once did, as life is permanently tough and hath without much respite, and few luxuries.

The Orks are another issue. With the destruction and kidnapping of the tribes, they've spread extensively. While your newfound "tribe" are killing machines, it seems the Orks are never-ending. You push them back, though these battles are not without their losses, which you will take a while to get back from, which leads to another issue: reproduction.

You find yourself struggling to make up your numbers. The Goliaths are infertile, most not even having genitals. The tribals are more successful, but not by much. It seems Kyros' experiments have taken their toll. Infertility rates are high, as are the amount of miscarriages. A few manage, though, the offs of which increase when partnered with a non-tribal. The gladiators are the only ones who have great success here, as their numbers multiply as young, physically fit people do as young, physical fit people do.

Despite these issues, your tribe perseveres. Your relationship with Fay improves, as you eventually have a vaster sized combination of an Uwais marriage and an Azajaja bonding ritual. If anything, Kyros' experiments have increased your fertility, as you soon find yourself with a child. Thankfully Fay hasn't suffered the miscarriage issue, and you find yourself with a little ball of screaming flesh known as a child. The child seems perfect, having a strong body and a powerful mind, the best of both her parents.

It is this child that gives you hope. A child with the best of both her parents, who will weather any hardships the world. Your tribe are driving the Orks to extinction. The jungle is spreading again, and with it the planets and animals that you rely on. The present may harsh, but the future is forever hopeful.


[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]
Something over comes you. You suddenly feel a sense of self preservation. The only thing you HAVE felt during this bloody day.

You drop all your weapons and exit the school completely unarmed. The police quickly take you down and drag you away.

You feel completely numb during the trial, its ultimately decided that you're completely nuts to do what you did (Despite outcries for your death) so you are put in a mental institution. To this day nobody can figure out exactly why you did what you did.

A reporter comes in to do a special on mass murderers and you were on the top on the list. He doesn't get too far with his questions though, he asks WHY you did it. You just say it had to be done. He asks you how you feel about killing all those people. But you give the same answer you gave at the trial

You feel nothing...


[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 who the hell are all these fucked up people in your house? (Cast of Characters)

[Assistant]
Suzy: This is you. We already went over what the fuck your problem was on the first page. Let's move on shall we?

Ben: This is your older brother and the oldest of your siblings. He's a paranoid survivalist nut that trains for inevitable apocalypse that's going to come. He walks around armed at all times and is convinced that THEY are out to get him. He also has a misguided biracial hippy girlfriend by the name of Moonshadow and an illegitimate son with her by the name of Tommy who is an idiot savant. Currently they all live out in the backyard though Ben's been building an underground bunker of some sort out there.

Kelly: This is your Amazonian older sister. She's in a small time roller derby league and has been known to do some illegal underground fight club shit on the side. She's probably the only one in the house that has closest thing to a "real" job. Kelly's never liked you, for various reasons. When you two were growing up she'd always try to take every opportunity she could to abuse you in some way. Fortunately she's mostly too busy working to engage in physical or psychological torture on you nowadays.

Peter: This is your younger brother. He's a pretentious effeminate aspiring film maker who has the annoying habit of attempting to record everything with his camcorder. Has the disturbing habit of stealing your clothes and wearing them. He also hangs out with a junkie drug dealer from school by the name of Kevin who is always lecherously looking at you when you're around.

Donna: This is your younger sister and the youngest of your siblings. She's probably the most "normal" out of all of you. Perhaps a little on the wild side, but nothing excessively out of hand, basically your typical high school girl who hangs out with others similar to her. She's probably the most alright with you, though sometimes she urges that you should get out more.

Dad: This is your Dad (George McCray is his real name). He used to be a traveling lightning rod salesman. He's retired now and hasn't really been the same since your Mom died. He's usually in various stages of drunkenness and nobody much pays any serious attention to him anymore. It's not like he was around for the parenting process anyway.

Mom: This is your Mom (Bertha McCray is her real name). Despite her overprotective moralist views on how you and your sisters should act, she was probably the one who kept some semblance of order on the family. When the flesh eating virus consumed her years ago, everyone missed her a lot especially your dad. Eventually she was cremated and her ashes are kept in your Dad's room.

Ed: This is your really creepy uncle and brother of your late mother. It was her dying wish that he have some place to stay, so he lives in the garage which he's pretty much made his domain as most other family members stay clear of him, even Ben. He doesn't have any visible means of support yet contributes to the household at times. There are certainly rumors and whispers of what he might be up to when he leaves and comes back at various hours of the night, but nobody really wants to talk to him directly about it, let alone go in the garage and find out.

Julie: This is your "best friend" since kindergarten, who you speak to less and less with each passing year. As you grew older the pair of you had very different lives. Julie was very wild in her teenage years and still is today. It is only due to the fact that you knew each other for so long that you two are even still in contact. She's probably remained in contact with you mainly because you are about the only stable person in her life that she feels that she can talk to on a serious level about shit that sometimes bothers her.

The Morningstars: While your family on the block is rightfully seen as the most dysfunctional lot to live there, The Morningstars are definitely running a close second. They've converted their house into something of a compound. There seems to be a bunch of them of varying ages and gender, but "Pa" Morningstar and his eldest son Bobby Morningstar stand out the most. They mostly keep to themselves, though recently Uncle Ed has been asking a few random questions about them sometimes.


[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 dispense Justice

[Assistant]
"Hey wait, no..." Henry utters before you blast his internal organs to hamburger with your shotgun.

Aaron looks upon you as a savior. You are. You now know why you came to school. To right the injustices that have occurred. You immediately make your way to the gym. You see Butch, your sister's boyfriend. HE was responsible for leading your sister astray, most of the jocks in here deserve to die. Long have they taunted those they percieve as weaker.

You catch them completely off guard, you manage to blast Butch first and then pick off his friends as they attempt to run for their pathetic lives.

You then single out teachers who attempted to bully you with their "Rules". Their rules are meaningless to you. You serve a higher power. Justice. You sneer as one woman begs you not to kill her for the sake of her son. Her son will be much better off without the likes of her...

People are running in terror from you, but its only because they FEAR the justice you may dispense if they are found guilty.

The police soon arrive and they are here to dispense their OWN brand of justice. You do not acknowledge this though. What you've done today, will be remembered, nobody can judge you and nobody will.

You turn one of your guns on yourself. You feel a great sense of pride, before squeezing the trigger.

Then you feel nothing...


[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 go to the nurse

[Assistant]
Fuck this, you weren't about to deal with this shit for the next seven hours, you were going home.

Exiting the bathroom, you shuffled on in the empty hallways while keeping your head down in case any teacher were to give you trouble for not being class. Reaching the nurse's office and entering the main reception room, the smell of medicine and cleanliness enters your nostrils, it made the sick feeling in your stomach start to grow again, albeit for different reasons.

The nurse, who was the front desk filling out some paperwork, immediately lifted her head as soon as you walked in.

"Do you have a pass?"

Immediately she gave the same old first question she gives everyone when they walk in.

"Ah no, I didn't go to first period I went straight here. I just threw up in the bathroom and I'm not feeling well..." You say as she gives you a quick look over.

"You could of at least saved us both the trouble and just stayed home. Come here and sign in and go have a seat in the back. What's your ID number?" She grumbles with a hint of annoyance.

"223312."

Typing in the numbers on the computer by her, she nods towards the sign in sheet as you do as you're told.

"Do you want me to call your mom or your dad?"

"Mom please."

Filling out the sign in sheet you take a seat in the back medical area and wait for your ride.

"You should have told me that you were feeling sick before you left, I was in the middle of cooking something." Your mom lectures you in the car while you look out the passenger window, listening to her with half your attention.

"You could of at least grabbed your homework from class or something, I don't want you playing any video games or anything. You go straight to bed while I go buy something from the pharmacy."

"OK." You mumble through your palm that's resting against your cheek.

Upon getting home, you go straight upstairs as you were ordered and face plant onto your bed in exhaustion.

Normally you would ignore your mom and get straight online, though you were really were feeling like shit, so you decided against it. At least for the time being.

With your mom coming back from the pharmacy and giving you something to take in, you spend the remainder of your late morning in bed, though as soon as you can tell that your mom had left the house to go do some errands, you immediately hop onto your computer now that your stomach had settled to just an annoyance rather than a hindrance.

Logging into your desktop, you start aimlessly browsing around on the net, looking at random articles and looking at headlines to try and pass the time.

For some reason though, the computer seems to be acting really slow. Not the kind of slow that comes from shitty internet, but just constant stuttering of just about everything non-internet related. This computer wasn't that fucking bad, while you started to check the inner settings to see what the fuck was wrong, the whole thing just went black. Thinking that the computer shut itself off, you start to reach for the power button to see that the computer is still on. A little freaked out and worried now, you were praying to god that you didn't download any shitty virus that fucked up your system.

The computer monitor after a few moments turned itself back on and what was on the screen tensed up your whole body.

It was liveleak.

[User] You death sites

[Assistant]
You weren't in control of the mouse, it was moving all on its own as it was traversing through liveleak. You were a little too scared to see what would happen if you tried to take control of it, so you just let it do its thing.

Multiple tabs started opening up instantaneously, photos of people, clippings of news reports, what really fucked with you though were uncensored pictures of corpses and crimes scenes that were the most numerous out of it all.

A new internet window opened up, taking up most of the screen up with it. You looked to see that it was notepad, and almost immediately words started to appear, and you read them as they were typed out.

G- It's been a while since I've last had contact with a Warden, your kind's power has been rather elusive and it's hard finding a partner for my quotas. Luckily your search history pretty much confirms all my suspicions.

The words stopped typing, and you just stared in silence for a moment.

G- You wanna ask me any questions (:??

Your hands trembled a bit as they started typing on the keyboard.

Who are you?

G- You can refer to me as G, we're going to be talking a lot so let's just keep it at that, don't ask me anything else about myself, and don't try to pry into who or what I am, understood??

You reflexively scowled at what you just read, and 'G' quickly responded to this.

G- Don't make such a poor face, I usually come off quite strongly with that first impression but it's a given after my time working with you guys. (:

She saw you fucking scowl?!

Confused at first, you then take direct notice the webcam that sits next to your monitor, with quick haste you turn it backwards so it faces the wall behind it.

G- Awwwww why'd you have to go and spoil all the fun :(

Thinking of what to type at first, you look over at your microphone that's also connected to your PC, and try to test something out.

"Who are you and what do you want."

It takes a moment, but the typing starts once again.

G- I already told you, you can call me G. Also, it's not really want per say, but it's what will benefit us both in the long run, I am contracted to you until you meet your quota until then we both have to work together to solve crimes and help spirits move on to ascension past this plane. I know that you see ghosts, and that is exactly what I have contacted you, my quota itself will meet its deadline at the same time yours will, so both of us meeting the goal would be a win-win. Now since I'm guessing you're new at this, I should explain to you this full phenomenon that you've had your entire life, while also giving insight on the quotas?"

[User] You ignore the offer

[Assistant]
You didn't who the fuck this person was and you were getting bad vibes from this interaction since the beginning of it. You didn't it would give you the freedom of choice on whether or not to participate, but it was best to take advantage of this and opt out quickly before it changed its mind.

"Sorry but no thank you, this seems sketchy as fuck and I want no part in this, don't contact me again." With those words being sternly said, you unplugged your PC tower before you could get a response. You felt a little stupid for being so demanding when you said those words since you were in no position to do that, but surprisingly to you, there were no immediate repercussions like getting electrified to death or something.

You were a little paranoid about getting back online, however, so you took your moms advice and slept your stomach problems off for the rest of the day.

[User] Weeks Later

[Assistant]
You had thought the stomachache would pass with time and over the counter medicine, but it only went on to become worse with each passing day. It got to the point at which you couldn't stand for long periods of time without having to lay back down.

Your mom thought you were faking the pain at first, but it didn't take long for her to see that the situation was serious, and scheduled a doctors appointment as soon as one would be possible. Though you honestly wished your mom had just taken you straight to the emergency room, as you weren't exaggerating when you said that you wouldn't last until the doctor's appointment.

As it would have it, it seemed like that would be the case. During one of your usual days of resting in bed while your mom was at work, your eyes got heavy and you slowly shut them while thinking you would take a pretty quick nap before your mom was to get home.

You never woke up.


[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 hold your fire

[Assistant] You pause but Jesse shoots the man in the head, blasting his brains out onto the wall behind him. As the teller slumps dead in his chair Frank and Jesse fire more bullets into him. The customer screams "Murder!" and starts running past the three of you towards the door to the bank. "Shoot him," Jesse yells.