[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] Continue

[Assistant]
It is best to remain focused on your goal, and in this case your goal is to obtain the Stone of Vul-Kar and deliver it to Boston for two million dollars. You will not be furthering your cause by spending the night on Auri Island, and Diane Chambers will not pay you if no purple gem is procured. Or if someone gets to it before you do. Therefore you choose to motor right by Auri in the Zodiac, heading straight for Woban instead.

But as you get closer to Woban Island, proximity doesn't make the view any more flattering; what appeared to be steep cliffs and mountainsides plunging straight into the sea from a few miles away prove to be exactly that upon closer inspection.

What you wouldn't give for a topographic map right about now! You had assumed a tiny little island would be simple to navigate — just climb to the highest point, grab the stone, and go home — but you can see now that the geography here is a lot more complicated. From what you can gather, the southern end of the island is occupied by this range of small mountains that you now see, and the jewel must be securely hidden somewhere among them. You examine the mountains as you putz past them on the water, looking for signs of the temple on the highest summit, but everything up there looks thickly forested. And steep. You didn't realize this might become a mountaineering adventure. If it does, you're going to be woefully underprepared.

There are of course no published maps of the place that you can buy from Amazon, and even Google hasn't updated its digital cartography to show these new land discoveries. The best you could do in your limited prep time was print off some satellite imagery using a laser printer you found on the Sam Malone. According to your low-grade, grayscale screen capture from Google, the land tapers away for several miles beyond the mountains to the northeast. So it looks like you will need to land there and then navigate your way inland through the foothills — some way, somehow.

The problem is that it will take you several miles to get to that other side of the island where landing is possible, and this Zodiac can only go so fast.

You give this southern part of the island a wide berth; who knows what reefs might be lurking just below the water's surface, capable of shredding the Zodiac to pieces before you even realize there's a problem. If that were to happen, there would be no place for you to reach shore safely. Instead, you tool along to the northwest about a full mile from the shoreline, heading to a prominent headland that you think marks the corner of the island. Get around that, and you should start to see more landing opportunities on the other side.

Not surprisingly, though, this is turning into a race with the setting sun, which is only a few fingers above the western horizon. Your little boat is not equipped with any spotlights, and once you lose the daylight you'll be stranded in the darkness. C'mon, little Zodiac! Steady as she goes! You can do it! Don't fail me now! These and other forms of mental encouragement don't seem to have much bearing on the speed of the boat, though.

The sun is setting just as you near the tip of the headland. The clock is set: in maybe thirty more minutes, night will have settled in over Woban Island. Had you chosen to stop at Auri, you'd probably be enjoying life beside a campfire right now. As it stands, you can only hope you'll find a place to safely make landfall before the clock runs out. Then you can look forward to a night of sitting in the dark, with no idea where exactly you are.

You decide it's worth cutting the corner a bit around the headland; you might still hit something submerged, but you'll be traveling less distance around the cliffy peninsula. As you steer the boat around its tip, you see that the mountainous portion of the island is coming to an end, with miles of sand beaches beyond. The end is in sight! Even if darkness overtakes you, all you have to do now is point the boat toward land, ease up on the throttle, and take it slowly until you hear waves breaking ahead of you.

Hold on, what's that? On the nearest section of beach, just ahead of you, you see a flickering orange light. Actually, the light is not on the beach, but a short distance back in the jungle. A campfire, without a doubt. And that dark object you see on the sandy shoreline? That looks like someone's boat.

This puts a wrinkle in your plans. You knew you'd have competition from other jewel-seekers, but it never occurred to you that you might run into them so soon. Are these people friendly? Many of the people in your "profession" are highly competitive and will do anything to knock their opponents out of the race. On the other hand, there are several research teams that have been studying Woban Island ever since its discovery a few years ago, and you'd expect such people to be collegiate and cordial. You'd rather avoid the former type of people at all costs, but the latter kind could actually be interesting. Who knows what kinds of useful information you might glean from spending a night with people whose interest in the island is purely science-minded? Maybe they would even have a spare map of the island to give you.

But here's the bottom line:

Whoever is there has certainly heard your boat by now; sneaking past them is not a possibility. So you have the option to either land there in the few remaining minutes of twilight available to you, or to venture further up the beach in the dark. You won't be able to see anything, and where you land will be a crapshoot.

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[User] You continue up the beach in the dark.

[Assistant]
The first rule on any assignment like this: you have no friends. Trust no one. Assume everyone has an agenda — especially in a primitive environment like Woban Island, where civilization and the rule of law are distant memories, and raw wealth is something that people come to conquer. The likelihood of meeting a Good Samaritan here is about as high as encountering a native Woban who will just hand the Stone of Vul-Kar over to you. In your line of work, people are trouble, and if you give someone a chance they will prove that axiom over and over again. You are on your own for a reason, and it's better that way.

You just hope the people with the campfire feel the same way about it as you do. Hopefully the quickly-fading daylight is already too dark for them to get a good look at you; let them think this is a boat filled with mercenaries, dirty, vulgar, and armed to the teeth. "Best to keep a safe distance from a crew like that," they will say, assuming the worst and acting in their own self-interest accordingly.

No other specks of light appear on the dark stretch of island ahead of you. Soon the twilight fails you completely, and Woban Island becomes a nebulous silhouette against the starry sky, as hard as it is to believe a land so dark could have become even darker. You cut the motor and let the waves carry you into shore; it will take a little longer to make landfall that way, but for anyone who may be within earshot it will be more difficult to track your progress.

You reach down toward the floor of the Zodiac for something that you vaguely remember seeing when it was still light out, tucked away to the side of the craft. Your fingers clasp the smooth plastic shaft, and you pull the oar from the straps holding it in place. You dip it into the water behind the boat, using it as a rudder to keep the bow pointing toward the shadowy shoreline. Then you hang tight and let the waves do their work.

No lights come from this part of the island, but with the motor shut off you can hear many of the familiar sounds of the jungle: waves crashing on the beach in rhythmic repetition, trees rustling in the slight breeze blowing off the ocean, raucous bird calls from deep in the forest, the sound of a small stream babbling over a bed of rocks as it spills into the sea.

But there is something else on this calm night, too: the sound of distant singing and chanting, coming from somewhere well across the island. You can only assume this is the native population putting on some kind of celebration. Maybe it's someone's birthday, maybe it's a Bar Mitzvah — it doesn't matter. The important thing is that whatever the event, it is being held a long way from here.

Instead, you focus on that sound of running water. Since in reality you have no idea where you are relative to the island's major landmarks, and you are literally about to run ashore blind, this little stream may prove to be a useful reference point in the morning. After all, you're going to need to park the Zodiac somewhere while you explore the mountain, and if there happens to be a little inlet here that might the perfect hiding spot.

So you tune everything else out and just focus on the sound of the stream, using the oar to steer the Zodiac straight towards it. You can't see much in the starlight, but when you hear the sound of the crashing waves to your right and left you know you have found a gap in the beach. The stream is somewhere straight ahead of you, just a few yards away. You've been keeping your headlamp handy all this time, and now that you think you've found a secluded little nook you decide it's safe to turn on the light. Indeed, you have navigated your way into a short inlet surrounded by jungle vegetation, with the open ocean about twenty yards behind you. Given the circumstances, this seems like a pretty good place to be.

You tie off the bow of the boat to the trunk of an overhanging tree, then you settle back into the Zodiac. The weather looks like it will remain calm tonight, so you decide to remain right where you are all night long, eating a few snacks and then sleeping in the rubbery confines of your small boat.

In the morning, your neck is sore and your legs are stiff after falling asleep inside the Zodiac; there are worse places you could have spent the night, but this inflatable boat was not designed with sleepers in mind. The important thing is that you had no visitors during the course of the night, and all of your belongings are still present and accounted for.

At this early hour, the portion of the sky that you can see through the jungle trees seems pale silver in color. You hoist yourself up onto the round gunwale of the raft-like boat and look for a safe way to step ashore. It looks as though you've found a popular watering hole for the local wildlife, as there are multiple little game trails converging on this inlet. One good path leads down to the beach, so you stroll down toward the ocean with the hopes of getting your bearings.

Beside you is the narrow inlet through which the mouth of the stream flows, and in the other direction is a long stretch of beach extending almost all the way to that headland you passed last night, during your race against the setting sun. The campsite that you passed was near the base of that peninsula; in the daylight, you can see that you put nearly two miles between you and whoever else is camping out down there.

What you were hoping to see, however, is nowhere in sight. The mountains are behind you now, and you would need to be taller than the trees to see in that direction. Getting there is going to be difficult if all you have to navigate with is that Google screen capture printed on a piece of limp copy paper. All you need is a good look at the terrain so you can pick out the best route. Otherwise you'll just be bushwhacking through the jungle in the blind.

There is nothing you can do about that here, though. What matters is that you've successfully made it to Woban Island, and the Stone of Vul-Kar is just a few measly miles away. That two million dollars is as good as yours.

Right?

Hours pass as you climb… something. All you know is that you've been going uphill ever since you left the Zodiac safely concealed under a screen of giant fern fronds back by the inlet. The stone that you seek is located in the ruins of some temple high on a mountaintop, so you've been telling yourself all morning that if you are climbing, then you are heading in the right direction. Unfortunately, you are smart enough not to believe your own lies; you saw enough of these mountains last night from the boat to know there is more than one rugged summit in this range. Sure, you are gaining elevation, but in all likelihood this is just some inconsequential foothill.

For kicks, you tried using your handheld GPS unit earlier in the hike to see if it helped with your navigation problem. It was worth trying, you suppose, but the results were pretty much as expected. Sure, the little palm-sized receiver could lock onto six separate satellite signals and pinpoint your location to within twenty-four feet, or so the graphic on the LCD screen said. But Garmin hasn't updated their maps either, and so when the on-screen topo showed you walking across the Pacific Ocean, you categorized the GPS as being useless as far as Woban Island goes.

On the other hand, you've been following a pretty good trail for most of the way. You had heard rumors that the island was crisscrossed with a robust trail network, and you are happy to have a clear path to follow — wherever this is taking you. The alternative would be to bushwhack your way through the jungle, which grows thickly on these warm and damp slopes; you'd be lucky to cover one mile an hour that way. So, bottom line: trails are good. Let's hope this one doesn't lead you into trouble.

Otherwise the slope is steep and rugged, with rock ledges punctuating your climb as frequently as the word "and" in a run-on sentence. The one small mercy is that you are ascending the mountain's northwestern slope, placing you mostly in the shade from the morning sun, which is ascending to the northeast. That leaves you with only the humidity to deal with.

Then, just before noon, the trees part and you find yourself on a rocky knob covered with shrubs and sparse grasses. After scrambling up a few more rock ledges, you push through a sultry meadow that is fully exposed to the hazy atmosphere. There is no shade, and nothing is damp except for the heat that assaults you.

It would be a highly unpleasant place at this time of day, except for one redeeming feature: this bald summit offers an outstanding view of the rest of the mountain range. The ocean is three miles behind you, and Woban Island's lowlands stretch for a good five miles to the northeast. But just ahead of you, maybe another mile-and-a-half to the southeast, is the highest summit. As you examine it from the top of this peripheral peak, you realize that what you saw last night from the Zodiac must have been some other false summit, because this is completely different. It reminds you a bit of Devils Tower in Wyoming, in that it looks like a column of rock rising unnaturally out of the landscape. There is an object on the mountain's flat top that must almost certainly be man-made. The temple ruins!

You are encouraged that the mountain appears so close, and you give yourself good odds that you can make it to the base of the rock spire with relative ease. The problem is that you have no idea how you're going to scale all that rock once you get there.

That's not something you need to worry about now, however; if somebody built a temple on the summit, then obviously there must be a way up. In the meantime, you pull your notebook out of your pack, flip to a blank page, and begin sketching a map of all that you can see. The sweat on the palm of your hands leaves wet marks all over the paper.

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[User] Next page.

[Assistant]
The next afternoon sees you slowly threading your way through the thick tropical forest, trying not to slip down a steep, wet slope.

You spent the previous night camping high in a mountain pass, where you found a tiny spring emerging from under a mossy rock. The spot was on the fringe of the same type of high-elevation grassland as the bald summit where you had drawn your map, and chances are if you had reached it any earlier in the day the place would have been hot as an oven. But in the evening, when you stumbled across it, your little campsite was cool and pleasant. Your ten-year-old REI backpacking tent was more spacious than the Zodiac had been the first night, and so your first full day on the island ended pleasantly. If the Wobans were throwing themselves another party, you were now too far away to hear it.

It hadn't all been fun and games, though. Yesterday, after you had stopped to sketch the map, your progress had been slowed unexpectedly. Getting down from that grassy bald had been simple, but the next little summit in the ridgeline was steep and cliffy. Going over it was not possible, and you could see no further signs of a trail, so you saw no option but to descend a few hundred feet and find an easier way around this part of the mountain. Regaining all that lost elevation was discouraging, but then you discovered the spring and all was forgiven.

Now, almost a full day later, here you are making your way over the third summit in the chain, and although this one is higher than the other two it has been completely wooded so far. Without a trail to follow, you have been forced to thrash your way through the thick vegetation. There is no graceful way to travel in these conditions, so you have been taking your time.

Although the tower-like main summit is now maybe half a mile away, you can scarcely see it. Actually, you are slowly working your way down toward a large blank spot on your map, where you have little idea what to expect. When you had stopped to sketch your map yesterday, you were able to see a good swath of the island, but not the parts that were concealed by the various mountain summits. It looked like there had been a sizable gap between the third and final peaks, but you had not been able to see what that gap contained. Whatever is there, you're about to be wandering through it in just a matter of minutes.

And so, after another fifteen minutes' worth of scrambling down steep, moss-covered slopes and crawling under fallen trees, the terrain flattens out. You continue forward, marveling that after all that ridiculous toil over the wooded summit, the vegetation is thinning out again here in the broad space between the mountains.

You are tired, dirty, and hungry — as well as intrigued by what is opening up ahead of you. The forest trees thin into scattered shrubs, and once again you are walking across a baking-hot grassland. This one is immensely picturesque, though. It is a high-elevation plateau, broad and mostly flat. The main summit spire rises almost five hundred feet above you, but you have arrived too late in the day to be in its shade. And dotting this tropical prairie are the remains of an ancient complex of buildings.

Various weeds and vines crawl over the cut-stone structures like a riot of snakes. The place is like an archeologist's wet dream, the remains of a civilization that had until recently been completely unknown to modern academia. The artistic and architectural styles on display here seem to be a mishmash of global influences: humble dwellings that resemble scale models of Mayan pyramids, rows of toppled Greek columns, eroded statues that seem to depict a horned cherub, like a satanic Buddha or something. You could spend a year exploring the place — but only if some rich fat cat thought there was something worth collecting here, and was willing to bankroll your expedition.

As impressive as the lost city is, the rocky tower is downright intimidating. How the heck is anyone expected to get up that thing? This is a challenge that is going to require some thought.

Perhaps you should start looking for a place to camp. As awesome as this plateau is, you see no sources of water here, so you'll need to venture back into the woods to search for other options. You decide to look along the northern side of the plateau, where based on experience you expect to find a verdant and moist slope leading down from the highlands. Hopefully you'll stumble across another spring — or better yet, a pool. You could use a good rinse.

So, veering northward, you soon reach the point where the terrain begins to slope downward, and trees once again become larger, albeit sparsely populated. You are wading through ferns, exalting in the fact that you have just spotted a glint of sunlight off a pool of water just ahead of you, at the foot of the hill. The terrain is gentle and open, water seems to be in abundance, and there is a good view of the mountain spire that stands between you and victory. The odds are good you have just found tonight's campsite.

You run like a giddy child to the edge of the pool. You can see right away that it is not a natural pond, but a square-edged reservoir of some kind, yet another artifact from the ancient city. Happily, the water is clear and clean. You bend down to splash its cool goodness over your face.

But what you fail to notice — until it is much too late — is the figure that rises from the ferns just around the corner. It is only when it begins to move forward through the vegetation that you turn and see it — a Woban, with tattooed and deeply tanned skin, a bone necklace, grass skirt, and a long spear. Above all, the most distinctive feature is that eerie third eye that sits directly above the bridge of his nose. You surmise he had been hunting, waiting among the tall ferns for his prey to come, when you bumbled into the scene instead.

"O Manu o Ke Kaua ko'u inoa!" he shouts. "I keia la wau e lilo i kane, aka mua au e ku i ka pa'akiki. Pono e luku au i ka holoholona ae hanai i ka io i ko'u makuakane. E ho'omakaukau ia 'oe iho e make, holoholona!"

"Whoa, hold on, chief!" you say. "We're all friends here."

"E pale ia 'oe iho!"

His speech is fast and clipped. Not a single word makes any sense, but the provocative way he is shouting them at you gives you the general idea that this is a hostile confrontation. The Woban is only about six feet tall — big enough, to be sure, but not one of the seven-foot giants you heard about. Maybe this is an adolescent, trying to prove himself in the world.

"Hey, make nice. Let's be friends."

"E pale ia 'oe iho! 'A'ohe hanohano i ka pepehi 'ana me ka pa'akiki 'ole."

"Look, I haven't the slightest idea what you're saying. Can't—"

Then he does the unexpected thing and tosses his spear at your feet. It is not a gift, because the rage in his voice is still evident, even if the words are unintelligible to you.

"E lawe i ka ihe a kaua mai ia'u!"

Well, you're at an impasse as far as verbal communication goes, but you think you're getting the gist of the body language. The young Woban wants you to fight him, and to make the odds more even he is letting you use his spear. If he assessed that you're not much of a physical threat when matched up against a six-foot Woban, he would be correct. At least with the spear in your hands, you would have a sporting chance.

So you have to make a decision: fight or flight? The Woban is glaring at you, all three eyebrows furrowed in a kind of rage you'll never understand. Eventually he'll charge at you, regardless of what you choose to do. So either you can pick up the spear at your feet and defend yourself, or you can run. With all of the ruined buildings around here, you would have plenty of places to hide — assuming, of course, you can outrun a Woban.

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[User] You get out of here as fast as possible.

[Assistant]
So clearly it's in your best interest not to stay and fight this Woban; you would have nothing to prove by doing so, but everything to lose when you inevitably got your head handed to you. Therefore you need to figure out a way to get out of here. If you just turn and run, all you'd be doing is turning this into a footrace, which you know you'd lose just as surely as you would lose the fight. The only way this will work is if you manage to trip up your opponent in the first few moments.

Fortunately, the young Woban has given you exactly what you need. Without taking your eyes off him, you squat down and reach for the spear at your feet. Then you slowly stand, holding the primitive weapon as if you are still considering how best to use it.

"Maika'i loa!" he says in his incomprehensible language. "Ua koho 'oe e kaua ia'u. I keia la he la maika'i ia e make!"

"That's easy for you to say. All right, let's get this over wi— Ohmygod, what is that!"

It's a trick you've probably been using since kindergarten: fake an expression of surprise, point to some imaginary spot past the Woban's shoulder, and then run in the opposite direction the moment he turns to look.

So far, so good! You've managed to momentarily confuse your opponent, and now you are fleeing for your life. The only way to go is back up the hill, towards all the strange ruins. Knowing your head start is only going to last a matter of seconds, you listen closely for the sound of the Woban pursuing you. He doesn't leave you waiting for long.

"'A'ole hiki ia 'oe ke holo mai o'u aku nei!"

You continue running until he is nearly upon you, and then you fling the spear as hard as you can, aiming for his legs. The shaft gets caught between his knees, and in a shout of frustration he goes down to the ground.

Success! But of course now you are out of tricks, and he has the spear again. The only things you have to work with now are your own speed and the timely appearance of an effective hiding place.

You dash up the hill at your best possible pace, not daring to look back and see where your pursuer is. Your muscles are already tired and your lungs are spent by the time you reach the top, but there is no time to stop and catch your breath. This is not some schoolyard game where you can simply call "time out."

Once again you are on the open plain dotted with the mysterious ruins from the ancient city. Now what are you going to do? Your original thought was to evade the Woban by seeking cover inside one of these ancient structures, but the nearest ones seem rather small. They look like miniature stepped pyramids, scale models of their larger cousins in Guatemala. They have entrances leading into some kind of enclosed space, where you are sure you could take cover. The problem is that these smaller structures are probably just dead ends — only one way in, and only one way out.

Perhaps you could do better than this, though. Up ahead, in the middle of town, is a larger structure, where you might expect more opportunities to evade your pursuer. That's entirely theoretical, however, because you have no way of knowing what you'll find. Whatever it offers, that crumbling stone building is another hundred yards or so ahead of you — a distance across which you'll have to continue sprinting, in plain sight of the Woban.

Think quick! You can hear the Woban behind you, shouting angrily as he sprints up the hill. If you duck into the nearest structure, there is a chance he may not see you. Or you can continue to that larger building and hope for the best when you get there. How does that old saying go — the one about the "bird in hand"?

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[User] You keep running to the large structure and hope for the best.

[Assistant]
Those little pyramids, each with its hideous horned Buddha (or whatever) dancing a ossified dance on top, look too much like death traps to you. "Adventurers check in, but they don't check out," just like the roaches in those old TV commercials. As you run by, you imagine the alternate outcome that might occur if you were to stop: flipped over on your back in the doorway, your arms and legs stuck lifelessly in the air, the Woban's spear planted in your belly like a flagpole, and the Woban himself looking up cannibalistic recipes on Pinterest. No, you don't want to hide here.

Whoever built this forgotten city and lived in these queer structures was also a fan of paved streets, for you are no longer striding across tropical dirt but a narrow lane hardened with cut stone. So much grassy vegetation is growing up through the cracks that you never knew the surface existed until you could feel it beneath your feet. It is lined with crumbling foundations and toppled statues; fallen columns lie across your path like windblown trees.

"Aia 'oe, ka i'a make! 'A'ole e malama keia mau pohaku kahiko ia 'oe!"

Ahh, you'd recognize that voice anywhere, shouting his words of encouragements at you. There is no time to stop and look to see how much distance there is between you, but by the sounds of it you have no more than a hundred feet on your adversary.

"Ua ho'ohaumia 'oe i keia wahi ho'ano! E ho'olo'ihi aku au i kou make i na la he 'umi!"

He sure is a chatty fellow, isn't he? You've never had so much motivation to keep running. The overgrown and cluttered street extends right to that curious building that seems to occupy the center of the ruined city, as if it were some kind of ancient City Hall. It looks like a rectangular block of rock sitting upon a pedestal of steps, with arched doorways all around it, one after the other.

The steps feel crumbly under your feet as you dash up them, as if your boots are pounding the stone into dust. The structure has dozens of entrances, so you see no point in stopping to choose which one to enter. If you linger too long, you'll be within range of the Woban's spear.

So you run into the entrance directly ahead of you, plunging yourself into the darkness. It takes a second for your eyes to adjust, but when they do you can see that you are not inside some small chamber or narrow passageway, as you had expected. The inside of the building is actually one large space, its darkness perforated by the light coming in through the dozens of archways on all four sides. In other words, it's an arcade — and it is providing a grand view of the Woban as he charges up the street, with the intent to inflict death upon you evident in his three-eyed glare.

Well nuts, this place has as many hiding spots as a picnic pavilion. You've wasted too much time, so you have to act fast before the Woban enters the building and finds you. With nothing better to work with, you back up against a section of wall between two of the arched entrances, and then you wait in the shadows.

It is a very short wait, for moments later the Woban dashes into the dark arcade and comes to a stop just a few yards away from you. The only thing concealing you is the shadow you're standing in, so you hold your breath and stand as still as possible. You expect him to make another one of his angry pronouncements, but instead all he does is pound the butt end of his spear shaft on the stone floor, as if in disgust. Then you watch as he continues straight ahead, exiting the building to look for you out among the ruins.

That was a very lucky break! For the moment you feel safe enough to resume breathing again, and considering how hard and fast you just ran you really need to rest for a bit. Remaining in the same shadow that hid you from the Woban, you crouch down and sit on the floor.

And that's when you see it: in the middle of this shadowy arcade, there is an even darker set of stairs leading downward.

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[User] Next page.

[Assistant]
You feel compelled — whether by simple curiosity or the desire to find a secret way out of this place, you're not sure — to get back up and see where those steps lead. They descend from an otherwise nondescript spot at the center of the arcade, a narrow and dark entrance to whatever it is that lurks below. It almost seems like the entire point of this building was to shelter those steps, so it is funny that the Woban didn't consider looking for you down there.

Carefully you make your way down in the darkness. There are no railings to hold onto, and who knows how much rubble there might be waiting to trip you up. For all you know, you're about to walk into a bat cave. You have a headlamp in your backpack, so you stop before you go too far and pull it out.

The little beam of light reveals a chamber that appears to be as long and wide as the arcade above, but with a ceiling so low you can touch it without stretching. The place looks like a warehouse for strange and grotesque stone carvings, including an entire battalion of those horned cherubs you've been seeing all over the place. Some of them still bear patches of pigment, as if they were at one time all painted in vibrant colors that have long since flaked away.

The statues are lined up in rows, with parallel aisles between them; as you explore the chamber for a possible way out, you walk up and down these aisles like a shopper looking for the peanut butter section of a grocery supermarket. You don't see any signs of an alternate exit, but in a far corner of the room you find something else that at once intrigues, sickens, and terrifies you.

She has been lying there for years, it appears, face down on the stone floor with arms and legs sprawled out, and small darts snagged in the moth-eaten clothing. She has long, dyed-blond hair but pitch-black roots, telling you her hair continued growing an inch or two even after she was killed. Although something has been pecking away at her corpse, it is otherwise well preserved in this dark and dry chamber.

After a moment you realize that you recognize who she is: Beatriz Paya-Vallejo, a rival adventurer from the north of Chile. The two of you have crossed paths more than once, in places like Nepal, Mali, and Tunisia. None of your encounters were friendly ones. In most cases you were each working for competing collectors, which meant you were both after the same prize — and in the early years, she was too often the one in possession of whatever valuable object you had been sent to obtain. Because of her, you missed out on a few too many payouts and was almost laughed out of your profession. But also because of Paya-Vallejo, you learned to up your game and become better at what you do.

An olive-green knapsack still hugs her back, bulging with its contents. As the beam from your headlamp glances across it, you briefly see a purple reflection. That's way too strange. Despite your repulsion at the idea of touching a mummified corpse, you can't resist seeing what's inside that military-surplus backpack of hers — and you have a pretty good idea what it is.

You undo the strap that closes the knapsack, and immediately a large object slides out and lands with a thud on the ground. It is a gem of tremendous dimensions, purple and flawlessly faceted. There is only one thing it could possibly be: the Stone of Vul-Kar.

Damn you, Beatriz! You hadn't seen her in several years, nor had you heard any news. The people in your profession sometimes manage to fall off the earth for a few years it seems, only to reappear alive and well at the oddest times and places, much to the consternation of their competitors. You never wasted much time thinking about what Paya-Vallejo might be up to, because as long as she wasn't searching for the same thing you were, her whereabouts didn't matter to you.

But here she is now, dead on Woban Island. And she had found the Vul-Kar gem, too! Had she not fallen to these Woban darts, this would have been yet another victory for her — a win added to the tally in her column, and a loss added to yours.

You pick up the stone and are impressed by its heft. The thing must weigh twenty pounds, at least. No wonder so many people have been coming here to find it! No wonder Diane Chambers is willing to pay you two million dollars to bring it back to her in Boston!

So apparently there is no need to climb to the summit temple after all. Beatriz Paya-Vallejo was already there, and managed to get it this far, but no further. No one but her employer probably knew she was here, and now no one but you knows she had removed the Stone of Vul-Kar from its fabled resting place. Everyone coming to Woban Island has been searching for it in the wrong place.

The gem is so large you have to rearrange the items in your backpack to make room for it — and you know that when you shoulder your pack once more, it is going feel very much like you're toting around a couple bowling balls on top of everything else.

But before you do, there is something you need to consider: above you in the daylight, there is still a Woban who seems hellbent on killing you. Unless you want to end up like your former competitor here, you're going to need to use extreme caution to get out of this ancient city alive. This room seems to be a safe place to remain, since the Woban who was chasing you never thought to look here, and the Stone of Vul-Kar has been hiding here in Paya-Vallejo's knapsack for several years without anyone's knowledge. You could probably remain here until nightfall, and if your Woban friend is still looking for you, it will be easier to sneak by him in the darkness.

On the other hand, it seems equally desirable to get out of here as quickly as possible. Nighttime will arrive on the island in a couple hours, and it would be nice to get as far into the jungle as you can in the remaining daylight.

__________________________________________________

[User] You wait until nighttime.

[Assistant]
For practically two days straight you've been climbing mountains in the tropical heat, bushwhacking through the thick jungle vegetation, and more recently running for your life from a murderous Woban. In a very lucky break you've just now managed to find the Stone of Vul-Kar in an unexpected place, but that doesn't mean you couldn't use a short break. Nightfall is not that far off, and you seem to have the perfect hiding spot. You'd be a fool to run out of this ancient basement too soon.

You do need to conserve the battery life of your headlamp, though. So the first thing you do is find a place to sit far away from Paya-Vallejo's corpse. Thank you, O Beatriz, for finding the Stone of Vul-Kar for me. May you rest in peace and yadda yadda. God bless and Amen. There is a spot next to the stone steps that seems like a suitable place to hang out, with no grinning horned statues and no dried-up bodies. Being close to the stairs means you will be able to hear any sounds of movement above you, should there be any. You settle down and fish out a couple packages of flavored tuna — sun-dried tomatoes and cracked peppercorn. Then you turn off the headlamp and sit in near-absolute darkness.

When you wake up, you have no idea how much time has passed — until you light up your Timex and see that it's a quarter to nine at night. You didn't plan to wait this long to make your escape, and despite the unplanned nap you don't really feel all that rested. Although technically there is no set time you need to be back at the Zodiac, you feel foolish anyway, like someone who missed the alarm clock and is now a couple hours late for work.

Flipping the headlamp back on, you pack up the empty tuna packages and shoulder your heavy backpack once more. A few hours ago, there was a Woban outside wandering the ruins with the single-minded goal of killing you. So much time has passed that you have no idea what to expect. Is he still combing the ruins, looking for some trace of you? Is he hiding, lying in wait for you to show yourself? Did he do the sensible thing and go home for supper?

You can at least take solace in the fact that the arcade at the top of the stairs seems quiet. Slowly, and very carefully, you take the steps one at a time. If it was dark before in the late afternoon, you feel as if you've been swallowed by a shadow now in the nighttime. You don't dare use your headlamp because you have no idea who might be out there watching for you, so you feel your way up each step with your feet. Hearing and touching are your only remaining senses. Five steps, six, seven. On the the seventeenth step, your lead foot finds nothing but a level floor in front of it. That is your only clue that you are back in the arcade.

At first you assume the faint light coming through the arches is moonlight. But then you notice the shadows and glows across the stone floor are like restless spirits, dancing and shifting in an unpredictable pattern. And the light, faint as it is, is a reddish orange, not the pale silver cast of moonlight — and never mind the fact that the moon is in a waning phase this week, not even visible until much later in the morning.

Slowly, and with dread, you make your way toward one of the outer wall of arches. What you see makes your body tingle with a sense of hopelessness and fear: dozens of torches, held by shadowy beings who are systematically searching the ruins of the ancient city, slowly making their way toward the arcade in which you've been hiding.

Now you know how the Woban passed the time while you were asleep: he went home and mustered his fellow villagers as reinforcements.

They have you surrounded. You are doomed.

THE END


[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 jump towards Igor

[Assistant]
What happens next is so quick it's amazing you survive it.

You leap up in the air in an effort to land on Igor before he fires. Frankie is still charging behind you, but that changes when you leap up into the air, because he ends up being underneath you when gains more momentum.

Meanwhile Igor is attempting to lift that heavy arm weapon of his to accurately shoot you. The weight and the recoil makes it difficult and he's not very accurate and begins firing everywhere randomly in your AND Frankie's direction.

You're still airborn heading towards Igor and now Frankie as well who's somehow gotten in front of you due to him being unable to stop himself at this point. This is fortunate since this causes Frankie to block most of the randomly fired bullets with his body. You still take a couple in the leg though.

"OH SHIT! Igor yells as Frankie slams into him and the floor at terrific speed. You don't fair much better since you crash into the back of Frankie which is pretty hard due to the metal plating. It hurts like hell and you crawl off as quickly as possible while Frankie attempts to recover. Igor isn't recovering as quickly; he's bleeding from every orifice and whatever cybernetic parts he had can go to the scrap yard.

You're in great pain and you got some silver bullets in your leg, but you need to act.

[User] You finish off Igor

[Assistant]
You'll never be able to fight Frankie in this condition and in his updated status, you get an idea.

You go over to Igor who pathetically attempts to point his weapon at you. You easily grab his arm weapon and begin to pull the thing out its weakened socket. Blood spurts all over you and Igor finally dies from the loss of it.

"I'm sorry Vic…my brother… (gurgle)" he sputters.
"Hm, that explains his loyalty I guess." You say to yourself.

Frankie's is attempting to recover from his own wounds, but you're not going to give him a chance to do it. You point Igor's arm at Frankie and manipulate the tendons inside.

The gun fires and you blast half of Frankie's head off with a rain of silver bullets. The recoil causes you to fall to the ground and the heat from it burns the fur on your hands.

"Holy shit that was fucking cool." You say impressed.

Frankie's not dead yet though, he tries to get back up, so you just take the weapon and club him in what remains of his head with it until he stays down for good. You then tear him apart to make sure. You stand over Frankie's body parts panting heavily. You can't even give a victory howl. You're too tired. The rest of the pack comes in, somewhat surprised to see you alive.

"You're alive!"
"Of course I'm alive! No thanks to you! Where the hell were you assholes?"
"Um…well we didn't know if we should help since you got mad when we did it last time…"

You can't even argue with them, you're too tired to do even that. You only have the strength to do one more thing…

You head upstairs by yourself, back to the lab Frankie came bursting out of, its empty, but there's another door in the room and you've got the impression that a certain doctor is behind it.

You open the door to a small room with a bunch of big computers hooked up to a brain in a jar…

"Vic, you really are a shitty Mad Scientist, you couldn't even come up with a better way to prolong your life."
"Frankie! Igor! Get in here! NOW!"
'They're dead just like you'll be soon and should've been before."
"Erm…Wolf! Hold on! Come on, I can't do anything to you! Hasn't there been enough killing for one day!?
"Not yet." you say and take Victor's brain out of the jar.

"NOOOOOO…." Is the last thing that comes out of the loud speakers as you crush the brain under your foot.
"NOW there's been enough killing for one day." You say.

Its over. You won, and you fucking hurt like hell. You stagger back downstairs. Where the wolflings look at you expectantly.

"Did you kill him?'
"Yeah, and it was hardly worth the effort." You reply.
"What are we going to do now?" another asks.
"Well I don't know about you, but I'm going back home to rest."
"But aren't you taking us to raise hell somewhere else? We want to do more werewolf stuff!"
"Raise hell? You fuckers made ME do all the damn work! I killed every single member of this fucked up family all by my damn self! As far as I'm concerned I'M the only werewolf here! The rest of you are fucking lapdogs at best! I'm not leading any of you anywhere until you go prove otherwise…no fuck that. I don't want to see ANY of you again! Well except Ginger. You know where I live baby. When you don't want to hang around with these neutered pups, come see me."

Unsurprisingly Ginger comes with you immediately.

You and Ginger get back on your Harley and head home. You're now convinced that you're the last of a dying breed. Today's youth are fucking spoiled. Still, you got to prove that you're still the baddest ass Alpha Wolf this world is ever going to see, and it'll be a long time before the world sees an Alpha Wolf like you again.

That is until Ginger has a litter of cubs…


[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 talk more in depth with Shadow

[Assistant]
Shadow might be fooling the others, but you know he (or she) is up to no good! The next time you're online and see Shadow you access the private feature to request to talk to Shadow directly without the others interfering. You almost expect Shadow to ignore it, but he doesn't and accepts your request.

Shadow21: Yeah, so what do you want and why the need for all the secrecy?
OmegaMan23: I might ask you the same thing. I mean why are you even bothering to come online if you aren't going to speak to anyone?
Shadow21: What business is it of yours what I do?
OmegaMan23: Because it's been like six months and we still don't know shit about you! Hell we don't even know if you're a girl or a guy! You're acting fucking suspicious.
Shadow21: Oh excuse me for being private Mr. fuckin' busybody! Maybe you and the rest like telling all your business, but I don't…as a matter of fact YOU haven't really told anything about yourself either, so you don't have any room to talk motherfucker!
OmegaMan23: What the hell are you talking about? Your brain as dim as your lighting over there? I've talked about myself plenty, shit you've been lurking enough you should've known that.
Shadow21: Ehhh, no not like the others. You tend to still talk about superficial shit. The others talk about their pasts a lot more, while all you seem to do is try to figure out what's going on in all of their shelters, like you're taking notes on them or something. Seems to me YOU'RE the one acting suspicious and you're just getting mad because I'm not volunteering information.
OmegaMan23: Oh fuck no! You are not turning this shit around on me! I'm at least TRYING to be social; all you're doing is fucking spying as far as I'm concerned. You're up to something.
Shadow21: Okay, I think MissKitty was right about you a few months back, you've gone fucking batty from the isolation and paranoia's starting to set in. Shit, you claim the Shelter talks to you.
OmegaMan23: It DOES talk to me! And what isolation? I've been talking to ALL of you fuckers! In fact couple that with talking with the shelter and I'm probably the most social of all of you!
Shadow21: Yeah, you can also add the five other personalities you probably got in your head too, whatever nutjob. I'm done talking with you.
OmegaMan23: Don't you fucking log off, this isn't over!

You slam your fist down on the keyboard when you see that Shadow has indeed logged off.

"Sir, are you okay?" the Shelter asks.
"Yeah, but I know that Shadow motherfucker is up to something, I'm going to warn the others. I just can't believe they don't see it."
"Do you really believe that sir?"
"Of course I do! I mean I got an instinct for this sort of thing, and I know I'm right!"
"Well sir, if you do feel this way I'll certainly accommodate you anyway I can…but might I suggest that you NOT tell the others?"
"Why not?"
"Because they aren't going to believe you sir. You'll just come off as a paranoid nut case."
"But I'm not!"
"I know you're not, but the others don't know you the way I do sir."
"Well that might be, but I have to do it anyway. At least I will have warned them."
"You know best sir."

The next day you go online again, as usual everyone's there, except Shadow. It seems your little talk yesterday has scared him off.

Job24: And now I got water all over the fucking floor! I'm telling you, it's a good thing I managed to shut it off when I did otherwise the entire shelter would've been flooded and I would've drowned!
CaseyJones22: Oh come on, it probably wasn't that bad. You need to relax.
Job24: Easy for you to say pothead, you're not the one living in a deathtrap!
MissKitty25: Yeah, but then most of his Shelter hasn't opened up. Has it?
CaseyJones22: Nah. Doesn't bother me though, I got what I need here.
RockerChickl20: Hey guys, don't you want to see each other yet? I'm really curious, but I don't want to turn on my camera unless everyone else is going to do it!
OmegaMan23: I wouldn't do that, you don't want to be giving Shadow any extra information by letting him see into your Shelters, who knows what the hell what he'll do with it.
RockerChick20: What do you mean?
OmegaMan23: What I mean is, I had an interesting discussion with Shadow yesterday and I've determined he's up to no good.
Job24: What? How do you know this?
OmegaMan23: Jesus Christ isn't it fucking obvious? All he does is lurk on here trying to gather information on all of us! I mean who knows what the fuck he's doing!
CaseyJones22: Will you relax? Maybe the dude's just shy. What could he do with our personal information anyway? I mean, I once accidentally fucked a transvestite while flying on XTC one time. Big fuckin' whoop so everyone knows about it now. You think I give a shit? The old world's dead, and I'm down here smokin' and tokin'.
Job24: Ew. I think you still should've kept that to yourself…so um what was it like?
CaseyJones22: I dunno, I can't remember the details.
OmegaMan23: I'm not talking about your sorted sex lives…(sigh) for fuck's sake did it ever occur to you that maybe he's the fucking cause of your Shelter's troubles? I mean we're all connected to each other to a certain degree, I'm saying he might be hacking shit!
RockerChick20: But for what purpose? I mean why?
OmegaMan23: How the hell should I know? Because he's a sociopath that's why! What reason do most bad people do to do bad things?
Job24: Oh man! Oh man! Oh shit! Oh God! Oh fuck!
CaseyJones22: You're fucking losing it dude, and I'm not talking about Job. There's no proof in what you're saying. I mean don't remember GZS saying these things were slightly experimental, how do you know it just isn't their fuck ups? I'm starting to wonder if you actually do have a "talking Shelter" and it's not just some voice you're hearing your head like MissKitty said a few months back.
MissKitty25: You know I wasn't going to say anything, but I also spoke to Shadow yesterday in private when he requested to talk to me and he was telling me about your conversation with him, saying you were ranting at him first, kind of like how you're ranting now. I'd have to say I agree with him and you're the crazy one.
OmegaMan23: GODDAMN IT! The question of whether I'm crazy or not isn't the fucking issue here! I'm trying to warn all you fucktards of a potential threat here and you're all too fucking stupid to listen!
RockerChick20: You know I thought you were an interesting guy, but now I see the rest are right about you, you are a paranoid nutjob and to think I defended you sometimes.
OmegaMan23: What the…oh you fuckers have been talking about me behind my back? Okay fine, I tried to warn you assholes, but you didn't want to listen. You think about that when one of YOUR Shelter's start fucking up. And for the others who are already experiencing problems, I'd start saying your prayers, because one of these days your Shelter is going to fail completely, then you'll see I'm right. I'm done with all of you.

You log off abruptly and ponder your next move.

[User] You disconnect your network system

[Assistant]
You decide not to take any chances and you start ripping out your network lines.

"What are you doing sir?"
"I'm not going to give that fucker a chance to hack into your systems and fuck up my shit!"
"I assure you sir, even if he attempted to do that, I have been layered with the latest in firewalls and anti-…"
"Look it'll make me feel fucking better! Now how do I disable this main line without needing to chop it in half?"
"Is this what you really want sir?"
"YES!"
"Very well, you'll find a panel behind the desk, open it and you'll find the attachment. Just simply turn a latch and unhook it and you'll be completely isolated like you want. No need to chop up my lines, I wouldn't advise that anyway, you'd likely get electrocuted while they were still connected."
"Thanks."

You follow the Shelter's instructions and feel slightly better.

"Hey there's no way he could still hack you is there?"
"I fail to see how sir, we're no longer connected to the network, not to mention several feet underground. Even if he somehow had a wireless connection he couldn't reach us. Its not like there are any working transmitter towers anymore, let alone any powerful enough to send a signal to penetrate not just yours but his own underground metal Shelter. And as I said I have been equipped with the latest computer system protection…some of it even Military in origin. You may rest assured you are completely safe sir."
"Okay…well I guess I'll go watch Taxi Driver again."

Months pass without incident and you go about your life. Eventually your faint worry about being hacked disappears altogether. You pretty much fall into a routine, which nearly mirrors the one you had in your before Armageddon life. In fact if it wasn't for the Shelter speaking to you on a regular basis you'd probably forget you were living in an underground shelter with the world above you completely destroyed.

About five years pass and even you are starting to get restless. You wake up one day and come to the realization:

You've watched all the movies several times (even the ones you didn't like)

You've read all the books several times (even the ones you didn't like)

You've played all the games several times (even the ones you didn't like)

You've spent hours, even days on end talking with the Shelter, which does house a great wealth of knowledge. It even toned down its overly friendly voice and started addressing you with a normal inflection, but it's not really the same as talking to a real person even if it really tries its best to be.

Perhaps if you had some new items to occupy your time, you wouldn't be so restless.

Perhaps if you could actually leave your immediate surroundings for awhile, you'd be able to cope more.

Perhaps if you could talk with a few real people, you'd then remember why you didn't like talking with them in the first place, so you could go back to your solitude without thinking about it anymore…

Then you remember you could reconnect your network system back in. Maybe you were being overly paranoid. Thinking back now, there really wasn't any indication Shadow was doing anything sinister. You're almost curious to know what's going on with everyone. Maybe Shadow even revealed what gender they were by now!

[User] You reconnect your system

[Assistant]
"Fuck it. I'm not going to live in fear. I need to do this." You say to yourself.
"Do what sir?" the Shelter.
"I'm reconnecting to the network; I need to fucking talk to someone other than you. No offense."
"None taken sir. I must admit I was starting to worry about your mental state. In fact I was going to suggest you do just that, but I thought that it may upset you."

You go into your computer room and reconnect your system. You're a little nervous, you don't know what to expect. You log on for the first time in five years.

RockerChick20: OmegaMan?
OmegaMan23: Yeah it's me.
RockerChick20: We all thought you were dead!
OmegaMan23: Pretty much was for the last year. Walking dead as it were.
MissKitty25: So you still talking to the voices in your head…I mean your Shelter?
OmegaMan23: Well I tend to alternate between the two and they're all still more interesting than you. So much for being civil.
RockerChick20: Oh be nice Miranda! We don't have too many others to talk to anymore, I'm sure Omega's not here to cause trouble again.
OmegaMan23: I wasn't trying to cause trouble the first time…Miranda?
MissKitty25: Yeah while you were gone, we all opened up a lot more and actually learned each other's real names. Guess your paranoia was contagious.
RockerChick20: Hey I wanted us to use the cameras right from the beginning, so I wasn't paranoid! Anyway since you're back, my real name's Becky. What's yours? Oh wait turn on your camera! Everyone's seen each other now!
OmegaMan23: Wait a minute. You said you don't have too many others to talk to anymore, what did you mean?
RockerChick20: Oh. Well that's a bit sad actually. Not too long after you left, Paul or Casey Jones as you probably remembered him, said his food dispensers had failed. He said he couldn't get them to work at all, soon his water dispenser failed too. He couldn't even get his bathroom taps to work. He knew he didn't have much time left after that, so he logged on one last time to tell us all good bye and said he'd spare us the agony of having to speak to him knowing that was slowly dying of starvation and dehydration…I don't really like to think about it.
OmegaMan23: Shit, that's a fucked up way to go. So um, what happened to Job?
MissKitty25: You mean Mark? Don't know exactly, but he stopped logging on about a couple years ago and given that he was on here whenever he could, it's safe to say nothing good happened to him. He did say he was having power problems though the last time he was on, we all figured it was just his usual panicking over minor Shelter glitches, but it might've been serious this time. Of course maybe he's still alive and he's just lost network power and he just can't access us, but for all his stressing, he was a pretty good mechanic and electronics guy, so it seems like he would've fixed the problem by now. Don't know. Kind of glad not to hear him whine anymore though.
OmegaMan23: Alright, I hesitate to ask, but where's Shadow?
RockerChick20: Xavier? About three months after Job disappeared. Miranda told me he sent her a message saying he was leaving his Shelter Said he wasn't going rot in a glorified coffin anymore and was going to take his chances back on the surface.
OmegaMan23: So Shadow was a guy eh? How the hell did he leave his Shelter? There's no way to call the elevator back down!
MissKitty25: Maybe he had a different kind of Shelter set up, or he just climbed up the shaft or something. Who cares? He was an asshole anyway. So is this a temporary visit or do you intend on sticking around?
RockerChick20: You should stick around; it gets kind of lonely with just me and Miranda, if you turn on your camera we could do something together!
MissKitty25: You better not be implying what I think you are Becky, that's just between me and you.
RockerChick20: Well you don't have to join in then, you've been acting like a domineering bitch lately anyway.
MissKitty25: Oh so that's what this is all about? Some guy comes around and you're all ready to fucking drop everything and suck his dick?
RockerChick20: Suck his…what the hell? It's fucking cyber, it doesn't mean anything, it's just a good way to pass the time, plus I'd like to do it with a GUY in some fashion again, seeing as you probably ran Shadow off before anything even happened!
MissKitty25: So MY feelings and all those private chats we had meant nothing to you?! You don't have any feelings for me?! Don't you LOVE me?!
RockerChick20: Well yeah I do to a degree, but I mean come on it's really not the same. I mean maybe it would be different if we could actually touch each other and stuff, but…
MissKitty25: FUCK YOU!

Miranda suddenly logs off, and Becky does likewise leaving you shaking your head at the whole situation.

[User] You disconnect your system again

[Assistant]
Well you've heard enough and you're not putting yourself in the middle of this pointless drama.

"Disconnecting again sir?"
"Hell yes! I just needed to remind myself of the benefits of solitude! I'm gonna go watch Scarface again!"

Well you found your routine to stave off insanity. You retreat into solitude once again without thinking anymore of it, then every so often you reconnect briefly and stir shit up between Becky and Miranda then disconnect again. You don't think about leaving the Shelter (Even if you could) seeing as you've found a way to cope with your situation, and there's always the Shelter itself to talk to which is never as "friendly" to you again for some reason. (Perhaps it disapproves of you acting like a dick)

As the years go by you eventually die of an embarrassing shower accident by getting soap in your eyes and then slipping and cracking your skull on the sink while attempting to reach for a towel.

Detecting your demise, the Shelter powers down.


[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 circle around the village

[Assistant]
Just because he's acting reckless doesn't mean you're going to, you're going to play upon your strengths and keep as far away as you can.

You ride your horse around the outskirts of the village, readying your bow the whole time. When you can, you fire at the Quillar attackers. As quick as they are, they aren't really paying attention to you and you manage to get in some good shots. A couple of head shots even.

At first they don't realize where the all the arrows are coming from, since Wessel is giving them a hard enough time with the chain lightning. You're sort of glad you decided to stay on the outskirts. Wessel is having such a "good time" blasting the Quillars, he's probably causing a lot more collateral damage in the process.

Eventually the Quillars start to retreat. This is when you get into a little more trouble as you happen to be right in the direction of where they're running! They still look scary and they get even moreso as they get closer. The worst has to be their shrieks. It's unpleasant to hear to say the least.

You ride out of the way, but your horse isn't fast enough and is peppered by quills. You catch a few in the leg yourself and you're thrown from the horse as it reels in pain, before collapsing.

Feeling the pain you scramble for cover behind a nearby rock. Fortunately the quills don't penetrate that. Most of them are content on just running away, but one straggler decides to try to get one more kill before leaving. That kill of course happens to be you.

The Quillar makes its high pitch shriek as it runs towards the rock. You don't have time to ready your bow before its high jumped over the rock and on the other side of you. You quickly draw your weapon and swing it blindly as you turn around. Luckily your blade catches the side of its head, killing it. At last you collapse from the pain in your leg.

While you're pulling out quills, Wessel and another Zalan soldier come to meet you. Wessel doesn't look any worse for wear, but the soldier looks very tired and obviously has wounds of his own.

"There you are, lying down on the job I see." Wessel mocks.
"Are you alright?" the other soldier asks.
"Yeah…Agh. I've gotten bitten in the leg by a Kobold before. Feels nearly the same except these quills go in a lot deeper."
"Glad you guys came when you did. We were just doing a routine patrol when these quill bastards came out of nowhere! They're getting bolder and attacking in greater number, we need more reinforcements."
"Yeah, well good luck with that. The Tulan border is the primary concern. Besides I'm here now, I predict that this infestation will be over soon now." Wessel boasts.

"Any…way. My name's Tylir. I'd introduce you to the rest of my squad, but they're all dead now. Even though it was the heat of battle, I couldn't help notice how well you picked off several of those Quillars with one shot. That was pretty impressive."
"Thanks."
"Hey! What about me? I'm the one who noticed you getting attacked in the first place! I'm also the one who saved your ass!" Wessel interrupts again, he's starting to get annoying at this point, but Tylir doesn't seem bothered by him.

"Everyone did their part. Okay, since I'm here I'll take you to see Captain Vhalat, I'm sure that's who you were sent to report to, oh and wizard while your skills may be appreciated here, I'd advise you to cut down on the boasting. Captain Vhalat isn't fond of it, and to be quite honest the other two wizards we had here were more experienced and they still got killed."
"Hmm, well perhaps they lacked the natural skill that I of course possess."

At this point you and Tylir just roll your eyes and get moving.

You travel through a couple of other villages and it's pretty depressing. You see stacks of bodies being buried in mass graves while most of other Retlad citizens look thoroughly defeated. A few look in your direction, but don't look too much, it's like they don't really expect you to succeed. Not exactly inspiring.

Soon you arrive in the town of Glaf. It would appear that the Zalan contingency sent here is staying in one of the bigger Retlad towns rather than the capitol. Ryan also says that the Quillar infestation is worse around here too, so the captain suspects that whatever lair they're crawling out of is nearby and can hopefully located and cleansed.

The town itself resembles a small Zalan fort rather than a proper Retlad town, as a sturdy wall has been erected around it. The people seem to look a little more hopeful though. Tylir goes on to say that he thinks that the Retlad citizens are actually starting to prefer Zalan presence especially since their on government has been pretty ineffectual about the whole invasion. The Retlad army has only focused on defending the capitol. The Retlad royals appear to find their lives more important than anyone else's.

Eventually you're brought before Captain Vahlat himself. He looks up from the map he's inspecting and addresses you and Wessel.

"Ah, I see the Empire has seen fit to send me reinforcements…wow, twice as many as I thought I'd get. Private Tylir where's the rest of your squad?"
"Um…dead sir."
"Of course. (sigh) So what's your problem private? Why is your leg wrapped up?" Vahlat asks you.
"Got into a fight with the Quillars sir." You answer.
"Oh?"

Tylir at this point interrupts and tells of what happened. Wessel looks like he wants to expand upon his deeds, but Vahlat's appearance is a little imposing and he was already warned once, so he keeps his mouth shut. Vahlat soon addresses you again.

"Well it would seem you two have already proven yourselves useful. A lot more useful that what passes for the Retlad army, but of course that isn't hard. Wizard, I certainly hope you don't intend to use this place as a chance to show off all the skills you learned in your fancy Nuro college. One of your predecessors did that as well, and as you can see he's no longer here. As for you, I hope that you can do a better job of keeping out of the way of the quills next time. Most don't get a second chance. Alright that's all for now. Our group is being housed for free at the Inn down the street. Free food as well, but don't go overboard, its being rationed. You want more food or anything else you'll have to pay like everyone else. I suggest though that you don't do any heavy carousing. This is a high alert situation and we could be going to battle at anytime. Dismissed."

You, Wessel and Tylir all leave at this point. Tylir goes on to show you where the Inn is and a couple of other places, but after today you just want to rest and retire to your room early. You rest your leg and begin practicing your lute. This puts you in better spirits.

6 months pass…

The Quillar invasion has nearly been eradicated. Most of the major lairs have been located and cleansed and you certainly contributed greatly to this effort. Besides your combat abilities, your tracking skills definitely came in handy a lot.

You've become somewhat recognized among Retlad citizens due to your actions and the lives you've saved. The word "hero" has been used a few times though you definitely don't think of yourself as one. In your free time you spoke with the citizens, a lot more than your fellow soldiers though. A few of them even convinced you to play for them when they noticed your lute. It took a little prodding, but eventually you gave in fully expecting to get booed, but to your surprise, you got applauded instead. Your playing didn't just boost your spirits it seemed. Whenever you could you played a little bit for people in what little free time you had. Never did you think that you'd be playing for any kind of audience, let alone an appreciative one.

It definitely hasn't been all sunshine though; you've seen a lot of people die. More than you ever wanted to actually. You'd made friends with Tylir shortly after your first meeting and he died only a couple months later. You'll be glad when every one of these Quillar creatures are all dead though, all they've done is cause misery.

You've got them on the run now though. You're preparing for an attack on another one of their lairs, when Captain Vahlat calls everyone to see him, he doesn't look enthusiastic about whatever it is he has to tell you.

"All right I'll be brief. As much as I hate leaving a mission unfinished, we're getting pulled out of here effective immediately. Major news is that Nuro has undergone a fucking disaster that needs to be put down like yesterday! All governments friendly to the City State of Nuro that can spare the manpower are to send help. We would be one of those. I hope the Retlad army is just competent enough to finish up what we started in their own country."

Wessel immediately pipes up upon hearing about this revelation.

"What happened in Nuro? What's going on?!"
"What's going on? From what I've been told a whole bunch of your kind raised a shitload of undead and unleashed a bunch of hostile demons on the place! The entire city was overrun. Reports are already stating that small packs of demons are running around the nearby countryside. Most likely in the direction of the Tulan Kingdom. Not sure what that means with our border war with them, but I only see it getting bloodier around there. In any case, our job is to head to Nuro, before the undead start following suit. I hope you're all ready for this, because this is going to be a lot different that fighting Quillars."

You look around and see a lot of fear wash over faces and rightly so. Necromancers have a bad history on your world. When you were little you still remember hearing the tales of the Great Lich Lord that existed centuries before you were even born. He almost took over the world. Those stories gave you nightmares as a kid. The possibility of having to face something remotely similar even on much smaller scale doesn't make you feel too well.

[User] You desert the army

[Assistant]
You don't want to die and you know if you go, you will. You regret that you won't be able to help your family out financially anymore, but you really don't want to die.

You pack up all your stuff in the middle of the night and sneak away from the town your company is stationed in. You figure their orders are urgent enough that your desertion won't immediately cause a full scale hunt, at least not by them.

The first order of business is to change your identity as much as you can. And head to a place where you can play for an audience, but the probability of someone ratting you out is low if you're recognized.

The question though is where to go. You can't linger in the Retlad Kingdom too long, in fact you'll probably have to move around.

You decide your first stop will be at the Garwold Confederacy. It's a relatively peaceful nation made up mostly of Halflings and Gnomes, with lush green fields and flowers. They tend to stay out of wars and they're also known to appreciate the simpler things in life.

Eventually you make a place for yourself there in one of the small villages. You make a living playing at the local tavern there. Most of the patrons sense that you have some sort of past that you're trying to hide from. But just like you thought, they don't bring it up or say anything about it and just enjoy your music.

A few months pass and you're happy. You even meet a pretty Halfling girl to be with, and now you're even thinking about just settling down here, since nobody's come looking for you; however there are alarming events occurring in the rest of the world.

The assault on Nuro was a complete failure. Everyone was killed from your company. It makes you glad you didn't go, but the fact that there is now an undead city state has everyone worried. It doesn't help that there was also an outbreak of demons. One particularly nasty one called Velzix has conquered the Tulan Kingdom.

Due to these events a Grand Alliance of nations has been created to stop these threats. The Garwold Confederacy normally stays out of such things, but they have agreed to send a militia as part of the aiding effort.

You don't worry too much about it at first, but as a couple more years go on, the war gets worse and more and more Zalan Empire troops are passing through the area. Normally you'd move on, but now you're married and you can't bear to abandon yet another one you love. You still haven't completely forgiven yourself for the first time.

You attempt to keep a low profile, but one day a Grand Alliance solider passing through, sees you in a tavern and recognizes you. Apparently he's a citizen of Retlad and remembers you when you were stationed there.

"HEY! I know you! Man, it's good to see ya! How did you get out of the army? I thought the Zalan Empire had a twenty year requirement plan! You still play that lute really well?" he bellows for all inside to hear. Unfortunately one of the other Grand Alliance members with him is from the Zalan Empire who's a real stickler for rules and regulations.
"I know who you are too! You're wanted for desertion! I'm placing you under arrest!"

You try to escape, but you don't get far. You haven't been keeping up on your physical training since you deserted, and coupled with your Halfling wife's rich cooking you're not in great shape anymore. The Zalan soldier on the other hand has been battle hardened in the recent months. He easily catches you and beats you into submission.

You're taken back to the Zalan Empire in chains much to the protest of your wife, but its no use, you're going to trial.

Your family is made aware of your discovery, but none of them come to try to help you. You abandoned them long ago and didn't even try to contact them; as far as they're concerned you died years ago. You attempt to explain things in letters to them, but you're never answered. Eventually you give up.

The trial is brief and the judgment final. You're sentenced to death as an example of all those who would attempt to desert their duty during war.

As you sit in your cell counting the days for your hanging, you find out from sad visits from your wife that things are getting really bad. Dead armies conquering kingdoms, demons running amok. You almost wonder if your execution isn't a blessing from the horror that seems to be eclipsing the world.

The day comes when the noose is placed around your neck…

"Any last words?"

You have none; you just hum a little tune and close your eyes before the trapdoor swings open, and your neck snaps.


[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 let her eat her raw meat

[Assistant]
You watch as Rose continues eating her hare flesh.

"I like your ring," you say, not knowing what else to say.

"Thanks," the girl replies. "I made it myself."

"Do you mind if I ask a question?" you ask, as the girl smiles.

"That's a question," she says.

"I mean, like another question," you say.

"Sure."

"Why aren't you wearing clothes?"

The girl looks down at her naked body, seemingly only noticing it for the first time.

"Oh," she says, blushing. "Um... I don't know. I don't have any clothes."


[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 be a musician

[Assistant]
This is all you've ever wanted. Just play music. You'll be able to do it now for all eternity if possible. You'd be a fool to turn down such a chance.

"Lord Rostov, I wish to play music."

Lord Rostov smiles at your response.

"Ah yes, I was hoping you'd chose the way of the artiste rather than the warrior. Your talents will be better served here. In the meantime you will be shown to your new room. Ladies, I think you two should escort our new bard. Don't have too much fun, you've got a performance tomorrow!"

You are escorted by a couple of female vampires to your room. They say their names are Glasya and Natasha. They seem to make a fuss over you on your way there which you don't find completely unwelcome, but you're still getting used to the whole idea that you're a vampire just like one of them now, despite also being excited over getting to play music on a steady basis with no hindrances.

The two vampiresses get even friendlier with you when you get to the room. Natasha begins to take a more aggressive stance and kisses you as the pair of you get on the bed. As the two of you are undressing, Natasha who is on top of you nods to Glasya who leaves the room.

Ten minutes later as you're fully engaged in physical pleasure, Glasya enters the room again with what looks to be a captive human girl. She doesn't look very old either. Probably a teenager. Her mouth is gagged so she can't scream out properly.

"Wha…what's all this?"
"Shhhh, your passage to true vampirehood…" the Natasha says continuing to grind into you.

The human girl is dragged over to the bed with fear and tears in her eyes the whole time. Glasya draws out a blade and holds it to her throat.

"Would you like me to cut now or would you prefer I prolong the fear? Perhaps remove her gag first so that you may hear her screams? Or maybe you'd even like to sink your teeth into her yourself?" Glasya asks and licks the side of the young girl's face.
"What? Shit! No wait!" you say stopping Natasha, and sitting up. "I thought we were just having some fun here! Not killing young girls!"
"Why do the two need to be mutually exclusive? Broodling, you have been favored by Lord Rostov, I suggest you count yourself lucky and get with the program…besides you're one of us now, you will need to feed on blood to survive." Glasya says with a frown.

You look at the girl and you shake you head briefly realizing what else it means to be a vampire.

"Alright, alright, I got it. But can't I like feed on animals first and uh work my way up or something?"
"Squeamish broodling! You will take the blood of this girl or Lord Rostov will hear of this weakness! While he may be impressed with your music abilities, he will not tolerate weaklings!" Glasya continues to scold.
"Besides, why do you care whether this…mortal lives or dies now? You do not know her and you are now superior to her in everyway. It's your right…" Natasha says while kissing on your body."

You don't really have any choice in the matter. You almost curse yourself for getting yourself into this situation. You stay silent for awhile and then speak.

"Very well. Slit her throat, but do it quickly." You say.
"(Sigh) Very well." Glasya replies disappointedly.

The young girl's throat is slashed and blood sprays over you and Natasha who greedily opens her mouth to catch it. Glaysa tosses the girl's dying body onto your chest and begins to undress as well to join you and Natasha in this blood feast.

The night is definitely long, memorable and decadent. A little piece of you has "died" namely the vestiges of morality.

A few months pass and you don't even hesitate anymore. You enjoy the blood as well as your playing for Lord Rostov's court.

A year passes and you've become completely oblivious to the worsening of the "outside world". (Which you don't even think about since you're so rapped up in your own pleasures) Each day the Necromancer Lord and Velzix get stronger and you stopped worrying about your family's future. You don't even write to them anymore. You've become so corrupted in such a short amount of time its actually amazing.

Another year passes and you're basically a hedonist. This is what Lord Rostov's "secret fortress" is all about for the most part. Sure there's discussion on what should be done about the outside problems, but pleasures of the flesh and blood are mainly the orders of the night. You don't even realize it, but you ARE literally a "leech" now. All vampires have ever done is leech off of the mortal world. Sure there are the "active ones" but there are far more hedonists. Ironic that the ones who choose to be professional killers, assassins or "heroes" tend to still retain more of their mortalhood.

Lord Rostov eventually mentions in passing that he's finally come up with a perfect plan to kill the Necromancer Lord. He's managed to come to some sort of deal with that old outcast The Ghoul King to betray him sometime in the near future. The goal is to lure the Necromancer Lord to the fortress itself and kill him directly.

Again you could really care less, and you've become little more than just another hedonist in Lord Rostov's court. Lord Rostov has it all figured out, you don't need to worry. You're safe in this little "world."

A few months pass and the plan swings into action. One night while you're playing for the court as usual a loud noise is heard in the foyer and the sounds of shouting and crashing is heard. Lord Rostov takes a few of his concubines and tell everyone else to stay put, though everyone is a little curious. Even you.

You go back to playing a little bit and things are starting to return to their "original state" since everyone figures Lord Rostov has the matter well in hand.

Soon another noise is heard which sounds like the shrieking and screaming of multiple people.

"AAAAAARRRGH!"
"LORD ROSTOV! NO!"
"GET HIM!"
"KILL THE NECROMANCER!"

Everyone for once goes into a battle mode to rush to Lord Rostov's aid. A deformed and ugly creature runs into you, while you're trying to wrap your mind around this chaos.

"Get outta my way broodling! He's gonna kill us all! I've fucked up…heh, but at least the rest of you fuckers are going to die!" he growls at you while desperately looking for a place to hide.

You don't know what to do, but suddenly you feel a presence overcome you. Like someone is controlling your mind. This isn't even like Lord Rostov, its even more powerful and its growing stronger…

You continue to hear the screams of vampires as you can't help but approach the way to the slaughter. You see vampires killing each other in the hallway! How is this possible? But you know why, it's HIM…

The Necromancer…or whatever he is now has managed to enforce his will even over vampires. You see him in the distance. He's not even dirtying his hands killing all of you himself. You can feel his loathing for your kind and then you're completely pulled into his domination.

"And now little blood leech you shall join your brethren…" you hear him whisper in your mind.

Another vampire suddenly punches you in the back of the head. You attempt to get up, but then feel a foot to the face followed by a sword going through your back. At this point you feel a something you haven't felt in a long time, fear.

Then your head is ripped off in the ensuing bloodbath. Later after total victory has been achieved, the Great Lich Lord burns your body along with the rest of the truly dead vampires.


[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 apply The Poison First, Then Cut At The Vines

[Assistant]
You aren't sure if you will be able to completely sever the vines that hold you, but if you can at least cut into them, the poison should do the rest.  Unfortunately, it is stored in your pack which is a little difficult to reach right now, but that isn't going to stop you from trying now is it?  You pull your right hand back and the vine that holds it pulls back.  Somehow, you think it might realize you are trying to get something and it seeks to keep your arm out front.  You continue to pull against it with all your might but you reach a stalemate with the vine just getting your arm to your side.

The venom is starting to really kick in now.  In addition to being nausious you are now dizzying as well.  The only thing keeping you going is your sheer determination to live.  You bite and claw at the vine, you squirm, you fight, and eventually you get your arm back to your pack.  You are feeling light headed and you know you don't have much time.  You manage to get the vile of venom out of your backpack but in your situation that struggle took too much time and energy.  You no longer have the energy and wherewithall to apply it.  You black out and the vile falls uselessly to the ground.  You don't know what they did after that, because you never woke up again.

THE END


[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 stay where you are...

[Assistant]
You take a seat inside the coffee shop and the taxi drives away. You wonder what it could have wanted, and why you are suddenly seeing so much attention. As you look around the shop, a fellow typing on his old laptop looks up at you and glares at you before putting his nose back in the machine, the old keys clicking away as he types.

There is little traffic in and out of the coffee shop today, and you wonder when that tow truck will show up. Sometimes you think those tow truck drivers are on their own times and really don't want to help you out. Then you start to think about how much the tow is going to cost and you realize you really need to buy two tires now: one to replace the flat and another to replace the spare that you haven't had time to replace. This is really going to cost you.

[User] You continue...

[Assistant]
The barista at the coffee shop glares at you since you have been there for some time and have not ordered any coffee. Yes, there are plenty of empty seats around, but that barista clearly doesn't want any freeloaders in the shop.

Fortunately for you, about that time the tow truck shows up. The diesel engine clatters and clanks as the bright orange lights spin on the top of the truck. The middle-aged man with the stained white t-shirt steps around to your car and quickly hooks it up to the flatbed of the truck. You head over towards him, but he gestures you back without a word. You ask if you can at least ride in the truck, but he spits on the ground near you and says, "Company Policy." He climbs back into the truck and drives away, your car sitting firmly on his truck.

You look around the sudden silence and realize that now you're stuck in town with no car and no life. Then you realize that you're not even quite sure where the tow truck took your car. Just then there is a sudden boom of thunder and it starts raining. The rain is cold, so you turn up your collar and start walking home. At least you get to go to work again in a couple days...


[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] No

[Assistant]
Honesty always was the best policy.  You tell the wolf you are on a quest to kill the Craxil then raise your sword defensively expecting him to attack.  Instead, the creature looks you over and accuses you of dishonesty.

"You honestly expect me to believe a scrawny kid like you was chosen to slay a being like the Craxil?"

"I made it this far didn't I?"

The wolf looks taken back by this comment and you tell him all about the plan to use poison, how you outmaneuvered the humunculi, the beholder's riddle... everything.  The creature takes a few steps closer to you and his bright red eyes are bearing deeply into your own.  You've never been more scared in your life than you are right now, but it seems the wolf has decided you are telling the truth.

"There is truth in your eyes, a certainty I haven't seen in quite some time.  Lots of fear though.  Odds are you are going to fail but hey, its your life to waste right?"

"Well thank you for trusting my allegiance then.  Why don't you tell me what the heck you are, starting with how the hell you can talk."

The wolf turns back around, front legs spread in an aggressive position.  "I never said I trusted you, you are going to have to prove yourself."

"But..."

"You claim you came from the village.  What is this village called?"

[User] You jacqueshit

[Assistant]
WRONG!

The massive wolf knocks you to the ground and rips your throat out with its teeth.  A terrible way to die to be sure.

THE END


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

[User] You go with Bill to Adairville

[Assistant] Parting from the others you and Bill make your way to Adairville where you spend several days drinking in saloons and generally having a fun time. The fun ends abruptly one night when Bill gets into a drunken argument with someone and boasts that he is friends with Jesse James. Lawmen quickly arrive on the scene and before Bill knows what is happening he is under arrest. You are standing by the bar at the time a few feet from a side door and as lawmen advance on you with pistols in their hands you consider making a break for it, though it could be dangerous.

[User] You try escaping out a side door

[Assistant] As the lawmen approach you suddenly make dart to the right, throw the door open and rush through. As the lawmen shout out you run down the alley outside, make it to a horse and mount up. You ride hard out of town and don't stop riding for 24 hours until you make it back to the safety of the Hite Farm: there you learn that Bill has been imprisoned for several years for his role in the Muscle Shoals payroll robbery but he has refused to name his companions. Soon after you arrive at the Hite Farm Jesse and Wood show up with their brothers Frank and Clarence Hite in tow, recruits for Jesse's latest plans.


[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 out the front door

[Assistant]
You decide now is a good opportunity to leave and that the woods are too dangerous so you sneak back inside, into the foyer, and out the front door. Once out you decided to run off as fast as you can after exiting the house.  You run, run some more and keep running, you never stop to look back to see if Martin  is following you. After maybe an hour your legs simply don't have the energy and you collapse on someone's yard. Luckily the owner is home and when they see you on the ground they quickly call the police. When cops get there you explain who you are and they rush you to a local hospital, with full police and FBI protection of course.

 At the hospital, you are checked to see if you have physical wounds or emotional trauma. Physically you are fine, mentally you're a little out of it, not surprising after what you've through, after a few days you are sent back to your home Los Angeles. The police try find Martin or Jeanette, but  you were in such a rush when you ran out that you can't retrace your steps from where you were found. You never looked back at the house when you escaped that you have no idea what it looks like, let alone the street you were on.

The only info the FBI have to go on is their first names, it takes a while to comb through the hundreds of Martins in Destiny Hill but eventually they figure out which one kidnapped you. It turns out his last name is LaRosa, he owned a theater and has a little sister with terminal cancer. This process takes about a week and by the time the FBI arrive at the house it is long abandoned. They also find out who Jeanette is, turns out her last name is Richards and lives in an apartment, which has also been abandoned. Soon they are put on FBI's most wanted but they are never found.

As for your career, you become a bit withdrawn and it is a very long time before you have meet and greet or anything that involves directly interacting with the fans. At future concerts you have a few more guards around. People notice all of this and you face some criticism, however just as many people defend you considering what you went through, rumors of your kidnapping being a publicity stunt die down, although the occasional internet troll mentions it. In several years things return to the way they were before, and incident just becomes a chapter of your long career.


[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 find Ruby

[Assistant]
You were really hoping to find Ruby in order to ask her more about the situation with you and Owen. Not in a bad way or anything, but with the powers she had mentioned you had. You didn't know how open she would be about the information that you wanted, but it wouldn't hurt to try and ask her.

"We're going to go look for Ruby, look out for her." You tell Owen.

"Ah Hah! I knew you two couldn't be without one another, on it captain, I'll keep an eye out for your missing lover."

This irked you more than it should off but you brushed it to the side for now. Ruby had mentioned before that she had a lot of friends and wanted to try to enjoy her senior year as much as possible. Even though she was in your grade you didn't see her at all, since you had no classes with her and you didn't know what she did for lunch.

You thought about texting her but for some reason decided against it, so you just started to wander around campus in order to find her before lunch ended.

Checking the cafeteria, library, hallways of some school buildings, and the general courtyard where everyone ate outside, you still couldn't find her even with Owen's help.

"Man, did you make her mad or something? Your girlfriend really is trying to avoid you it seems like."

Ignoring what he said, you give a sigh."I don't think we'll find her in time anyway before the bell rings, I'm just going to get something to eat from the cafeteria before lunch ends."

"Meh, I wouldn't. The food today seemed kind of bad from what I saw when we were in there."

"Don't care, I'm hungry." You reply, as you quickly walk to the cafeteria before it closes.


[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 concentrate on getting all the money you can

[Assistant]
You ignore the fleeing man and begin scooping all the loose change you can find on the counter into a sack but Bob runs after him, stands in the back door of the bank and fires a shot at the fleeing man. Coming back inside the bank he slams the door. As he does you can hear shots outside and suddenly Cole's voice yelling "Hurry up, they've given the alarm!" "God damn you, open the safe," Jesse barks at the teller on the floor and fires his pistol at the floor next to the man's head.

You and Bob quickly scoop all the loose notes you can find off the counter while Frank and Jesse continue to threaten the fallen teller who bravely refuses to help them in any way. Dozens of gunshots are ringing out on the streets outside now and again you hear Cole's voice shouting "They're killing our men! Get out here!" "Fuck you," Jesse snarls, hitting the teller in the face again with his gun and then he and Bob give up and run out of the bank. As you are about to follow them you notice Frank massaging his wounded arm and eyeing the teller. "We should kill that son of a bitch," Frank says to you.