[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 say "How capable are your men?"

[Assistant] "They're tough. We've fought many times before. Most of us can wield bolters, though a few just end up using them as clubs to fight with their claws. A few can operate bigger weapons, and a few can only wield clubs and such. They follow orders, though. They show no fear, feel no pain, lose no battle. They'll take as much firepower as the enemy can give, even without armor."


[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 fire a jet of flames

[Assistant] You fire a jet of flames out, engulfing a pair of Dancing Blades. Unfortunately, this has the side-effect of illuminating the room, and now being able to see, the Troupe strikes. Immediately, three of them are upon you. You fly out of the way of one and set the second alight, before the third leaps at you. You back out of their way, avoiding a sword blow, before you're stabbed through the back, and you collapse to your knees, before a blow takes your head off.


[System] 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 prepare for the final war

[Assistant]
You're not going to waste time on a possibility that doesn't even have any proof behind it. There is no knowledge of land west of the ocean and there just isn't time to mobilize a half cocked plan to evacuate people who might die a slower death on the open sea anyway. Better to stay and fight.

You continue organizing your forces and mobilizing them in the best way that you'll think that they will be the most effective.

Year 566

As you lie on your deathbed weakened by your own physical frailties the war with the Xi still carries on and not in the Empire's favor.

You struggled as best you could, but it just wasn't enough. The Xi are indeed a relentless force that even you cannot stop. Quala has completely fallen. Rask has been cut off, you have no idea if it's been overrun as well, but it hardly matters by this point. Your last report states that possibly within a year or even six months the Xi will completely overrun Nalin.

Anyone who was remotely close to you is gone. David was taken by natural causes, Sightmaster Crowley in battle, even Jennifer was killed along with her entire family by a surprise Xi attack on Dalt.

You believe there were some last ditch efforts of escape via ships. Some have successfully done so, but it's hard to imagine where they will go. Makes you wonder if setting up an escape plan might've been a better idea to at least save some people to possibly keep the Empire alive, but you dismiss such thoughts.

No, you are the last of a dying Empire. The old one and now this one. When you die, it will die with you.

Your only regret is that you didn't decide to face death in battle when you at least still had the strength to do so. Your body hurts so much right now that you almost wish the Xi were here just to put you out of your misery.

Eventually your pain comes to a quiet end when you manage to drift into unconsciousness and finally death.

And just as you believed, the Empire follows you in death soon after, though perhaps not quite as quietly.


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

[User] You ride ahead

[Assistant]
Though it takes more than a month you manage to make the long and difficult journey to Sutter's Fort in California, crossing the Sierra Nevada Mountains along the way. William McCutchen and Charles Stanton prove to be good company though by the time you reach Johnson's Ranch, the first outpost of civilization in California, McCutchen has come down with a fever. It is not life-threatening but he needs to rest.

At Sutter's Fort Captain Sutter is glad to provide you with seven mules and provisions (accounts will be settled when the Donner Party arrives) and even loans you and Stanton two Indians called Luis and Salvador to help you guide the mules back to the Donner Party. Stanton plans to leave in a few days but McCutchen is no better and you wonder if it might not be better if you stay with him. On the other hand the Donner Party are still out there somewhere and doubtless struggling too.

What do you do?


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

[User] You offer your gas

[Assistant] "Gas," you say. "You can have it. Just leave us enough to get out. You can take the rest." The man doesn't even consider it. "Look around you, stupid. Do you see a single functioning car?" You look around. "NO!" the man yells. "We don't have 'em 'cause we don't need 'em. If you don't start making me a good offer, I'm just gonna have to start taking without asking first."


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

[User] Continue

[Assistant]
It seems Oswen had been trying to unjam a door that leads to one of the station's storage arms, in much the same way Hinsman had gotten you all into the central complex earlier. It was her misfortune that upon receiving a jolt from a maintenance tool the door had snapped shut, meaning it had been open to begin with.

There's enough juice left to get it back to where it was and you carefully retrieve the severed limb on the other side, slipping it into a biohazard bag. Taking a moment to confirm with Hinsman there's nothing he can do as far as reattaching it, you consider your options for disposal. An incinerator would the most straightforward, but those require an amount of energy that seems wasteful if not impossible to produce given the station's current reliance on emergency backup power for life support.

You remember then the walk in freezer in the kitchen behind the dining hall. At least that would keep it from rotting if it takes longer that expected to get the power on full. The room isn't able to maintain freezing temps anymore but it's still noticeably colder than the rest of the station, and the rest of the station is cold enough. Placing the bagged arm on a shelf, you halt a moment as your gaze fixes on the two bundled forms in the back. So you weren't the first one to have the idea to use the place as an impromptu morgue. These must be the bodies of the other two maintenance workers, Inea and Markov.

[User] You go finish cleaning

[Assistant]
You come across no shortage of corpses in your line of work and so you have little curiosity about these two, morbid or otherwise. When Matti awakens, Hinsman will question her about the deaths, but aside from some practical knowledge in the area no one here is exactly a forensics expert. That'll be the job of the team the Order will dispatch to deal with the situation out here.

You exit the freezer, pausing to grab a mop from a corner of the kitchen and fill up a bucket. Returning to where you'd found Matti, you go to work. The blood has begun to dry and it's obvious this will take awhile so you clear out your mind and focus on the task.

[User] Back to the nursing station

[Assistant]
Matti is asleep. Hinsman is seated at a table near the bed, freshly showered and changed into a grey jumpsuit identical to yours and looking exhausted. Karoff is nowhere to be seen.

"He's back on the ship seeing how much power we can spare," Hinsman tells you, before you can ask. "This medical station's about the only thing working as intended in this place right now. We need to at least get the computers up before we can figure out what all needs to be repaired and how. It'd be really great if we had a maintenance worker familiar with the place to talk to, but..." He inclines his head toward the young woman's supine form and shrugs. The end of what's left of her arm is neatly wrapped in bandages, but her face looks pale and strained even in her sleep and her eyes twitch restlessly behind her lids.

There doesn't seem to be anything you're able to help with here, so you start to head back to the ship to find Karoff and wind up meeting up with him in the arm of the docking bay. He's got a hovering platform loaded with equipment next to him and is attaching a power node to a panel.

"Oh, there you are Zee, perfect. I need you to distribute the rest of these EPNs around the central complex." He gestures at the platform. "I'll come along behind you in a bit and rig them up."

The EPNs--external power nodes--can be linked in to bypass dead or damaged areas in the regular power system. It's likely some trial and error will be needed but you doubt it will take more than a couple of hours if all he cares about is the main section and the docking bay. The other seven arms of the station can just stay sealed off until a proper repair team comes in.

You return to the central area of the station and begin setting down the EPNs near accessible panels and in a short while you've covered the perimeter and begin making your way back. All is quiet until just as you pass a narrow hallway you hear a voice. "Zani, get inside!"

You whirl, activating the short range laser weapon you always have with you. The voice had been a woman's, sounding frantic and seeming to come from close by. But you see nothing. You shine your light down the hallway you'd just passed, revealing a row of half a dozen closed doors on each side.

[User] You search the hallway

[Assistant]
You want to verify there's a threat before you call anyone else in. Even though you're not suited up at the moment you feel pretty confident in your ability to handle a few trespassers anyhow so there's no point in risking the others if they prove hostile.

You ghost down the dark hall opening doors one by one and shining your flashlight around. The rooms all appear to be crew quarters and although you search any place anyone could hide, they're all empty and only three show any recent signs of usage.

Retreating back to the entrance the hall, you widen the scope of your search, but after another half hour are forced to admit to yourself there's no one here after all. This wouldn't be the first time you've had...hallucinations in the past. Or whatever the technical term would be for you. They have to get pretty bad before they impair your ability to work, but the woman's voice had seemed so close and chillingly real. You'll have to keep aware of the possibility of it happening again now. If it gets worse, you know you'll have to report it, but for now you're just glad you didn't drag anyone else down here for no reason.

You return to the crew quarters to look once again at the rooms the current maintenance crew were occupying, although more out of curiosity about them than any expectation you'll locate your phantom voices. The walls of Matti's room are covered in projected images of performers and celebrities...you recognize many of them from the media Karoff downloaded from Camarov.

Inea's room contains images of a family, presumably hers, and several empty bottles that indicate she had a minor pill habit. Nothing illegal enough for you to care about--even less so now that she's dead--and most of them are expired anyhow and you suspect taken from the station's abandoned medical arm.

Markov's room is somewhat grubby with dirty clothes tossed carelessly around. Your eyes are drawn to his desk immediately as the only uncluttered spot in the room. After a moment you realize that's because his personal computer is gone. Every other room, even the empty ones, had one of the devices built into the desk surface.

[User] You search for the missing computer

[Assistant]
The crew quarters aren't large. If the computer is in here there's only so many places it can be, and a methodical sweep of the room, closet and bathroom finally turns it up--slid into a pair of brackets fitted to the underside of the nightstand drawer. Just as you slide it out, the lights flicker on. Karoff's triumphant voice sounds over the intercom, followed a moment later by Hinsman congratulating him.

You however have your attention glued to the activated screen. It's still an Order-issued computer so your wrist chip was able to get you in, and what you're looking at is intriguing. Four days before Markov triggered the explosion that took his life--and nearly took out an infinitely more valuable outpost--he started sending and receiving a series of encrypted messages on a private frequency.

What it all means or if it's even related to his actions at all you can't say just yet, but it's obviously something to look into. You take the computer with you return to where you left the hover platform. The main computer room Karoff's working in now is quite close so you take a detour to speak to him.

[User] You frequencies

[Assistant]
"Interesting. What was he up too, I wonder?" Karoff peers at the coded messages thoughtfully. "The main computer should be able to unencrypt these though. We'll just leave it hooked up here and let it do its thing. The damage report for the station is almost done compiling anyhow."

"How bad is it?"

He spins in his chair to face a new screen, chewing on a dirty thumbnail. "Hmm, let's see. This would indicate The Last Outpost is...yup, it's damaged all right. And needs repairs. From people who are not us."

"So nothing immediate needs attending to? There's nothing wrong that would put you or Hinsman in danger if you waited here a few days?"

"Well, unsealing some of the station's arms would be pretty fatal. They took the brunt of Matti's hack rerouting job and a couple lost atmosphere. The old medical wing itself is in real bad shape obviously, that's where Markov set off the first explosion. But all we really need is life support and power here and in the docking bay. We don't really have enough power for the rest of the station anyway as long as we're siphoning from the ship. I'll go and seal anything unnecessary off in a bit and then we don't even need to worry about leaving them with life support."

Good. That means you can leave here and continue carrying out your orders just as soon as this mess with the dead workers is sorted out.

"By the way, Hinsman is going to try waking Oswen up for a little while and then wanted us there afterwards to sort of put our heads together on how to handle all this," Karoff adds, nearly reading your mind.

You step toward the door. "I'll go now."

"Eh, what's the rush? But I'll be there after I finish a couple things. We're all just gonna sit around till the relief team arrives either way."

"I could go and take care of my mission while the two of you wait. Hinsman suggested that earlier, remember?"

Karoff snorts and shakes his head slowly as he turns his attention back to his screen. "Don't you ever get tired of working so hard?"

You're a little take aback by the question. "No?"

[User] You matti's Story

[Assistant]
Matti Oswen is awake and speaking with Hinsman already when you enter. They pause and look up at the soft whoosh of the door, but you take up position in an unobtrusive spot next to it and stay quiet till they resume the conversation. Oswen's words are hardly above a whisper. Her face is drawn and she's clearly in pain. Hinsman in his usual way is breezily taking her mind off things while leading her along to a series of key questions and not making it obvious that's what he's doing.

"...I don't know what happened to Inea exactly. She was just replacing some conduits in the old medical wing...standard stuff, it's got to be done every four years even in the areas no one uses anymore. Something fell and hit her on the head, he told me. But Markov was in shock, or something like it so he never really went into detail. He hardly left his room for two days, and after that he..." she swallows hard and then continues at his gentle prompting. "I mean, it never seemed that they were like, close close, but they'd worked together a long time, and I can't think of any other reason he'd do what he did."

"Was a report sent in about Inea's death?"

She nods. "We sent one, yes. Markov filled in the details of course, since I wasn't there."

Hinsman looks at her intently a moment, then begins asking her some simple questions about their routines around the station, listening patiently to her answers before coming back around to Markov. "So when did you first realize what he was doing?"

"Like I said, I'd barely seen him in two days. That wasn't unusual even when there were three of us if we happened to be working on different areas of the station, but I was worried enough about how he was taking things I even went and knocked on his door once. He wouldn't answer. Although that day that...everything happened he turned the intercom on a couple of times."

"What did he say?"

"Well...nothing. I could hear him breathing and got the idea he was about to say something, but then it would cut out. I was definitely on edge by that time and not sleeping well, but I kept telling myself a team would be here soon, they'd pick up Inea's body and station someone else here and surely they'd notice what a wreck Mark was and do something to h-help." She has to stop a moment, and draws a shuddering breath.

"And then what happened?"

I was taking a break in the main computer room...I'd decided to sit in a VR film actually, to take my mind off things. Then all of a sudden a bunch of alerts started sounding."

Something crawls along your arm and you brush it away. An ant or something is your immediate assumption. A strong fragrance of freshly cut grass lingers in your nostrils.

"Look at the birds, Mommy!"

"Zani, get inside!"

With the interference of the audio hallucinations you come back to yourself. An insect of any kind would be highly unlikely to have hitchhiked this far, and the scent of grass is not something you're certain you've even encountered enough to readily identify. Not to mention your sense of smell is rudimentary at best.

Oswen has been describing how she counteracted Markov's attempt to destroy the station. "It's almost funny, covering that exact scenario was one of the last things we did in training before they sent me out here. And it just hadn't really sunk in even then that he would really do something like that intentionally. But it worked just like they said it would."

Touching your arm, you vividly remember the tickling, crawling sensation and look carefully at your clothes and the floor. There is no ant.

You shake your head to banish these distractions and refocus. You don't want to miss anything important.

"There was a critical overload there in the medical arm where Mark had started the chain reaction, but I was able to redirect the worst of the rest into the arms next to it, so the blown generators were the only damage to the central complex."

"And when did you recover Markov's body?"

"Well he wasn't dead yet, is the thing. The emergency shields were still holding in that section and the computer showed a life sign so I put on a breathing mask and went to try and drag him out."

"That was risky."

She gives another shaky laugh as she recalls the events. "The anti-grav was already down, and I had to cross this section where the wall and floor was just...gone, so I was terrified the shields would collapse and blow me right out into space. And then when I got to him he was covered in blood, almost unrecognizable. He was trying to unlock a cabinet but his hands were all torn up. There was broken glass and like, shrapnel, all in his skin. Some of it looked deep. And...the most difficult thing was he just wasn't himself." Her expression darkens. "He'd completely lost it, really. He screamed at me to get away and struggled and fought me. I ended up slashing open my arm on a big piece of bloody glass--"

She falls silent a moment as her gaze drops to the bandaged stub. "Well. I guess that doesn't matter now, huh?"

Hinsman murmurs something sympathetic and she continues. "And then he just straight up tried to kill me. Grabbed for my throat, and I kicked him and...I don't know exactly, we got separated and I was trying to orient myself because I was panicking and, you know, the gravity. And then he was just dead. I wasn't really thinking at that point, I hauled him back to the central complex, I was thinking something could be done, like the nursing AI would help or he could be put in cryo or something, you know, like in the VRs...but then of course once we reached Central the gravity kicked back in and I couldn't move him anymore, plus I was bleeding all over everything. I made sure nothing else was going to explode and then went to treat my arm, and brought a platform to lift him later. I moved Inea's body then too...to, to the dining hall freezer." She sounds momentarily embarrassed and lowers her voice for that, as if she thinks the New Terra health department might overhear and swoop in and shut the place down. "Since the power was out completely in that section and we still had it on low in parts of Central."

Matti stops herself and winces. "I mean...not we. It was just me at that point. The most useless person around so of course I survived."

"You handled all of that as well as anyone could have and I think better than most," Hinsman reassures her. "The rescue attempt is probably more than I would've tried, and you had no way of realizing then how far gone he was."

"I just can't figure it out, why he would..." Matti trails off and shifts on the bed, closing her eyes and wincing. "I'm just so tired."

"Get some rest. You've been a great help and I think you've explained most of what I could think to ask."

"Why were you sealing off the door to the storage wing?" This time the question comes from you. Hinsman gives you an irritated look at the interruption. Perhaps your tone was too blunt for his liking, but it really is something that had seemed odd to when you were cleaning up.

"Oh. Well I knew all of you would be boarding soon, so I thought I should try to pull myself together and...you know, do my job for once. The power would be easier to get back on in the central complex if all the arms could be sealed off, and the storage wing door was jammed open."

You nod but say nothing.

Matti rests her head weakly against the pillows. "I should've just stayed there with my ice cream. I could really go for some now anyway, damn..."

"I'll heat up some dinner for you soon, from our ship," Hinsman promises. "I don't know about ice cream, we don't travel quite that luxurious, but we may have something that can pass as dessert around."

"Thanks," she gives him a wan smile and leans her head back against her pillow, her blonde hair spread out on the pillow to frame her strained face like a halo.

"Zee, let's go outside. I've been needing to talk to you and Karoff...where is he, anyway?"

You'd already turned to exit with Hinsman stepping out into the hall behind you when you both spot the pilot coming down the hall.

"Perfect," Hinsman says.

"I know I am." Karoff replies with a wink. "But did I miss anything important?"

[User] You inference

[Assistant]
"Miss Oswen gave me enough details on the cause of the damage to start writing a report, at least, but some things still don't sit right with me. Even if Inea's death made him suicidal I still don't understand Markov's motivation for trying to take out the entire station, for one..."

"He had the space crazies!"

"...I can't put that in a report. But unfortunately Oswen had very little contact with him following Inea's death. And we don't even really know what happened to Inea herself other than Zee's examination indicating blunt force trauma to the head."

"Ah, about that." Karoff fishes something out of his pocket and taps a button. "Relevant?"

A 3D image of an energy canister is projected into the air in front of you all. You recognize the type; the larger energy cells can be volatile, so the canisters are made with half an inch of steel and an interior enamel coating for protection. This one is about the size of a fire extinguisher, which is typical.

What's not typical about this one however is the is the dried blood and long strands of dark hair caught up on the outside of the sealing mechanism.

"Where the hell did you find that?" Hinsman wants to know.

"In the storage arm where Miss Oswen lost hers. There are a lot of spent canisters piled up in there, and I was looking for more power cables just now and stumbled across this one."

Hinsman's brow is deeply furrowed as he studies the projection. "That is just suspicious as hell. Has anyone had a look at the body yet?"

You and Karoff both shake your heads, and as Matti had just mentioned where they were stored, the three of you make your way to the dining hall.

The two bodies are on gurneys, zipped up in body bags in the back of the freezer. You open the bag holding the smaller form, ignoring Karoff's inquiries as to whether letting restaurant kitchens rent freezer space to morgues could be a viable alternate source of income.

Upon examination the dark haired woman's cause of death is immediately obvious, her skull on the left side having been caved in just above and behind the ear.

"Not a glancing blow, either. There's no way that happens from a spent fuel canister falling on someone's head. Not even a full one."

After a long moment he sighs and steps back. "All right, let's go over what facts we have. About a week ago, Inea Banca was doing routine maintenance in the medical wing and had her skull caved in with an energy canister. Markov Karst then goes into seclusion for two days, at the end of which he goes to the medical wing and attempts to cause a power overload that will destroy the station; a major act of treason against the Order that will render a number of Outer Rim colony worlds and ships unable to receive emergency aid and also kill the young woman who remains here. A bit dramatic even for a suicide attempt, but I suppose not outside the realm of possibility. When it fails he become violent when Oswen attempts a rescue and dies moments after. Miss Oswen sends out a distress call that doesn't seem to have gone through due to the failing power and waits here alone until we happen by. Does that all sound about right?"

You mull that over while he and Karoff discuss the details a bit longer.

"I'm sure there's more investigating we can do," Hinsman is saying. "The medical arm, for instance. That's where everything happened."

Karoff shakes his head. "Atmosphere and shielding has failed and there are holes blown straight through the plating. It'd be too much a risk just to satisfy our curiosity, even for Zee."

"Fair. It doesn't feel right to just sit around and wait on another team, though. We need to get together as much info as possible. It might be useful to read over the personnel reports again, and...oh! There's the report they sent in on Inea's death." Hinsman glances over at you. "And what about you, Zee? Let's see that sharp analytical brain in action."

"My brain's not any sharper than yours I'm afraid. And too bad, some kind of AI to analyze things might be more what you need right now." But you've been following a particular train of thought, and at his prompting you decide to give it voice. "But they didn't fill out a death report on Inea Banca. I don't know why Oswen claimed that. Banca was still listed as alive in their database when Karoff pulled up her file, right before we boarded. So in fact, I believe that..."

[User] You say "Matti killed Inea and then Markov to cover her tracks."

[Assistant]
"What?" Hinsman seems taken aback. "Where are you getting that from?"

Karoff scratches his head. "Uh, Zee, I know that was my original theory, but I'm not so sure now. Markov did try to blow up the station."

"Do we have any proof of that? Or of anything Oswen has claimed?" You wait. When neither is able to give a satisfactory answer, you continue. "It's a possibility we have to consider, at least. All we really know is that Banca and Carst are dead and that someone damaged the station in a way that made most of the evidence inaccessible. And that Oswen tried to seal off the entire the entire wing containing the murder weapon right after we arrived."

A couple of times while you were speaking Hinsman looked ready to interrupt, and now he cuts in as you pause, raking his fingers through his dark hair. "Zee, you can't seriously...urgh, I guess you're always serious. But Matti isn't a killer."

"How can you be sure of that?"

"Because dammit. I can tell when people are lying. Matti's not like that."

The force of his protest surprises you. "Can people tell when you lie to them?"

That at least gets a short laugh. "No," he admits. "But I've had a couple more decades practice don't forget. You can trust me on this one though, Zee. That little girl's not some cold blooded killer."

You frown. "I'm not denying you're better at reading people than I am. But at least one murder occurred and serious damage was done to a vital Order refueling station. You know I'm not saying anything anyone at HQ won't bring up. We need to look at real evidence, and for now all we have is one person's word for it."

"We're not qualified for this legal crap," Karoff complains.

"It's the Outer Rim, buddy, we make our own law," Hinsman replies. "Hell, nobody should've ever gone out this far at all."

"Well now you just sound like a dirty anti-frontierist. But my point is that according to their files, Inea and Matti are both from Camerov IV. Pop them both in cryo and aim them at the planet. They can sort out the murder and if Matti turns out to have done any of the damage to the station she'll be right there and handy to retrieve."

Hinsman laughs at that. "You make it sound like we're such good friends with the Camerovs. They'd just love us dumping her off and then swooping in to grab her again I bet."

"Yeah well I've got a dozen fusion torpedoes that say they won't complain too hard."

"Jesus Christ, I'm definitely not getting a bonus this year if I let you start a war. Anyway, everything else aside, Matti's lost a ton of blood and is pretty weak still. A cryo pod would be too much of a risk."

"If there's anything to Zee's theory, she could be a risk to us, keep in mind."

"Yeah, I realize that." Hinsman looks unhappy enough that you almost hope that you're wrong. You've been slowly losing your mind lately anyway, what's one bad theory?

"Well...we can check for the report," Karoff offers. "The one on Banca. Maybe it wasn't ever finalized and sent but we'll see if we can verify at least that much of her story. And if it exists it may have more details."

Hinsman nods. "All right, let's do that."

[User] You interference

[Assistant]
"I can absolutely, definitely, factually say with complete certainty , all serious, and not the slightest hesitation..." Karoff twists in his seat to regard Hinsman as he speaks. "...that the report on Inea Banca's death does not exist."

"Are you serious? Are you sure?"

"Hinsman, I don't feel like you heard me. Absolutely, definitely--"

"All right enough. Dammit. Did you check to make sure it didn't get caught in the buffer? Maybe it's still trying to send. The power hasn't been back on for long."

"There weren't any problems with the power at the time the report would've been made. That was before Markov pulled his stunt," you point out.

"Just check," he tells Karoff.

"Checking, and...nothing. Wait." He pauses and frowns. "Well none of these are the report, but it looks like a batch of personal letters Inea tried to send a day before her death never went through either."

"What do they say?"

"Hinsman!" Karoff gives a mock gasp and assumes a scandalized tone. "They're personal letters!" He's already pulling the first one up, and you catch a brief glimpse of Banca's smiling face at the beginning of a video before he switches to the readout and scrolls rapidly past pages of text asking how various people, children and pets are, some jokes about a co-worker having a crush on her and discussion of a new VR film.

"All pretty standard inane family garbage," Karoff says in helpful summary.

Hinsman frowns. "Well, make sure they don't get lost. I'm sure the family will think more of them than you do, considering. But why didn't it send? Were they isolated from the network before the power went out? How would that happen?"

"I'll tell you in exchange for a colorful parrot and a bottle of rum."

"You think so?"

"Oh, I know so, now. You see..." Karoff twists the screen so Hinsman can see it. You shuffle around behind him to get a look too.

"That's the same encryption the messages on Markov's computer used," you say.

"Right. Because it would appear that someone...can't imagine who...installed a little something to communicate with a probe somewhere. The probe in turn has been intercepting any outgoing messages, as of at least one day before Banca's murder. They're getting a little fancier with their methods but cutting communication before an attack is the classic technique."

"So, we have pirates coming this way? Well damn. If they started out right after everything went down they'd be about right on top of us too if they went into underspace from any of the neighboring stars." He considers that a moment and then shrugs. "But there's three of us and what, maybe a couple dozen of them? We've all fought with worse odds. We can hold them off till help arrives."

"Oh, but precious, naive little Hinsman, it's worse than you think. The probe has been intercepting all outgoing signals. There won't be any help arriving for Miss Oswen or for the station or ourselves, because no one knows we need it. Also, don't forget shielding and all defenses are down."

"Shit."

There is an encouraging beep just then and all eyes turn to Markov's computer.

"Well it's not the blueprints for an anti-pirate device so don't get excited or anything," Karoff says, picking up the device and activating the screen. "And it's not even finished yet, that was just the first run. Still, might be enough to give us a better idea of what the situation is."

[User] You markov's Secret

[Assistant]
Most of the text Karoff scrolls past is gibberish, but a few of the messages are partially deciphered. Even these prove frustrating however as even the ones where you can make out sentences are delicately phrased with deliberate obliqueness. But as the messages near the end, they suddenly start dropping the pretense.

"Ah, here we go. Well that's right to the point, isn't it?"

You peer over Karoff's shoulder at the screen.

^ou've al%ead^ killed ove% this. It's too late to back out now. ^ou can take ^ou% mone^ o% a hole th%ough the skull--we'%e coming fo% the package eithe% way, so ^ou'd do well to think twice befo%e ^ou do anything ^ou'll %eg%et.

As to ^ou% question, it ain't nothing but sweet %evenge, Ma%kie bab^. The^ tu%ned us back du%ing the evacuations. We couldn't 'p%ove' we we%en't infected and what we%e we to them but a bunch of shitkicking fa%mers and %anchers? Well we didn't have Hunge% but we got hung%^ ENOUGH limping a%ound the %im to find a new home and plent^ of us died of infection all %ight--just plain o%dina%y bo%ing Old Ea%th influenza that could've been cu%ed if we'd had even the most p%imitive aid. My wife and daughte% among them.

The o%ganization ^ou wo%k fo% has blood on its hands, and don't even think it stops the%e. A lot of ou% people ma^ have gotten complacent once the^ %esettled, all this talk of 'moving on', but that's just not fo% me and m^ f%iends. We won't fo%get and we won't allow them too eithe%. And I've made man^ mo%e f%iends %ecentl^. We'%e getting ou% %evenge, and I think ^ou know exactly how.

See ^a soon, Ma%k.

--W. Ho%seman

"So we've definitely got pirates coming this way." Hinsman says with a rueful shake of his head. "Or terrorists, anyway. Even better, right? And so much for your theory on Matti, Zee."

"Any theories on what the package is?" you ask after a moment's silence.

"Carst is from Galton Station, isn't he?" Karoff asks. "I think I saw it in his file. I've been there once or twice, and don't ask for what. But they all but advertise they're a black market."

Hinsman nods, looking grim. "Most likely blueprints for illegal weapons tech, or an ethics-stripped AI. Something small Carst could easily smuggle back over here the last time he was on leave. And something valuable and risky enough he'd kill anybody who got in his way."

Karoff taps around on the screen some more. "Too bad he didn't survive," he finally says with a sigh. "Because I'd sure like to kill him myself right now. Scans found the probe by the way. Way out there on the edge of the system."

"Oh really? That's something at least. Although it'll take time to get to and disable, and I'm not sure we can spare that right now. We need to start thinking of how to defend ourselves."

"The sooner we get a distress call out the sooner we can put an end to all this," Karoff says. "We're nothing but a target right now, with the defenses down and if there's enough of them they can wear us down eventually without much risk to themselves."

"Can the defenses be repaired?"

Karoff winces. "I was afraid you were gonna ask that. And technically yes, but it's a big job. The turrets are in every arm of the station and we'll need to get power to all of them, which means cutting back here in the central area."

They both sink into a grim silence for a bit, before Hinsman finally looks over. "All right Zee, I guess you get the tiebreaker. What are you most in the mood for right now?"

[User] You take out the probe

[Assistant]
With no time to delay or hesitate, you're moving toward the docking bay within moments of making your decision while Karoff hurries along behind you and hits you with a barrage of rapid-fire instructions and advice for piloting one of the ship's shuttles.

"Whatever you do, don't get it blown up!"

"I'll try my best."

The voices of your companions soon fade as you ease the shuttle out into the silence of space, aiming for the emptiest and coldest edge of the system and the coordinates Karoff pinpointed. You blink in and out of underspace a couple of times the way he showed you, or else the trip would take days. Risky in a populated or debris-filled system for someone without much training, but there's nothing much to worry about colliding with out here.

The probe is right where it's supposed to be. It'd be possible to target with a missile now, but your initial scan indicates it might be rather unusual in design. Retrieving it intact might lead to clues about its maker, certainly the sort of person the Order would want to shut down...or recruit.

[User] You retrieve it.

[Assistant] You ease the shuttle closer, and closer still. The viewscreen isn't needed to get a visual on the probe now; you can just look out the window. It's small, but the slender segmented form puts you in mind of a wasp, with a pair of satellites making up the 'wings'. The design is sleek and something about it worries you. The longer you look at it the more you get the sense it's dangerous somehow. But that's just all the more reason to take it out of commission.

[User] You bring it on board.

[Assistant]
The shuttle has a pair of grappling claws for specimen retrieval which you now deploy. Moving with utmost care so as not to nudge your target and send it spinning off into space, you grip the probe and draw it into the cargo hold.

The hold door slides shut, and the grappling claws fold themselves back into place. Glancing at the probe on the viewscreen, you see a red light blink on. Before you can even wonder what that means an explosion rips through the vessel, splitting the belly of it wide open and spilling you along with the rest of its contents out into the space. You tumble among the shattered remains of what used to be the shuttle, and the last thing you think before you're vaporized by the detonating power core of the underspace drive is that Karoff will not be happy.


[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 say "Protect the King!"

[Assistant]
"Protect the King!"

You cry, and several weary Housecarls bound into action, following your lead. You sprint towards him.

He half turns towards you, and flashes one of his charismatic bright smiles.

The single arrow that flies through the air surprises you more than Harold. Curving gently, it hisses downward and slams into his eye. He lets out a startled cough and staggers backward.

You keep running towards your king, but a Norman rider canters in front of you, blocking your way.

Turning his horse neatly, the Norman swings his blade and opens your King's throat, spraying blood.

Harold falls to the ground, dead.

You falter indecisively, filled with wordless horror and remorse.


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

[User] You invite Johnny in

[Assistant]
What the hell, you weren't doing anything important with your time and you were thinking about making the first move yourself earlier today.

"Johnny, could you hold on one moment?" you ask.
"Um, okay." He replies.

You close the door again and hastily clean up your room a bit just so you don't have your underwear just lying around, let alone your vibrator. Feeling that your room and yourself are presentable, you open the door.

"Come on in Johnny." You say.
"Wait, you're inviting me into your room? Are you sure?" Johnny asks a bit surprised.
"Well if we're going to get to know each other better to see if we've got potential, then I'd rather do it in here one on one rather than out there with drunks possibly butting into our conversation. Besides, if I leave this room, its very well possible people will wander in and have sex in it."

Johnny chuckles a bit at your remark as he walks in.

"Well I suppose all that's true, but…"

You make your first move by putting your arms around Johnny's shoulders and kissing Johnny squarely on the lips. He's really surprised. To be quite honest, you're a little surprised at yourself as well since you aren't usually the forward type, but maybe Julie's party spirit has gotten a hold of you a little bit along with wanting to put more distance between yourself and any more lingering feelings you might have for Bobby.

Besides, you get the impression for all his praising and stalkerish behavior; Johnny would still be too shy to make the first move.

Johnny's reaction says that your instinct about that was entirely correct.

He pulls away fairly quickly after you're finished, he blushes a bit and then gives you a weird stare.

"What? I thought we were going to get to know each other." You say.
"I…I don't think I'm ready for this." Johnny remarks and starts backing away.
"Wait, hold on. We weren't going to have sex! We don't even have to kiss anymore, I was just…"

Before you can even finish, Johnny's already run out the door.

"Great, Suzy. Some seductress you are. (Sigh)" you say to yourself and close your door.

In any case, you go back to your laptop to help shut yourself out from the real world again. which wouldn't be that bad, but Johnny just flat out running away from you doesn't exactly put you in that great of a mood. You got dumped by a murderer and now you've run off a stalker. What does that say about you?

Oh well at least things with batteries don't judge.

A couple hours later you get another knock on the door.

"Yes?" you ask.
"Suzy, it's me Johnny. I need to talk."

You're not exactly sure if this is going to be a good idea, but you decide to at least hear him out.

"(Sigh) Hold on." You say and get up to open the door. Johnny stands before you wearing a jacket and looking slightly more disheveled from the last time.

"Well? Are you coming in, I don't feel like keeping the door open for all the partying assholes to peer into." You ask.

Johnny enters the room and you shut the door and walk back to your sofa.

"Suzy, I just want to apologize. I've been thinking about this long and hard and I realize that I did the wrong thing." Johnny says pacing back and forth, rubbing his hands through hair.
"Well, maybe I did come on a little strong. I suppose if the roles had been reversed I would've run away as well."
"No, stop talking I need to get all this out. What I'm trying to say is that I obviously have wasted my time and that I shouldn't have pursued you. I guess I just built you up in my head so much that I…dunno…I always do this…fuck! Shit! WHY!?!" Johnny says and hits himself in the head a couple times. He's starting to worry you.

"Hey Johnny, you don't need to…"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP WHORE!" Johnny screams and before you even can react he's already run up and physically assaulted you. You try to scream out, but punches you your face and another tight grip around your throat prevent that from happening. The loud music from the party and indifference of the shallow partiers from any potential noise you could've made probably would've been lost to those two factors anyway.

When you're nearly unconscious and so dazed that you can no longer fight back, Johnny ceases his punches and reaches for something inside his jacket.

"This is going to be quick, because even though you're a whore like the rest…I still like you." Johnny whispers. "I…really wish this could've worked out…you were so beautiful…"

Your last feeling is the blade of a sharp knife slitting your throat.


[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 do nothing

[Assistant]
You stand, watching the building burn with a few uneasy soldiers and sobbing civilians being kept from entering the building for fear of their brutal death.`Thankfully, the baby's cries only last another few minutes as smoke spreads throughout the house. Once it ceases, Captain Darruk nods.

"Alright, everyone. Back to work. Continue searching."

You search the next few houses, but the populace is either dead or cowering, allowing for you to find a few small weapons stockpiles. Eventually, you finish up and find an empty house to sleep in. Captain Darruk assigns a few Orcs on guard, but thankfully you're not one of them.

[User] You rest

[Assistant]
You awaken a few hours later, lying in a bed. You've woken up again.

You lie in the silence, trying to fall back to sleep. Then, you hear a window shatter. You look around, and struggle to get up. You draw your knife slowly. You look around, before a fist smashes into the side of your head, knocking you backwards. You try to scream, before you feel the cold steel of a blade on your throat. You look up, to see a short Elven sword being held by a tall elf.

"Say your prayers, Orc." He says.

[User] You lunge at him

[Assistant] You lunge forward, grabbing his wrist and flinging the sword away. You grab his head and bring your knife up, repeatedly stabbing him through the eye. Another Elf runs forward and slashes your chest open, and you smash his head across the room, and fling him repeatedly against a wall unless his body's shattered. You slash another Elf's throat open, before the Elves surround you. You roar as every single Elf begins slashing at you. Blood begins down to streak down your chest as thousands of cuts and slashes open all over your body. You only last a few seconds of brutal pain before you collapse on the floor.


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

[User] You take the regular potions

[Assistant]
Hopefully, you won't have to stay invisible for long because you're not going to risk the experimental.

"I'll just take several of the regular ones." You say.
"Okay…but I'm not giving you ten! I'll give you three and that should be more than enough and I still think it's a bad idea to drink so many right after each other, so don't blame me if you get sick." Yvette says.
"Three?! But...(sigh) fine. So when can you get them for me?"
"I'll get it for you tomorrow when I come back from work. You don't need it sooner I hope."
"Nah, he still needs to organize some shit on his end. You know how these government types are with their hurry up and wait shit. Chances are, it's going to be a sudden thing that I'm going to have to drop everything I'm working on at the time. I just want to have the potions when I do need them."

As it turns out, you don't have to wait too long and Franklins is pretty efficient in that regard. He informs you that from what he heard, Reynolds protested very loudly about his son and the ogre being arrested and has already claimed that he is going to make sure heads are going to roll for this slander and injustice. Franklins tells you his name predictably came up in the blame game, so he wants you to go get that container before Reynolds starts acting on his threats.

You gather up some extra supplies from work. Ned isn't really going to notice and the guy is practically on the verge of willing you his place of business when he dies anyway. Even when you say you need one of the special magic lock breakers he hardly bats an eye and just tells you to be careful with it since they're very hard to acquire, let alone make.

Later that week when you finally have everything you need and feel prepared, you tell Yvette that you're going to be working a little late on this paper pusher's security since this is the moment.

You linger around in the neighborhood where Mr. Reynolds maintains his place of business. In the old days you might have been a little concerned about getting mugged in the area or running afoul of some sort of thugs while you wait, but things are lot more cleaned up without the Crimson Talons around and the militia keeping on top of things. Probably just as well that you gave up your profession when you did…so to speak.

Eventually Mr. Reynolds' place of business closes down for the day and unfortunately just as you figured he doesn't leave. Probably has a whole living area to himself in the building, which means more caution is going to be needed on your part while you search for a safe because you're going in totally dry.

You decide to do this the old fashioned way and stealthily break in and only use the potions if you get into trouble. You only have three and they don't last very long after all.

One thing you wish is there that there was a back door to the place, but you looked around earlier for one and no luck. Not even a window, or least not one you could easily climb up to. As the streets become less populated, you head to the front door and work on the lock. It's actually not difficult and you're in pretty quickly.

You have to put yourself back in that calm mentality when you used to do this before, but it's a lot more difficult because there are so many things that could go wrong. That's not even counting that this guy is a half fucking demon. Who knows what sort of powers he really has?

You do your best to press forward and just get on with it. You're just glad you had the forethought to go to the bathroom before you did this.

You sneak about his office first, hoping that maybe he keeps a safe in here, but so far all you're finding is locked drawers with papers and not much else. You do find a fancy looking pistol under his desk. Its way nicer than the one you have at home and has multiple barrels, (You sort of wish you brought it with you) probably a custom job. You figure since you're here stealing shit anyway, you take it.

You eventually finish going through everything you can in the office area and that's when you realize you're going to have to search Mr. Reynolds' living quarters.

You give yourself a few moments to mentally prepare yourself and then head through a door where you see some stairs going up and down. You forgot that there might be a cellar to this place. Hoping that the safe might be down there, you decide to try it first.

The cellar isn't cluttered like you'd think it would be. In fact there isn't much here at all other than a few tables and chair. Though it looks like there are also some shackles and several what could only be torture instruments down here. For deadbeats and others that get on Reynolds' bad side no doubt.

Just as you're about to give up, and resign yourself to searching in the demon's inner sanctum, you spot a small hidden door in the floor. Upon closer inspection, it's definitely a safe of some sort.

"Shit, this isn't even state of the art." You say to yourself and start trying to open it with your regular tools. You don't believe that you're going to be so lucky to find what you're looking for, but when you finally get it open, you're pleasantly surprised.

"Yag is certainly smiling on me today." You say even though you've never been one to place too much stock in the gods, but really is a good stroke of luck. You take the black hexagon container and place it in your bag. Time to leave.

You start walking up the stairs and then suddenly one of the steps breaks and your leg nearly goes through it. It's all you can do to try to hang on to the nearby railing so you don't hurt yourself any further even though you still take a tumble backwards. You're just lucky you didn't break your leg or your neck, though you aren't so lucky in that you were completely silent since you did shout in pain briefly before stopping yourself, not to mention all the other noise.

You're sure that probably got Mr. Reynolds' attention. If he wasn't awake now, he is now.

You quickly stand up from the bottom of the basement stairs and already hear noise coming from above your location.

"I hope this works." You say and take out one of the invisibility potions and drink it. You feel a strange sensation and half think that you're going to fall down the stairs from the temporary wooziness. (Though maybe some of that is from the fall)

You look at yourself, and don't see any difference. You can't even tell if it's working.

You're about to make your way back up the stairs, but then that's when you see a figure standing at the top of them. Mr. Reynolds is there with what looks to be a musket.

"I know someone's down here, you might as well come out now and make this quick."

He's aiming downward, but hasn't shot you yet. It's a clear line of sight so the potion must definitely be working. However he's in the way and you aren't going to get past him as he makes his way cautiously down.

You back up deeper into the basement and figure you might be able to sneak around him. The problem is he isn't moving much further in and is now just standing near the bottom of the stairs pointing his weapon into the darkness.

You probably could sneak by him or maybe you could just shoot him with the pistol you acquired, but your immediate concern is staying invisible since you're sure that your time on that is about to run out. You take another potion and chug the contents.

No sooner have you done so when you start to feel incredibly sick to the point where you actually feel a cramping in your stomach. Yvette wasn't joking about how quickly these can cause sickness when drunk immediately after each other.

You try to prevent yourself from retching and begin to go for your pistol since you know you're going to give your position away by making retching noises.

You unsteadily fire at Reynolds and hit him just before your vomit all over the floor. You hover over your own puddle of sick gagging and not really noticing if you actually killed Reynolds or not.

At least not until feel the impact of a shot go into your face causing you to fall backwards.

Somehow you're still alive, but between the pain and the sickness of the potion, you end up falling unconscious.

Eventually your wake up and find yourself tied firmly to a chair. Your still have a slightly queasy feeling, your face still hurts very badly and you can only see out of one eye.

But all of that is the least of your problems when you see the blurry image of Mr. Reynolds standing nearby next to the table full of torture instruments.

"Glad you're finally awake. Now we can get started. You know, you really are a spitting image of your father…well except for the new hole in your face. How is he doing anyway?" Mr. Reynolds says.
"Mgh, wai…t…gh…" is about all you can groan right now.

"Well, doesn't matter I suppose. I'll find out everything I need to in a day or so I imagine. Not that I really need to since I already know you're working for Franklins. I swear that old hypocrite couldn't do something himself so he gets his lowly son in law to do it for him. If I were in your position I'd be really pissed at him right now. This is all his fault you know. He seems to think because of my heritage that I have some sinister plan for this city when that's far from the truth. All I want to see is it to achieve its fullest potential."
"Ple…ase…I…won't…"
"Won't what? Tell anyone you were here? Tell Franklins? Get revenge? Of course you won't because you won't be leaving here alive. Really the only reason you're still breathing is because I want to find out a few more things about your loved ones before you die. You committed a crime against me. Not only did you shoot me in the fucking shoulder, but you tried to steal some very personal and valuable property. Now I'm going to take EVERYTHING from you. I know you have a wife and daughter. They will be easy enough to find, though I can imagine Franklins will realize with your disappearance that something has gone wrong and will do everything in his power to protect them, so it might not be easy to get to them first. So let's start with your parents and their whereabouts…oh I do hope they are still alive…"

Mr. Reynolds begins his torture and you try to hold out for as long as you can, but eventually you fail and tell him everything.

Your failure unfortunately still doesn't involve your immediate death. Mr. Reynolds keeps you alive in his basement where eventually his son (who gets out of being in militia custody) takes over the routine torture and he's not as nice as his father was…

You are completely broken by the time Reynolds tosses your mother and fathers' heads at you. You never thought you'd see them again, and certainly not like this.

You don't even have any tears left to grieve.

It is a small mercy that your body just gives out before Reynolds can do the same to your wife and daughter.


[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 say "Hold on, your gun will attract more of them, I'll use my bat then make my own way back, I know how to move safely alone!"

[Assistant]
He looks at you for a few moments before nodding in assent to you plan, he grabs the other man and they start running out of the store with the bags of supplies you had grabbed.

You turn back to the man whose speech had slurred just in time to see him stumble then shake slightly. It only seconds later that he suddenly leaps at you with his teeth bared. Luckily you were ready and his head is cleanly intercepted by a swing from your bat. He crumples to the ground and you glance around.

The others were long gone so you quickly try to grab some food when you hear noises from behind the back door, you're about to run for it yourself when the noises begin out the front too. You glance round and see a large number of shamblers starting to appear and make their way into the store. The rear door opens and more start coming in the back to, heading towards you.

"They worked out how to open the door?" is all you have time to think before you are fighting for your life against the growing number of infected.

It's not long before they start to latch onto you and weight you down. It's shortly after that, that they tear you apart as they eat you.


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

[User] Continue

[Assistant]
Your eyes scan the trees around you, as you pick one tall enough to escape up into and with thick enough branches that you can climb in. You jump into the air, your hands wrapping around a branch as you pull your body up on it. Your boots find another branch, as you quickly begin to scale the tree as quickly as you can. It's not long before you find a thick, stable branch high enough to take a shooting position in, protected by the cover of the leaves but with a clear sight on the werewolves.

You raise your rifle, shouldering it as you quickly take the target in your sights. You aim at the lead werewolf, targeting the creature's head. It takes a moment for you to aim, unused to Wyatt's hunting rifle and preferring the pure blast power of your shotgun, but you quickly adjust. You've used pretty much every weapon under the sun over the years, and a simple hunting rifle is in every Hunter's arsenal. You see the bright of the wolf's eyes glinting in the moonlight, and pull the trigger.

You find yourself staring at a second werewolf, one racing towards the tree. You aim your rifle as it leaps towards the tree, firing. The creature takes the shot to the side, crumpling to the ground, as you quickly reload and aim.

The tree shakes as a werewolf begins clambering up the branches behind you. You quickly put another round in the wounded werewolf, blowing out its heart and killing it instantly. You swivel around, before you find a werewolf clambering up the branches, its maw wide open as it snaps at your leg. You yelp, realizing the beast is upon you, mere seconds away from devouring you.

[User] You fire with your rifle

[Assistant]
You grab your rifle, loading back the bolt in an instant, before lowering your gun. The werewolf's jaw bites down on your ankle, tearing through leather as it bites into your flesh. You scream, but stay focused, jamming your gun barrel against the werewolf's head, before pulling the trigger. The gun bucks, a bullet bursting through the werewolf's skull. The creature collapses from the tree, it's bloody body collapsing to the ground with a thud.

You sigh, wiping the sweat from your brow, before checking your foot. It's cut, but other than that fine, and you should be able to walk, run, jump and everything else you'll need for the rest of night... and of course, you'll be able to climb down, which is quite helpful now.

You slowly move down the tree, checking the two bodies of the werewolves, now naked, pale corpses covered in their own blood. You don't shed a tear for them. Normal werewolves are creatures cursed by the beast, like you. These creatures have embraced the beast. Human form or lupine form, they're beasts all the same.

You look up towards the scent of the smoke, now a bare trace, but begin walking nonetheless.

[User] You continue towards the smell of smoke

[Assistant]
You walk through the woods slowly, heading towards the scent. It draws nearer, the smell of smoke and coal becoming clear. It's a long, painful walk, and you find yourself scratching at your limbs, growling and shaking your head. The beast within is awakening again, as you run your tongue along your sharpened teeth, the taste of your own blood filling your own mouth. Your stomach growls, and the veil of darkness lifts as your supernatural eyes adjust to the darkness. Still, you focus on the burning pain in your chest and now, your stab wound, allowing the pain to consume you, bringing you just to the point where walking becomes impossible, all to stave off the wolf spirit howling to get out.

It's not long, however, before you find your way to the mines. The earth begins to widen, revealing a huge, cavernous maw sticking out of the earth, a huge hole in the ground leading to darkness. The opening of the mineshaft. A light plume of smoke billows out from the mineshaft, as you can smell the scent of fresh meat and blood down below, the smell of wolves prowling and... strangely enough, diesel drifting out with its stink.

You stare into the darkness, gun in your hands, as you prepare to go in.

"Going in?"

You turn your head, finding the patchwork fool standing in front of you. His eyes are still badly burned, although from this close, it seems more like its from a caustic chemical or animal venom rather than heat or fire. He grins at you, winking.

"I was planning to," you say. "Going to tell me who you are yet?"

"Maybe. Fancy another riddle?"

"What the fuck is it with you and riddles?"

"I like them," the Fool shrugs. "I used to be more of a pranks guy, but it's no use drawing attention to myself when I manage to get unbound, so riddles will have to do."

"Unbound? Are you a ghost? A trapped spirit? It would explain some things," you say quietly, not wanting to risk dealing with them.

"Nothing of the sort! I'm far more powerful," the Fool says. "I'd make the threat you're dealing with look like chump change, you know."

"Glad you're not my enemy, then," you say, before pausing. "Are you?"

"Of course not! Just a friendly visitor, curious to see what'll happen. I know a lot about werewolves. I remember watching the first one change. God, the terror he felt."

"You saw the first change?" you ask cautiously.

"I did indeed," the Fool smiles. "I saw when they chained up my dear old Fenrir, for nothing more than being scary. That's what they tend to do, you know," the Fool says, pointing to his eyes. "But, every so often, Fenrir would get just a bit lose, and some brave mortal would need to toss a new chain on him. One brave soul got too close, and Fenrir managed to bite him. That was the first of their kind. Now, they've spread throughout the world, all from that one mortal who felt it was fair to lock up a creature that had done nothing wrong. Cruel bastards the lot of them," the Fool mutters.

You pause, trying to discern whether this is the fool's insane ramblings, a metaphor, a literal truth or something else entirely. For as long as you stare at the grinning bastard, you can't tell.

"Anything else you wanted to tell me?" you say dismissively, not willing to play the Fool's games.

"Nothing to tell, but something to ask. Care for another riddle?"

"Fuck's sake," you mutter. "What the hell does this matter?"

The Fool smiles, before grinning.

"So! A lost shepard met two hunters, the first of who had three loaves and the second who had five loaves. All the loaves were the same size. The three men agreed to share the eight loaves equally between them. After they had eaten, the hunter gave the shepherds eight bronze coins as payment for his meal. How should the two shepherds fairly divide this money?"

[User] You nothing to the first hunter, give it all to the second

[Assistant]
"You give all the pieces to the second hunter," you say.

"Yes, another answer! Gods, I really like you!"

"Is it right?"

The Fool shrugs, smiling at you.

"Who knows? I'll be off, anyway, my eyes are beginning to burn," he says, scratching at his burned up eyes. "Good luck in there. Shame it's not a silver mine, am I right?"

He smiles, grinning, as you snarl. He raises his hands defensively, shrugging.

"Fine, fine, I'll be on my way. Best of luck in there, Willy."

You don't even try to stop him, your gun feeling unnaturally heavy in your hands as you know the patchwork man's magic is at work here. As soon as the Fool disappears into the trees, your gun lightens in your hands, and you heave to stare off into the mineshaft, smiling.

[User] You head into the mineshaft

[Assistant]
You stare down the cavernous maw that sticks out of the earth. The darkness almost solidifies around you, attempting to consume your sanity. You focus your senses, as when the suffocating darkness steals your sight, your smell and hearing amplify. You can hear the near silent wind blow through the tunnel, nostrils flaring as you take as you smell the scent of coal dust and dirt. The scents begin to shift, as you detect a new smell. Fresh blood and the smell of a wild beast traveling through the tunnel. The sound of paws creeping along iron mine tracks and soft dirt begins just detectable.

Your eyes narrow, as down the tunnel, a form cuts through the darkness. The creature's thin body is covered with a thick layer of white fur, a pair of red, blood-filled eyes becoming clear, shining in the dark. A maw of sharpened daggers becomes clear, as the Albino arrives.

You recognize the creature from earlier. The one who bit you. The one who cursed you like this. You snarl, your gun tightening in your hands. The Albino's eyes flicker and you wonder if it recognizes you. There's an intellect there beyond what you've seen, in animals, or even in other werewolves. The creature growls, and you know it recognizes you.

Your body shakes, the Albino's growl sending the beast into overdrive. Your hairy arms tense as your muscles bulge, your tongue flickering along your sharpened teeth. You let out a growl, eyes narrowing as you ready yourself to kill. You let out a loud roar which echoes down the tunnel, your fingernails toughening and sharpening to pre-transformation claws that dig into the wood of your rifle.

[User] You let out the beast within

[Assistant]
You find yourself howling, your body transforming in a mere moment, incapable of holding off the change for any longer. The fur bursts from your skin as it toughens and tears, your body stretching in an instant. Your teeth, a mouthful of ivory blades, are revealed as you open your jaw. You smash into the Albino, tearing it through the air and smashing it off the tunnel wall. The creature bounces off the wall, before rolling to its feet and leaping forward with one pounce, lunging for you. You snarl, batting it aside with a pair of claws, slashing as its face at the creature pins you to the ground.

The other beast is strong, fast and deadly, the creature being far more used to its bestial body than you are. The creature wields its fangs like daggers, its claws like swords, its weight a crushing wrecking ball, every feature of it turned into a weapon of death and slaughter. However, it's no doubt transformed from poorer stock than you, once having been a normal human rather than a Hunter like yourself, who dedicated their life to the craft of hunting. By how you reckon, the Albino has the advantage, but you won't be going down without a fight.

You struggle against his grip, pinned against the stone, struggling to get out from it's weight, as its gnashing teeth comes towards your throat, its mouth caught in a fearsome howl.

[User] You get your legs under the beast and force it off

[Assistant]
You roll your legs under the bulk of the Albino's weight, breathing heavily as you try to find your strength. You snarl, forcing your legs forwards as you force the creature back. You pause, building your strength for one moment, before using your legs to launch the beast at the wall.

The Albino is launched against the wall, knocking against the earthen mine wall as it collapses to the ground with a thud. The creature growls, standing up as it moves forward, raising its clawed hands as it attempts to ram you against the wall, catching you in the bestial version of a rugby scrum. You raise your arms, grabbing them and trying to keep it from biting out your throat in a rage, standing on your hindlegs as you're ready to retreat.

[User] You sTRENGTH! Ram it into the wall!

[Assistant]
You double down, catching in the Albino in a deadly embrace, forcing it back. Your reflexes, your speed and your abilities are far outpaced by the creature, who has had far more time to get used to its body. However, strength might be something you have. You're a tough, hardy man and far stronger than the average man, so perhaps in your lupine form you'll the stronger of this pair.

You dig your hind legs in, ramming forward as you force the beast back. The Albino yelps, attempting to shove you aside, but you've caught it now, and you're able to twist it around as you launch it against the wall. The Albino smacks up against the wall, sliding down it as its covered in a thick layer of dirt, before you burst forward, raking your claws across the Albino's chest. You slash your claws forward, tearing out the creature's stomach as you hack into its ribs. The creature howls out in pain, weakly jabbing its claws at you as you step back in one quick dodge.

You growl, watching the dying creature in front of you. Your stomach begs you to give up any semblance of weakness, to tear into this meal and feast, but some small, weak little voice reminds you that you have a mission to do. You could leave the beast here to bleed to death, with no hope of it surviving the lethal wounds you've caused, or you could crush its skull and end its life now.

[User] You fEED!

[Assistant]
The hunger too strong and the desperate rumbling in your stomach meaning you're incapable of focusing, your eyes narrow as you stare at the bleeding corpse of the beast. You could use its strength. You move your head forward, wetting your nose in the creature's warm blood, gently lapping at that which streams out before the hunger overtakes you, and you can't hold back. You find yourself devouring mouthfuls of flesh, swallowing it desperately in an attempt to fill your stomach, drinking down warm blood, feeling the thick liquid coating the inside of your mouth and throat as you enjoy the delicious meal. You lick your lips, tasting the blood of your kill on your tongue, your nostrils filled with the pungent and delectable smell of your last meal.

The meal is filling, and you find your predatory instinct howling in your mind as your body is filled with the strength of your fallen foe. Your body now fully fuelled, you look down the dark tunnel, a new sensation filling you. You hear the howls down further in, answering with a bark. You break into a bark, heading towards the barking.

Your mind races, all pain ignored, all quiet voices in the back of your mind ignored, all remaining traces of your humanity ignored. Your brothers are calling, and the beast within you gives you no choice but to answer, and answer you will.


[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 be obstinate

[Assistant]
"I don't feel like going anywhere, you guys do what you want." You say, but Nina insists on invading your space.
"Hey look, I know you don't wanna do shit, but unfortunately we're in a real deadlock and we could really use your vote to break a tie."
"HEY! I told you I'm not going anywhere, now get the hell out of my room and stop invading my privacy, unless you're looking to get invaded by me."

Nina is offended by that remark and starts to hit you. It doesn't really hurt, but it's annoying and stings enough for you to start blocking her.

"How dare you say something like that to me!"
"Stop it! Get outta here before I throw you out, you crazy bitch!"

While you begin to get up to avoid her slaps, your shift on the mattress causes your pistol to fall out on to the floor, Nina notices, stops hitting you and backs off.

"Oh my god is that a gun?!"
"Well, uh…yeah." You say picking it up.

Nina suddenly runs off thinking her life is in danger, you soon here her yelling "Help!" and similar cries. You immediately go chasing after her, in an attempt to reassure her that you're not some murderer.

You see her run into the conference room and follow, when you arrive, a leg trips you up as soon as you enter causing you to slam face first on the floor. Then somebody tries to take the gun away from you, its Elliot.

You feel a hefty boot kick you in ribs and knock the wind out of you, and a couple of other people start dog piling on top of you. Nina is ranting to everyone saying you tried to kill her. The fact that you came running in here with a gun, doesn't exactly persuade them from thinking differently. Meanwhile you lose grip of the gun and Elliot takes it from you, but "accidentally" shoots you in the face with it.

"Oh my god! I didn't mean to kill him! He wouldn't let go of it!" are the last words you hear.


[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 leave them

[Assistant]
"Leave the wounded," you say.  "Gigalak will decide their fate!"

Most of the orcs obey, although many still loot the corpses.  Some of the more savage orcs cut the scalps from the still living and squirming men despite your order.

You walk through the dead and wounded, picking out the orcs who plead for your help.  Some you know cannot be saved, and others can while being grievously wounded.  With all the orcs gathered, you and many of the other orcs set to work helping them.

You have saved many lives this day, working over the sound of groaning Imperials dying in the mud just outside.

You see Grolik looking around, putting a spear tip to a wounded human.  With a grunt he pushes, sending the dying man to his fate.  It would seem as though that is not the first or the last he has killed in this manner.  You catch his glimpse for a second, shame written across his face.

While he does not seem the type for emotions like that, putting helpless people out of their misery must take a certain toll on one.

On a rock sits Rolomag, nursing a gash on his face using a rag.  He just watches some of the orcs finishing off the dying Imperials.  Most of them do not seem happy about it, but maybe they believe it right not to prolong their suffering.

You turn your attention back to your work, ending the suffering of friends in a much different manner.  The orc whose deadly injury you have just cleaned and sewn up thanks you as he hobbles away.


[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 split it equally between the two hunters

[Assistant]
"You split it equally between the two hunters, because they're sharing it all equally, right?"

"Yes, another answer! Gods, I really like you!"

"Is it right?"

The Fool shrugs, smiling at you.

"Who knows? I'll be off, anyway, my eyes are beginning to burn," he says, scratching at his burned up eyes. "Good luck in there. Shame it's not a silver mine, am I right?"

He smiles, grinning, as you snarl. He raises his hands defensively, shrugging.

"Fine, fine, I'll be on my way. Best of luck in there, Willy."

You don't even try to stop him, your gun feeling unnaturally heavy in your hands as you know the patchwork man's magic is at work here. As soon as the Fool disappears into the trees, your gun lightens in your hands, and you heave to stare off into the mineshaft, smiling.


[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 try to outrun the demon

[Assistant]
Fear griping your heart, you struggle and push yourself to run as fast as you can in your condition.

Soon something else is gripping your heart.

You look down at your chest and see your bloody still beating heart outside of where it is normally supposed to be. The demon fist holding it squeezes your heart a bit first before crushing it completely before your eyes. You die soon afterwards.

"Hah! I told you I could reach him before he got to the rock!" the demon laughs as he lets his arm slide out of your dead slumping body.


[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 travel on road

[Assistant]
You've got a lot of baggage to travel with and the longer you can do it on road, the quicker you'll get to your destination. Whatever tolls or other harassment that any wannabe emperors have in store can be dealt with. Certainly can't be worse than what you've already faced.

"Okay we're taking the roads brothers and sisters. Remember that we are potentially entering hostile territory, so keep alert and be prepared." You tell everyone before continuing on the journey.

Half a day passes without incident; of course it doesn't stay that way when several people patrolling the road up ahead and immediately head your way. They aren't dressed in proper Empire armor, but the way they swagger with self-importance; you're guessing they're probably some sort of militia recruits under the command of this General Ackerson.

Several of the Eternals are itching for a fight and while you don't doubt you'd win, you'd rather try to get through without doing it. Last thing you need is to fight a running battle through the Quala province.

"Shadow scum! This area belongs to General Ackerson, don't you know your kind aren't wanted here? It was your kind that caused this once great nation to fall, but fortunately we have people like the general to pick up the pieces to make it stronger than ever." The leader of the soldiers says.
"Uh huh, we're just passing through and have no desire to start a fight." You reply, but of course this idiot doesn't have a sense of self-preservation.
"Oh no? What's all this then? A baggage train of supplies to support your war effort? I don't believe you shadow! Why should any of us trust you after the great betrayal?"
"Because if we wanted to destroy you we would've done it already, empire dog!" one of the Eternals snaps.

This isn't going well and several of the soldiers begin to ready their weapons.

"As I said, we are merely passing through and have no desire to start a war. We already have our freedom, we don't care if you're trying to rebuild the Empire or something else to take its place. We just want to be left in peace. However if you really wish to pursue this course of action, let me remind you that you are currently outmatched and outnumbered. We whittled away the Empire with forces smaller than what you see here. It would not take more than ten of us to destroy whatever government you're trying to re-establish now. Are you such fools that you would willingly throw your lives away so easily? You say to the soldiers.

The leader realizes that he'll have to swallow his overflowing pride and capitulate to your accurate assessment of the situation.

"…very well…let the shadows pass." He meekly remarks and he and his men step aside.

You and the shadows pass through, but you know that's just he beginning of what you'll probably have to face. Cyrus mentions that perhaps they should be killed so they don't warn anyone, but really whether they do or not isn't going to make much of a difference. You're a big enough target that anyone can see you if they just open their eyes.

You soon pass through a town in the process of being rebuilt, your reception there isn't much better. The citizens all give you an evil eye and the soldiers stand ready to attack at anytime. Nobody does anything, but the second town you pass through makes up for that…

"BOOOOOOO! Go home shadow shit!"
"Zealots! Sheep! Go suck your god's cock!"
"Get out of our town you fucking fanatics!"

These citizens are obviously very upset about the shadows. So much so that not only do they call you names, they also start throwing rotten fruit at some of you. This is too much for the eternals who are were barely holding their homicidal urges in check to begin with.

Before you can react, several eternals respond to the rotten fruit by shooting bolts at the peasants. Naturally none of them miss either. The town's militia steps in and before you know it, you've killed half of the town and the rest of the citizens are running for their lives. The eternals aren't contents with letting anyone live though, so they make that extra effort to chase most of them down. They seem to get a sadistic pleasure out of it and you have to rein them in.

Naturally you're pretty mad, but mostly at yourself for trying to cross Quala by road in the first place. You can see now this was a really bad idea, but now you'll just have to make the best of it.

The next day one of your people says they've scouted ahead and that a large army is heading your way. Worse, more troops are heading from other directions as well. Cyrus advises that you all should dump all non-essentials, cloak, and make a speed run towards the wilderness. Yvette point out that several of the shadow children or even babies in some cases don't have such abilities and their parents aren't likely to leave them. Theo says he knows of an old hide out and you could lay low there for a while and it is defensible. Talia is strangely silent on the whole matter, in fact she's been silent during most of the trip, like she's preoccupied with something else. You can't imagine what given the shit you're waist deep in right now, you'll have to ask her about it later.

Eventually you take Theo's advice since running isn't a real option right now and you need a good defensible place. You do take Cyrus' advice though and have everyone dump all non-essential equipment.

The trip to the old hideout is uneventful, unfortunately Theo forgot to take into consideration that some of his old hideouts might've actually been discovered since the last time he used them. This one in particular has been turned into a battle mage enclave. You didn't even know Ackerson had any under his command, but he does and they took great measures in protecting their private base with magical security. They were alerted as soon as you entered the area and took steps to ambush you.

The fight with the battle mages takes a heavy toll. Along with many shadows, you also lose Yvette as well as Dravin. Cyrus launched himself into a rage cutting down several of the mages before being heavily wounded. He's still alive and being carried on a stretcher, but you doubt if he'll make it, if you ever get to the temple. Which at this point is looking less likely since you're now effectively stuck inside the hideout and surrounded by General Ackerson's troops.

Many of the shadows are praying to Dendrin which you encourage if only to keep their morale up, but of course you're holding no such faith. The only ones seemingly having a good time are the new eternals who are enjoying the carnage way too much. You don't care though given the circumstances as they're about the only worthwhile fighters you've got left.

While the shadows are used to fighting near impossible odds, not all of those were victories and this will unfortunately be one of those times.

You think up the only possible plan that might work and that's if you take all the eternals and try to distract the majority of the army while some of the other shadows get away. When you explain your plan, everyone is content to listen and obey since there really isn't a choice in the matter.

"Theo, I want you to lead the escape since you still know the area best. Talia, you're going to be in charge and possibly the new…"
"I'm staying." Talia says cutting you off.
"Talia, I don't know if I'm coming back from this battle."
"Exactly. Why would I leave you now of all times? Besides, you're taking my…children with you. If we are to die today, then I would do it as a family." Talia says and grabs your hand.

You look down at her hand and then her face. You can see that there will be no changing her mind.

"Very well, then Theo, you will be the new Shadow Master. Good luck and I hope you understand Dendrin better than I did."

Theo thanks you for the honor and prepares everyone to get ready to move. You, Talia and the rest of the eternals prepare for the attack. It's funny; you realize that the shadows will no longer be split anymore between human and eternal. Assuming they make it, the surviving shadows will all be human. Perhaps it's better this way, eternals were not meant to be holy men and worshipping fickle gods. They were meant to die in battle. That was what you were originally bred for after all.

"You two, carry Cyrus into battle. He's one of us and he'll die like one of us." You say to two of the new eternals. Cyrus, while struggling to maintain consciousness manages a weak smile in your direction.

"You ready my love?" Talia asks.
"I was born for this." You answer.

And with that you, Talia, Cyrus and the last of the eternals go forth and face your destiny.

Your names are forgotten, but the surviving solders of that battle always remembered the day they didn't win a battle against shadows, but instead remember the day that they almost lost a battle against eternals.


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

[User] You fire!

[Assistant]
You raise your gun and fire. Draven takes a shot to the shoulder, before side-stepping your next. He doesn't even attempt to charge, just grins. You keep firing, as he dodges the bullets with unnatural ease, even the lucky shots not even throwing him, and they only manage to graze or hit his central mass, which fails to even knock him back. You aim your rifle at Draven's head, as he gently taps his finger against it.

"Come on, boy!" he says, laughing. "Take the shot! I'm enjoying this! I won't even move this time!"

You peer down the sights, taking a deep breath, and you pull the trigger.

It's empty.

"Can't even count, huh?" Draven laughs, before bursting forward.

You attempt to dodge, but he's faster and more prepared for your roll to the side. He swings his sword, cutting through flesh and bone as your upper body is separated from its organic stand. You barely have time for one scream before it's all over.


[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 charge him

[Assistant] You raise your sword, charging forward. The guard yells and steps back, jabbing his spear out. The metal spear jabs into your fur and into your chest and you yelp as he runs you through. He pulls the spear out as you collapse to your knees, before he jabs it through your throat, killing you.


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

[User] You try find your way out of the yours shaft before the timer goes off

[Assistant]
You stand up, weakly standing. You find what little strength remains in you, and decide to get out of there. You want to see the moon one last time. You take up a jog, hurrying as quickly as you can. The armory's located relatively close to a way out of the mineshaft, so you break into a run, hurrying through the mine shaft. You run as fast as you can, hurrying along the pathways.

A werewolf appears in front of you, and you fire your shotgun, blowing a gaping hole in the beasts neck and putting it down. You keep running forward, leaping over the dying beast as it falls quickly. You keep heading with as much speed as you can, using your senses to avoid werewolf patrols as you hurry ahead. Suddenly, you see it. The beams of pale moonlight descending from the sky, beaming into the edge of the mineshaft. Seeing it so close, you continue running, quickly, making

You stumble out of the mineshaft, heading out into the moonlight once again. You hurl yourself forward, scampering out into the light as you collapse on the ground, breathing heavily. You turn your head, staring back to the mineshaft.

About twenty seconds later, the ground shakes as the mineshaft erupts, flames bursting along the mine shaft as the mine shaft collapses in on itself, earth collapsing in to fill the tunnel. The ground shakes as the sky roars, ash and smoke billowing up towards the sky. You laugh, a freeing sound as you shake off all your worries and stress, your terrors and your nightmares, and just lets you feel free for the first time tonight.

You feel the beast prowling in your heart, tearing at your body as it tries to get free. Your shotgun is heavy as your hands, as you stare at the smoke pour from the collapsed mineshaft, billowing up into the sky. The howls that have permeated the night are over, and the moon's power wanes in the sky. It'll be an hour or two before the sun rises, but you're finished here.

Your mission is complete, your allies avenged. With the werewolf pack defeated, you feel nothing but relief. You rest your tired head on your shotgun, staring ahead.

[User] You take your own life

[Assistant]
Ash and Silver

You raise the rifle to your head, taking it in your arms as you press the bottom of your chin against the gun barrel. You prop the gun upwards, aiming it so that it should go through your skull and out the top of your head. You reach down, pressing your finger against the trigger. You take a deep breath, closing your eyes. You're finished your work tonight. You've avenged your comrades, and defeated the threat.

You feel the pangs of hunger tear through you again as the beast awakens, roaring through your entire essence. You grit your teeth, trying to hold back the urge to scream. You slowly release your breath, before pressing down on the trigger.

The gun fires, and the silver bullets tear through your chin, bursting up through your skull, blowing apart your brain and shooting out the top of your skull. Darkness shrouds over you, and you can feel the desperate, clawing, howling beast within you get pulled down into the depths of darkness with you.

The mist of your red blood mixes with the ash-filled air and the silver shards that hit the dust. As the sun rises, chasing the moon from the sky. The mine collapsed upon the werewolves' lair, no survivors are left. The werewolf menace is defeated, the pack wiped out, the few survivors fleeing through the forest to where they'll be mopped up by the Hunters come to figure out what's happened you.

The werewolf menace is wiped out, and the creatures that threatened to rule the night are left as nothing. The hold of the moon broken, nothing's left of the world. Although your thirteenth hunt has come to an end, as has you, you've done your duty. The dark things that plague the night, creatures made from darkness and nightmares that feed upon the blood and flesh of the innocent and that rule the night and loathe the living, are slaughtered like lambs, and it is safe to walk the night once more.


[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 attack

[Assistant]
You don't have the time to sit around and listen to a monologue. When evil rears its ugly mug, there is only one viable option: destroy it with extreme prejudice.

With swords in hand, you and Jon leap into action, literally. Unfortunately, the sorcerer is beyond your reach on his floating cloud. You and Jon jump as high as you can, but your best efforts are nowhere near good enough.

"Well this is embarrassing," says Jon after another failed leap.

"A bow and arrow would really come in handy right about now." You scan the bedlam for a projectile, but there is not much of anything to work with. "Well I'm stumped."

"Fools." The sorcerer cackles as he tosses bolts of lightning toward you. "You should know better than to defy an all-powerful mage such as myself. Now perish!"

You successfully dodge the first couple bolts, but the sorcerer is throwing them around like candy and eventually one catches you in the leg. The bolt explodes on contact, obliterating muscle, tissue, ligaments, tendons, and bones. The intense heat cauterizes what little remains of your leg. The stink of your own charred flesh hits your nostrils and you gag. Crawling on hands and knee, you seek shelter in your tent, praying the smoke will conceal your movements. Jon will have to handle this on his own now.

Inside the tent, you pass out from the pain: never to awake again.

What the hell happened?

Bell cut your throat with your own dagger while you were unconscious. If it is any consolation, Jon and Sir Jamison Hill managed to kill the sorcerer. When Jon found your lifeless corpse, he took it upon himself to brutally murder Bell.

What happens now?

Well, you were on the path to heroism, but you failed to kill the big baddie and fell into an act of villainy by beating the ever-loving life out of poor sweet Bell. So I imagine you'll go to limbo where they'll force you to play a never ending game of Monopoly for the next 1,000 years.


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

[User] You it's all for her

[Assistant]
There's no other way. You pull out your pistol and begin shooting people with deadly accuracy, until only you and Jessica are left.

Jessica is paralyzed with fear. She doesn't realize though, that this has all been for her. She never noticed you before. How much you cared for her. How much you loved her. Well she'll ALWAYS remember you now. You've made sure of that.

As she cowers and shakes expecting you to kill her, you hand her your pistol. She's too frightened. She just wants you to leave her alone. You have to help her.

You put the pistol in her hand and force her to squeeze the trigger until it releases its bullet into your heart.

At last you don't feel the nawing pain of unquenched love anymore.

You feel nothing...