[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 travel to the Felkan Kingdom

[Assistant]
The Felkan Kingdom is further away from the chaos and while it'll be a long trek, you feel it'll be a better place for Tulla to start a new life.

"The Felkan Kingdom? That's a long distance, are you sure you're up for that?" Tulla asks.
"Of course I am! I'm not so old that I can't make a simple trip! Now let's get going." You snap.

Your journey out of Delerg is fortunately without conflict. Your journey through Quala isn't however, though you're lucky enough to not get harassed by any professional soldier types and its just bandits.

Tulla does well against them, you don't do too bad yourself considering your age, but during the fight it's never been more apparent of how old you actually are.

"You okay uncle?" Tulla asks you after the battle.
"Yeah…(pant)…just…well like I've said before. I'm just old. Though I can honestly say, I'm proud of you and glad to see that you're more than capable of taking care of yourself. Now let's loot these sons of bitches and hope they actually robbed some people before their pathetic attempt on us. I'm pretty sure we're going to need some money when we get to the Felkan Kingdom."

You continue your journey through Quala and continue to feel your age. You don't have too many more problems in Quala, but Arat is another story.

As bad as Quala is, Arat is still in relative anarchy. You and Tulla are attacked several times and unfortunately it is during one of those attacks that your age catches up to you. In this case your attackers happen to be a small group of svelk.

The svelk are more than a match for Tulla despite her skills, and you as well. Though you manage to at least fight long enough for Tulla to escape. You on the other hand succumb to your wounds and the svelk finish you off with a few bolts to your head.


[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 destroy the Shadows

[Assistant]
You want to get home and away from this place as soon as possible. You feel with your sword and new abilities along with Melcar's help you should be able to take care of them.

"Let's destroy the Shadows!" you say.
"Alright, but let me look for that spell first, because after we've destroyed the Shadows, we're going to want to cast the portal as soon as possible. Shouldn't take me too long."
"Okay, what about Stinky?"
"Stinky? He won't be of any help! He'll probably be hiding in the house the whole time! I'll go look for that spell, you just get yourself prepared, because this won't be easy."

You take Melcar's advice and begin to get yourself in a proper frame of mind; in fact you spend a day doing this since Melcar has a really hard time finding anything in his disorganized lab. Stinky is constantly in a state of panic, and gibbering about the Shadows trying to get in, making it harder for you to keep yourself calm.

Eventually Melcar comes back up from his lab.

"Found it; alright let's get rid of these Shadows quickly. I'm going to dispel the barrier."

Melcar makes a few chanting noises and the barrier goes down where upon you hear the Shadows howling in excitement and start bashing their way in, and in the case of some already get in through the upstairs window.

You and Melcar begin to fight the Shadows, while Stinky goes off to hide, though it doesn't do him much go since the Shadows at this point are intent on not just getting you, but now everyone in the house, eventually all of his running and hiding attempts fail as you see him being dragged off by a few Shadows, you attempt to stop them, but nearly get yourself captured in the process.

This ordeal is very tiring as the Shadows seem to be more numerous than you thought. Melcar eventually exhausts his spell power and is reduced to beating the Shadows with a magic wand. You briefly worry about him being able to cast the portal spell, but as it turns out, that will be the least of your worries.

A shorter Shadow suddenly jumps on your back; it begins to taunt you as it attempts to wrestle you down. The voice is very familiar…

"YOU did this to me! Now I'll do what I wanted to do in the first place! Throw you to the Nightmare Tyrant!" Chargrum hisses in his new Shadow form.

While you manage to get him off and strike him down, Chargrum was able to distract you long enough for other Shadows to overwhelm you, and your sword is separated from you. The blackness has now enveloped you and your worry has now become terror and you can't think straight. You call out for Melcar to help, but he too has been overwhelmed.

The sinister laugh now fills your mind, paralyzing it, and soon all is forever shadows when you are taken directly to the Nightmare Tyrant.


[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 point her in the direction of your captain

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

Your thoughts are wrong however.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

[User] Three pieces to the first hunter, five to the second

[Assistant]
"You give three pieces to the first hunter, five to the second."

"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 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 don't know

[Assistant]
Hidden by the dense screen of trees, twelve thousand Norman warriors wait. Each one is battle ready, and battle hardened; professional killers. Within your camp waits fewer than eight thousand men, but of those eight thousand only three thousand can be trusted. The rest are just farmers, weary and ill-disciplined. These are long odds, and even with the high ground, this will be no easy victory. Acwellen is still looking at you, waiting for a response. You shrug grimly.

"I don't know Acwellen. I don't know."

Behind the screen of trees the town of Hastings roils with flames and the Norman William's horde assembles.


[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 attack now

[Assistant]
No time like the present, besides, if you're careful you should be able to take them.

You and your team briskly run through the field while keeping your head down. All is going well until you hear a shot ring out from the house, and one of your team members makes a stifled yelp. You turn around and see Reggie, clutching his throat and bleeding profusely from it. While you're all standing around watching him convulse, another shot rings out. This one clips Vivica in the head splattering her brains on to your clothing.

"RUN!" you shout, not wanting to be the sniper's next target. There are multiple shots now, and one by one you see your team member's go down, until the last one is you when you feel a bullet severing your spine. You're fucked.

As you lay the field still trying to crawl away, you hear the cultists coming for you, you do the only thing you can and turn over in order to aim at them in an effort to at least take a few out. You manage to kill about three over zealous ones advancing on your position until you hear one shouting for the snipers in the house to finish you off since you're not worth it.

A single bullet enters your eye, ending it once and for all. You body is then taken along with your teams' to serve as food and bizarre rituals.


[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 disarm him.

[Assistant]
You get a good hold on his baton, though you fail to yank it out of his grasp; instead, he punches you right in the face, you falling back from the force of it. He beats on you with his baton, until you're out cold. The last thing you hear before consciousness fades is him talking on a walkie talkie, about how he got 'another one'.

You wake up hovering over a pool of acid.

This is just stereotypical. Breaking stereotypes, however, Cassamento doesn't reveal his master plan or anything and give you a chance to escape while he goes off on a filibuster. No, he just wishes you a good death, before he lowers you and a still unconscious Huntress into the pool.

Your last thoughts are of her and how you wish things had went differently than this.

You're Dead!


[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 to feast or to kill? You have all the time in the world to decide

[Assistant]
You grin to yourself "Look at them, prey is the right work for them, cowering in fear from me as it should be. They can live in fear while I slowly eat them all one by one. I can even take the kaycards for the door an leave them locked in here with shamblers as guards!"

You are considering your next announcement when you hear the boom, amplified by the small space and metal walls and feel the impact on your back. You see a spurt of red leaving your chest and something hits a bag of wheat on a shelf in front of you. Glancing down you see blood pouring out of your chest.

You spin around as you fight off the weakness you are feeling and are just in time to hear the click-click of a bolt action being worked to reload a rifle. You see one of the guards still lying slumped against the wall where your punch had sent him flying "Too bad you didn't knock me out then isn't is harbinger!" He shouts at you.

One bullet wound wont kill you, you just need to get outside and lock the door while you recover, you know you can survive it, only one lung was punctured and your healing is more accelerated than ever now. You leap at the guard but you ar too late as just as you land his second shot tears through your chest leaving a second gaping hole and you can feel both lungs rapidly filling with blood. You try and swing for him but you are too weak and simply slump to the side. you watch your prey running forward to help the wounded and see them just ignoring you as everything just fades away.


[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] Three Years Later...

[Assistant]
The Tribal City

Life is good. Although Kyros' scouring of the planet for resources has driven many plant and animal species that you once relied on for food extinct, the farming methods allow for food production without wearing out the soil, and quickly bring up the number of crop plants until they're bountiful. You introduce breeding programmes to rapidly increase the numbers of prey animals, even creating subspecies, such as a subspecies of the Rukt bird that go from small, wild birds that soar above the forests to a species of fat, placid birds that can barely glide. You even bring back the puk in full force, and their numbers explode. Water issues are still a problem, but you're capable of drilling into underground rivers and water reservoirs to deal with that.

The Orks are still a problem, but a maintainable one. Your forces are killing machines, and their strength is amplified tenfold by the huge walls and gun emplacements. Even after having been let grow strong while you were off-world, you're still easily capable of breaking the strength of these beasts, pushing the Orks from huge threat to simple nuisance, and with look you'll soon be pushing them to extinction.

One of the few issues facing you is fertility. The Goliaths are infertile, and Kyros' experimentation has taken its toll on the Tribals, so they have a high infertility rate and a high rate of miscarriages. Their chances of successfully conceiving and birthing a child increases with regular trips to the hospital, which with the massive birth rate among the gladiators means that your population is growing, but the fertility issues keep your people from spreading over the land, at least within your expected lifetime.

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

This child will lead the next generation. They will live in this city, a city that is both futuristic and based in the tribalistic traditions of the past, and will continue building it. They will use this city, your gift to them, to conquer, to build, to create, to spread and to exist. With them, with the next generation, with your child, lies the future.


[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 kill him! Kill him!

[Assistant]
Something in you snaps! You're overcome with panic and solve your problems with violence. You immediately knock the gun out of his hand and choke the life out the scientist, snapping his scrawny neck!

You have to figure out to get rid of the body; Mom doesn't like you leaving a mess. So you decide to chop him up and throw him in a trash bag.

In the middle of your grizzly work, you start to enjoy it. In fact you don't think you're going to get rid of the body at all. In fact you found something much more interesting to collect than useless shit on the internet.

You begin to increase selling things on the internet to attract more people...


[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 change topic

[Assistant]
"Where are you from?"

"Maryborough, a small trading town. My father lives there."

"Was he the merchant we killed?"

"No, my father is a Paladin. I was given passage on the trading caravan to meet with him in the town over. He wanted to move me to our summer home in the country, where it's safer."

All this talk of summer houses and fine lives depresses you. You sigh, and continue walking. Soon, you walk down into the burrows through the caved in portion of sewer and into the top layer of the many layered burrows. The weakest and most feeble rats are forced to live here, away from the safety that waits lower down. They look gleefully at the girl, talking and chattering among themselves. They grab at her, groping at her breasts and bosom and tearing pieces of fabric off her dress. You raise your sword to threaten them off, and they easily follow orders. You're weak for a Ratling, but you could easily kill the crippled and the the meek who surround you. You find a corner of the room, shoving the girl into it and raising your sword, waiting for Pak to arrive and take his prey.

"I'm scared," the girl says.

"I'd be, if I were you," you admit.

"What's your name?" she asks.

"Ritz," you say.

"I'm Julianne," she says. "I don't want to die here."

You don't say another word, as she begins to chant.

"I have the soul of the dragon. Dragons to not break. Dragons do not die. Dragons do not show fear. Dragons survive the flames. I have the soul of the dragon..." she continues to chant.

You turn, staring at her. You notice a long, silver necklace hanging around her, and grab it.

"This is pretty," you say, admiring the silver.

"You can have it. If you help me get out of here, it's all yours. It was a gift from my father."

You stare at the necklace, knowing there's not a chance she's getting out of here alive, even if you tried to save her.


[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 knock the suits of armour over like dominoes!

[Assistant] A brilliant idea springs to mind! Using all your strength, you push against the first suit of armour in an attempt to knock them all down like a circle of dominoes. It works! The first suit knocks over the second, the second knocks over the third, the third knocks over the fourth, the fourth knocks over the fifth, finally the fifth suit knocks over the sixth suit of armour and the six suit of armour knocks over you. Well, you should have seen that coming. Sadly the last suit of armour is particularly heavy and you are crushed under it's weight. Remember when you were little and your mother would tell you to look but don't touch? This is why.


[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 roll to the side and avoid its strike

[Assistant]
You roll to the side, dashing past as the Alpha slams into the tunnel wall behind you, unable to stop the weight and speed of its lunge and instead crashing upon itself. It collapses to the ground. It falls upon itself as it scrambles to find its position.

You wonder whether its time to strike, to tear the creature limb for limb while its off-balance, or whether to keep your distance, letting the creature make a few more lunges so the creature can tire itself out, before finishing it off with a few quick and heavy strikes.

[User] You tear through it with tooth and claw!

[Assistant]
You lunge forward, hitting the Alpha by the side and knocking the creature on its side. You bite down on a mouthful of flesh, tearing through fur and hide to chew into human flesh, devouring it as the warm, wet beat slides down your throat. You slash your claws, cutting and carving through the creature's side as it tries to escape from your grip, but finds itself unable. It manages to press its claws against your own, stopping you from striking as it uses its leg to push your body away from its own, to keep its jaw away.

The creature's dazed and wounded, semi-pinned under your weight, but its powerful maw is still lunging out at you, desperately trying to tear out your throat. If you're going to finish it before it gets a lucky blow or manages to turn the situation around, you need to do it quickly.

[User] You crush its skull!

[Assistant]
You swing your claw down towards the creature's skull with all your might. The Alpha snaps its jaw forward, its maw tearing into your swinging arm. The strength of your swing only drives your flesh upon their teeth, as you find your arm locked in the Alpha's jaw as it tears through your flesh. The Alpha bites down with all its strength, tearing through your arm. The force of the bite breaks through bone and tears through muscle, as your arm is torn in two.

You howl, your bleeding limb screaming with pain. You try to scamper away, but lacking one leg, you simply collapse to the ground, leaving the Alpha with the chance to strike. The Alpha tackles you, pinning you to the ground as its maw once again strikes, sinking into your neck and tearing out your throat. A torrential wave of blood bursts forward, staining your blood red and leaving you sinking to the ground, dead before your head hits the soil.


[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 don't Waste Time With Elaborate Trickery, Just Fight The Thing

[Assistant]
There is no longer any element of surprise so the time for elaborate tricks is over.  You are simply going to have to face this thing one on one.  At first things seem to go well.  His 2 foot tall stature is no match for your strength (which is saying a lot coming from you) but he is fast as hell.  Given that he's part frog he's hopping around behing you, above you, between your legs, all with the speed and reflexes of a frog.  You've always wondered what made people consider these things to be so dangerous.

In the end, you've taken on more stab wounds than you can possibly handle and drop to the ground looking like one of Freddie Krougar's victims.  The 2 foot little froggie bastard develops a new air of pride and marches back to camp, no doubt to brag to his friends about his new victory.  But for you it is simply...

THE END


[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 search the camp remains for any valubles or food

[Assistant]
Having decided to search the camp you reason that you should do it properly. You set a few snares in the trees nearby then start going over the camp carefully. You estimate that 40 to 60 people were here and they had lit a good number of fires so you search carefully around them and search in the grass beside the indents of the bedrolls.

You spent a couple of hours looking but apart from two miss-laid copper coins you find little of worth. Still, copper coins add up and you know what its like to go hungry so you add them to your pouch and collect up your snares. The only other thing you take is an old leather water bottle which you tie to your belt and remind yourself to fill it the next time you come across a stream.

[User] The road North again

[Assistant]
Having finished searching the camp, you start North again on the road. You still see signs of the group ahead of you but they have well over half a days hard march on you and judging by how late they camped and how early they set off you decide that you won't be able to catch them without running for the rest of the day, and your not willing to try that just for some company. So, you set off at a steady pace North again looking for any signs of a turn off that may lead to the mine.

You spend an uneventful 2 days on the road, stopping occasionally to camp and refill your supplies but on the 3rd day you finally see signs that the group ahead of you turned off into the foothills west of the road.

Reasoning that such a large group must have a reason for heading into the hills, you decide that they are probably the crew for the new mine and that you've found the entrance. Knowing that with such a large group already there most jobs will be filled you can follow them and hope for some paid manual labor or you can give up on it and head South for the city.


[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 watch Him Die

[Assistant]
"Go to hell," You growl, making sure to move off to the side of him to make sure that you aren't caught in the crossfire if the gun goes off.

The sounds of scurrying and squeaking from the rat get louder. Considering that he is naked, you have to appreciate that the animal has likely chewed up Jermaine's favorite tool in the process of trying to escape the burning metal. The man's whimpering and blubbering pleas for help don't make you feel guilty, on the contrary, you have never enjoyed watching someone in pain before now.

"You deserve this, you sick fuck," You taunt him, smiling a bit as the stopwatch hits sixty seconds.

The gun goes off with a deafening bang. Blood explodes out of his mouth and a horrible smell fills the room as feces leaks down onto the floor around the barrel of the gun that is still lodged in his ass. You stand there and stare at him a little longer, watching as a mixture of blood and shit falls out of his mouth. He twitches a bit at first, a terrible groaning sound escaping him before he goes still.

[User] You look For The Exit

[Assistant]
A door opens on the other side of the room after a few moments and you hurry to go through it to escape the smell of blood and shit that now permeates the room. The room past the door is pitch black, but you hurry through it anyway. The door slams shut and locks behind you, making you jump while the light in the room turn on and illuminate your surroundings.

This is different from the other rooms. You can't see anyone else in here with you and you are confined to a small place inside what looks like plexiglass. A door leading out of the glass cage is on the other side of it, but as you look closer you can see several devices on the ceiling that you aren't sure about.

You hear a door open from beyond the plexiglass and a woman you don't know walks in, staring at you from the other side of the cage. She holds a tape recorder in her hand as she walks up to the glass, hitting play you hear the familiar voice start to speak.

"Hello, Annette. If you're hearing this, then you survived all of your trials and have come to the final test. By now, you have watched the footage showing a series of choices made by the individual before you. She was given the opportunity to forgive or punish the people who hurt her in the past. Now you will be given the same opportunity... Three years ago, your daughter went missing. Since then your life has been consumed with trying to find her. But, every new lead comes up empty. The woman before you now was once taken like your daughter, forced into a life of sexual slavery and drugs. But, three years ago the man who owned her gave her a choice. She could either stay his property or bring him a substitute to trade for her own freedom. Ciara then went to the club where your daughter was last seen and lured her away, drugging her and then taking her back to her pimp. Ciara was set free that day and your daughter took her place, trafficked for sex and moved outside of the country before anyone could save her. To forgive her, all you have to do is buzz open the door to her cell and let her out. Or, you can walk away and leave her to her deserved fate. Make your choice."

A tear falls down your face as your darkest secret is announced into the silence of what could very well be your tomb. The woman, Annette, has quiet tears streaming down her face as she watches you with hate etched into her face.

"I'm so sorry. I was desperate, I just wanted to be free." You plead with her through the glass.

"You could have gone to the police. You didn't have to play his game. You didn't have to take my daughter." Her voice is surprisingly strong for a person with tears falling down their cheeks and it cuts to your very core.

"It was the first time he had let me out in years. He was watching me. He would have killed me," You explain, hoping she believes you.

"My daughter bought your life, what have you done with it?" She asks suddenly, her hand pressing against the glass as she leans forward.

You swallow dryly, able to picture the poor girl you had tricked into taking your place perfectly. She looked just like her mother it seems. The girl had been young and beautiful, so full of life. Seeing her so free and happy in that club had been why you chose her. Something in you hated her for having everything that had been denied you in life. Freedom, happiness, and friends. She had been so trusting, chatting with you at first then dancing with you. Slipping the drug into her drink had been so easy, then you had simply led her away from her friends to the waiting car driven by one of Trigga's men.

The way her face had looked when she had been given to Trigga was burned into your memory no matter how many drugs you took. In so many ways, she had been with you all this time. Her terrified face looking back at you in accusation every time you look in a mirror.

Not able to look at her mother anymore, you instead fix your eyes to the floor, "I tried to get clean, but I had nowhere to go. I'm homeless... I'm nobody." You admit, feeling hot tears spill onto your face.

"You saved that boy, the one you used to date. Why?" She asks quietly, making you look up at her in confusion.

"I thought he loved me... But, he owed money to the pimp that I took your daughter too. He gave him me to pay off his debt... I should have let him die." You admit.

"You killed that man, your stepfather?"

"He... you don't know what he did to me when I was just a little girl. He was a monster. He would have killed my mom to save himself if I didn't stop him. He deserved to die." You snap back, no doubt in your mind that you are right.

"What about that woman, the CPS worker? You didn't save her."

"She could have saved me when I was little and she didn't. She signed off on my stepfather being ok even though he was hurting me. She was taking bribes." You explain.

"You're sure she took a bribe for you? It wasn't just a mistake?"

You just shake your head, not wanting to think about that too hard right now.

"That man, Jermaine? He was your pimp?" She asks, the expression on her face going cold and hateful.

"Yes, he deserved worse than what he got. I would have never given him your daugther if I had any other choice. He would have killed me... I was getting too old he said. I could either give him a new girl to take my place or he would find some other way to make money off of me... I know what he's willing to do to make money... I was scared... And I'm so sorry." You blurt out, sobbing a bit at the end as you start crying once more.

[User] You judgement

[Assistant]
Annette's face goes cold as she steps away, looking at you hard for a moment before she speaks, "You took my baby from me... She was my whole world. She was a good person. She wanted to be a nurse, to help people. And you took that away from her so you could whore and do drugs some more?"

"I'm so sorry. I wish I could take it back, but I can't. I'm so sorry."

"It's too late for that. You can't bring my daughter back. She's gone. I know I won't find her again. But, at least I'll know you got what you deserve," She says, turning away from you and heading for a door in the corner.

Opening it, she steps through and leaves you behind in the room.

A strange sound brings your attention to the devices above you, a strange whirring noise. Then they suddenly burst with light and noise, startling you before sudden pain sets in. Shrapnel tears through the air around you, lodging into your body and tearing apart your face and limbs.

Falling backward, you land on your side staring out through the plexiglass into the empty room. Blood pours out of your wounds and fills your mouth. You can't manage to make a sound as you try to call for help that won't come. The bleeding is slow, not fast. You lay there for what feels like an eternity before the lights in the room go out, plunging you into darkness.

At least once the shock sets in you feel less pain, more of a dulled hurt and a wooziness as you drift in and out of consciousness. You never asked for this game. You didn't kill anyone that didn't deserve it... But, that girl in the club... she certainly hadn't deserved what you did to her. And for what? Three years of freedom that you spent whoring despite your freedom so you could buy drugs and avoid ever being sober enough to think about her?

Maybe this is what you deserve...