[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] Continue

[Assistant]
Pressing the play button, you hear a voice start speaking from the recording. It's clearly been distorted, but you can hear the words well enough.

"Hello, Ciara. For most of your life, you have been a victim. But, you have never truly tried to rise above this victim status you have held for so long. Within this room, are photographs of your childhood. Your pictures progress from a happy little girl to that of a criminal, but what fueled this change? For years you have been too busy blaming others and using past wrongs against you as an excuse for your own misdeeds. Today, you will face your inner demons. Beyond the door of this room wait a series of tests. But, first, you must prove to yourself that your life is worth more than the addiction that rules it. The door out is locked and the key is within your reach, so is your drug of choice. Will you reach for the key to your freedom or will you stay a slave to your addiction? Live or die, Ciara, make your choice."

The tape goes silent as you feel fear start to take over the haze of cravings and the pounding of the migraine in the back of your skull. Looking around, you spot the door and hurry to it. Just as the tape said, it is locked with a heavy bolt. You've never seen a door like this before, it's solid steel and doesn't budge when you push against it. The bolt has a keyhole in it, but you don't see a key anywhere.

Looking around, all you can see are pictures hanging up illuminated by the flickering candlelight, some photographs on a crate surrounding by a circle of candles on the floor, and what looks like a binder laying on the floor in a dark corner of the room.

[User] You look At The Photographs On The Crate

[Assistant]
Walking over the crate encircled by candles, you pick up a few of the pictures on top. They're all family pictures of you and your parents, plus a few with old friends from your childhood. All people that you have long since left behind. What good had any of them ever done you after all? It certainly seems fitting that they are here in picture form to mock you while you are trapped in this room.

As you pick up the last picture you find yourself staring at a picture of you and your stepfather. His arm is laxily draped over your shoulder and he smiles for the camera, you smile as well for the picture. But there is a tenseness to your face. Flipping it over, you see there is a note scrawled on the back in neat handwriting.

Look beneath the facade

Frowning, you glance around the room again. It isn't that hard to follow the note's instructions. You had spent your entire childhood maintaining a facade, you can see through it in every single picture here. The forced smiles, the tense posture, the baggy clothing that covers everything. Your childhood had been a lesson in learning to not stand out, to not be pretty. To just go unnoticed as much as possible and survive long enough to see a better life.

That better life had never come though.

Looking down again, you realize that the pictures on top of the crate had hidden a small hole beneath them which has a flashlight settled down inside it. Picking up the flashlight you flip it on, glad for the extra light. Aiming it about the room, you are able to spot a corner of the room that was previously unlit. There are what looks like two glass boxes there.

[User] The Choice

[Assistant]
Walking over to the corner of the room, you find two glass boxes filled with what looks like razor wire. Bending down you shine the flashlight into the first box, trying to see through all of the wire and spotting something in the back of it. Craning your neck you eventually are able to make out a key at the back of the box. A quick study of the other box reveals a syringe at the end of it.

That sick feeling in your stomach is back, making bile rise up inside your throat. Sticking your hand inside either box is going to be extremely painful. A thought slides into your mind that it may be for the best if you just go for the syringe. Dying doesn't really concern you if you're completely honest with yourself. You've been gambling with your own life for a decade now. Clinging on to another year or two of prostitution, robbery, and drugs seems so pointless. Maybe one last high and dying here in this room surrounded by pictures and candles wouldn't be so bad? It certainly would be a kinder death than what may await you out on the streets or an overdose.

But, life is life. Maybe if you make it out of this place you can hang on for another few years. You're past the point of telling yourself that you will check into a rehab somewhere. You won't do it and you don't care to lie to yourself anymore. But a few more years of life sounds less scary than being entombed in this place forever.

[User] You reach For The Heroin

[Assistant]
One last high doesn't sound so bad and you can always go for the key later after all.

Slowly, you start to push your hand into the box. At first, the wires only graze your hand but once you are wrist deep into the box the razors start to cut into your skin. It's a sharp pain that's all too familiar, but you push past it. You feel a sharp wire cut into the soft flesh between your fingers and you have to pull back a bit to find your way through the maze of razor wires.

It feels as if your skin is being peeled off, making you cry out as you make one final shove toward the back of the box. Elbow deep in the box, it feels as if a hundred knives are cutting into your forearm, blood drips down onto the floor from the opening of the box. After feeling about with your blood slicked fingers, you finally feel the syringe.

Gripping it as best you can, you pull backward but the string holding the syringe in place holds fast. Gritting your teeth, you pull back steadily as the razor wires cut deeper into your flesh on the way back out. Suddenly it gives and you nearly fall backward before the syringe's string goes taut again after only a few inches of slack. Only your hand is inside the box now, still tightly gripping your prize.

Tugging at it, you cuss in frustration as it holds fast before you notice a quiet ticking sound coming from the box. Frowning, you lean down and peer inside past your hand. You can't see anything, but the sound is definitely coming from the back of the contraption. Yanking on the syringe again, you try to pull the prize free but it just won't give as you try to see what it is caught on.

The ticking stops and you pause for a moment before a gunshot rings out in the room. Searing hot pain rips through your face as you fall flat onto your back from the impact. There is a ringing in your ears and a stench of something burning in your nose. It feels as if you have just inhaled fire, the inside of your mouth feels burnt and so does your throat. Reaching your uninjured hand up to your face you feel the part of it that hurts.

Panic starts to run through you as you realize there is a hole where your cheek once was. Blood is pouring out from your face and the hole is too big for you to cover it with just your one hand. Bringing the hand up you freeze when you see the state of it. Strips of your skin dangle from your hand and forearm were the razor wire had ripped it clean off the flesh. You can see the exposed tendons working in your hand as you flex your fingers.

Looking around, you can't see anything in the darkness of the room. The candles have nearly burned themselves out, it won't be long now before you are plunged into true darkness. You try to call for help but all that comes out is a wet gurgle and a lot of pain.

[User] You reset Game

[Assistant]
Everything hurts.

Waking up is as bad as it usually is. Aches and pains along with a soured stomach are things you expect after chasing the dragon, though you usually don't have a screaming headache like the one currently pounding beneath your skull. The floor beneath you is cold and dirty, concrete that hasn't been cleaned in years. This isn't the first time you've woken up in some abandoned building you can't remember going to, but as your eyes slowly come into focus you aren't so sure if this really is the norm or not.

The light in the room comes from candles placed around the place, sitting on pieces of abandoned furniture, crates, and tables. The walls are decrepit, covered in graffiti and stained filth. It wasn't really that unusual to wake up in a place like this. Junkies love abandoned buildings and it is kind of nice to ride out a high in a nice candlelit room instead of a pitch black one. Whoever set out the candles didn't think to toss down a mattress though, a shame really.

You don't quite feel like getting up just yet, but the sooner you do the sooner you can make some cash to score another dose.

Standing up, you flap your arms a bit in an attempt to rid yourself of the numb, tingling sensation that seems ever present in them now. You really should start injecting elsewhere, but what does it really matter at this point? The crooks of your elbows look like shit and that won't change. Sure it hurts like a bitch to stick a needle there now, but the reward after is worth it.

Looking around at the flickering candles, you notice that there are pictures hanging from the ceiling on strings or placed around the candles. Shuffling toward one half rotten table, you pick up one of the photographs. It isn't easy to see in the dim lighting, but as you hold it up in one hand and a candle in the other you recognize it. It's been years since you've seen this picture. A family portrait from when you were just a kid. One corner of it is torn, effectively removing one person from the picture.

Swearing under your breath, you pick up other pictures and frown as you see that all of them are of you or people you know. Childhood photos of yourself and your parents, pictures of an old boyfriend, pictures of friends you haven't heard from in a decade or more.

As you continue sorting through all of the photographs, you come across a tape recorder with a small cassette already loaded inside of it.


[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 use the heavy fire extinguisher to disorient and bull-rush your way through the zombie hoard to the turnstile gate

[Assistant]
Good thing you brought this heavy fire extinguisher, you think, as you pull the pin and ready it for the onslaught. You're thinking that you can use it as a battering ram to bowl your way through and then blast the zombies in the face with the contents to hopefully confuse them long enough to dive through the turnstile.

Taking a deep breath, you rush out from the shadows of the tunnel and over to the nearest edge of the landing platform. As all the zombies on the tracks are looking in the direction of the zombies already on the platform, you are able to get right up to the edge of the zombie crowd and brush past two or three of them before vaulting up onto the upper level – the fire extinguisher clanging loudly on the tiles as you do so.

There is an abrupt silence, as all attention is suddenly drawn to you, and then a roar of agitated groans and wails. As one, the entire zombie hoard starts toward you. Of course, you weren't waiting to see what they'd do, so you're already running full speed toward the turnstile gate at this point. Unfortunately, the zombie swarm had already partially blocked your path; and with them now actively moving toward you, you'll need to bust past at least five or six of them before you can get to the gate.

You level the heavy fire extinguisher in front of you and ram at full speed into the first two zombies with a yell – sending them flying back into two more and toppling all four of them. Almost there you think, swinging the heavy fire extinguisher with both hands at the nearest of those left standing. The butt of the extinguisher slams into the creature's head just below the ear – shattering the thing's jaw and knocking its head so far to the side that its neck snaps loudly. It falls to the ground twitching violently.

You still have one standing between you and your goal when you feel grasping hands all over your back. It seems that your initial crash into the zombies has drastically slowed your forward momentum. With horror you feel yourself suddenly being pulled backward into the crowd. The book bag you think! They have hold of your book bag! You drop one shoulder and spin out of the book bag freeing yourself of the hoard on the landing platform, but exposing your back to the one standing between you and the turnstile gate. Knowing that it must be lunging at you even now, you do something radical and drop to the ground before rolling away to the side and emptying the contents of the fire extinguisher at your attackers.

A violent blast of white powder spews up into the faces of the zombies standing over you and fills the air with a cloud of the stuff. The zombies stop short for just a moment, apparently blinded, or at least confused by the sudden stimuli. Not wasting the advantage, you scramble the last few feet toward the turnstile gate – when something grabs your leg and threatens to drag you back into the hoard.

It's one of the prone zombies you knocked down in your charge – you had almost forgot about them in the mounting panic of your situation. Looking, you can see all four of them beginning to get back up, but the closest of them has grabbed a hold of your pant leg and is now sinking its teeth deep into your calf. You cry out in pain as the ugly thing rips free a wide strip of your flesh and grins – mouth dripping your own blood. Still having a hold of the fire extinguisher, you curse loudly and slam the butt of it down on the zombie's head with all your might. A gruesome spray of wet gore splats across your legs as the thing's head pops like a melon between the butt of the extinguisher and hard tile floor. You force yourself to ignore your own injury and the revulsion of such a gory sight – skittering through the turnstile before the rest of the zombies can get to you.

Immediately, the zombie hoard tries to reach through the bars of the gate to get at you. Looking at the stairs and escalator, you see that there are no zombies on this side of the gate – Phew! Maybe you'll get out of this yet. The problem is that you're now bleeding from the burning bite on back of your leg and are currently stuck holding the gate yourself to keep the zombies from following you through it. You need something to jam it shut with.

Looking for the heavy fire extinguisher, you see that you dropped it in order to make it to the gate in time. Damn; you could have used it! That just leaves two options – sacrifice your crowbar to lockup the turnstile – or simply make a run for the stairs (hoping your injured leg will carry you through), knowing that the zombies will follow, but only just a few at a time through the confined space of the turnstile gate…

Also, you have lost your book bag and the med kit, signal flares, and proper flashlight within (though you still have the penlight on your keychain).

[User] You let go and make a break for the stairs (keeping your crowbar)

[Assistant]
You deice that you need your crowbar too much to leave it behind and make a break for the stairs, letting go of the turnstile gate and running as fast as you can go with a limp.

Two zombies immediately force themselves through the turnstile gate, but the press of those behind them completely jams up the works. One zombie even gets stuck between the turnstile and gate and is slowly being crushed. As long as the zombies all continue pushing forward at once, no more will be able to get through.

Seeing this you:

[User] You beat the crap out of the two zombies following you with your crowbar, before going up the stairs

[Assistant]
Normally, you could easily outrun the two staggering zombies, but the injury in your leg has slowed you down noticeably; and right now, you're only just keeping ahead of them. You move a little ways up the stairs to gain the advantage of higher ground and wait with your crowbar to meet the two zombies climbing sluggishly up after you. The throng of angry zombies meanwhile, still tries to push through the gate after you, but is unable to pass. They glare at you with frustrated moans and snarls, flattening the trapped zombie in the process.

When the first zombie gets head level with your waist you swing for the fences and clock it in the side of the head so hard, that its ear explodes under the blow, and it is sent flying over sideways off the steps. It crashes heavily to the hard tile floor below and remains still for a moment, but then slowly begins to right itself.

The second zombie keeps coming and reaches to grab at your legs, but you anticipate such a move and backpedal up the stairs a bit more, giving you room to wind up a brutal overhead swing. Your crowbar lands on top of the nasty creature's head so hard that its skull caves in with a cracking-splorch – and a bloody spray of teeth splatter your feet as they shoot out of what was once the awful thing's mouth.

By this time, the first zombie has staggered back up and is heading for the stairs again. You see a long red welt raised up on the side of its head, where its ear used to be. You again raise you crowbar over your head and wait. When it gets up to you on the stairs, you kick its chest hard, sending it once more tumbling back down to the tile floor below. This time however, you hurry after it and plunge the chisel-end of your crowbar into the back of its head before it can get up again. The thing convulses violently a moment and then goes still, before you pull your crowbar out of its skull with a wet sucking sound.

You glance over at the turnstile gate, relieved to see that the agitated zombies are still jamming it up with their hapless compatriot.

Limping up the stairs to the subway's main corridor, you see the wide concrete and tile entryway into the subway itself; and you can actually see the exit to your left, beyond a bank of narrow token-operated turnstiles. Unfortunately, a huge mass of zombies crowd the area – both in front of the turnstiles and on the other side, where the tunnel itself simply opens without walls to the outside. You stifle a gag, as the smell of blood and death is overpowering here. Looking at the floor of the main corridor, you shudder to see hundreds of ripped open and dismembered bodies lying in sticky footprint-tracked pools of maggot and fly infested blood. You force yourself to ignore the nauseating massacre and take in the more pertinent details of the scene.

Directly across from the stairway you just came up is another stairway headed back down. The sign over the stairs reads: "North Platform." You know that this is the stairway that leads back down to the other end of the platform you just escaped. It's a good thing zombies are stupid – or they could just turn from the turnstile gate you blocked and come right up those stairs unimpeded.

To your right, the subway's main corridor goes another hundred or so feet and ends at another set of opposing stairs, where a much smaller group of ten or twelve zombies mill about. The signs above these stairways read: "South Platform" and "Exit Only" respectively. You know they would take you down to the subway's southbound platform – no doubt just as zombie infested as the north platform was.

Between you and that far end of the corridor – about fifty feet away – are three sets of doors. The first door is on the opposite side of the tunnel from you and is a security door broken off the top hinges. It hangs open at an odd angle and looks bent out slightly, as if it had been forced open recently. It has a pushpin key lock in it, but doesn't look like it can be closed anymore, and has the words: "Transit Authority: Subway Personnel Only" is written on its face.

The second door is on your side of the tunnel, just a little further down from the first. It is also a security door, closed and locked with a pushpin key lock, and reads: "Security Office" on the front. Next to the door itself is a huge smashed out window – creating a six foot wide, four foot high, opening into the security area beyond. The bloody body of a security guard hangs out of the window frame, the back half of his head apparently blown out from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Below the window frame is a scattering of broken glass and a bloody pile of corpses – some you note with huge holes in their heads as well. You also think you can see the pistol the guard must have used to blow his brains out, lying in the gore.

The final set of doors, about thirty feet further down the tunnel from the security office, are the doors to the men and women's restrooms.

Given the circumstances, you have to rule out the exit. There is no way you're going to be able to get through all those zombies. They would tear you apart, like all the other unfortunates that now litter the floor.

There is also no point in going back down to either subway platform. That would be suicide.

You really don't have to go to the bathroom all that bad; so there's no point getting trapped in a restroom. Besides, you can think of a lot more pleasant places to be killed by zombies anyway.

That leaves the broken transit authority door or the security office door (with the pistol).

Given the distance between both groups of zombies and the doors, you estimate that you can get to either door before the zombies can get to you – even if they spot you. If you can sneak undetected however, that will help even more.

[User] You run for the broken transit authority door

[Assistant]
You sprint across the main corridor for the broken transit authority door, hoping to get far enough ahead of the zombies that it won't matter that they see you – which unfortunately, they all do. With a loud clamor of wails and wheezing snarls, the massive hoard of walking dead jammed up at the at the turnstiles, notices your movement and falls forward toward you in a sudden jerky run. Damn; these ones are moving much faster than you expected!

Looking toward the smaller group of ten to twelve zombies at the other end of the corridor, you see that they too have all seen you and are now coming at you as well – lumbering forward with a clumsy gait.

[User] You oh shit!

[Assistant]
You rush through the broken transit authority door and see that you are in a short hallway, leading from the broken door about thirty feet to a set of private restrooms (men and women's) at the far end. Another corridor joins the hallway about halfway down its length on the left.

With the horde of ravenous zombies just moments behind, you move quickly to the corridor leading off the hallway and look down it to see a long corridor lit by emergency lighting. A number of office doors, some open and some closed, line each side – while what's left of two mangled corpses litter the hallway in a splattering of gore. As you look, you see a zombie stumble out of one of the office doors to wander aimlessly down the hall away from you.

At the far end of the corridor, beyond the lone zombie with its back to you, you can also see another security door, this one intact, but also shut and secured with a pushpin key lock.

Great; you're about to be sandwiched between the zombie ahead and the coming horde from behind – you'd better decide what to do fast…

[User] You take out the lone zombie with your crowbar, allowing a few moments access to the security door before the other two zombies show up behind you

[Assistant]
You sprint right up the corridor, toward the lone zombie near the closed security door. As you come up from behind, the zombie turns to see what the commotion is and catches your heavy crowbar right across the eyes. You hit it so hard – and with the momentum of your run – that the entire front of its face folds in and both eyeballs pop right out of its head. The thing topples over in a crimson spray – and does not get back up. Looking back down the corridor behind you, you don't yet see the following zombies, but can hear them drawing closer. You might have ten seconds – if you're lucky.

Quickly looking at the pushpin key lock securing the door, you see that it has nine pins (zero through nine) and a turning knob. Having worked with these before, in some of the secured areas of the Summit Tower, you know that you punch in a four digit combination and then turn the knob to open the door.

Examining the pushpins themselves, you note that the '1', '2', and '9' pins seem a bit more worn than the rest; and that the '9' pin looks the most worn of all. If the wear indicates the pins used in the combination, then you're looking at a combination using a '1', '2', and two '9's. Being an accountant, you quickly do the math in your head – leaving you with only twelve combinations.

You try:

[User] You 1299

[Assistant]
Not the right combination. You'd better hurry; time is running out!

You try:


[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 get out now

[Assistant]
Yeah, you're not taking any chances. You need to get the hell out now.

Where to go though is the issue. Lacking any other ideas, you suppose you'll head to Hessla and take it from there.

One of the problems with being thrifty thief/drug dealer is you've got more coin than you can easily carry. Granted you've got it hidden in what you believe is a good location, you won't be able to easily check on it, even if you come back here to transport more of it later.

That's going to have to be a concern for later though. You can always steal more coin. You've had to start over again before, you can do it again if need be.

You pack up all your important shit, along with some of your savings and immediately make your way to the carriage station.

There is a lot of militia milling about when you get there, but fortunately other than a few suspicious glances, you don't even get harassed. You board a carriage believing that you have no doubt made the right decision.

Two other passengers board the carriage. A young couple who mostly ignore you since they're really into each other. From what you can gather based on their conversation in between the kissing they're running away together due to their parents not approving.

You nearly laugh thinking back at how Annah fooled that guard when you first got to Klyton with a bullshit story like that. You were probably about the same age as the couple when that happened.

You still miss her in some ways.

The carriage ride starts off uneventful and you even feel comfortable enough to get some sleep since you don't particularly want to watch the couple slop all over one another.

Your sleep is suddenly awakened by a lot of screaming and yelling, a gunshot and then the carriage smashing into something and flipping on its side. You and the couple go tumbling all over the carriage.

You survive, though a bit banged up. The couple are still alive too, though the man looks to be very dazed with a big gash on his head and his woman is crying over him.

You soon hear several voices shouting in excitement and getting louder. Doesn't take long before the carriage door (which is now above you due to how the carriage flipped) opens up and you've got someone with a crossbow pointing at you.

"Hey lads, we got some survivors! An' one of dem is a lovely lookin' young thing! If nothing else, we're gonna have some fun tonight! Hey you! Don't fuckin' move or I'll put a bolt in yer 'ed!" a bandit says before warning you directly.

Soon several of his fellows come and get you and the couple. They grab you first since they rightly seem to believe you're the biggest threat. You exit the carriage and see some dead horses with bolts in them which no doubt contributed to the carriage crashing. The driver and the extra protector are nowhere to be seen, though you assume were killed before or after the crash.

The bandits take away all your weapons and your pack. When one of them opens it up, they're thrilled with what they see.

"Fuck, between this and that girl. We hit the mother lode today!" one of them says.
"Is that right Lou? Let me see what you got that's so great and why you fucking felt the need to attack without me." A voice suddenly says.

You see a female elf wearing next to nothing save for a few tattoos approach.

"Had to Flameflower, opportunity arose and we needed to seize it. And it paid off! Look!"

Flameflower grabs the pack from Lou and looks inside with a nod.

"Okay. Glad you guys didn't wait until I was done taking a shit then since this seems to have worked out. Hmm, this one's pretty, almost familiar looking." Flameflower says giving you a look before being distracted by screams of the girl being pulled out of the carriage by some of the other bandits.

"Haylon! Will you shut that bitch up?! Put a gag in her mouth or shove your cock in it. I can't hear myself think!" Flame shouts.
"Apologies Flame. Um, what should we do with this one?" Haylon says pointing to the young man who they're holding up since he's barely conscious.
"Shit, two young pretties today. Guess Yag's really rolling well for me for a change. Hm, he looks like he's almost on his way out. Guess we better do him quick unless we want to add necrophilia to our agenda. Fuck it, might still do that, day's early. Anyway, let's get his pants off and I'll start sucking. Hey have his bitch watch, she might learn something so she can satisfy the rest of you boys."

This is some fucked up shit and while you aren't exactly sure what these fuckers are going to do to you, you are not going to just wait around to find out.

With as much force as you can muster, you punch Lou in the side of the face while his attention is divided and take off running. This is soon followed by shouts calling for you to be stopped.

Several bolts whizz by you and for a moment you think you're going to get away and then you feel a sensation in your head.

You immediately see a moment in your youth when you were with your sister, playing and laughing in Teckleville. Such a happy time.

This vision then blinks away and you fall to the ground twitching a bit as your brain begins shutting down along with the rest of your body due to the bolt buried in your skull.


[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 change your mind

[Assistant]
"No, I'm fine, actually. There are some things man's not meant to know."

"Oh. Knowledge is power, Karth. If you weren't willing to take power, you probably should've found a planet and lived out a peaceful life."

You shrug, as Elizabeth looks around awkwardly.

"There's... really not much else to be done, then. If I were you, I'd go see if I can catch up with the hunters."

"Alright then," you say. "Um... thanks."

Elizabeth nods, and you turn, levitating off.


[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 open fire on the beasts

[Assistant]
You raise your shotgun, taking up a shooting position as you open fire at the approaching werewolves. You aim down the iron sights of your shotgun, quickly targeting an approaching werewolf that appears from out of the trees. You fire your gun, silver shards tearing through the werewolf's open maw as you blow open its jaw, killing it instantly and sending it collapsing in a shower of gore and blood. You swivel around, quickly targeting another creature that's appearing from the bushes. You fire again, the shot hitting the creature's foreleg and leading it to stumble, hitting the ground, before quickly leaping off into the bushes again. By now, the creatures now to avoid your direct line of fire, so you simply stand there, sweeping your gaze around you, shotgun at the ready. Ever few seconds, you spot one emerging from the bushes, attempting to flank you and tear the gun from your hands, or your arm from your body, but the creatures dives back upon being noticed, and if it doesn't your shotgun easily sends them running.

Still, you're far outnumbered, and your ammo is rapidly running out. You swear, wondering how you're going to get out of there, before you see a faint light in the distance. Your eyes widen as you see a pair of bright yellow lights, slowly growing larger and brighter. Adrenaline coursing through you, you double your efforts, firing at every flash of fur or teeth that you see in the bushes, hoping to give yourself some space.

Soon, the source of the lights comes into view. A massive, eighteen wheeler truck comes into view, roaring along the road. The werewolves howl at you, but you continue firing upon them, until the truck

"What the fuck are you doing?!" the driver yells, as you struggle to understand his thick Norwegian accent with your basic understanding of the language.

"Please!, Please help me!" you yell, not giving him a second to respond as you race up to the truck, pulling the door open and clambering inside. "Drive!"

Seeing the terror on your face, the trucker does as requested, slamming his foot on the accelerator. The truck speeds off down the road. You wince for a second, when the truck's still slow enough for a werewolf to leap through the windscreen, but thankfully the truck soon picks up speed, and the howls of angry werewolves are left in the distance.

"What the hell happened you?"

"Wolves," you reply simply. "A starved wolf pack attacked me while I was hunting. Thank you so much."

"You look like you've been chewed up, boy."

"Almost," you smile, before laughing, as the night's fear and tension break. "Just keep driving, sir. Get me out of here."

The truck barrels down the road, as you head out from those moonlit woods.

[User] You lucky Thirteen...

[Assistant]
Lucky Thirteen

You soon return to the Lodge, informing them of what happened. The Lodge quickly recalls its Hunters, and prepares a defense that could hold off an army. Thankfully, the werewolves do not attack that night, or the following one.

However, the next night, they do make their move. Under the night of the full moon, they strike. Power grids are knocked off, cell towers are taken down, and vast sections of suburbia are hit, their inhabitants slaughtered. The werewolves kill scores of humans, damaging critical infrastructure. From that night forward, the attacks only intensify, as their plan continues, their numbers growing far beyond what you can contain.

The media doesn't know what to call it. A massive population of rabies-inflicted Wolves beyond what anyone had ever knew of. You're unsure what's to happen now, with the last news you remember being that the National Guard are being localized to deal with the threat. You don't fancy their odds.

Either way, you survived another hunt. Your Lodge has requested support from dozens of other Lodges, trying to find the numbers to help deal with this threat. You don't know if they'll be able. All you do know is that you need to serve as you can.

You survived your thirteenth. Your fourteenth hunt is tomorrow night, and your fifteenth after that. You are no longer a Hunter, you are a soldier in the war against this new threat.

The night is long, and some say that this is the time of Beasts now, and that the time of man is over. You hope they're wrong.


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

[User] You go find the Twins

[Assistant]
"I'll find Lucas. You two stay here and prepare the coach, understood?" you say.

"Yes, sir," Haygarth says, as Dasha nods.

You turn, opening the doorway to the stables and entering the hallway. You take a breath, holding your rifle, and walking slowly along the hallways. You step slowly forward, looking along the dark, shadowy corridor. You feel a breath of cold air on your deck, quickly spinning to aim your rifle, only to find yourself staring at a shadow-filled corner. You turn, walking ahead again. You keep walking forward, as the figures in the paintings along the wall stare down at you, their eyes seemingly following you. You see a figure, writhed in a black cloak and shadows, leaning in an alcove. You quickly raise your gun and fire, but your bullet only slams into the stone alcove. You swear, grabbing the bolt and pulling it back. Suddenly, a gloved hand grabs you by the shoulder as a pair of sharp fangs prick into your neck, gently pressing into your neck. You pause, as their hand moves forward and grabs your rifle, which you allow them to take. The fangs pull away, breathing freezing cold air on the back of your neck.

"Still here, huh?" Alexa asks. "I thought you were trying to escape, or at least kill Mihrab. From where you're going, it doesn't seem likely."

"I'm getting my friends and getting out of here."

"Optimistic," she says. "If you're not going to kill Mihrab for me, I might as well kill you," she says.

You flinch and yelp as her lips close around your lips, before she laughs.

"Ha! I like you, ghoul. You're going to die tonight, that's for sure, but I won't be the one killing you. Mihrab's busy, you can speed up a bit."

She releases you, dropping the gun on the ground. You grab it quickly, stepping forward and spinning around to aim, only to be faced with shadows once more.

"Fuck," you say.

You turn, rushing along the halls. You open the door, pulling it open and walking inside the next room, the lounge. You quickly pass through, heading into the medical bay. He door is locked, so you quickly knock on it. You hear the door click unlocked as the door swings open, and someone grabs your arm, throwing you inside and onto the floor. You roll over as you stare at the barrel of a gun, looking up as Lucas aims his rifle at you.

"Shit, what happened you?" Lucas asks, grabbing you by the hand and pulling you to your feet.

"Count Grey is dead. The Viceroys betrayed him," you say.

"Yeah, I suspected as much," Lucas admits. "We need to get the hell out of here. We have to find Haygarth."

"He's in the stables with the girl. We're preparing the coach to escape.

"The girl?" Lucas asks, frowning in confusion.

"One of the girls we were going to sacrifice," you say.

"Why didn't you kill her?" Lucas asks.

"We need all the help we can get," you reply.

"Fine," Lucas says. "Help me shift Mikhail."

You look behind him, where Mikhail lies, heavily bandaged, in the medical bay's bed. He's unconscious, but moves his head slightly and groans upon hearing his name. You walk over, slinging your rifle over your back and grabbing Mikhail's left arm. You pull him up, as Lucas grabs his other arm, supporting him as he stands.

"What is going on?" Mikhail mumbles.

"We're getting out of here."

"Let me stand, I can walk," Mikhail says, gently pushing at you.

[User] You let him walk

[Assistant]
You let go of your grips on Lucas, as he immediately collapses face first on the ground.

"Idiot," Lucas sighs, as you both lean over, grabbing him again.

You continue walking, heading into the lounge, as Lucas pauses.

"Put him down for a second," he says.

He walks over to the lounge's bar, and begins grabbing several bottles, several boxes of matches, an oil lamp and more. He works for about a minute, before ending with with four bottles of oil and alcohol on the table topped with rags

"What the fuck are those?" you ask.

"Bombs. Light the rag, toss it, burn the monster," Lucas says. "Take two."

You grab two, sliding into your leather duster's pockets, before grabbing a box of matches.

"Alright, let's continue."

You keep half-dragging, half-walking Mikhail towards the stables, before you finally arrive. You kick open the doors, as you all stumble inside, closing and locking the door behind you.

"You're here. Good," Haygarth says. "We're ready to go."

[User] You help Mikhail into the coach

[Assistant]
You help Mikhail clamber up into the coach, before turning to Haygarth.

"You can fire out the slits, to protect the horses. Hopefully, they'll be fast enough to escape the beasts' claws."

Dasha climbs into the coach as Haygarth positions the reigns through the coach itself, so that he can control the horses without exposing himself.

"Make as much noise as possible, to draw the werewolf's attention to us instead of the horses," Haygarth says, as he climbs in the coach, followed by Lucas. "Now, open the stable doors."

You take a deep breath, unlatching the stable doors. You give them a hefty push open, as Haygarth yells at the horses to go. You run forward, grabbing onto the back of the coach and pulling yourself inside as Lucas grabs the door and slams it shut behind you. You raise your rifle, pressing it to a firing shot and looking outside. The wolves are outside, as they prowl about the walls and the courtyard like a bad rabble, fighting over the bodies, both dead and living, of peasants, as well as searching for a way in. The big, albino one notices you, and lets out a loud, powerful howl, and the wolves charge.


[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 the intercom again

[Assistant]
You press down on the button, and a voice crackles through.

"Do... do you think I don't know it's still you? There's a camera here, bud."