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...the woman your father adored, loved, and married, but also all women in general.

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"Listen, Horatio, never speak of this whole 'we totally saw a ghost' thing, okay? We've got to keep it a secret."

"That's cool," says Horatio.

"No, I'm serious, man!" you say, grabbing his shoulders. "Some REALLY SERIOUS STUFF is going to go down, and I need you to keep this a secret. Swear that you'll never talk about this."

"I swear," says Horatio.

"SWEAR IT," booms your dad's voice out of nowhere.

"He already did!" you shout. Horatio looks at you, questioning. "Hamlet. Bro. What's this all about?" he says.

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio--" you begin.

"--than are dreamt of in my philosophy," Horatio finishes, annoyed. "Fine. Right. Whatever."

Okay! Horatio will keep your secret, and you've got a quest from a ghost to fulfill! And at the end, he'll probably give you some cool loot for completing it! Maybe? I mean, it's possible.

Anyway, it's past midnight, and Claudius is probably falling-down drunk.

Added Space posted:

Remember, kids, insulting one member of a group is the same as insulting every member of that group! Clearly these folks are masters of both literary criticism and social niceties.

Since it's not clear here, Ghost Dad is accusing Gertrude of being adulterous with his brother Claudius before his death and helping plan (or at least cover up) his murder. Even so, he tells Weebottom to leave her alone and only punish Claudius. "Pernicious" would be entirely correct in context. The next line is "O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!" which is equally accurate, assuming the allegations are true. So, if you insult a woman when you believe she's committed evil acts, you're sexist against all women, according to this story.

Get our Weebottom in gear and shank the king!

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There's a bottle of booze in his hand! He really is a cartoon drunk! This is gonna be real easy!

You hold your hand over his mouth so he can't scream and slit his throat and he's dead within the minute.

Ta-da! You leave quietly, making sure not to be seen, and head down to the shore to wash your blood-soaked hands and your blood-soaked clothes. The ocean water cleans off the blood quickly, which is great because you heard it was hard to get out damned blood spots.

Turns out, nope, it's actually really easy! You're glad you stayed cool and rational and didn't freak out at all during this process. Good job, champ!

You walk home in your wet clothes, change into adorable pyjamas, get into bed, and fall asleep. Content in the knowledge that you were right to murder a dude and that you even had supernatural forces on your side, your dreams are generally peaceful. (There's some sex stuff in there too but whatever man, it happens. Don't even worry about it. It's honestly not a big deal.)

In the morning you act super surprised that Claudius got killed to death ("Whaaaaat?" you say, waving your hands in the air) (Come to think of it that was probably a little much but everyone bought it so PHEW) and then later you become king!

And check it: Your economic policies are both wise and fair, and your country becomes way prosperous! Due to economics not being a zero-sum game, you not only make the lives of your subjects better, but you actually improve the lives of those they trade with too.

Hamlet, you've literally [sic] make the world a better place. NICE.

And all you had to do was kill a human being!

THE END

P.S. Oh, I meant to mention it sooner, but one day you step on a butterfly that has the cascade effect of preventing not one but TWO worldwide wars from occurring, centuries down the line! So, good job all around, I'd say! Keep on killing everyone who interferes with your preferred version of history, I'd say!

Congratulations, you were really terrific at being Hamlet.

THE END

FOR REAL THIS TIME

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_{>>Go back<<}
“I love it!” he says. “Hammers are tough, like me, but also decisive, like me!”

“Phew,” you say.

“Yay! Phew!!” he repeats, running around the room. “The Hammer! The Hammer!”

He punches you in the head.

“The Hammer!!” he says.

“Ow,” you say.

Anyway, you get Hamlet to calm down: you sing and dance and tell stories and make fun of your own smile and before you know it you even start to...like your job? Yes. You like your job. You like that each morning you have the laughter of a child to look forward to as a reward for a job well done.

Also, they pay you!



A few weeks go by. You pour a flagon of Rhenish wine on a young gravedigger’s head. Hamlet loves it. Those weeks turn into months, and before you know it, years. Everything is great, and Kid Hamlet changes before your eyes into Young Adult Hamlet, and then Teen Hamlet. You scale up your stories to match. And then you die of a heart attack.

THE END

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>>Accept that this is the end<<
>>Refuse to accept that this is the end<<

Pittsburgh Lambic posted:

Huh. I had never read that bit as the ghost accusing Gertrude of a co-conspirator. Shows what I know. Let's see what Ryan North knows about assassinating kings in their own palaces!

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_{>>Go back<<}
What? Not allowed. This IS the end, you just died of a heart att—

—wait, it says here you...got better? It says you stood up and said “My heart fixed itself guys, neat” and then...went about your business?

FOR 25 YEARS??

So now it’s 25 years in the future and you’re standing beside your friend Hamlet and your mutual friend Horatio. You’re in the middle of one of your madcap adventures you guys always get into together, which has led you to a graveyard. A gravedigger is digging into a shallow grave. Well good luck, Yorick, because I know he’s about to dig up your skull and then you’re gonna be in trouble. Here it comes! Right now!!

...The gravedigger continues digging without incident.

Hamlet seems like he’s about to say something, and gets as far as “Alas, poor...Yor— I, um. Wh—” and then there’s this terrible light bursting out of his chest, tearing him apart. What happens next happens over the course of just a few microseconds, but I’ll slow it down so you know what happens:

The light bursts out of Hamlet, blinding everyone who sees it, including you. It grows, splitting apart the very fabric of reality as it goes, tearing down through the graveyard and up into the sky. The earth itself blasts apart in two colossal fragments – and you’d think that would be the end of it, but no: your li’l tear in spacetime continues to expand, laterally now, until a few nanoseconds later it contains the entire planet. Or it would, if the planet still existed, which it doesn’t. Erased from existence, bucko. You destroyed all our tomorrows with your paradox, and 2 million years later our quadrant of the universe is avoided by every single spacefaring race because it’s RUINED.

I told you earlier the universe required you to die! You were supposed to be buried here so Hamlet would have the chance [sic] reflect upon your skull, but yeah, tearing the universe a new one so you could steal an extra few years was so totally worth it.

Jerk!!



THE END FOR REAL, THANKS FOR NOTHING

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Things have been rough lately. You had been trying to focus on your studies at Wittenberg University where you and your bros Horatio, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern all hang out, but you were called home because your father died.

Then your dead dad’s brother (Claudius!) married your mom (Gertrude!) two weeks later. Yep.

It’s made you kind of upset. You raced home to comfort her but she’s married your uncle and that is weird. You feel weird.

Right now you’re in the audience chamber of your father’s castle, here in sunny Denmark. King Claudius is here, addressing his court. Laertes and Polonius are here too; Laertes is kind of a jerk and Polonius is his father.

Polonius is also the father of Ophelia, whom you’re totally sweet on. She’s not here though. Who knows what adventures she’s having as we speak, while you’re stuck in this drafty castle room listening to other people talk about their feelings??

Speaking of speaking, just now Laertes says something about how now that Claudius is king and he’s attended the coronation, is it okay for him to go back to France? Claudius says, “Sure.”

Wait a minute. You’d love to leave too and go back to school, away from this weird incesty thing your mother’s gotten herself into! It’s so gross and weird!

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On one hand, that's entirely appropriate, especially since he just married your mom like two weeks ago. But on the other hand, he HAS brought "creepy uncle" to new heights.

Hitlers Gay Secret posted: