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Check out the attic I guess. Later can we remember to go to the library and snoop to see what book Michael was reading? And if any newspaper clippings or general information on the Verlac family history can be looked up, then do that too. You can't just keep a creepy incest rape baby locked up in your attic in a small town without anyone ever noticing, believe me I've tried.
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May 11, 2015 23:15
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Seyser Koze posted:Actually, x Michael and see if he has anything that could be described as "the charm against the..." on his person. Having met our husband, I think we can be reasonably certain that he doesn't have any sort of charm. Let's hit the attic.
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May 12, 2015 00:39
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inflatablefish posted:Having met our husband, I think we can be reasonably certain that he doesn't have any sort of charm. 
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May 12, 2015 01:43
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Seyser Koze posted:Try all 60^3 possible combinations Ha Ha! No.  Seyser Koze posted:Actually, x Michael and see if he has anything that could be described as "the charm against the..." on his person. That, Miranda can do. >open doors Michael is in the study, typing furiously at his laptop. As you walk in he looks up at you with a pained expression. "Can it wait?" he asks you. "I think I'm onto something really good here, and if I don't get it all out I'm going to lose it. If you don't mind, hon, I could really use the next hour or so to myself." Not wanting to disturb him, you tiptoe out, shutting the doors quietly behind you. Never-mind. That, Miranda can't do. Once, Miranda interrupted Micheal's writing with a Tupperware party in the next room and she wasn't allowed a safe word that night. ... I don't know if that's true. Zoe posted:Check out the attic I guess. Keep reminding me about the library. There's good reason to see what Michael was reading. >South Upstairs Hall There is a cord dangling in mid-air here, right about level with your face. >pull bob With a rusty, ratcheting groan and a brief shower of dust, the trap door swings down and folds back, revealing a rickety wooden ladder leading up into darkness. >up The ancient rungs creak alarmingly as you ascend. Attic It's much cooler up here than in the rest of the house, and you find it hard to suppress a shiver. Grotesque, looming shadows crawl across the low, slanted ceiling, and the dust hangs thick and motionless in the air. To the west the ceiling dips even lower until the space beneath leaves hardly room enough to crawl, while to the north stands a wooden door, draped in shadows and half-hidden by the slanting eaves. >look at ceiling You see nothing special above you. Knowing this game, I wouldn't have been surprised if loot was stashed in the rafters like a Thief: Dark Project game. >look at door It's an ordinary wooden door, unremarkable except for the antique metal keyplate. Beneath the door, a thin line of faint light is barely visible. >look under door Dropping to your hands and knees and placing your eye close to the crack beneath the door, you can make out a dim light coming from somewhere up above, and a great deal of dust on the floorboards. Hmmm... >look at keyplate The keyhole is of the classic round-hole-atop-a-triangular-hole variety, the kind people are always peeping through in cartoons. Fair enough. Let's look through it like in a cartoon.  >look into keyhole The keyhole is dark, as though blocked by something. Strange. Maybe one of the keys from the real-estate office opens this? >unlock door (first taking the keyring) You go through all the keys on your keyring, trying each one in turn, but none of the keys seem to fit. Well, shucks. >west Darkness >look Darkness It is pitch dark, and you can't see a thing. Um... We have a lantern, I think. >east Attic >take lamp Taken. Grimwit posted:>lite lamp Striking Yak posted:I may have found the cause of our lamp-lighting issue. Ahem... >light lamp You don't have a match. Bugger. >put lamp in coat You slip the lantern into the pocket of your trenchcoat. >Down The ancient rungs creak alarmingly as you descend. Upstairs Hall A rickety wooden ladder stands here, descending from a three-foot by three-foot square of darkness in the ceiling. >close ladder With a shriek of rusted springs, the ladder snaps back up into the attic. The trap door slams shut, the cord swings back and forth briefly, and then all is still. >West Upstairs Landing >Down Foyer Your luggage is still here, spread out all over the foyer. >search luggage Honestly, you just can't muster enough motivation. I guess this is like Miranda going over old items she's already "collected" from her home in Texas. Now the Foyer has an East and West that leads into different rooms. Also... >North Back Hall A short hallway, connecting rooms to the east, west and south. The Back hall has and east and west. Each of these four rooms are pretty interesting. I'll just tell you the rooms and you can vote on where we head next update. 1. Kitchen 2. Gallery 3. Dining Room 4. Sitting Room Please choose and/or suggest in bold. Items      In Trenchcoat          
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May 12, 2015 15:49
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Something blocking the keyhole? Sounds like it could be the classic old puzzle. We need something thin enough to jam in there. And some paper to catch whatever falls out. Sitting Room!
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May 12, 2015 16:43
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Kitchen. After all this sleuthing we need a snack. Seems like a reasonable place to find some matches, too.
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May 12, 2015 16:45
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Yeah, let's try the kitchen.
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May 12, 2015 17:39
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The kitchen might be the most likely place to find matches.
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May 13, 2015 13:56
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Zoe posted:Kitchen. Seems about right. The Kitchen is located West of the back Hall. Back Hall A short hallway, connecting rooms to the east, west and south. >West Kitchen Where once pots and skillets and various utensils hung in profusion, the kitchen walls are now merely ranks of dusty cabinets and a forest of empty hooks. Doorways lead east and south, a small pantry lies to the northwest, and the back door to the north leads out of the house. Someone's flashlight is lying on the kitchen counter; one of the movers must have left it. An odd feeling of gloom overtakes you momentarily, and you find yourself thinking about the Verlac family's personal effects -- the everyday mundanities, such as kitchen utensils. Were they thrown out, or donated to charity, or auctioned off as grisly souvenirs? What about the canned goods? Did anyone think to take them? The cabinets might even still be stocked. Morbidly, you wonder what Mrs. Edward Verlac might have been cooking for dinner the night her husband blew her head off. This maybe a place of cooking and eating, but I've nick-named this room "The Armory." The Kitchen is the best place to fill up on inventory items. >Look at flashlight It's battery-powered, and waterproof too, by the look of it. The flashlight is currently switched off. >put flashlight in coat (first taking the flashlight) You slip the flashlight into the pocket of your trenchcoat. I'll show off a silly trick with this in a second.  >look at back door It's just an ordinary-looking back door. >look at cabinets You can't see inside, since the cabinet is closed. >open cabinets The cabinets are not, after all, still stocked -- much to your relief. There's nothing in there but an old book of matches. There are the matches everyone is talking about. Strange that you all seemed to know... >look at matches A label on the side reads, "Water-resistant matches. Strike on cover." There are six matches left. Ah, but they are limited. Maybe Miranda should be sparing with using them. There isn't a store in town that sells matches. >put matches in coat (first taking the book of matches) You slip the book of matches into the pocket of your trenchcoat. >close cabinets You close the cabinet. What? It's Miranda's house and she wants to keep it tidy. >open door It seems to be locked. >unlock door You unlock the back door. >put keys in coat You slip the keyring into the pocket of your trenchcoat. Hey, Scoob. Check out this kooky closet. Like, maybe there's some food inside! >Northwest Darkness >turn on flashlight The flashlight emits a warm yellow beam. Pantry The pantry is empty save for a layer of dust on the shelves. A door to the south leads down to the cellar, or you can return to the kitchen to the southeast. Leaning in the corner is an old broom. Wait a second... Where IS the flashlight, exactly? >i You are wearing a silver locket, your trenchcoat, your clothes and your wedding ring; in addition, you have in your hand a styrofoam cup, inside which is some cold, murky coffee. The pockets of your trenchcoat contain a keyring, on which are two keys (a key to the house and a key to the cellar), a book of matches with six matches left, a flashlight (providing light), a lantern, a bundle of soggy pages, a towel, your umbrella, The Compleat Manual of Wardes and Seales, a jewelry box (which is closed), a typewritten notice, a flask (which is closed) and an old tin (which is closed). That's right, the flashlight works, even if it's in the trenchcoat. I'll just draw that as if it were one of those pocket flashlights like Harry Mason from Silent Hill uses.  >look at broom It's just an ordinary-looking broom. >take broom Taken. Pretty soon, we're going to start juggling. It hasn't become an issue as of yet, but Miranda can only hold Three items in her hands before having to drop something or putting it in her coat. >put broom in coat The broom is too long to fit in your pockets, deep though they are. And, alas, Miranda's coat can't hold everything. >look at door It's just an ordinary-looking cellar door. >open door It seems to be locked. >unlock door (first taking the keyring) You unlock the cellar door. No points for this puzzle. >put keys in coat You slip the keyring into the pocket of your trenchcoat. >look at shelves They're just ordinary-looking shelves. >se Kitchen Mustn't waste the batteries. >Turn off flashlight You switch the flashlight off. > Alright, we have access to the back yard, now, and the cellar. I'll head there if you REALLY want to, but I imagine you'll want to clear out the first floor first. We have left... 1. The Sitting Room. 2. The Gallery. 3. The Dinning Room. This and any suggestions put in Bold. Items  In Trenchcoat  
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May 13, 2015 15:47
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Grimwit posted:There are the matches everyone is talking about. Strange that you all seemed to know... That one's not really much of a puzzle, it'd be the first room I'd check for matches IRL too. I don't have a stove with an actual pilot light anymore but a drawer in the kitchen is still where we keep them. And the Sitting Room next I guess. Looks like we're exploring the rest of the first floor either way. Though now that we have a flashlight I'd love to check out that dark area in the attic that sent us looking for matches in the first place.
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May 13, 2015 16:34
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Zoe posted:That one's not really much of a puzzle, it'd be the first room I'd check for matches IRL too. I don't have a stove with an actual pilot light anymore but a drawer in the kitchen is still where we keep them. ^ Seconding all of this.
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May 13, 2015 17:33
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Zoe posted:That one's not really much of a puzzle, it'd be the first room I'd check for matches IRL too. I don't have a stove with an actual pilot light anymore but a drawer in the kitchen is still where we keep them. I must be weird. In our family, we kept the matches with all other tools in the garage.
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May 13, 2015 18:03
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Zoe posted:That one's not really much of a puzzle, it'd be the first room I'd check for matches IRL too. I don't have a stove with an actual pilot light anymore but a drawer in the kitchen is still where we keep them. Sounds ideal.
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May 13, 2015 22:06
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Zoe posted:And the Sitting Room next I guess. Looks like we're exploring the rest of the first floor either way. Everyone seems to agree. Let's start with the Sitting room. >East Back Hall >South Foyer Your luggage is still here, spread out all over the foyer. The Sitting Room is East of the Foyer. It may have been the first place one is supposed to visit in this game. >East  Sitting Room The east wall is occupied by a beautiful antique sofa, and a large, hand-woven rug covers the hardwood floor. The huge marble fireplace in the north wall helps complete the impression of comfort and warmth, and for a moment or two you can almost think of this place as somewhere you could live, as opposed to merely somewhere others have died. The foyer lies west, and a doorway to the left of the fireplace leads north. Your brief sense of comfort quickly drains away, however, as you become aware of the icy and maniacal stare emanating from the great portrait hanging over the mantelpiece. Under the malefic gaze of those red-rimmed eyes, the most comforting thought you can muster is that of immediate flight. On the sofa is a family album. >look at sofa It's a 19th century William IV-style sofa with wide, flaring armrests and beautifully scrolled mahogany woodwork. The upholstery is a soft, faded wine color. A subtle movement from the portrait makes you turn. For a moment, it seems like the eyes are looking directly at you, but it's only a trick of the light. Oooh! That looks comfortable! >sit There's nowhere here for you to sit. What are you talking about, Game? This is the sitting room. >sit on sofa You can't sit on the sofa. But... But... It's a SOFA! >look at album It's a slim, hardbound volume in dark leather, unadorned except for name "Verlac" embossed on the front. Glancing at the title page, you notice two details: one, the book was self-published; and two, it was published in 1944. So it's a good bet that Edward Verlac and his family aren't mentioned here. A subtle movement from the portrait makes you turn. For a moment, it seems like the eyes are looking directly at you, but it's only a trick of the light. >take album Taken. What was that baby's name? William? >look up william in album You cannot find that name anywhere in the album. Huh. Well, if he's the family secret, I guess that only makes sense. >look up Edward in album Since this book was only published in 1944, there is no mention of Edward Verlac or his family. He probably wasn't even born yet. I could hope. Actually, except for Edward and William, we don't have that many names of the Verlacs. Maybe the Album can introduce us. >read album The book contains portraits and brief biographies (although, strangely, no birth or death dates) on some two hundred members of the Verlac clan, from the central family figures to the distant second cousins. If you want to read about someone in here, you'll have to look them up by name. I know what you're thinking. Michael surely could not be in this book. >look up Michael in Album No mention of Michael in here, which isn't surprising, since he wasn't born until 1973. Even so, Michael is such an extremely distant relative, it's doubtful he would have been in this book in any case. >put album in coat You slip the family album into the pocket of your trenchcoat. That just leaves... >look at painting The man in the portrait is the apotheosis of everything cruel and inhuman that you have ever laid eyes on. His archaic Puritan dress would indicate that he must have lived a very long time ago; perhaps he was the founder of the Verlac family in this region. If so, it's no wonder they all wound up murdered or mad: the red-rimmed eyes glaring down from his gaunt and haggard face seem to blaze with a terrible insanity. There is nothing regal, fatherly or dignified about this portrait. It is the essence of raving, gibbering evil captured on canvas. How lovely and uplifting that this should be in the parlor. We wouldn't want to make the guests feel welcome, now would we? And... And those eyes. >look at eyes They are the eyes from your dream, without question. Alright, then there's the attic. >West Foyer Your luggage is still here, spread out all over the foyer. >Up Upstairs Landing >East Upstairs Hall There is a cord dangling in mid-air here, right about level with your face. >pull cord With a rusty, ratcheting groan and a brief shower of dust, the trap door swings down and folds back, revealing a rickety wooden ladder leading up into darkness. >up The ancient rungs creak alarmingly as you ascend. Attic It's much cooler up here than in the rest of the house, and you find it hard to suppress a shiver. Grotesque, looming shadows crawl across the low, slanted ceiling, and the dust hangs thick and motionless in the air. To the west the ceiling dips even lower until the space beneath leaves hardly room enough to crawl, while to the north stands a wooden door, draped in shadows and half-hidden by the slanting eaves. Oddly, I think being in other parts of the house triggered a second description for the Attic, which is why it's giving us another look at the place. Now, I'm not going to waste matches while we have this Harry Mason brand flashlight. >turn on flashlight The flashlight emits a warm yellow beam. >West Crawlspace The ceiling descends here to no more than three feet from the floor; you are forced to crawl through the cramped darkness on your hands and knees. To the east the attic becomes more spacious, while the northwest corner opens into an oddly-angled corridor. Lovely. We can see the attic is larger than we first thought. Might as well let is lead us. Goons with sharp memories will recall when we first saw the house from the outside, there was a dome. Miranda would like to see what's inside that dome. >Northwest As you make your way down the corridor, you begin to get dizzy, then nauseous. Lines seem to cross without bending, the ceiling becomes the walls and the floor becomes the ceiling. Half-blind, unsure even of which direction you were going in, you stagger forward and suddenly find yourself in a... Crawlspace What? Huh? >look Crawlspace The ceiling descends here to no more than three feet from the floor; you are forced to crawl through the cramped darkness on your hands and knees. To the east the attic becomes more spacious, while the northwest corner opens into an oddly-angled corridor. Is this the same crawlspace? >drop broom Dropped. >Nw As you make your way down the corridor, you begin to get dizzy, then nauseous. Lines seem to cross without bending, the ceiling becomes the walls and the floor becomes the ceiling. Half-blind, unsure even of which direction you were going in, you stagger forward and suddenly find yourself in a... Crawlspace You can see a broom here. What witchery is this? Heading Northwest spits Miranda back into the place she left? This maybe a dead end... For now. >take broom Taken. >East Attic >turn off flashlight You switch the flashlight off. > Alright, I'll end this here for now. Next update, I'll check out both the Gallery and the Dinning room together, then it's up to you where we explore next. In the meantime, if you have any suggestions about what to do with the attic or anything else, leave it in Bold, as per normal. Items In Trenchcoat 
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May 14, 2015 16:22
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Stop taking drugs. Meanwhile, Miranda has a broom and this dusty house could use some sweeping. Also, take down the scary portrait, try to find a cute poster of a kitten telling you to hang in there to replace it with. And I can't believe we just saw a rug and she didn't attempt to look underneath it, what kind of adventurer is this woman?
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May 14, 2015 17:18
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Look under the rug, the sofa, and behind the painting. Try to move them as well.
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May 14, 2015 18:22
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Poke the painting in the eye, using the broom handle if necessary.
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May 14, 2015 18:55
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Sally Forth posted:Poke the painting in the eye, using the broom handle if necessary. We need to do this. Everything else can wait.
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May 14, 2015 19:19
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Can we try to burn the painting?
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May 14, 2015 22:27
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Sally Forth posted:Poke the painting in the eye, using the broom handle if necessary. This Check the fireplace too, just incase theres any secrets on/behind it.
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May 14, 2015 23:40
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PlaceholderPigeon posted:Check the fireplace too, just incase theres any secrets on/behind it. Oh poo poo I didn't even notice the fireplace! Yeah, definitely gotta poke around there, maybe there's an actual poker we can poke the painting in the eye with.
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May 14, 2015 23:53
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>d The ancient rungs creak alarmingly as you descend. Upstairs Hall A rickety wooden ladder stands here, descending from a three-foot by three-foot square of darkness in the ceiling. >w Upstairs Landing >d Foyer Your luggage is still here, spread out all over the foyer. A cold, noiseless draft coils through the narrow entrance hall. You shiver, wondering where it came from. >e Sitting Room The portrait gazes down at you with crimson-edged malice. PlaceholderPigeon posted:Check the fireplace too, just incase theres any secrets on/behind it. Good call. >look at fireplace The fireplace is carved from beautiful, dark-veined marble, a strange shade that is not quite a deep, forest green and not quite a murky, dusky red. A subtle movement from the portrait makes you turn. For a moment, it seems like the eyes are looking directly at you, but it's only a trick of the light. >search fireplace You find nothing of interest. Old Grey Guy posted:Look under the rug, the sofa, and behind the painting. Try to move them as well. >look under sofa You find nothing of interest. >look behind picture (the jewelry box) You see nothing of interest behind the jewelry box. Wut? >look behind painting The portrait doesn't move; it's firmly attached to the wall. >look under rug You lift one corner of the rug and look underneath. Nothing but dust and floorboards. >pull sofa That would accomplish very little. >pull fireplace That would accomplish very little. Well MAYBE Miranda just wants to redecorate. Did you even think of THAT, game?! Sally Forth posted:Poke the painting in the eye, using the broom handle if necessary. >poke painting with broom That's not a verb I recognise. I think "poke" should be in ever IF game's verb list. >hit painting with broom Violence isn't the answer to this one. We'll see about that. Ghostwoods posted:Can we try to burn the painting? Finally, Miranda's escalated from a klepto to a pyro. >light painting with matches (first taking the book of matches) The match isn't lit. >strike match One of the matches starts to burn. >light painting with match Petty arson isn't going to solve your problems. >light fireplace with match Petty arson isn't going to solve your problems. Ouch! You drop the match as it burns down to your fingers. Alas, Maybe Miranda isn't such a lover of fire as she is of petty theft. >look at match A label on the side reads, "Water-resistant matches. Strike on cover." There are five matches left. And I guess once she's dropped a burnt match, it stops existing. Well, I'm not going to waste the matches when I have a saved game. >restore Ok. >look Attic It's much cooler up here than in the rest of the house, and you find it hard to suppress a shiver. Grotesque, looming shadows crawl across the low, slanted ceiling, and the dust hangs thick and motionless in the air. To the west the ceiling dips even lower until the space beneath leaves hardly room enough to crawl, while to the north stands a wooden door, draped in shadows and half-hidden by the slanting eaves. >d The ancient rungs creak alarmingly as you descend. Upstairs Hall A rickety wooden ladder stands here, descending from a three-foot by three-foot square of darkness in the ceiling. >w Upstairs Landing >d Foyer Your luggage is still here, spread out all over the foyer. >n Back Hall The Gallery is East of the Back Hall. Also, you can get to it by going north from the siting room. >East Gallery A long, oak-paneled room, with doorways to the south and west. Paintings line the walls, mounted beneath small, shaded lamps that would illuminate the canvasses nicely if only the electricity were working. Still, even in the shadowed gloom you can see that all were done by the same artist. As of now, the paintings are purely decorative, which is lovely. And has a sort of trick to it. >look at paintings All of them are bizarre, and most of them border on the grotesque. Alien landscapes peopled by writhing, malformed creatures; ancient temples built in strange, eye-bending architectures; monstrous beasts crawling through shadows that cannot quite conceal their disturbingly human shapes -- these seem to make up the bulk of the paintings' subject matter. And yet, despite the fantastical nature of the images painted, the style is neither abstract nor surreal. In fact, the level of detail approaches the photorealistic. Excruciating attention has been paid to light, shadows, and textures; even the alien creatures are depicted with gruesome anatomical accuracy. It is as though the artist had worked from actual, living models rather than from what must have been a thoroughly deranged imagination, and the overall effect is rather chilling. One scene in particular catches your eye. See, every time we "look at scene..." >look at scene A group of white men in Revolutionary period clothing, taking prisoner a group of Native Americans. The exact situation is unclear: the white men stand around with muskets threatening, while the natives, who are chained together, file into a fenced enclosure, as though being herded into a compound of some sort. In the extreme background, at the far end of the enclosure, stands a large brick building. Dark, grainy smoke billows up from two stone chimneys rising above the structure. Leaning very close, you can just make out another group of natives being herded into the structure by more of the white men. You shake yourself suddenly, and realize you've been staring intently at the painting for minutes on end. You step back and rub your tired eyes. When you look again, however, the picture you were just examining is no longer in front of you. None of the other paintings have moved as far as you can tell, but that particular scene seems to have disappeared without leaving so much as a blank space on the wall. >look at scene You search the paintings thoroughly, but cannot find the scene you saw earlier. Poof! It's gone! But if we leave and reenter... >w Back Hall >e Gallery >look at scene A group of old midwives cluster around a bed-ridden woman who is apparently giving birth. The old women are wizened and grim, with crooked hands and bloodstained aprons. They seem to confer with each other in dark whispers that the younger woman, who is drenched in sweat and obviously in great pain, cannot hear. By the corner of the bed, an ominous detail: a bucket full of murky, red water. Strangely, though, the old women are not the only ones present at the birth. Nearby, in another bed, lies a shriveled, decrepit old man. Although seemingly at death's door, he struggles to raise himself, as if to see the birthing over the heads of the hunched midwives. His wasted visage shows an expression of satisfaction or approval, and he is reaching out with one skeletal arm in a manner curiously similar to the famous picture on the Sistine Chapel, of God giving life to His creation Adam. You shake yourself suddenly, and realize you've been staring intently at the painting for minutes on end. You step back and rub your tired eyes. When you look again, however, the picture you were just examining is no longer in front of you. None of the other paintings have moved as far as you can tell, but that particular scene seems to have disappeared without leaving so much as a blank space on the wall. So, let me just edit out all the leaving and coming back and go through some of the paintings. They're randomly selected and there are TONS of them. I can honestly say, I'm not certain how many disappearing scenes there are. >look at scene A young apprentice butcher learns his trade in a slaughterhouse. The older man -- heavyset, thick jaw and sloping brow -- holds his cleaver above a severed calf's head, looking expectantly at the boy as though demonstrating the proper technique. The boy, holding a smaller cleaver of his own, looks on attentively. It would be reminiscent of something by Norman Rockwell, except for the frankly alarming amount of gore. The aprons and faces of both master and apprentice are streaked with blood; blood pools on the chopping block and overspills the gutters; blood drips from the walls and from the skinned carcasses that can be seen hanging in the background. The two butchers stand ankle-deep in a reeking abattoir. And... there's something wrong with the boy. Most of his body is hidden behind the chopping block, but there are details about the parts you can see that... don't seem to fit quite right. The arm holding the cleaver is slightly misshapen, for example, the fingers deformed in a way that you can't quite make out. And his neck seems just a bit too thick, and his head seems just a bit too large and blocky. His face looks normal enough, except that it seems to have been placed just slightly off-center. It's a very subtly disturbing effect. >look at scene The simple but striking image of five young women being burned to death at the stake. Around them stand a crowd of men and women dressed in rustic, 17th century clothing; they jeer and throw stones. The ringleader, standing in front of the five glowing pyres with the smoking torch still in his hand, wears a clergyman's collar. The artist obviously went to painstaking lengths to depict the burning in ghastly detail: skin curling away from blackened flesh; hair shriveling; eyes boiling in their sockets and melting across cracked and splitting cheeks... repeated five times over, on the bodies of five thrashing, screaming girls. It turns your stomach to look at. >look at scene A strange scene, showing only a clergyman staring down into the pages of a large, black-bound book. The point of view is that of someone standing beneath the pulpit, looking up -- so that the text of the book is hidden from the viewer, while the preacher's face is clearly visible. He seems to be caught in a paroxysm of terror: his face livid; his lips stretched back in a gruesome rictus; his eyes bulging wide and shot red with blood. The cords in his neck are rigid and taut, as though he were straining to tear his gaze from the page, and yet he still grips the edges of the pulpit with whitened knuckles. >look at scene A madman, clad only in a filthy, ragged loincloth, his thin body covered with dirt and sores, dances wildly on a precipice between two massive, metal pillars. His long, gray hair whips about his face in an unseen wind; behind him, beyond the precipice, violet clouds seethe and roil. He seems to be playing some strange sort of wind instrument, like a flute, making the whole scene look oddly like a macabre Jethro Tull album cover. >look at scene A somewhat Boschian scene, depicting a line of naked, emaciated men, their ankles shackled and chained together, shuffling forward to offer obeisance to the glowing maw of an enormous furnace. The men are malnourished and covered with terrible burns. The foremost is kneeling, offering... something, you can't make out what... up to the mouth of flames, while the rest stand as far back as they are able, their heads bowed in what appears to be fear and penitence. It isn't clear where this is supposed to be taking place; beyond the fiery glow there is nothing but soot-filled, Stygian blackness. An artist's rendition of Hell, perhaps? For some reason, you are reminded of old photographs of the Nazi death camps, in which Jews were forced to feed the ovens with the corpses of their own. >look at scene A group of primitive tribesmen dance within a ring of standing stones, beneath a lightning-streaked sky. Their dress and some of the fetishes they carry -- feathers, rattles, ceremonial masks -- all seem to represent a Native American culture, but the men themselves are... strange. They look truly savage and degenerate, in a way that you don't often see Native Americans depicted. Peering closely, you can see that some of them even appear to be deformed. Overlooking the dance stands a tall obelisk on a hill, silhouetted against the storm clouds above. The artist added a strange effect to the cloud formations directly above the obelisk; the color and shading seem to suggest a red, baleful eye looking down upon the strange ritual below. You shake yourself suddenly, and realize you've been staring intently at the painting for minutes on end. You step back and rub your tired eyes. When you look again, however, the picture you were just examining is no longer in front of you. None of the other paintings have moved as far as you can tell, but that particular scene seems to have disappeared without leaving so much as a blank space on the wall. That's enough filibuster for now. If memory serves right, all those scenes have one thing or another to do with the Anchorhead story. But I'll leave the rest of the sleuthing to you lot. >s Sitting Room The portrait gazes down at you with crimson-edged malice. >yell at painting I only understood you as far as wanting to yell. >w Foyer Your luggage is still here, spread out all over the foyer. The Dinning Room is West of the Foyer and also attached to the south of the kitchen. >West Dining Room Much of the elegance has faded from this room. The huge dining table running the length of it is covered with a thick gray film of dust, and the china cupboard standing against the far wall is draped in shadow. Doorways to the north and east offer little relief from the gloom. For what must be the hundredth time, you wish you could open the windows in this place. >look at table It's a finely built table, a valued antique like much of the furniture in this house. It will need to be oiled after so many months of neglect, though. >look under table You find nothing of interest. >look at chair You can't see any such thing. Odd that there's a table, but no chairs. >look at cupboard It's a free-standing cabinet about as tall as you are, crafted of cherrywood. The double paneled doors are closed. So the goal of Zork I was to put treasures into the trophy case. Well, every time I play Anchorhead, this cupboard ends up being my trophy case. Some items can't fit in Miranda's Amazing Hammer Space Trenchcoat, but they DO fit in the Cupboard! >open cupboard The cupboard is empty; the china must have been auctioned off, in the confusion before Michael was contacted, perhaps. Down at the bottom of the cupboard is a velvet lining, where the silverware would usually be kept. >look at velvet The lining is soft, dusky burgundy. One corner in back is pulled up a bit and slightly torn. It's a lovely cupboard, if damaged slightly. >put cup in cupboard You put the styrofoam cup into the china cupboard. > Alright, tomorrow, I'll cover the entire cellar (there's not much). In the meantime, we've still got mysteries to uncover with the house so far. If you have any suggestions, put them in bold. Also, sorry for the lack of picture this time. I over-slept and prioritized getting this update done before noon over illustrating. Items In Trenchcoat
Grimwit fucked around with this message at 16:36 on May 15, 2015 |
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May 15, 2015 16:29
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Hnng, those scenes... Um. Can we lift or pull the lining?
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May 15, 2015 17:04
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Yeah, let's muck around with the velvet lining.
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May 15, 2015 17:13
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 Yikes, I don't remember all those extra scenes at all. That's probably a good thing honestly.I'll hop on the  for examining the corner of the lining, though honestly if I were writing a game I think I'd be tempted to stick a black widow or something there just to mess with overly nosy players who feel like they had to prod at every single thing.quote:>put cup in cupboard And okay, this got a laugh out of me. I can just envision Miranda standing their admiring her fine styrofoam cup full of vintage coffee.
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May 15, 2015 18:06
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Grimwit posted:A group of primitive tribesmen dance within a ring of standing stones, beneath a lightning-streaked sky. Their dress and some of the fetishes they carry -- feathers, rattles, ceremonial masks -- all seem to represent a Native American culture, but the men themselves are... strange. They look truly savage and degenerate, in a way that you don't often see Native Americans depicted. Peering closely, you can see that some of them even appear to be deformed. Degenerate natives! We're really in Lovecraft territory now.
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May 15, 2015 18:55
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inflatablefish posted:Degenerate natives! We're really in Lovecraft territory now. All we need now is Miranda fainting into the sweet embrace of oblivion to save her fragile grip on reality then throw in some racist slights against the Irish.
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May 15, 2015 21:18
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Ghostwoods posted:Hnng, those scenes... Man, you guys really want to tear up the house before Miranda's even suttled in. Let's see, then. >look at lining The lining is soft, dusky burgundy. One corner in back is pulled up a bit and slightly torn. How about we just search it first. Miranda is very fond of this cabinet. It's where she's gonna keep all her treasures.  >search velvet You pull the lining back a bit further and discover a thin, palm-sized journal tucked underneath it. Intrigued, you pull the little book free. Your score has just gone up by two points. Oh! What's this? >look at little book It's a slim little book, no bigger than your hand, bound in imitation leather. The mice really have been at it; most of the pages have been chewed away. >read little book It's a slim little book, no bigger than your hand, bound in imitation leather. The mice really have been at it; most of the pages have been chewed away. What's left of the journal reads: Desperate. Went back to the old twisting lane and found only a blank wall. Without the amulet, how can I resist -- ...bottles, bottles... Getting worse. People I have never met smile knowingly at me in the street. The police believe I am a child molester, but have brought no charges against me as yet. Why? Head hurts all the time. I have turned the cellar upside-down... drat it all, where is it? Dreamed of Father again. Dreamed of Grandfather. Those horrible, red-rimmed eyes... -- into the safe, finally. 12-53-2. Won't forget THAT soon. Ha! CANNOT DISCOVER ENTRANCE IN THE CELLAR!!! Secret eludes me still but I WILL FIND IT!!! The clue is in their names, that pestilential procession of names! If I could only -- The text breaks off as several more pages are missing. the last fragmented entry reads: -- will fail. There is no recourse left. I know now what I must do. Julia -- Well, that sort of solves the safe upstairs. We'll deal with that at the end of the update. For now, let's see if we can find out who Julia is. This journal is pretty old, so let's see if she's in the album. >Put journal into coat You slip the torn journal into the pocket of your trenchcoat. >take album Taken. >look up Julia in album No mention of Edward's wife, since the book was published in 1944 and she probably wasn't even born yet. Even so, you're uncertain whether Julia Ward would have even counted as a proper Verlac Honestly, this was the only way I found out Julia was Edward Verlac's wife. Not only that, we even have Julia's maiden name. Ward. Miranda is second guessing how she suddenly knows these things, but then she's not sure why she would have torn up the lining of her precious china cabinet, too. >put album into coat You slip the family album into the pocket of your trenchcoat. >N Kitchen >nw Darkness >turn on flashlight The flashlight emits a warm yellow beam. Pantry The pantry is empty save for a layer of dust on the shelves. A door to the south leads down to the cellar, or you can return to the kitchen to the southeast. >enter cellar (the key to the cellar) That's not something you can enter. I... What? Why would you even... >open cellar door You open the cellar door. >Down You descend the gloomy steps into the dank cellar. Cellar The old, flagstone walls gleam with unwholesome-smelling moisture, and the sagging timbers creak uneasily above your head. Ancient, frayed wiring festoons the ceiling like some strange species of clinging vine. Portions of the cellar extend south and east into the clammy darkness, though you could always beat a hasty retreat up the stairs to the north. One largish bundle of wires leads down to a rusty old fuse cabinet bolted to the far wall. So, here's the cellar. Of course it's important down here, but plenty sparse, too. >look at wires The wiring runs back and forth across the ceiling in every direction -- wrapped around timbers, in and out of rusted, broken conduits, crossing and re-crossing itself in a dozen places. You can see several places where the insulation is cracked or stripped altogether. It's enough to send any self-respecting fire marshall into conniptions. >look at cabinet It's an ancient, clunky metal box, about the size of a kid's lunchbox. There's some sort of lettering on the cover, but it's too corroded to read. Well, I don't know when THAT will come into play, but we'de best remember where the fuse box is for later. >East Wine Cellar This wing of the cellar is even older than the rest, with walls of piled, unmortared stone. The entire room is filled with wine racks. They cover every wall except for one spot to the west, where an exit leads back to the main cellar. All of the racks are dust-covered and empty except for one against the north wall, which contains some forty or fifty dark bottles. You are reminded of something Michael told you during the long drive up: about how when the police arrived after the shooting, they found the wine cellar in a shambles -- nearly every bottle thrown to the floor and shattered, and the whole place reeking of rotted grapes. All except the bottles in the north rack. None of those had been touched. No one could posit a motive for it. You smile a bit, recalling your husband's ability to turn a piece of insignificant trivia into a compelling story. Still, though, now that you're actually standing here... it all seems very strange. Good to know Miranda can start a wine collection with Michael! Of course she won't tell him where she >Look at bottles Row after row of smooth, dust-covered glass. The wine inside is dark and murky, reminding you, somewhat irrationally, of blood. >look at rack These racks must have at one time contained hundreds upon hundreds of wine bottles. Idly, you wonder which member of the family developed such a taste for what would have been, for the first few generations at least, a sinful vice of the basest kind. I don't have to tell you Miranda wants some booze for her coat. >take bottle Strange; the bottles all seem to be fixed in place. They won't come out of the rack no matter how you tug at them. Huh? Why would someone glue/staple/solder these bottles into place? I smell a mystery. >hit bottles with broom Violence isn't the answer to this one. One day, it will be the answer, game. One day. >Read bottles The labels are faded and obscured by dust, but you can make out a few of them. Some of these vintages appear to be very old. Huh. Well, I can't think of anything else here. Moving on. >West Cellar One largish bundle of wires leads down to a rusty old fuse cabinet bolted to the far wall. >South Storage Old crates and boxes piled high against the walls make this room seem even smaller and dingier than it actually is, which is saying a lot. A doorway lies north; the other walls contain nothing but shadows and dirt-filled corners. Oh boy! Stuff! >look at crates The accumulated junk of almost four centuries' worth of one family's strangeness. Most of it is old linens, moth-eaten clothes, newspaper clippings -- exciting stuff like that. There's far more here than you could ever go through, even if you had the inclination to. Miranda has the inclination. Let's see what's worth taking, but first... (Because I know you goons would make me, anyway) >look under crates You find nothing of interest. There. Now about this crate... >search crates You spend some time poking dispiritedly through boxes of second-hand table settings, discarded shoes and outdated encyclopedias, but the only thing you manage to dig up is an old cardboard box full of newspaper clippings, which might make interesting reading later if you can find the time. The only thing at all noteworthy about the room, in fact, is that it desperately wants cleaning; there's even a big, nasty-looking spider web in a corner behind one of the crates. >take shoebox You pick up the cardboard box. It's an old gray shoebox, ragged around the edges, with the lid missing. In the cardboard box are some newspaper clippings. Miranda will read this next update. There's a LOT of stuff to comb through. I may even dedicate the whole next update to that shoebox. >look at web Not a pretty, symmetrical spiral web like you see in nature magazines; this is a tangled, ugly mass of dull gray threads spun in every direction, the work of some careless, inebriated arachnid on a weekend binger. Way back in the corner, almost buried beneath the disheveled strands, is an old-fashioned iron key. Looks like the spider got into the wine after Edward broke all those bottles. >Take key (the old-fashioned iron key) You gingerly stick your hand into the tangled spider web, and something light and skittery crawls across your skin and bites you! Quickly you jerk back, compulsively wiping your hand on your pants. The bite itself didn't hurt all that much, but the thought of spiders crawling around on your skin gives you the willies. drat! Well, it's probably nothing. Maybe it's gone now and we can try again. >take key (the old-fashioned iron key) Once bitten, twice shy. Whatever lives in that mess is better left alone. Shoot. Well, that's the cellar, for now. Let's get up to the safe and try that combination. >North Cellar One largish bundle of wires leads down to a rusty old fuse cabinet bolted to the far wall. >u Gratefully, you leave the clammy confines of the cellar behind. Pantry The cellar door stands open, revealing dark stairs leading down. >se Kitchen >turn off flashlight You switch the flashlight off. A wave of dizziness washes over you suddenly, making you light-headed. Your hand is swollen and throbbing a little, and your skin is flushed with an unpleasant, prickly heat. It occurs to you to wonder whether the spider that bit you might have been poisonous. Nah. Miranda is fine. She's just a bit worried. >s Dining Room >e Foyer Your luggage is still here, spread out all over the foyer. The dizziness hits you again, and you sway as little black ink blots bloom in your vision. Your hand is really hurting now, and you feel short of breath. This is probably brought on by hunger. After all, when was the last time Miranda Carter ate anything? >u Upstairs Landing >e Upstairs Hall A rickety wooden ladder stands here, descending from a three-foot by three-foot square of darkness in the ceiling. You are burning up; you can barely see through the waves of blackness washing across your vision. You try to sit down, only to realize that you're already lying on the ground, unable to move. In a disconnected, feverish haze, you vaguely wonder if Michael will find you in time to call the hospital; and that is your last thought before feeling leaves your limbs and your lungs stop working entirely.  *** You have died *** In that game you scored 10 out of a possible 100 points; you have merely scratched the surface of evil. Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, UNDO your last move, give the FULL score for that game or QUIT? > full In that game you scored 10 out of a possible 100 points; you have merely scratched the surface of evil. The score was made up as follows: 2 points for finding the house keys 2 points for showing the keys to Michael 1 point for taking a bath 2 points for finding the journal 2 points for finding the diary 1 point for finding the safe 10 total (out of 100) Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, UNDO your last move, give the FULL score for that game or QUIT? > quit Items None. Miranda is dead.
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May 16, 2015 16:25
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Well, that was fun while it lasted. Thanks for the LP, Grimwit.
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May 16, 2015 17:07
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Well, the ending seemed a little abrupt, but good LP, thanks for showing this off to everyone Grimwit.
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May 16, 2015 17:19
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So, if Miranda wasn't dead, I'm sure she would have used the broom to sweep away the spiderweb.
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May 16, 2015 18:14
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Thesaya posted:So, if Miranda wasn't dead, I'm sure she would have used the broom to sweep away the spiderweb. Yes Grimwit, make up more text for the game and then illustrate it as if it hadn't ended here, why don't we try that, I think the IF format presents a unique opportunity here.
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May 16, 2015 19:08
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Our first death, woo! A little rough that the bite causing death with little warning, but I guess that's what we get for sticking our hand in strange places in an old cellar! Especially when we can use a broom like suggested above!
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May 16, 2015 19:31
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Zoe posted:Well, the ending seemed a little abrupt It certainly captures the Lovecraftian sense of doomed endeavour and pointlessness rather nicely. Of course, I can't help feeling it might have been worth trying to burn the spiderweb with a lit match. But hey, what do I know? Drunk spiders can be real assholes.
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May 16, 2015 21:02
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Ghostwoods posted:It certainly captures the Lovecraftian sense of doomed endeavour and pointlessness rather nicely. I have to disagree. Miranda's inevitable death and/or insanity at the end of the game without having made any serious impact on anything would capture Lovecraftian hopelessness. Dying to a poisonous spider bite in a matter of minutes (in a cold climate, no less) mainly captures the sense of a bullshit text adventure.
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May 16, 2015 21:20
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inflatablefish posted:Dying to a poisonous spider bite in a matter of minutes (in a cold climate, no less) mainly captures the sense of a bullshit text adventure. Except that's exactly what happens when you get bitten by a black widow and the way the web was described it pretty obviously belonged to a black widow and so I'd say it more captures the sense of 'our protagonist is an idiot kleptomaniac who jammed her hand directly into a black widow's web to grab a shiny thing, tune in next time for death by sticking a fork in an electric socket'. Anyway, as far as plot goes, if I'm following these diaries right the police in Anchorhead are totally down with incest babies, and Edward was potentially an incest baby himself? Only not the horribly deformed kind. And then he lost his amulet. Also something about a twisting lane and a brick wall, which featured in Miranda's dream. Kind of wondering why Miranda is the one getting these dreams when Michael is the one with the connection to the Verlac family...
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May 17, 2015 03:30
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Zoe posted:Except that's exactly what happens when you get bitten by a black widow and the way the web was described it pretty obviously belonged to a black widow and so I'd say it more captures the sense of 'our protagonist is an idiot kleptomaniac who jammed her hand directly into a black widow's web to grab a shiny thing, tune in next time for death by sticking a fork in an electric socket'. Also, good idea. shove a metal implement into the fusebox (do not do this)
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May 17, 2015 05:44
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pkfan2004 posted:We're getting kinda Rats in the Walls and I like it. This man has good ideas. Go back to the fusebox and start pulling and recombining wires and fuses at random. Also insert any and all possible objects into said fusebox.
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May 17, 2015 07:11
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Thesaya posted:So, if Miranda wasn't dead, I'm sure she would have used the broom to sweep away the spiderweb. ^ This. And she would have tried to move the wine rack, too.
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May 17, 2015 13:26
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inflatablefish posted:I have to disagree. Miranda's inevitable death and/or insanity at the end of the game without having made any serious impact on anything would capture Lovecraftian hopelessness. Dying to a poisonous spider bite in a matter of minutes (in a cold climate, no less) mainly captures the sense of a bullshit text adventure. It's not really bullshit text adventure since it's not a walking dead scenario - you die pretty quickly and can undo the fatal mistake.
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May 17, 2015 14:20
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