Before the main attraction, at long last another hyperfiction conversion (
the last one was, well, a tough act to follow, instantly this blog's most popular post by a factor of 2 and rising), first a couple of CYO-related links.
Select an Adventure appears to provide a framework for user-created, web-shared choose-your-own-adventure storygames. The logo is excellent and the included stories are much as one might expect. Also, I found
an interesting biographical Twine piece by David Gallant I found inspirational, exploring his creative rebirth from being a frustrated gamer to a creative game-maker. Since both of these already play fine in your web browser without much additional technology, I haven't pulled them in for "conversion" here, but there is another piece presented below.
A curious storygame indeed presented for your approval today. Despite goofy in-game messages to the contrary, I have it on good authority that this is the work of one Marius Müller, aka "Taleslinger", whose approval for this venture I have sought and received. It's a work that was produced in early April 2011, after this blog itself here was well underway, under constraints. As best as I can glean, the rules of the Speed-IF Jacket 4 contest this was part of dictated that participants would start with silly book-jacket style blurbs provided by other IF authors, and would have to quickly (within a week) create a game matching their ridiculous praise. As you will see... mission accomplished! The game's original format was an Inform data-file (using an extension allowing it to be used like Jon Ingold's Adventure Book -- with its conspicuous, Chekhovian inventory item support) intended to be played in an interpreter program, hence (SPOILER ALERT) its bizarre (but intentional) conclusion imitating a computer glitch. With a build-up such as this game had, really anything beyond that point would have just been disappointing. I put in some extra work here implementing the Adventure Book extension's inventory support (used minimally here) and trying to revise the original work so as to remove most instances where readers return to the same juncture and are offered a choice already picked. The result, the gilded lily you see below!
. . .
The man-eating, halitosic gorilla of Brazil
An interactive fiction by Leaner Gilts, "Strangle" Lei, Gain Tellers and Slat Leering
Release 1 / Serial number 110416 / Inform 7 build 6G60 (I6/v6.32 lib 6/12N)
-- Created using Adventure Book for Inform 7 by Edward Griffiths
Based on Adventure Book by Jon Ingold
Start
There is darkness, and pain at the back of your head. Basic urges flow through your lizard brain, air, food, rest, smoochies, video games. After who knows how long you open your eyes. You're in some kind of interrogation room, small, cramped. The stone carvings on the moss-covered walls make this look like a lazily designed secret room from a videogame. With you in the room is a gorilla in a suit, who looks a bit like Ron Perlman. Only this gorilla has rocket launchers for arms. You close your eyes. "Oh no," you think to yourself, "not again."
And then you remember. The secret mission, from the new boss, who does look something like Michael Gambon: "Somewhere in the Brazilian jungle, there is a new mastermind at work. We know very little, only that he killed our best agent, Bonathan Jlask. And that he's hidden in some secret temple. Well, we've heard you know how to find such places. And how to get into them." You told him you're retired. "No," he said, firmly. "People like you never are." You were about to respond, but his secretary, the spitting image of Kirsten Dunst, already handed you the tickets.
Flash forward. The gorilla is looking at you. "What were you doing here?"
. . .
A direct hit by the rocket launcher. Your last thoughts go out to the cleaning crew here. You feel sorry for them.
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. . .
The gorilla sighs. "So, that's it? I don't even need to torture you! Well, goodbye." He aims one of his rocket launchers at you. For a second you ponder ducking.
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. . .
Blurbs used:
"Dude, even if you somehow get a movie deal out of this, it's rude to be picking out the actors already."
"Unreliable narrator. Unreliable parser. For the love of little green eyeballs, why isn't anything in this game reliable?!?"
"The game's eponymous animal proved to be NONE of the adjectives the title proclaimed him to be, thank goodness.
"Smells like team spirit."
"The spiritual successor to Galatea, if Galatea had been about a gorilla with rocket launchers for arms."
"Seemingly engineered to punch you right in the green slimy guts of your lizard brain."
"The minutely detailed simulation of the plant life was remarkable, if somewhat overwhelming."
"The chariot race was one of the most thrilling, timed puzzles that I've ever enjoyed."
Restart the game.
. . .
A direct hit by the rocket launcher. Your last thoughts go out to the cleaning crew here. You feel sorry for them.
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. . .
"I left the next biggest town a few days ago. My only companion was my guide, who did look a bit like Alfred Molina. Anyhoo, soon we arrived here and after some searching we found the plant. But then my guide fell into a hole. Some guide, I told myself as I attached my rope to a nearby statue. Only the statue had to be weighed down with sand from the nearby beach first, which I put in the linen bags which carried the clothes. Then I climbed down the hole. Down there, I felt like being eaten by a grue so I switched on my lamp. Only it didn't have any batteries. And my box full of batteries was guarded by a snake. I found a toy mouse to distract it, so I got my batteries. They were the wrong size. But with them, I could switch on the ventilator for Professor Bunglay, who in turn gave me his electric shaver, which did hold the right batteries. So I went back down there again, but when I finally could see, I didn't see my guide, I saw a sleeping tiger!"
. . .
Coca (Erythroxylum coca) is a plant in the family Erythroxylaceae,native to western South America. The plant plays a significant role in traditional Andean culture. Coca is best known throughout the world because of its alkaloids, which include cocaine, a powerful stimulant.
The plant resembles a blackthorn bush, and grows to a height of 2-3 m (7-10 ft). The branches are straight, and the leaves, which have a green tint, are thin, opaque, oval, and taper at the extremities. A marked characteristic of the leaf is an areolated portion bounded by two longitudinal curved lines, one line on each side of the midrib, and more conspicuous on the under face of the leaf.
The flowers are small, and disposed in little clusters on short stalks; the corolla is composed of five yellowish-white petals, the anthers are heart-shaped, and the pistil consists of three carpels united to form a three-chambered ovary. The flowers mature into red berries.
The leaves are sometimes eaten by the larvae of the moth Eloria noyesi.
Species and classification
There are twelve main species and varieties. Two subspecies, Erythroxylum coca var. coca and Erythroxylum coca var. ipadu, are almost indistinguishable phenotypically; a related high cocaine-bearing species has two subspecies, Erythroxylum novogranatense var. novogranatense and Erythroxylum novogranatense var. truxillense that are phenotypically similar, but morphologically distinguishable. Under the older Cronquist system of classifying flowering plants, this was placed in an order Linales; more modern systems place it in the order Malpighiales.
Cultivation
Coca is traditionally cultivated in the lower altitudes of the eastern slopes of the Andes (the Yungas), or the highlands depending on the species grown. Since ancient times, its leaves have been an important trade commodity between the lowlands where it is grown and the higher altitudes where it is widely consumed by the Andean peoples of Peru, Colombia, Ecuador, Venezuela, Bolivia and northwestern Argentina.
. . .
Some papers you picked up three adventures ago. They are held together by a paperclip. Some intendations in your pack reflect where you very briefly counted among your possessions a brass lantern, an elven sword and a platinum bar, but alas, they are yours no longer.
. . .
A direct hit by the rocket launcher. Your last thoughts go out to the cleaning crew here. You feel sorry for them.
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. . .
With a back-to-basics roar the gorilla storms up to you. He growls, inches from your face. Finally he then hits you on the nose with a rocket launcher. Which is far less funny than it sounds. "STOP STALLING, HUMAN!"
. . .
Fresh samples of the dried leaves are uncurled, are of a deep green on the upper, and a grey-green on the lower surface, and have a strong tea-like odor. When chewed, they produce a pleasurable numbness in the mouth, and have a pleasant, pungent taste. They are traditionally chewed with lime to increase the release of the active ingredients from the leaf. Older species have a camphoraceous smell and a brownish color, and lack the pungent taste.
The seeds are sown from December to January in small plots (almacigas) sheltered from the sun, and the young plants when at 40-60 cm in height are placed in final planting holes (aspi), or if the ground is level, in furrows (uachos) in carefully weeded soil. The plants thrive best in hot, damp and humid locations, such as the clearings of forests; but the leaves most preferred are obtained in drier areas, on the hillsides. The leaves are gathered from plants varying in age from one and a half to upwards of forty years, but only the new fresh growth is harvested. They are considered ready for plucking when they break on being bent. The first and most abundant harvest is in March after the rainy season, the second is at the end of June, and the third in October or November. The green leaves (matu) are spread in thin layers on coarse woollen cloths and dried in the sun; they are then packed in sacks, which must be kept dry in order to preserve the quality of the leaves.
. . .
A direct hit by the rocket launcher. Your last thoughts go out to the cleaning crew here. You feel sorry for them.
Would you like to
Restart or
Look at what others had to say about this?
. . .
The gorilla tries to wave his rocket launchers dismissively. He fails. He then says, "Who are you trying to fool? You wouldn't approach a dangerous animal if you were, indeed, a renowned botanist. You know what I think you are? You are AFGNCAAP, the famous IF agent. I have a hard time making out anything specific about you, and that's just odd for a fictional world that has something as weird as a me, a gorilla with rocket launchers for hands! So tell me, am I right?"
. . .
"So?" says the Gorilla, irritated. "Then what? Did you lie around all day? What happened? Nothing? Are you still there?"
. . .
A direct hit by the rocket launcher. Your last thoughts go out to the cleaning crew here. You feel sorry for them.
Would you like to
Restart or
Look at what others had to say about this?
. . .
The gorilla, moving his rocket launcher not unlike someone handling chopsticks for the first time, puts three items down before you. A brass lantern, an elven sword and a platinum bar. Sweat breaks out on your brow. Oh no. He's on to you. "Now tell me, Mr. or Mrs. AFGNCAAP... what would be your first action if I do this...?"
And, pressing a button on his one launcher with his other launcher, your cuffs click open. Free. But it's no use.
. . .
Some papers you picked up three adventures ago. They are held together by a paperclip. You think that if you shift your load carefully, you can find room for a brass lantern, an elven sword and a platinum bar.
. . .
"So?" says the Gorilla, irritated. "Then what? Did you lie around all day? What happened? What? Eh? Speak up!"
. . .
Quicker than you can say cutscene, you're tied up again. The gorilla looks at you. "You know, I always envied you. Getting all the treasures, defending all those thieves. Solving all those fiendish puzzles. But now look. What has the world come to? All these angsty protagonists with their guilt-ridden backstories, all these branching narratives. You live in a world that no longer needs you. The puzzle is dead. But don't worry, soon you will be as well!"
With that, he lifts his rocket launcher!
. . .
"So?" says the Gorilla, irritated. "Then what? Did you lie around all day? What happened? What? Eh?"
. . .
"Oh yeah, I bet you'd like a dialogue tree now? Lots of options to choose from? Maybe suggested topics? A long and involved talk, with me switching moods? Well, lemme tell you. Right now I am in a KILLING MOOD!"
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. . .
Quicker than you can say cutscene, you're tied up again. The gorilla looks at you. "You know, I always envied you. Getting all the treasures, defending all those thieves. Solving all those fiendish puzzles. But now look. What has the world come to? All these angsty protagonists with their guilt-ridden backstories, all these branching narratives. You live in a world that no longer needs you. The puzzle is dead. But don't worry, soon you will be as well!"
With that, he lifts his rocket launcher!
. . .
Some papers you picked up three adventures ago. They are held together by a paperclip.
. . .
"So?" says the Gorilla, irritated. "Then what? Did you lie around all day? What happened?"
. . .
Okay, you finally reconcile with all she has said and done. After all those items in her old house triggered those memories, you feel like you finally understood her. You have grown yourself, in the intervening years. You now longer wear the innocent face of a child or the self-righteous, stern look of a teenager. You're grown. Maybe you have grown to forgive. Who kno... Sorry to interrupt, but you're being blown apart by a rocket launcher.
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. . .
"So?" says the Gorilla, irritated. "Then what? Did you lie around all day?"
. . .
Hey, you found a schematic for a rocket launcher in that one game on that space station with the pirates. It said if someone said "Niereleelrieleilieleelieleilieleiii", the rocket launcher would deactivate.
. . .
Quicker than you can say cutscene, you're tied up again. The gorilla looks at you. "You know, I always envied you. Getting all the treasures, defending all those thieves. Solving all those fiendish puzzles. But now look. What has the world come to? All these angsty protagonists with their guilt-ridden backstories, all these branching narratives. You live in a world that no longer needs you. The puzzle is dead. But don't worry, soon you will be as well!"
With that, he lifts his rocket launcher!
. . .
Some papers you picked up three adventures ago. They are held together by a paperclip.
. . .
"So?" says the Gorilla, irritated. "Then what?"
. . .
"Many a year ago, I was a happy AI in a rocket launcher, the newest and deadliest in weapons technology. Straight on our way to SkyNet, we were. But then some crazy scientist attached a gorilla to me. And now see how I look. Completely stupid! That's why I want to take over the world. Anyway, let me reiterate my question."
The gorilla tries to wave his rocket launchers dismissively. He fails. He then says, "Who are you trying to fool? You wouldn't approach a dangerous animal if you were, indeed, a renowned botanist. You know what I think you are? You are AFGNCAAP, the famous IF agent. I have a hard time making out anything specific about you, and that's just odd for a fictional world that has something as weird as a me, a gorilla with rocket launchers for hands! So tell me, am I right?"
. . .
"So?" says the Gorilla, irritated.
. . .
Like a stubborn idea hammered into a pupil's head by a determined teacher, the rocket launcher clicks. "Uh?" says the gorilla. "Must reactivate it.
Sorry for the hassle. This'll just take a second."
. . .
A direct hit by the rocket launcher. Your last thoughts go out to the cleaning crew here. You feel sorry for them.
Would you like to
Restart or
Look at what others had to say about this?
. . .
While the gorilla is distracted, you bend the paperclip into a lockpick and you are free. As he sees this, the brute follows cliche instead of logic and runs away! You are right behind him , through endless, winding catacombs, always nearly but never quite losing him, as he rounds a corner or climbs some vines. Finally, there is blinding daylight! You blink into it, as you see your enemy jump into one of two waiting, ostrich-pulled chariots. You jump into the second one and whip the ostriches into moving! (Probably breaking some Protection of Animals Act.) Speaking of harmed animals, there is a ridiculously cute baby sloth in the middle of the road!
. . .
Some papers you picked up three adventures ago. They are held together by a paperclip.
. . .
Squish! This will have no gameplay consequences whatsoever. I am making an important point about morality in games here!
The exciting chase (music not included) leads you up a stony mountain path. It grows smaller and smaller, but you gain on the gorilla. He sees you behind him and pulls his reins to the right, to crash, er, right into you! You have to make a quick decision!1! No time to lose !11!1
. . .
Woosh! The baby sloth looks at you with big, thankful eyes. This will have no gameplay consequences whatsoever. I am making an important point about morality in games here!
The exciting chase (music not included) leads you up a stony mountain path. It grows smaller and smaller, but you gain on the gorilla. He sees you behind him and pulls his reins to the right, to crash, er, right into you! You have to make a quick decision!1! No time to lose !11!1
. . .
You decide to ram the gorilla! This works better than expected. Both chariots get wedged into each other, and soon you both swerve off the road and tumble down the mountain in a twisted mass of ostrich, chariot, gorilla and player character. You are swallowed by the green of the jungle. You are food for the insects, etc. This is not the optimal ending, in case you're wondering.
Would you like to
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. . .
Some papers from 3 adventures ago that you never dropped.
. . .
You slow down, and predictably, the gorilla swerves his chariot - right into thin air! Ostriches and chariot dance the same old, short and painful dance with gravity, but the gorilla clinges to the edge of the rock. He can't really get a grip with his rocket launcher, though, and he slides downwards ever so slowly. "LISTEN!" he screams, scrambling. "This is bigger than you and me. Bigger than everything! I can give you names, addresses, phone numbers, twitter names, flickr links."
"Who is it, primate? Who is behind this sketchily defined 'this'?"
"It's the Player-PC divsion, they're onto us, the implementors are on to us, but it's too late it's
***Source file ended in the middle of quoted text: main source text. This probably means that a quotation mark is missing somewhere. If you are using Inform with syntax colouring, look for where the quoted-text colour starts. (Sometimes this problem turns up because a piece of quoted text contains a text substitution in square brackets which in turn contains another piece of quoted text -- this is not allowed, and causes me to lose track.)***
You have won!
. . .
You try to pass the gorilla, but her accelerates his swerving maneuver and crashes into you. Your chariot looses ground, and you tumble down the mountain in a twisted mass of ostrich, chariot, and player character. You are swallowed by the green of the jungle. You are food for the insects, etc. This is not the optimal ending, in case you're wondering.
Would you like to
Restart or
Look at what others had to say about this?
. . .
Some papers you picked up three adventures ago. They are held together by a paperclip.
. . .
While the gorilla is distracted, you bend the paperclip into a lockpick and you are free. As he sees this, the brute follows cliche instead of logic and runs away! You are right behind him, through endless, winding catacombs, always nearly but never quite losing him, as he rounds a corner or climbs some vines. Finally, there is blinding daylight! You blink into it, as you see your enemy jump into one of two waiting, ostrich-pulled chariots. You jump into the second one and whip the ostriches into moving! (Probably breaking some Protection of Animals Act.) Speaking of harmed animals, there is a ridiculously cute baby sloth in the middle of the road!
. . .
Start
There is darkness, and pain at the back of your head. Basic urges flow through your lizard brain, air, food, rest, smoochies, video games. After who knows how long you open your eyes. You're in some kind of interrogation room, small, cramped. The stone carvings on the moss-covered walls make this look like a lazily designed secret room from a videogame. With you in the room is a gorilla in a suit, who looks a bit like Ron Perlman. Only this gorilla has rocket launchers for arms. You close your eyes. "Oh no," you think to yourself, "not again."
And then you remember. The secret mission, from the new boss, who does look something like Michael Gambon: "Somewhere in the Brazilian jungle, there is a new mastermind at work. We know very little, only that he killed our best agent, Bonathan Jlask. And that he's hidden in some secret temple. Well, we've heard you know how to find such places. And how to get into them." You told him you're retired. "No," he said, firmly. "People like you never are." You were about to respond, but his secretary, the spitting image of Kirsten Dunst, already handed you the tickets.
Flash forward. The gorilla is looking at you. "What were you doing here?"
. . .
"I left the next biggest town a few days ago. My only companion was my guide, who did look a bit like Alfred Molina. Anyhoo, soon we arrived here and after some searching we found the plant. But then my guide fell into a hole. Some guide, I told myself as I attached my rope to a nearby statue. Only the statue had to be weighed down with sand from the nearby beach first, which I put in the linen bags which carried the clothes. Then I climbed down the hole. Down there, I felt like being eaten by a grue so I switched on my lamp. Only it didn't have any batteries. And my box full of batteries was guarded by a snake. I found a toy mouse to distract it, so I got my batteries. They were the wrong size. But with them, I could switch on the ventilator for Professor Bunglay, who in turn gave me his electric shaver, which did hold the right batteries. So I went back down there again, but when I finally could see, I didn't see my guide, I saw a sleeping tiger!"
. . .
The gorilla tries to wave his rocket launchers dismissively. He fails. He then says, "Who are you trying to fool? You wouldn't approach a dangerous animal if you were, indeed, a renowned botanist. You know what I think you are? You are AFGNCAAP, the famous IF agent. I have a hard time making out anything specific about you, and that's just odd for a fictional world that has something as weird as a me, a gorilla with rocket launchers for hands! So tell me, am I right?"
. . .
The gorilla, moving his rocket launcher not unlike someone handling chopsticks for the first time, puts three items down before you. A brass lantern, an elven sword and a platinum bar. Sweat breaks out on your brow. Oh no. He's on to you. "Now tell me, Mr. or Mrs. AFGNCAAP... what would be your first action if I do this...?"
And, pressing a button on his one launcher with his other launcher, your cuffs click open. Free. But it's no use.
. . .
Quicker than you can say cutscene, you're tied up again. The gorilla looks at you. "You know, I always envied you. Getting all the treasures, defending all those thieves. Solving all those fiendish puzzles. But now look. What has the world come to? All these angsty protagonists with their guilt-ridden backstories, all these branching narratives. You live in a world that no longer needs you. The puzzle is dead. But don't worry, soon you will be as well!"
With that, he lifts his rocket launcher!
. . .
A direct hit by the rocket launcher. Your last thoughts go out to the cleaning crew here. You feel sorry for them.
Would you like to
Restart or
Look at what others had to say about this?
