Apologies! Your web browser lacks required capabilities. Please consider upgrading it or switching to a more modern web browser.
Initializing. Please wait…
I apologise for any typing errors in this short document but, as you are about to discover, things have been very weird of late. I've kept it short because you don't have time to read and I certainly don't have time to type.
(If you haven't done this sort of thing before, click on the highlighted words to make choices.)
It began when ...
BZZZT! BZZZT! BZZZT!
It's 6.59am and the third alarm clock of the morning springs to life.
I should [[get out of bed]], of course, but it's so, SO tempting to just [[go back to sleep]].Yawning, blinking, stretching I get out of bed and open the curtains to be greeted by a view of the London Municipal Nuclear Power Plant. Well, the rent is cheap in this part of the city and it's always warm out, even in the rain.
My suit has fallen off the back of the door and landed in a crumbled head on the floor, with two of my new little kittens - Ian and Barbara - curled up on it. I'd have to disturb the cute little things to [[wear my suit|wear suit]].
Perhaps I should, it's time for work.
Despite the star reporter, that oaf of an editor has me on a "final written warning" for bringing the paper into disrepute. I wasn't even THAT drunk, and how was I to know he was the duchess's son?
So the question of the hour is:
[[Go to work|work]], or just [[phone in sick|sickie]].Yeah, the kittens have the right idea. With a disappointed final bzzzzt the alarm dies away and I curl up and gradually [[fall back asleep|dream]]. I'm sure the boss will understand.AARGH! OUCH! OWW!
My actual words are a lot harsher but let's gloss over that for now. Suffice to say the kittens weren't too pleased with me wearing their bed. After gently peeling Ian off my face and shaking Barbara's claws out of my leg, I lock myself in the safety of the bathroom to put on my somewhat disheveled suit.
The room starts spinning, everything fades to black and white with occasional bursts of pretty colours.
I could probably grab my mobile and [[call a doctor|doctor]], or maybe I should just carry on [[getting ready]]. Then again, work seems like a bad idea now. I could just [[clamber back into bed|back to bed]].I got to work. It's pretty busy here and I'm not wearing my suit which annoys the editor even more than usual, but what can you do?
I get a choice of assignments - [[Buckingham palace]] where there's some dreary garden party to cover or to [[Brighton]] where the fishermen are going on strike.I call in sick, but the editor doesn't buy a word of it.
I'm fired. Brilliant.
What to do with my day now?
Just go [[back to bed]]? Or maybe I can try to get a sick note from the [[doctor]] and bluff this out?I ring the doctor. Brilliant. One of those automated systems.
[[Press 1|appointment]] for appointments.
[[Press 2|reception]] to speak to reception.
[[Press 3|test]] for test results.
[[Press 4|doctor]] to hear these options again.I try to shake it off, brushing my teeth and hair (with different brushes) and head out to get the bus.
This was probably a bad idea.
As I black out from blood loss and fall in front of the approaching traffic I realize no, this was a VERY bad idea.
Cats claws and bus are a very unconventional weapon, but they do the job.
[[THE END]]I drag myself back into the bedroom, leaving a trail of bloody footsteps behind. Looks like Barbara ripped open something she shouldn't have. My furry little assailants have fallen back asleep.
I shut the curtains and seal myself away from the blossoming daylight. As soon as my head hit the pillow I [[fall asleep|dream]].I am stood in a faintly familiar marshland. Trees with green leaves and wrapping in vines grown everywhere and the air is thick with a buzzing cloud of rainbow coloured insects.
Something shadowy is stalking me, stealthily moving between the trees, betrayed only by the disturbed mist that pools across the marsh.
[[Talk to it|talk cat 1]], [[attack it|dream attack cat]] or, simply, [[run away|dream run]]?Discretion is the better part of valour, and all that. The air is thick, the marshwater thicker, but I can do this.
I turn and run.
From nowhere, another shadowy figure pounces. They were hunting in a pair. They set me up. I don't have time to appreciate the effort it took, as the figure's bone-white claws slash out.
They seem distracted by the swarm of insects the buzz angrily around me though, and I use that for cover. Running without looking back, I soon lose myself in the marsh.
Eventually I come to a place where the marsh gives way to a roaring river, white-water rapids that can only be [[crossed]] by a rickety, ancient looking rope bridge.
Some distance away, downriver on this bank, there stands [[a village]].With what I hope is a blood curdling scream I grab a fallen branch and launch myself at the shadowy figure. It yelps in surprise and pain as I lay into it. You don't become a crime reporter without learning how to handle yourself!
As the shape flees, a second one pounces from behind, knocking the improvised (some would say unconventional) weapon from my hand and wrestling me under the sickly marsh water with powerful arms.
I can try to [[drag it under with me]] or push to the surface and [[talk my way out of this|talk to cat 2]]."You..are...pet?" It hisses softly.
I raise an eyebrow.
"You...feeds us?"
It seems angered by my confusion, and tries again.
"You call us...Ian..and Barbara. You fetch for us. You feed us. In return, we protect you." It speaks more confidently now. "You are in danger. The fairy queen will steal you away from us. We must get you home!"
It rips the air with a vicious claw and reality parts.
[[Enter the portal]] or [[run away]] from this thing.(This really is GAME OVER.)
Thanks for playing!
This was a last-minute LUDUM DARE (48 hour game jam) entry on the theme of UNCONVENTIONAL WEAPON, which you'll find plenty of throughout the story options.
I came back from a weekend of board games and decided to throw my hat in the ring with only a few hours to go. For better or for worse, this was the result.
Some story branches cut off rather more abruptly than I'd like as I run out of time. I didn't have a chance to proof read anything either, so it's very much a first draft.
There are over 35 different endings, so why not try again and let me know what you get?
Cheers,
Paul.
[[PLAY AGAIN|Wake Up]]
With a twist I shift my bodyweight and force it under with me. The figure seems terrified, and struggles to get away. I have the upper hand!
But do I [[Let it flee]] or [[hold it under]]?I stop fighting and step back, raising my hands to gesture for peace.
At the sound of my voice there is a glitter of recognition in the eyes of my opponent, and it hangs back warily before [[answering|talk cat 1]].I release my grip and the dark shape scurries away. When I break the surface a few moments later neither of the creatures are anywhere to be seen.
I climb onto a low hanging branch to get out of the water and allow myself to dry off. Steam rises from my clothes as the midday sun blazes down.
A few of the glittering figures break off from the insect cloud and land on my shoulder.
They are fairies. There is no other way to say it. Small, tinkerbell-like fairies in sequins and ribbons and ballgowns.
"I am Titania," says Titania, and I know her for their queen.
"You have been brought to us as promised many years ago, for in your veins runs the blood of this land. Will you [[come with me to my castle]]?"
I could do that, sure, or I could [[flee]]!I hold the struggling figure under the water. It fights, but cannot escape now as the terror takes control.
I win, and emerge triumphant. The lifeless body of the other floats away.
A few of the glittering figures break off from the insect cloud and land on my shoulder.
They are fairies. There is no other way to say it. Small, tinkerbell-like fairies in sequins and ribbons and ballgowns.
"I am Titania," says Titania, and I know her for their queen.
"You have been brought to us as promised many years ago, for in your veins runs the blood of this land. Will you [[come with me to my castle]]?"
I could do that, sure, or I could [[flee]]!The rope bridge creaks and sways. Once, in days of old, this was the main crossing point from the Kingdom of Yare to the Planes of The Glittering Queen. Sadly, those nations fell to war and this bridge was no longer protected.
I wonder, briefly, how I know all this in the short time between the rope snapping and my head [[hitting the hard, cold rocks below|wake and die]].After an hour of walking alongside the deafening river, I reach the village. There is nobody to be seen, so I supposed I should go up to a building and see what's happening.
There are about a dozen one-story houses, an [[inn]], and a [[church]] whose stained glass bears a symbol that hurts to look.
I awake in bed, my injuries still very much with me.
I guess I know the truth now. If you die in the dream, you die in real life. I have to warn people, to spread the word!
And so, with the last of my energy I scribble this note. My life is over.
I was killed by a very unconventional weapon.
[[THE END]]A group of animal-headed figures sit at the table, eating a bowl of lightly fried fairies in with an oil-and-mustard dressing.
They invite you to [[join them]], but you could always [[graciously decline the offer]].Behind a filthy, blood stained altar stands a woman with a grin that is slightly too wide and eyes that never blink. She holds aloft a gemstone the colour of insanity and stares through it into your soul.
"You come to the House of the True Gods" she whispers with a hiss, "Kneel before me and [[accept our blessings]]."
Yeah, well, I could do that I suppose, or I could [[dive into the river]] to get away. If I was particularly foolhardy I could try to [[grab the gem and run]].I kneel before her in the sickening filth that surrounds the altar. She opens a mouth that contains too many teeth and speaks words that burrow their way into my mind, slowly lowering the gemstone to touch my forehead.
I awake with a start, my phone ringing insistently, my bed sheets slick with sweat. Perhaps going back to sleep was a mistake.
It's time to [[answer the phone]] to a very angry editor wondering why I didn't go to work. Then again, I could just [[go to the pub|pub blessing]] while I decide what to say.I smash through the stained glass window, lead and jagged shards cutting me deeply as I tumble into the churning rapids below.
My head smacks hard into one of the many rocks below.
[[This can't be good.|wake and die]]The priestess snarls as I snatch the gem from her unsuspecting hands. She leaps at me, brandishing a dagger drawn from a fold in her ornate robes.
I will [[speak the words]] that leap, unbidden, to my tongue or simply [[punch the priestess in the face]]. I pick up the mobile and listen to a tirade of obscenities from my editor. Final warning this, Buckingham Palace appointment that, fired the other. Blah blah blah, clear your desk.
I wish they'd just go away. I wish everyone would just go away.
I finally open my mouth to speak.
A cloud of flies escape my lungs, cling to the mobile signal and trace it back to the route, devouring my editor, my office, my world.
The blessings of the True Gods pour forth in glorious agony. I have power, true power, granted from the world of dreams.
[[Turn the power on myself]] to end my pain and save the world, or [[revel in the gift]] and herald in a new age, with myself as Monarch of All Things.
I wordlessly toss a few coins to the barman and take my regular pint. And another. And another.
Friends arrive, and I listen to the talk, wordlessly enjoying their company. Everything seems a little brighter.
Something gnaws at me, something harsh deep inside. Something that wants to get out.
But I will not speak of it. I will not speak again. Somehow, here and now, it makes sense. A buried knowledge lingering on the tip of my mind.
Minutes become hours become days become years and still I do not speak.
Doctors, psychiatrists, friends and family don't understand but somewhere inside I do. This is a good thing, a decent thing. Perhaps, if I had made other choices, I would know more too, but still I am content.
Perhaps I am saving the world from what would have to be an unconventional weapon.
[[THE END]]
I WILL NOT BE THIS THING! I WILL RESIST THE DARKNESS!
It is too late for the staff of the London Explorer, and perhaps a third of London is being devastated by my unintentional thoughts, but it spreads no further.
As I turn the dark energies on myself, the world will be safe. My final effort is to scribble this note as a warning to others, an admission of guilt.
And now it is complete, my life will be taken by this unconventional weapon.
[[THE END]]Out from London spreads the destruction. I bring forth animated corpses to devour the living, storms and earthquakes wrack the earth. With my every step the planet screams in agony.
It is not swift, but it is inevitable.
I sit atop my throne of skulls and rule the shattered ruins of the Earth. This is my message to the last of humanity. This is who I am.
Soon, the True Gods will come to this world, my world, and what petty pockets of resistance still remain will be extinguished.
I have won! This world is mine, brought low by an unconventional weapon.
[[THE END]]Words. Words are power. Words are all things and words and binding.
The gemstone understands. Shards of light hurtle outwards and the priestess is no more.
This is my church now. I am the Chosen of the True Gods. I will protect this place to the end of my days.
Months pass. Each day I demand sacrifice from the village, and send my followers against the Fallen Fairy Queen Titania. It is a long life, a hard life, but I do my duty to those who demand it.
None who enter my church dare oppose me for I hold the Gemstone, which is truly an Unconventional Weapon.
[[THE END]]As I swing a right hook, strong and true, the priestess opens her mouth wide, wider, wider still. Her cavernous mouth engulfs my hand, my arm, and the glimmering teeth snap shut.
As I fall in pain, she snatches back the gemstone and whispers to it. Heavy clouds form around me and pin me to the floor and she sets to work with her dagger.
I [[open my mouth to scream|wake and die]].
You are picked up by the cloud of fairies and carried far into the sky, to a castle made of cloud and forgotten promises.
"You were stolen from me at birth," states Titania, "by the King of Yare who was once a lover of mine. But now you are returned. This is your place."
She gestures to a tiny [[throne of marble]].
The only way out is to leap through the unguarded [[entrance way]] back to the marshland below.
I know the stories. No fey will kidnap me! AWAY!
Running headlong through the marshlands, I easily outpace the angry fairies.
Eventually I come to a place where the marsh gives way to a roaring river, white-water rapids that can only be [[crossed]] by a rickety, ancient looking rope bridge.
Some distance away, downriver on this bank, there stands [[a village]].You take your place on the throne.
It feels right. It feels natural.
Your human body falls away as your true form as Fairy shines through. Wings burst forth. Light pulses though you and magic fills your heart.
You are the second most powerful Fairy in all the Fallen Lands of the Glittering Queen, and will protect this palace with your Fairy Magic, the most Unconventional Weapon of them all.
[[THE END]]You take the Court of the Fairy Queen by surprise as you leap away, back down to the ground below.
Far, far below.
With a sickening snap that is a mix of breaking branches and breaking bones, you begin to doubt the [[wisdom of this choice|wake and die]].
I step through the tear in reality and awake in my bed with a start.
As I get up, one of my kittens opens an eye and glances a quizzical look my way and hisses what sounds suspiciously like "Feed us..?" With a sigh, I go to fetch their food. I think I know who is in charge now.
The cats are in control, I will pay for them to protect me from this fairy queen using their dream forms, a very unconventional weapon.
[[THE END]]Enough is enough!
Ian and Barbara are your kittens! Sure, they are annoying sometimes, but THEY are the pets, and YOU are the owner.
Running headlong through the marshlands, I easily outpace the disappointed figures, whatever these things really are.
Eventually I come to a place where the marsh gives way to a roaring river, white-water rapids that can only be [[crossed]] by a rickety, ancient looking rope bridge.
Some distance away, downriver on this bank, there stands [[a village]].The party is boring, but there's a group of rather rich, famous people being quietly lead into an unmarked building. Hmm. Your journalistic senses are tinging!
[[Follow them]] or just [[mind your own business|old age]]?The fishermen are striking over safety concerns. It seems there have been a lot of deaths and injuries recently.
I could [[investigate further]] or head home and [[file a report|old age]].In my days as a crime reporter I learnt early on how to get access to places I probably shouldn't, so it's easy to get past the palace guards.
A flight of steps lead down into tunnels carved from the rock beneath Buckingham Palace. It sounds like the VIPs have gathered in a [[nearby room]], but there's a bright light that draws my attention too, further [[down the steps]].The rest of the day passes uneventfully. I head home, eat, watch a bit of TV and go to bed.
My kittens are out somewhere, probably playing in the power plant again - they do like that place!
I head to bed and sleep a nice peaceful night away.
The next day follows the same pattern. The next weeks, months, years.
They say living a good life is the best revenge, well, it's certainly an unconventional weapon and one I wielded well.
So here am now, so many years later, writing this summary of an ordinary life. I will die of old age, happy and content.
[[THE END]]I glance in through a crack in the door.
Huh.
Skin suits have been shed, and lie abandoned on the floor. Before me stand the true rulers of Britain, a cabal of twisted lizard folk with pastel coloured scales wetly reflecting the flickering light of a dozen black candle.
I should [[confront them]] but perhaps a [[quick exit]] would be wiser, or I could always [[continue down|down the steps]].Deeper and deeper I descend, until the steps reveal a natural cavern far beneath Buckingham Palace. A large pool of stagnant water dominates the area, and the light is coming from an island in the middle of it.
I could [[swim over]] or explore [[further down]].I kick the door open and leap in, demanding answers.
As one, they turn. Royalty, celebrities, politicians in their true reptilian form recoil in confusion.
Then their leader steps forward, still very much human. The former footballer and famed conspiracy theorist* picks up the skin suit of the current number one chart-topping rapper* and attacks.
[[Flee!|quick exit]] or [[Fight!]]
The security is sadly not to lax on the way out - I am grabbed by a burly bloke in a bright red uniform and dragged quietly away to the dungeons.
In the secret places beneath the city I spend the rest of the day, locked in a lightless cell. This confession I carve into the stones in the hope that one day someone will discover it.
At midnight, they will come for me I have been told. I will be the centre of their foul ritual to summon one of the True Gods and, frankly, that sounds pretty bad.
[[THE END]]
I step in, swinging my famed right hook.
Sadly, it's not enough and I am bludgeoned senseless before being carted off to the secret dungeons deep below the City of London.
At midnight, they will come for me I have been told. I will be the centre of their foul ritual to summon one of the True Gods and, frankly, that sounds pretty bad.
[[THE END]]
I swim across the sickeningly warm waters and reach the island. Thrust into it is the source of light - a sword, half buried in the rock.
I could [[grab the hilt]], but if this is what I think it is it will kill all but the true Monarch of these green and pleasant lands. I'm probably better off just [[heading deeper|further down]] into the tunnels, or [[leaving|quick exit]] entirely.Deeper and deeper I go. The temperature is rising, sweat covering my body, but still I descend. A madness grips me, a fire burns in my heart and I cannot turn back now.
Deeper and deeper I go.
Before me stands a burning gate of fire and hatred. I approach. I have to approach.
Beyond lies a land of fire and brimstone. Punishment and torture. Hell.
I cannot stop myself. I enter, defenseless, and submit to the demons within and their unconventional weapons of torment.
[[THE END]]A pain lances through my body, a burning brilliance of flame.
[[Pull out Excalibur]] or [[let go before it kills me]]?The pain flares through me, then is gone. A cleansing fire has driven out my impurities, released me from my sins.
Wings of pure light unfurl from my back as I feel a lost heritage released. I am the child of a King, it seems, and as royalty I claim my birthright!
I WIELD EXCALIBUR AND AM RULER OF ALL BRITAIN!
There is much that should be done. The first choice is simple. [[Up to the palace]] or explore [[deeper into the tunnels]].I let go, and the pain fades away.
As I begin to swim back across the lake, a soft female voice speaks from everywhere and nowhere, echoing around the cavern.
"You tried and failed. Your weakness is nothing to be ashamed of," she said sadly.
"Come, join me, and I will teach you many things."
Cold, harsh hands grab me beneath the water, dragging me under, water filling my lungs.
The Lady of the Lake, a mermaid with scars covering her torso and face, scales missing from her lower half, cradles me gentle.
"Come, join the others." she whispers.
As the life fades from me, she pulls me deeper into the waters, my bones to join those of my predecessors. Those who could have been.
[[THE END]]At the top of the steps, a strange mob of pastel scaled humanoid launch a futile attack on me, but Excalibur cuts them down easily.
As I emerge into the daylight, the gaze of the world's media falls upon me, all gossip and tittle-tattle of the garden party forgotten.
A good reporter should never become the story, but, well, this is a pretty good exception.
A stately figure, the queen strides purposefully towards me.
She kneels, and the rest follow.
Word spread quickly of course, and there were those who opposed me in the early days of my rule, but Magic has returned to the mortal world and I hold the source, this truly unconventional weapon Excalibur.
[[THE END]]Deeper and deeper I go. The temperature is rising, but I do not feel it physically.
Deeper and deeper I go.
Before me stands a burning gate of fire and hatred. I approach. I have to approach.
I step trough into a land of fire and brimstone. This is, literally, Hell.
A horde of demons stand before me, but I know they cannot stand up to the might of Excalibur. My destiny seems clear.
Drive the [[demons out of hell]], or [[defeat Satan]] and claim this place as my own domain.The battle is long, but one sided. On wings of purity I soar through the demonic hordes. Their weapons cannot harm me, and Excalibur cuts through all things.
Without the demons to guard the pits, many damned souls escape back to the surface world. In London above, the ghosts of the humanity's worst roam the streets incorporeally preying on the lost and the lonely. Yet here, battle continues.
Days, weeks, years go past. I do not tire. I do not lose. I will never lose.
The horde seems endless but that cannot be. One day, I will win. One day, this will be over and I can lay down my unconventional weapon.
But today, as every day for centuries now, I fight on in Hell for what I hope is the good of all.
[[THE END]]On wings of vengeance I soar above the lakes of fire and the tormented sinners, heading the a central tower. The Devil leaps at me with a whip of flame and the Sword That Never Was but he is no match for me.
After a long, bloody battle he is cut down.
Those demons with a semblance of sense swear fealty to me. The others are sent to the pits they once commanded.
So, that is my tale. I have conquered hell with Excalibur, and my rule will be terrible. I am the guardian of the souls of the damned, and that is why you stand before me now. You are mine. All will be mine.
[[THE END]]The appointment department tells me I need to speak to reception to sort this out.
[[Back to Phone Menu|doctor]]After an infuriating conversation, reception tell me it's definitely the appointments team I should be talking to.
[[Back to Phone Menu|doctor]]I give my personal details to the bored voice on the end of the phone. I had a blood test a while ago and never got around to ringing to find out more. I figured if it was important they would get back to me.
After a while the voice comes back on the line and says me result is "compatible" and someone would be send around shortly with more details.
Well, that was a waste of time. Maybe I should...
KNOCK KNOCK.
Huh. That was VERY shortly. If you know what I mean.
[[Answer the door]] or just head [[back to bed|test bed]].Sneaking around the docks at night, a skill I picked up in my days as a crime reporter, I overhear two hooded figures talking in an unfamiliar language. That said, I only speak English so pretty much anything would be unfamiliar. It's probably not German.
[[Approach them openly]] or [[follow them in the shadows]].Whoever was so instant in their knocking has already left. Irritating!
Still, there's a package here. I take it inside and open it. Inside is a vial, a syringe and a small note reading 'project 1221: Use immediately.'
Is this a mistake?
Should I [[inject myself]] or [[chase]] the delivery person?I ignore the furious pounding on my door and drag myself back to bed. If it's important they'll come back.
Quickly and quietly, I [[fall asleep|dream]].I take a seat. Copying my hosts I pluck the wings off the fairies and roll them around the body before dropping it onto my tongue and swallowing it whole.
A bit too tangy, but I continue my meal with relish. Which is nice than the mustard, but that's a terrible attempt at humor and I apologise. It's hard to keep my wits about me now.
You see, I can feel myself changing. The magic of the fairies is inside me now, changing me. I grow more feline with each bite I take, each fairy I devour. I could wake up, escape this fate, but I really don't want to any more. My real body wastes away, but this food is just too good.
I have been defeated by a meal which is, you will admit, an unconventional weapon.
[[THE END]]The beasts shrug and turn back to their meal, ignoring me.
I could go to the [[church]] instead, or head into the [[Inn's kitchen]].The kitchen is a rough stone room filled with pots and pans and smoke and noise.
A dwarf in a greasy grey tabard stands on a step ladder, leaning over a steaming cauldron to stir it, occasionally tasting the food by dipping the end of his beard in and sucking it. He sighs and adds a few more fairies from a locked cage.
They are still alive!
I could [[rescue the fairies]] or offer some [[recipe tips]] to the cook.
With a roar I shove the dwarf, who gets tangled in his own beard as he falls into the bubbling mess. He surfaces once, and cried "Too much salt" before sinking once more, never to be heard from again.
As a reward for their rescue, the faires offer to take me to [[see their queen]] or return me to [[my own world]].The dwarf has clearly used far too much salt, it needs to be balanced out with something. My gran used to swear by dropping a raw potato in the pot to draw out the excess, so I suggest that, or maybe adding some fresh lemon to bring out the other flavours.
He turns to me and says something in a guttural tongue and waddles over to hug me in gratitude and friendship for offering him such good advice. A very tight hug.
I realise my mistake as in one movement he picks me and and flings me into the pot!
The last thing I see before the heavy lid clangs shut is a sack of potatoes being [[emptied over my head|wake and die]]I open the window for them, and the flock of fairies flutter out into the sunlight. I climb through after them and with a smile as them the [[take me to their leader|come with me to my castle]].The fairies dance around me, faster, faster, faster.
The world blurs and I collapse to the floor, waking up in my own bed but holding a very tiny note of thanks in neatly microscopic handwriting for killing a dwarf with a stew. Which, all things considered, is a very unconventional weapon.
[[THE END]]Their skin has a greyish-green hue in the dock lights, and both of them have surprisingly small ears on their narrow balding heads, with scabrous skin and bulging eyes.
They stare at me unblinkingly as I approach, before speaking a few words and gesturing to a ship moored at the dock.
Clearly, the expect me to [[board the ship]], but perhaps I should just [[run away|run away dock]].The two figures walk into a nearby warehouse, where I hear the sounds of chanting as they open the door. There must be 20, maybe 30 people inside.
Go [[into the warehouse]] or [[go home|old age]] and forget all about it.Onboard the ship, it seems there are two types of people. The 'fishy' ones and the 'normals' like me. The fishy ones are clearly in charge. Once a dozen more normals are aboard, I start trying to blend in and learn what I can.
To my horror, I feel the anchor lift and the ship begins to head out into open sea!
[[Leap overboard]] or [[continue investigating]]?I turn and flee, but they are more agile than they seemed. The mysterious fishmen beat me until my consciousness flees more successfully than I could.
Countless days later I awaken, chained to a barren rock in the centre of a symbol carved into it long, long ago. The twisting shape somehow instills in me more fear than the incoming tide that I know will soon cover me.
I am part of some rite, some ritual, the purpose of which I will never know but which is triggered by my death at the hands of the tide itself which is, surely, an unconventional weapon.
[[THE END]]
I attempt to sneak into the warehouse, but I am soon caught. Disaster!
They lock me in a small room with a window the size of a postage stamp and continue whatever the dark rite they are performing.
Later, they leave.
I have seemingly been forgotten. I struggle to escape, but to no avail. For days I struggle, but this room is sealed.
Perhaps it is the thirst and the hunger causing me to hallucinate, but through the tiny window I can see a shape. A vast, mountainous shape in the ocean, walking ponderously towards Brighton.
When the first of the tidal waves hit I know this is no vision. We are doomed to be devoured by this summoned thing, which the cultists are using as a very unconventional weapon.
[[THE END]]Before I even hit the water, writhing tentacles reach out from beneath the ship and wrap themselves around me. I am dragged under, darkness thankfully hiding the details of the monstrous form that has me in its grasp.
The unearthly mass of evil crushes me against the ship which is, my dying thought informs me, a very unconventional weapon.
[[THE END]]
Too many doors are locked, too many passengers unwilling to speak and I am hesitant to approach the fishy figures unless I have to. The ship gains speed. Faster, faster than seems possible. I can see no signs of engines running and caught a glimpse of what seemed to be a tentacle trailing behind us, but nothing that big could possibly exist.
A few days later we arrive at an inhospitable looking island.
A dozen prisoners are lead from below deck and chained to rocks that bear gut-churning symbols. The rest of the ship, human and fishy things alike, disembark and start trekking towards a twisted city not too far off.
I have a chance to [[free the prisoners]] before they are drowned by the incoming tide, or I can [[follow everyone]] to the city.
As the tide rapidly rises, I work to free the prisoners. I get two out of their bonds but the others are not so fortunate. I did what I could.
As the echoes of distant chanting is swallowed by the mountain sized figure that emerges from the ocean, I can only hope it is enough.
[[THE END]]I attempt to sneak into the city, but as I approach a salty voice speaks from the shadows.
"Here we shall summon one of the True gods. You can [[join us]], Glittering One, or [[perish]] with the rest."As the needle enters my veins I feel the power pour through me. Something strange in my genetic makeup is connecting with the concoction of drugs and triggering a rapid evolution.
My strength increases, my eyesight improves. Hell, I can even see through things now if I want to. Laser beams! I CAN FIRE LASER BEAMS FROM MY EYES!
I'm hovering a few inches off the floor, and I know, somehow I know, I can go higher. Faster. Further.
More and more powers awaken in me as the reaction continues. There's only one thing to do - put on a spadex costume and mask!
But what to be? Should I declare myself a [[hero]] and fight crime, or become a [[villain]] and use my powers to hold the world to ransom?It's no choice at all, of course. I am a natural hero.
In the coming days, criminals of world learn to fear me. I am justice and I am always watching. I foil muggers, stop robberies, prevent murders and riots and worse. Just by existing I make everyone's life a little brighter, a little better.
Except for the criminals, of course. I burn them with my laser eyes which are, I will admit, an unconventional weapon.
[[THE END]]It's no choice at all, of course. I am a natural villain.
In the coming days, the world learns to fear me. I am injustice and I am always in the shadows. I inspire muggers, robbers, murderers and more. Riots break out in my name. Just by existing I make everyone's life a little worse, a little darker.
Except for the criminals, of course.
They flock to me, and I rule my cabal of evil from my volcanic base. I managed to track down the doctor who sent me the injection - after some persuasion she admitted that this was a government black-ops project, but it usually just gave people minor psychic abilities and made them easy to control. She had no idea why my DNA was so reactive to it. I'm one of a kind.
To make sure I remained that way, I destroyed all her remaining work my laser eyes which are, I will admit, an unconventional weapon.
[[THE END]]"You have chosen wisely." the figure burbles gratefully.
I am given a foul smelling robe and join the others. Dark words rise in my throat and I chant a secret thought lost forever.
The tides rise and that which lies beneath rises with them.
A mountainous figure looms over the city, bearing down with the fury of the deep. I have, for a fleeting moment, power over this thing that should not be.
Order it to [[destroy the city and all of us within it]] or to [[conquer Britain in my name]]?"SO BE IT!" the figure screeches in a bubbling yell.
A rain of barbed tridents rain down from the city walls and I die, impaled on these oddly unconventional weapons.
[[THE END]]The cultists attempt to flee in fear and confusion, but it is too late. Their own creature destroys them. Destroys us.
As the island begins to sink beneath the waves and the creature returns to its timeless slumber, I am satisfied that the world is safe, for now. I have given my life, but saved countless millions with what can only be called a very unconventional weapon.
[[THE END]]The beat from beneath the ocean turns and heads towards Britain, foul destruction its only goal.
We cultists return home to a country in chaos. Devastation has wrecked everything within 10 miles of the coast and the fish people are amassing an army to march into the heartlands where refugees are gathering.
It is done. Britain has been conquered and I am to be its new ruler as mine was the command that tamed the beast. Other countries will fall, and we will rise by the power of a True God and I am the wielder of this most unconventional weapon.
[[THE END]]As I look urgently around for the courier, a flat bed truck rolls past with several packages in the back identical to mine and stops at the traffic lights outside my house. I have one shot at this.
Sneak onto [[the back of the truck]] or head back inside and [[inject myself]]. Everything else feels pretty pointless at this stage.I wait until the driver is distracted by shouting at a passing cyclist and climb up onto the flatbed. I roll under a tarp to keep out of sight just as we head off into the busy London morning.
After many twists and turns, we stop somewhere that sounds residential. I hear the driver pick up a package from near my head, ring a doorbell, then restart the engine.
I should [[get out and see who we delivered to]] perhaps, or just [[stay hidden]] until we get back to base. Whatever base is.I drop to the roadside as the truck rumbles off, losing itself in the traffic. The parcel has already been collected, but the door to this small townhouse is ajar.
It would be easy to [[wander in]] to this stranger's house, but this is getting pretty close to breaking and entering. It's just a short [[tube ride home]].The truck stops to drop off a dozen more packages before heading back to base. It sounds like a high security place as the driver gets out and is searched before they'll let him though. Footsteps approach the back of the track and the tarp is pulled away from me.
Blinking in the sudden bright light, I see two uniformed guards pointing guns directly at me.
[[Run from the guards]] or try to [[talk my way out of this]]?I cautiously enter the house. Downstairs is empty apart from the empty packaging discarded haphazardly on the hallway floor. I climb the stairs.
Slumped on the bed is an old man, an empty syringe clasped in his hand. I clear my throat to get his attention and begin to offer help.
His eyes snap open, jet black holes dancing with energy. Blood streams from his nose and veins throb on his neck like the dance of a furious serpent. He gestures madly with his hand and I feel myself being lifted by an invisible force.
I open my mouth to say I'm a reporter! I have a syringe too! I can help! But no words will come.
With another gesture I am hurled through his window and tumble down in a cascade of blood and broken glass to land in the street below. The bus, sadly, has no time to break.
[[THE END]]The tube ride home is uneventful. After a busy morning the chance to sit and rest perks me up and I'm feeling pretty happy by the time I let myself back into my house.
The syringe lies broken on the floor in the torn remains of the mysterious package, tell tale signs of a kitten attack. Sighing I head to the kitchen to start cleaning this mess up and get on with a hopefully more ordinary day.
That's where they are waiting. Two large, shadowy figures of fur and claw.
It seems obvious who they are, but what do I do?
[[Attack them]] and end this, or [[help them]] if that's even possible.This fight is swift and brutal. I learnt to handle myself in my days as a crime reporter, but these creatures have almost supernatural strength and speed. I don't stand a chance.
They leave my broken body tenderly, almost apologetically, by the back door and stalk off into the alleyways of London.
[[THE END]]I offer them my help.
"Feed...usss..?" one asks.
It is surprising how quickly you can adapt to change. That first encounter in the kitchen was six months ago now, but feels like only yesterday. In the early days I kept them safe, protected, fed and now they hardly need me at all.
The pair, Ian and Barbara, spend their days inside my house, dozing in front of the TV and playing games. At night though. At night they hunt.
They prey on criminals, they tell me. I wonder how they find muggers and murderers every single night, but decide it's safer not to ask. The poor little things need to eat.
[[THE END]]I throw the tarp over the guards and leap away. I actually make it a few steps away from the truck before the bullets throw me to the ground. My story ends, rather abruptly, here.
[[THE END]]I start telling them that I was sent one of these packages, I'm a reporter, I was curious, I wanted to meet my benefactor. Anything and everything that could turn those guns away.
I am marched to meet the director of this facility and put my case to her but as soon as I introduce myself she yells for the guards to drag me to the Operating Chamber. Apparently I am 'Subject FY' with 'near 100% compatibility' and although I cannot be allowed to leave with what I know, I can still 'be useful'.
As I am strapped to the table I am told this is a government facility and under the Official Secrets Act is it deemed Class B Treachery to have any knowledge of it without written consent.
I ask for the forms, but they are not forthcoming.
I will be kept here as long as possible, and then...disposed of. While I am no use to them myself, it seems my blood is. They can extract something from me to enhance their experiments and create for Britain a very unconventional weapon.
[[THE END]]