I put on my robe and wizard hat
I cast Lvl. 8 Cock of the Infinite…
Not you again!
You don the flappy body bindings and the pointy cranium cover you looted from the evil wizard you killed a while back. They’re still as comfortable as the day you wiped the blood off them, and they imbue you with a sense of power and a strange urge to rudely prank people and commit mass slaughter.
I read this in Amelia Tyler’s voice.
Go back to sleep in the cozy cabin atmosphere
Ah, you just woke up from a midday nap. For a moment there you were a little confused about where you were; it must’ve been a really good nap. You curl back up on the bench by the broad window out of frame, where the sun was warming your cozy blankets. Just outside, the trees sway gently in the wind, and a herd of deer munch on the grass. Your eyelids grow heavier, and you settle for going back to sleep. There’s nothing going on today, so why not? You deserve it. Soon enough, you fall back into the world of dreams,
GAME OVER
Nice finally my dream comes true. Eternal sleep
To sleep, perhaps to dream?
You just woke up. Why are you going back to sleep? You have to get up eventually. So what are you going to do then? That’s the question.
>Take key
You grasp at what you thought was a key at first, until you realize there isn’t a key there. Someone drew a key onto the floor with black chalk. In hindsight you realize you should have noticed that sooner, like before you even reached down towards it, especially since it’s not a particularly well drawn key; you could say it’s rather shit, and you can’t believe you fell for it.
Holy shit, I looked again and can’t believe the picture actually has a badly drawn key on the floor. I thought you were just pulling that out of nowhere.
Holy shit new ARG?
I wonder if the poorly drawn key is a clue. I go looking for a real key, or alternatively, additional drawings similar to the poorly drawn key
You search the cabin top to bottom, searching for keys, real or otherwise, and anything that could hint to the mystery only you are aware of. The only other out of place thing you find is the anvil in the corner, mysteriously out of place, atop which is… another shitty drawing of a key. God dammit, who’s making these? You start to feel an insoluble sense of rage at this mysterious key perpetrator, but there’s no finding them unless you can leave the cabin. No one else is in here but you, that much you’re aware of.
I want to make sure if I can leave the cabin. I check if the door will open. If not, I check for other potential ways to leave the cabin.
“I don’t like this game.”
>Quit
Error: Insufficient permissions. This attempt has been logged
Quit? What do you mean, quit? You’re not sure where the thought came from, or even what game you’re talking about. Confused, you wander outside, whereupon you find a tree stump with a harpoon stuck inside of it.
You revisit your earlier thoughts. Perhaps you do know what you meant by quit. Really, you always knew. After all, you said it yourself; you don’t like this game of life. You’re free of the cabin, yet you feel more trapped than ever. There is only one conclusion; your loneliness is your true prison.
There’s only one thing left to do, isn’t there?
GAME OVER
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ - “It’s like the unofficial sequel to Disco Elysium.”
When does this game come to Steam?
MASTURBATE
Goddammit that’s what I was gonna do
*the cabin is sentient
That just makes me wank harder.
based and rudeus grayrat pilled
Judge their book collection obviously
The books are all well maintained and free of dust. Whoever owns these books takes great care of them, as not even the shelves they’re sitting on are dirty. Despite that, they show no signs of wear and tear, as though they were bought from the store, placed directly on the shelf, and never read. Weirdly, none of the sides of the books have titles written on them; as you take the first one down to have a look through it, it catches on something. A little force, and the book tilts forward; an audible kachunk rings through the room, muffled by the walls.
The book falls free after the noise, revealing a strange mechanism behind it, built into the wall behind the shelf and fed through a hole in the back of said shelf; a lever of some kind? In any case, the book itself isn’t all that interesting. It goes into incredible detail about the aerodynamics of butterfly wings and various experiments and extrapolations regarding their ability to cause hurricanes. Roll perception.
Perception check failed.
The book is nothing more than what it is; a book about butterflies. You’re quite sure there’s no hidden code or secret key inside, not even one you’re not able to detect. You mean, who would even go through the effort of making such a detailed report just to hide something, right?
In any case, you turn around and find the front door open. It’s strange, you think. Seeing the outdoors, the trees and the grass. You were sure you’d never be getting out of here, and yet there is is, the open door.
I say “pspspspspspsps”
deleted by creator
You whisper the ultimate cat call. It echoes over the empty cabin; nothing happens, and a profound sense of loss washes over you. You walk over to the shelf by the window and run your hand over it, staring at the one particularly worn spot on it for a moment. You walk over and check the litter box, but of course it’s clean. It always is nowadays. Old habits die hard after all. You cook yourself some breakfast and take a seat at the table, and try the call again. Nothing happens, as expected, not even when you open a can of tuna. Old habits die hard, but they die eventually. You spread the tuna on your bread and eat your meal, alone in the silence.
What the fuck dude
I came here for rpg, not
:.|:;
Relax for the first time in my life
Open all chests and drawers!
You have disturbed a mimic disguised as a jewelry box. It snaps and almost separates you from the fingers on your right hand.
A friend! =D
I quickly close the drawer.
Didn’t I found anything at all?
I’m taking some of the books. Sorry.
Look around to see if I can rummage up the necessary implements to brew a pot of tea.
I go to the larder and gather ingredients to break my fast with some fried salt pork, eggs, and pan bread. Then I go outside to check the firewood stores. If they’re sufficient I’ll fire up the forge and begin work on a Damascus Billet that I have tentative plans to make into either a skinning knife or a small hatchet. With a Hickory Handle.
The larder contains the salted pork and bread, but you keep the eggs in the refrigerator to its left. Once gathered on the table, you head outside the door and check your firewood shack; it’s filled bottom to top with quarter cut firewood, of whatever varieties you could gather. You take a moment to thank your past self for gathering all this wood. The chill in the air shakes your bones, and you’ll need all the heat you can get to survive the coming winter.
Wood, check, breakfast ingredients, check. You get to work on cooking up a quick meal, frying the pork and eggs on your stove; soon enough, the aroma of smoke and fresh food engulfs the entire cabin. You pat your belly; it was a filling meal, but soon after you start to wonder if you could sustain that sort of habit. Winter is coming. With winter, there’s less prey, and less meat. Maybe you should start rationing more?
In any case, you push the thought of food out of mind for now, head towards the forge in the back of the cabin, and fire it up. This much should be fine, your wood stores are plentiful. There’s only one problem; your trusty anvil seems to have disappeared. You’re quite sure you left it sitting on the floor, right where the anvil shaped indent on the ground is, but it seems to have totally disappeared. Your plans for the billet are held back by the fact you have nothing to hammer on, which is odd because your hammer is still here. Where in the hells did your anvil go, and why just the anvil?
My anvil couldn’t have walked away on its own. I think I’ll check for footprints and other signs of where my Anvil could have gone.
You search the forge top to bottom, inside and outside, searching for any clues as to where it may have gone. The most obvious clue you find is a note stapled to the outside of the forge door; you’re not sure how you missed it the first time around. In poor handwriting and poorer grammar, the note says “Ur avil were repossessed. mist paymont. -avil mortgage coppany.”
This letter is obviously fake. For one, the premise is stupid. It’s inconceivable that an anvil mortgage company would just reposses your anvil off a single missed payment; they’d send an agent or letter reminding you first. For two, you’ve already paid your anvil-tgage this month, at least you’re pretty sure of it. Whoever left this note was making a clear attempt at delaying your search for the true culprit. You’ve got a sneaking suspicion who, or what, might have left this letter. After all, they’ve raided your supplies before. The real question is, why would they have taken the anvil of all things?
Those dastardly Squirrels! Again!
The squirrels. They’ve been your sworn enemy ever since you moved here, always raiding your pantry and gardens, but this latest ploy is befuddling. What use would a band of squirrels have for an anvil? And when did they learn to write? And how did they even move the anvil? It’s a deeply perplexing puzzle, quite a pickle you found yourself in. To be safe, you figure you ought to double check everything you own; maybe the anvil wasn’t the only thing they had taken…
Food: ooooooxxxx
Water: oooooooooo
Firewood: oooooooox
Ore & minerals: ooooxxxxxx
Anvils: 0/10
Hammer: 10/10
Get ye flask
You cannot get ye flask.
I open the front door to take a look around. There is another room of the cabin. I look out the window. It’s a painted scene. I remove it. More cabin. I panic. I look up the chimney and see another fireplace. I tear out a floorboard and see through a ceiling. All that there is, is cabin. I take my first level in Wizard. We’re plane shifting up in this bitch. It would be very cozy if I had the option to leave and return at will.
After processing the initial shock, I look out the window to get my bearing on where the fuck I am.
See what’s in the fridge
Unfortunately, you don’t find a fridge in the room. You’re not sure where you got the idea from, as there never has been and most likely never will be a fridge in the room with you. Still, the image of a fridge against the wall haunts you like a particular bad sense of de ja vu; was there a fridge there before? Yes, you’re quite sure there was, and yet there wasn’t. You start to question your sanity; your psychiatrist would probably ask if you’ve taken your pills yet. Have you? They would have been in the fridge…
