Narcissi
Teela Brown
walkthrough
Written for the NarraScope 2020 Game Jam. An Elizabethanesque Revery in a Shady Grove.
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In this short game, the most useful commands are examine
(X) (yourself and other things, more than once), talk
to, ask about, touch, take, and  drink things
in the game world. If you get stuck, feel free to ask for a
hint, if you still can. Finally, you should be listening to
David Grisman and Jerry Garcia's rendition of "Shady Grove" while you play, for best effect.

Press any key to begin.
Narcissi

Woo thyself, be of thyself rejected;
Steal thine own freedom, and complain on theft.
Narcissus so himself himself forsook
And died to kiss his shadow in the brook.

Torches are made to light, jewels to wear,
Dainties to taste, fresh beauty for the use,
Herbs for their smell, and sappy plants to bear.
Things growing to themselves are growth's abuse.

You have been wandering through a woods near your home, staring at your feet and paying no attention to the branching paths. You look up to find yourself in a shady grove of willow trees. Peaches in the summertime. Apples in the fall. If I can't have the girl I love I don't want none at all. The trees encircle a pond, leaning
towards and over it, as if they are taking care to keep it sheltered and in shadow. In a circle around the pond is a wabe of marshy grass.

A gray bird with dark wings is perched on a flattened boulder that leans out and over the pond's edge.
You examine the pond
There are pale blue lilies floating listlessly in the pond. Flocks of tall swaying paperwhites, fully in bloom, are reflected in the rippling water as if they are floating there too.
You look at the bird
Based on your sketchy knowledge of woodland birds, you think it could be a mockingbird. It appears to be standing on one foot and holding a tiny book in its other.
You ask the bird about book
The mockingbird stares at you for a long moment, appraising you. Abruptly it flies up from the boulder and perches on a swaying willow branch. From there it sings out "These trees shall be my books,
and in their barks my thoughts I'll character, that every eye which in this forest looks, shall see thy virtue witness'd everywhere.

It preens a feather for a moment and then adds pleasantly, "Everything should be clear to you now you gut-griping, belly-gorged, malt-worm."
You examine the trees
Willow trees encircle and shelter the pond.
You ask the bird about the pool
The bird rasps, "I smell a fobbing gut-griping bum-bailey!"
You take the book
The bird give your offending hand a vicious bite. It shrieks at you in fury, "Now you've done it, you rude-growing pignut! No hints for you!"
You clean yourself
You rub yourself.
You look at your surroundings
You are beside the shadowed pond. In a circle around the pond is a wabe of marshy grass. Around the wabe is a circle of willow trees.

The mockingbird is perched on a swaying willow branch watching you.
You examine wabe
It looks like a manicured lawn, but it's not. Your feet make a squishy kind of noise with every step across it. It completely encircles the pond. A wabe technically surrounds a sundial, not a pond, but that's the word that came into your mind when you saw it.
You look in the pond
This pond may be connected to the brook your feet followed to get to this grove. Or perhaps it is spring fed. In either case, it is not stagnant. It looks so fresh and clean. You wonder if it would be safe to drink the water.
Drink water
You can't get close enough to the pond from here. The wabe is so marshy, there's nowhere to safely stand.
You climb the tree
Little is to be achieved by that.
About yourself
You are still dressed in the clothes you put on yesterday morning. You slept in them last night. This morning, since you were already dressed, you figured why change? Who would know, or care? You forced yourself to leave your house to go for a walk, the first time you had been out for weeks, except to grab some food and supplies from the shop with the widest aisles, and hope to find toilet paper without having to hunt across town for it. At least you only need to find enough for one person now. There's that.
You examine the boulder
The large flattened stone is positioned so that it overhangs the water. It is surrounded by paperwhites and lillies.
You get on the boulder
You climb up onto the boulder.

Shady Grove (on the flattened boulder)
You are beside the shadowed pond. In a circle around the pond is a wabe of marshy grass. Around the wabe is a circle of willow trees.

The mockingbird is perched on a swaying willow branch watching you.
Drink water
You sit on the edge of the boulder. Pushing aside the flowers, you are able to scoop up a handful of water. The narcissi release an
urgent message understood only by the chemically literate flora and fauna of the pond. The mockingbird shouts a raucous warning but you inhale the musky scent, understanding nothing.

You take a sip.

Press any key to continue.
As your vision darkens all that keeps you in the world is the distant voice of the mockingbird: "Sing willow, willow, willow: The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd her moans; Sing willow, willow, willow; Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones."
Where you expect to see your own face reflected in the water, you see a sundial, the shadow of its blade moving from number to number, round and round, day after dismal day shut into your apartment alone; safe they call it, safe, is it? Endless dessicated days become practice for year after lonely year, assuredly ahead, since it is certain no one will ever love you again.

The mockingbird begins to fly around and around your head, shrieking and cackling in crazed abandon: "You gut-griping, fen-sucked, elf-skinned, weather-bitten, rude-growing, moldwarp! You pottle-deep, tickle-brained, unchin-snouted, clay-brained, rude-growing, boar-pig! You boil-brained, rump-fed, beetle-headed, ill-nurtured, shard-borne, ratsbane!"

You sit up, wiping away tears and snot with the back of your hand, and scream at the bird, "I'm heart-broken goddamn it, and I'm lonely and I'm doing the fucking best I can! Why do you have to be so mean?"

Press any key to continue.
The mockingbird is silent. It returns to its perch on the willow branch, and waits for you to catch your breath.

Alone she was,
and did communicate to herself
her own words to her own ears.

"Don't you see, my little love," it says kindly. "There has never been anyone in this shady grove but you."

You are alone beside the shadowed pond. The pond is in the middle of some marshy grass in a little copse of trees near your house.
You examine the pond
Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy.
This wide and universal theatre presents
more woeful pageants than the scene wherein we play.

You lean over the edge of the boulder and see a face in the pond, puffy and streaked from crying. You stop yourself from calling it ugly, your heart feeling unexpected tenderness for this sad and weary face. Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy. Yes, your
heartbreak is an insignificant tragedy in an unjust world; but no need to pass judgment on yourself there either. What is needful is just to make it through.

You stand up and brush dirt and sand and petals off your slept-in clothes. Maybe there's a way to help someone. Maybe there will be love, on the other side. Across the pond, you see the path that will take you home.

Press any key....