Selves
J'onn Roger
IntroComp 2009 unfinished unwinnable
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A cold wind brushes the edge of your consciousness, and your deadened senses blur the images and feelings trying to reach your brain. Harsh moonlight lighting shattered glass... water rippling somewhere nearby... a dark shape in the shadows... the howling of a lone wolf... and blood. Red, red blood.

The cold finally manages to break through the haze, and forces your mind back to consciousness. All around you is baren ground, broken only by small, rolling hills. At your feet, a small lake lies unnaturally still, a crystal mirror holding the image of the red moon above. The path leading home lies to the east, while an unknown path leads into impenetrable mist northward.
You look at lake
The surface of the lake is unnaturally still, but there is an odd sense of movement just underneath, and a soft rippling music barely reaches your ears. Your reflection flickers weirdly, made brighter by the liquid moon trapped in the surface of crystal.
You look at the moon
She told you once the moon was God's eye. It was just a fairytale, of course... but still, it's hauntingly fitting that tonight the moon is red. Blood red.
You look at the mist
The mist lies just outside your awareness, and resists any attempts to interact with it.
Drink water
You take the shimmering liquid in cupped hands and sip, and the cold cuts through you like a knife.

The wind cries softly, but what makes it worse is that you hear her tears in the wind.
You listen
So many voices tonight. The wind, the earth, the water, the sky... they all have voices. And her voice is in each of theirs.
You look at the lake
The surface of the lake is unnaturally still, but there is an odd sense of movement just underneath, and a soft rippling music barely reaches your ears. Your reflection flickers weirdly, made brighter by the liquid moon trapped in the surface of crystal.

The wind whips madly through the hills and over the lake, chastising you.
You feel the lake
Your touch disturbs the placid surface, causing ripples to mar the image of the moon.
You look at the reflection
Which do you mean, the moon's reflection or your reflection?
You look at your reflection
Your faced is mirrored back to you with perfect clarity, and what you see frightens you. It is not your face anymore; it is another's. It is his face.
You think
What a good idea.

The wind dies down to a whisper, as if it has exhausted its anger and now offers you comfort.
You look
All around you is baren ground, broken only by small, rolling hills. At your feet, a small lake lies unnaturally still, a crystal mirror holding the image of the red moon above. The path leading home lies to the east, while an unknown path leads into impenetrable mist northward.

The wind whispers again, but you shut your ears, refusing to be comforted.
You examine lake reflection
A perfect image of the moon above you, thanks to the water the reflection possesses a startling quality of translucence that the real moon does not have.

The wind whispers again, but you shut your ears, refusing to be comforted.

I only understood you as far as wanting to examine the pond.
You examine the hills
Mounds of dirt is all they really are, but they have a presence that is both comforting and ominious. With them you are not alone, but they remind you that they have been and always will be, while you will pass away.

The wind whispers again, but you shut your ears, refusing to be comforted.
You look at the east
You see nothing unexpected in that direction.

The wind whispers again, but you shut your ears, refusing to be comforted.
You examine north
(the north path)
A mist lies over the north path, concealing whatever lies beyond.
You listen to the wind
The wind refuses to comfort you, its soft moan incessantly reminding you of things you cannot undo.

The wind whispers again, but you shut your ears, refusing to be comforted.
You listen to the hills
She used to tell you that everything has a voice, if you would only listen. Tonight, it almost seems she was right, for you can feel something calling to you. Whether it is a voice from the earth, or whether your sanity is beginning to fray is a different question.
You examine the moon
She told you once the moon was God's eye. It was just a fairytale, of course... but still, it's hauntingly fitting that tonight the moon is red. Blood red.

The wind whispers again, but you shut your ears, refusing to be comforted.
You listen to moon
The moon is the one thing that you hear nothing from. No voice, no song... only silence.
You look at the lake
The surface of the lake is unnaturally still, but there is an odd sense of movement just underneath, and a soft rippling music barely reaches your ears. Your reflection flickers weirdly, made brighter by the liquid moon trapped in the surface of crystal.

The wind whispers again, but you shut your ears, refusing to be comforted.
You look at the reflection
Which do you mean, the moon's reflection or your reflection?
You examine your reflection
Your faced is mirrored back to you with perfect clarity, and what you see frightens you. It is not your face anymore; it is another's. It is his face.

The wind whispers again, but you shut your ears, refusing to be comforted.
Scream
I only understood you as far as wanting to think.

I didn't understand that sentence.
You think
What a good idea.
Drink
What do you want to drink?
Drink lake
You take the shimmering liquid in cupped hands and sip, and the cold cuts through you like a knife.

The wind whispers again, but you shut your ears, refusing to be comforted.
You listen to wind
The wind's voice is silent, as if it no longer wishes to speak to you.

The wind whispers again, but you shut your ears, refusing to be comforted.
You describe your surroundings
All around you is baren ground, broken only by small, rolling hills. At your feet, a small lake lies unnaturally still, a crystal mirror holding the image of the red moon above. The path leading home lies to the east, while an unknown path leads into impenetrable mist northward.

The wind whispers again, but you shut your ears, refusing to be comforted.
You go east
The mist lies just outside your awareness, and resists any attempts to interact with it.

A mist lies over the north path, concealing whatever lies beyond.

You ignore the beckoning north path, and travel east to home and sanity.

You come to consciousness in a dark, dusty room. In the corner, the machine is still smoking, surrounded by shards of glass from the window above. In the center of the room she lies... Oh God. You never meant to hurt her. To the west lies a splintering wooden door, beside which is an old shovel.
You look at her
Lovely Elizibeth. Things weren't supposed to end this way - you two were to be happy together, after your success. But now the most you can do for her is see that her remains rest in piece.
You examine the shovel
Strong wood and cold metal.
You take the shovel
As you take the shovel in hand, a tear finds its way down your face. The task before you will be hard to bear.
You examine the glass
Long, sharp slivers, broken from the window pane during the accident.
You examine the machine
The culmination of all your years of research lies broken in the corner. After all those years of being mocked by your peers and being called a madman by your family... She was the only one who believed in you. And you were right; it worked. But in the end, it took her from you.
Describe the surroundings
This is the room you did the experiments in. In the corner is that cursed machine, and above it the broken window. You cannot bear to look at what lies in the center of the room on the floor, broken and dead. To the west lies a splintering wooden door, beside which is an old shovel.
You hug her
You can only do that to something animate.
You take the machine
That's hardly portable.
You look at door
So many times she passed through that door... only once more, and this time she holds death's hand instead of yours.
You take her
You wipe the blood from her face, and tenderly take her in your arms.
You open the door
You open the cabin door.
Go west
Everything is just like it was before, and yet... there is a difference, as if the earth somehow knows that she no longer walks upon it, and the sun realizes it shines on her no more. Only the tree she planted nearby retains its luster.
You examine the tree
You sense her presence around this tree, as if she left part of herself with it when she departed.
You drop her
Dropped.
You check your inventory
You are carrying:
a shovel
You bury her
After one last kiss, you return her to the earth she loved so much.

Your living room is sparesely furnished, with only a few pieces of furniture, and nothing resembling luxury. She always said your house needed a woman's touch...
You look at your surroundings
Your living room is sparesely furnished, with only a few pieces of furniture, and nothing resembling luxury. She always said your house needed a woman's touch...
Sing
Your singing is abominable.
You hit yourself
What good would bloodying yourself further do now? It will not bring her back.
Yes
A cold wind brushes the edge of your consciousness, and your deadened senses blur the images and feelings trying to reach your brain. Harsh moonlight lighting shattered glass... water rippling somewhere nearby... a dark shape in the shadows... the howling of a lone wolf... and blood. Red, red blood.

The cold finally manages to break through the haze, and forces your mind back to consciousness. All around you is baren ground, broken only by small, rolling hills. At your feet, a small lake lies unnaturally still, a crystal mirror holding the image of the red moon above. The path leading home lies to the east, while an unknown path leads into impenetrable mist northward.
You go north
You cannot resist the call of the misted path, and so travel north, leaving behind you that which is known and embracing the unknowable.

You come to consciousness in a dark, dusty room. In the corner, the machine is still smoking, surrounded by shards of glass from the window above. In the center of the room she lies... Oh God. You never meant to hurt her. To the west lies a splintering wooden door, beside which is an old shovel.
You get the glass
The glass glitters dangerously in your hand, as if it wants to claim your very soul.
You cut yourself
You draw the gleaming edge across your skin, bringing blood. Red, red blood.
You take the shovel
As you take the shovel in hand, a shudder runs through you. She knows what you are going to do.
You hit yourself
You already have that.
(first taking the broken glass)
You draw the gleaming edge across your skin, bringing blood. Red, red blood.
You look at her
Blood swirls around her ashen face, and a smile seems to play at the corner of her cold lips. As long as she is here, you know that she will haunt you.
You cut her
Cutting that up would achieve little.
You look at the machine
It hulks in the corner like an evil beast, ready to strike. It was the cause of this; it stole your face and took her from you... And still it lives. You can almost see eyes peering from the darkness where you know none are. But something is different - it is broken and powerless now.
Describe the surroundings
This is the room you did the experiments in. In the corner is that cursed machine, and above it the broken window. You cannot bear to look at what lies in the center of the room on the floor, broken and dead. To the west lies a splintering wooden door, beside which is an old shovel.
You examine the machine
The glass is shattered and void, and dark all except the sharp edges, which glitter with silver light.

It hulks in the corner like an evil beast, ready to strike. It was the cause of this; it stole your face and took her from you... And still it lives. You can almost see eyes peering from the darkness where you know none are. But something is different - it is broken and powerless now.
You look at the window
All that remains of the window is a dark void. Where light once entered, there is nothing but darkness.
You look at the door
The normal wooden door suddenly seems old and angry. The cracks that normally let in light seem to be sucking it out, or perhaps letting darkness in...
You look at the shovel
Black, soulless metal.
You go west
This used to be your Eden, but now all is baren desert. Even the tree she planted is withered and leafless. As far as the eye can see stretches nothing but sand, and a single set of footprints leading away from the Cabin.
You check what you're carrying
You are carrying:
a shovel
a broken glass
You look at the sand
Glittering white sand stretches as far as the eye can see, the only mark upon it his footsteps.
You examine the footsteps
Footprints in the sand lead away from the cabin towards the lake. His footprints. Your footprints.
You look at the tree
You feel her presence around the tree, as if it swallowed her spirit when he took her life.
You kill yourself
She will not let you. You have a job to do; she demands vengence before death will give you solace.
You take her
As you lift the corpse to your shoulder, her coldness spreads through your body and claws at your mind.
You bury her
Her dead eyes are pleading with you, begging you not to leave her.
But you stoicly shovel the dirt over her body until it is hidden from view.

The house feels empty, yet simultaneously you feel a presence here. Happiness has fled, and her pain has replaced it.
You cut yourself
You draw the gleaming edge across your skin, bringing blood. Red, red blood.
You check what you're carrying
You are carrying:
a shovel
a broken glass