Her Majesty's Trolley Problem
Buster Hudson
cover art death female protagonist military moral dilemma multiple endings on rails parser pig skeleton steampunk violence
No one said life in Her Majesty's Service would be easy. Fortunately, you've got everything you need: your officer's handbook, a harpoon cannon, and the indefatigable command of Captain Lionetta herself. If the Captain can't navigate you and your prisoner through the Empire-forsaken town of Innocence Lost, then who can?
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The Problem hurries along the rails at a magnificent speed.
The sky is a brilliant cerulean, and the autumn air is crisp and clear—perfect weather for pressing her hard against the irons. You
lean out over the taff, taking in the bittersweet aromas of the heath.

her spyglass. "First Mate Gertie!" she calls from the roof, or what's left of it. The trolley took the brunt of a broadside during her last encounter with the enemy.

"Yes sir," you reply, snapping to attention.

She points trackward to a collection of buildings that appear over the horizon. "Innocence Lost, from the looks of it," she says. "We must have jumped the wrong split out of the deadlynds."

Your prisoner perks when he hears the news, and his jaw lifts into a devilish rictus. "What a pity! And here I thought I'd be tried and executed by sundown."

The Captain ignores his outburst. "We'd best not charge in so quickly. Look alive, Gertie, and slow her down until you're counting ties. I'll find us another route home."

"Aye aye, sir." Your salute is high and proud. You won't let the Captain down.
Her Majesty's Trolley Problem

You are aboard HMT Problem, a dinky-class trolley impressed
into Her Majesty's service. As First (and only) Mate, you do most everything that needs doing, for the Captain rarely abandons her perch on the roof. Tasks include firing the harpoon cannon, dropping the anchor, and never opening the Captain's treasure box. You also keep your handbook tucked into a coat pocket, for when you need a reminder of how to perform your duties.

The captured Admiral, bound in rope, pesters you with whatever thought happens to be running through his skull at the moment. His cold,
empty, unblinking eye sockets glare at you mercilessly—or at nothing
in particular; it's hard to tell with skeletons.
About yourself
You joined the Royal Trolley Service at an early age to escape those cold night, but you wouldn't have it any other way. There's nothing quite like the feel of the wind in your hair, the humsong of the rails beneath your feet, and the possibility of adventure at the end of
every track.

Unfortunately, your service record has been less than satisfactory,
and you imagine the phrase "acts without thinking" appears several times, circled in red. If not for your ability with the harpoon
cannon, you worry you'd be inland somewhere, begging for work. Or worse.

Of course, it helps that the Captain has been lenient with you to a fault. You owe her a debt of gratitude for keeping you on after you... well, after the accidents.
You check your inventory
You are carrying an officer's handbook.
You read
What do you want to read?
You read the handbook
You've creased the pages with the most helpful passages:

ITEM 23. Vigilance is of the utmost importance for an officer on
duty. When riding the rails, you should LOOK around to become aware of your immediate surroundings and ensure there are no obstacles on the track ahead of you. You may also find it useful to EXAMINE specific things for a better understanding of their natures.

ITEM 141. The harpoon cannon is an effective weapon that requires skill, precision, and a strict adherence to routine. To use, you must first LOAD HARPOON into the cannon and then SHOOT TARGET (where TARGET is whatever thing you are trying to shoot). In a pinch, another object may be used in lieu of a harpoon.

ITEM 335. In the event the mechanical brakes become damaged or otherwise inoperable, trolleys in Her Majesty's service are required
to carry an anchor in reserve. You should DROP ANCHOR outside the
rails to slow the trolley down, or once off the hotline, to force a complete stop.

ITEM 612. The moorsea is full of dangers, but none moreso than idleness. There will be times you have little to do other than WAIT, especially when awaiting an order from a senior officer. It remains paramount that you always carry yourself with the poise and demeaner expected of an officer of the Empire.

ITEM 998. While serving aboard a trolley, you are likely to
encounter many words and phrases unfamiliar to you. You may read the GLOSSARY at any time for pithy definitions of these linguistic deviations.
Look around
You are aboard HMT Problem, a dinky-class trolley impressed
into Her Majesty's service. On the deck are a harpoon cannon, an anchor, and the Captain's treasure box.

The captured Admiral, bound in rope, pesters you with whatever thought happens to be running through his skull at the moment. His cold,
empty, unblinking eye sockets glare at you mercilessly—or at nothing
in particular; it's hard to tell with skeletons.

"Quit your lollygagging and drop anchor," the Captain commands.
Ma'am
Your handbook has all the commands you'll need to carry out your duties.

a trolley.
You die of the shame
a trolley.
You look at the box
It's small, like a jewelry box, and unadorned. You don't see a lock.
You open the box
Your curiosity overwhelms your sense of duty. Once you're sure the Captain isn't looking, you open the lid ever so slightly and peer inside.

On a piece of black velvet rests a single medallion—or you should
say,
half of one. It appears to be the left half of a silver Jolly Roger.

Having seen enough, you quietly close the lid. What's so special about a broken charm? Your transgression has raised more questions than it answered.
You look at the cannon
Of your various prior positions, you spent the longest as a harpoonswain aboard the Quandary. So long, in fact, and
acquiring so much practice, you earned yourself the nickname 'Gertie the Mark' for always hitting a target in range. Perhaps if you had still been there, had they not let you go after that mixup with the soup and the chamber pot, your skill might have saved them from being wrecked by pirates. It's a nice thought, anyway.

This one's a standard issue harpoon cannon. It's currently empty. Conveniently, a harpoon rests on the deck beside it.
You look at Admiral
He hasn't aged well, even for a skeleton. Cottonous mould grows in his joints and crevices, and his coat is a patchwork of filthy shreds and tatters. You'd sooner mistake him for a common beggar-thief than for the feared Admiral of the enemy fleet.

The Captain ambushed him during your most recent border skirmish with the enemy. After a lengthy battle, it was decided you'd ride the rails ahead of the wounded fleet and deliver him to the Queen, where he'll inevitably stand trial for his crimes.
You get admiral
You've already taken him prisoner.
You examine captain
Captain Lionetta strikes an imposing figure in her scarlet coat, her hair neatly tucked beneath her three-point hat. A single gold stripe
is displayed prominently on her collar, a symbol of her rank. You
think returning with the enemy's Admiral in chains may well earn her another one.

Bold, ambitious, and charismatic, she inspires you to be the best railor you can be.
GLOSSARY
CROSS: The places where two tracks meet, or cross.

DEADLYNDS: An area of the moorsea devoid of life. Not even the
heath grows there. It's rumoured the rebellion against the Empire is hiding their base of operations in the deadlynds.

HOTLINE: Any track containing a HOTWIRE, or the wire that provides
the energy for locomotion (it's not yet understood how this works).
The hotwire is named for how it burns hot to the touch. The other type of track is a DOCKING TRACK, in which the hotwire has been snipped to allow the trolley to come to a stop.

IRONS: Another name for the rails. The phrase PRESSING HER HARD
AGAINST THE IRONS is an expression meaning to ride the trolley at a maximum speed. Those who maintain the tracks are called
IRONSWORKERS.

JOLLY ROGER: A symbol used by pirates for mysterious ends. It's
usually depicted as a skull over a pair of crossed bones.

MOORSEA: A great expanse of moors. It's thought to stretch
thousands upon thousands of miles, though none have explored beyond
the deadlynds. Only a complicated network of tracks left by an unknown civilization enables travel, as the moors are covered by a toxic plant called the HEATH.

RAILOR: A member of a trolley's crew.

SPLIT: A type of cross where it's possible to change tracks. To
JUMP THE SPLIT means to change tracks, while to RUN THE SPLIT means to continue without changing.

SWITCH: A device that allows the trolley to change tracks at a
split. The expression FLY THE SWITCH means to push the switch while
the trolley is still in motion, typically with the aid of a long pole. This technique will not work if the trolley is travelling at too fast
a speed.

TAFF: The railing along the front of the trolley, over the bow.
Many trolleys carry a harpoon cannon, which is usually secured to the taff.

TIES: Planks of wood that lie perpendicular to the rails and
secure them in place. Because of their uniform spacing, the term has become a standard unit of distance. The term can also be used to measure speed when counting the number of ties the trolley passes per second. The phrase COUNTING TIES refers to the fact that when travelling slow enough, one can easily count the ties appearing behind the trolley.

TRACKWARD: The direction the trolley is moving. Its opposite is BACKWARD.

TROLLEY: A single mechanical carriage used to travel the rails.
Long ago, people rode multiple carriages joined together called
trains, but they proved unwieldy in battle, difficult to defend
against pirates, and subject to frequent wrecks due to the large
number of crosses. Trolleys are easily repaired or replaced, and only require crews of two to ten railors.
You wait
Suddenly, a Ditch
It isn't long before the Captain calls down to you again. "First Mate Gertie! The track is incomplete, and the line is bearing us into a ditch! What's our speed?"

You race to the rear of the deck and lean over the stern. The ties are coming too quickly to count, so you estimate as best you can. "Ten, maybe fifteen, sir."

"Bloody hell," the Captain swears, and you tense. You can count on a butcher's hand the number of times you've heard her resort to such language. Death looms ahead.

"We can't fly the switch at this speed," she continues. "To arms, Gertie, and wait for my signal! You'll have to harpoon the switch when it's in range, but before we run the split." You take up your post by the cannon.

The Admiral rattles his bones aggressively in an attempt to draw your attention. It works. "What a beautiful day for a trolleywreck," he
says with that same irritating sneer.

"Three hundred ties and closing!" the Captain shouts, her gaze fixed firmly trackward. You focus on the task in front of you.
You wait
The wind collects in your coat.

"One hundred ties!"

You hold your breath. Just a little further.
You wait
"Now, Gertie! Shoot the switch!"
Shoot switch
You squeeze the trigger, and the harpoon finds its mark. The timing couldn't be closer; you feel the rails sliding to their new positions beneath your feet just as the Problem reaches the split. She
bucks and swivels over to the new line, maintaining her speed while settling into her new course.

"Great shot!" the Captain cheers, dropping to the deck. You beam with pride, but it's to be short-lived. She goes on to explain that without a rope tied to the harpoon, you've lost yet another valuable piece of equipment.

"Don't fret, my dears," the Admiral interrupts. "I happen to have some very sturdy rope on me. All you have to do is untie me, and it's yours."

The Captain raises a fist. "I'd sooner use your bones for harpoons." Her threat silences him for at least a full minute, maybe two.
Her threat silences him for at least a full minute, maybe two.## The Fool On the Approach
By mid-afternoon, you reach the outskirts of Innocence Lost. Here the buildings are little more than ragged tarps stretched over the husks
of trolleys and other scavenged materials. The roof of one dwelling,
an ancient caboose, makes use of an old flag to patch a hole, its bold red hue long since faded to a dirty shade of terra cotta. You're reminded of a blanket your mother had made to keep you warm at night. Back then, the Empire's flags were always in abundance, and few seemed to mind the ones that went missing. Now, no one dares remove a single flag, not since the guard began removing hands.

The Captain's voice distracts you from your thoughts. "First Mate Gertie, there's a fool on the approach!" Sure enough, you see a man dancing on the track, cradling his bottle of spirits like it's his partner in a very sloppy waltz. Ordinarily you'd ring a standard warning, but the trolley's bell went the way of her roof.

Something near him catches the sunlight—a switch! "Look Captain!" you shout excitedly. Then you remember the harpoon. "We could at least try to fly the switch."

The Captain shakes her head. "I have a better idea. Load the Admiral's bones into the cannon. We'll save this fool's life if we can."

"You must be joking," the skeleton says, his tone no longer so abrasive. "The drunkard earned his fate the moment he drank himself dim."

"As did you earn your fate," the Captain replies, "when you raised a banner against the Empire." She turns back to you. "We're three
hundred ties away and closing fast. There's no time to argue. Load a bone, and prepare to fire."

The skeleton's grin gives way to genuine worry. Your instructions are clear, yet you find yourself hesitating.
You get the bone
Which do you mean, the left arm, the right arm, the left leg, the
right leg or the spine?
You wait
The wind whips your hair about your face.

"One hundred ties!"
You wait
"Now!" cries the Captain.
Shoot switch
The Admiral's left arm isn't quite a harpoon, but it does the job. The Problem jumps the split without incident, startling the
drunken man from his revelry. He waves his hat in greeting as you
pass.

"Gertie the Mark earns her name again! Well done." The Captain offers you a congratulatory slap on the back. Somehow, you manage a smile.
About you
Ironsworkers, Trackward
Within the dense heart of Innocence Lost, the buildings climb atop
each other like too many rats in too small a box. Numerous lines converge, cross, split, or run concurrently in a tangled mess of rails and switches. Fortunately, most of the tracks appear to run straight through town.

The townspeople go about their business along the rails, slipping in and out of the tight spaces between buildings and stepping aside with disinterested expressions to let the Problem clatter by. Some
shout insults against the Empire, and one particularly unruly skeleton throws a brick that grazes the Captain's hat. It's odd to see such a blatant display of treason, but you suppose that's what happens when the guard isn't around to keep the peace.

You continue past the docking tracks. "Captain, might we dock and find a new anchor?" you ask, but the Captain shakes her head.

"Without an anchor, there won't be enough track off the hotline to
come to a stop. Safely, that is. Besides, the scum of this town have
no love for the Empire. It would be dangerous for the two of us to remain here with the prisoner." She spits off the side of the deck, then bolts upright when something trackward catches her attention—a group of workers repairing the line, seemingly unaware of your approach.

"Quickly Gertie, load another bone in the cannon. We can save the
lives of these men and women." She climbs to her perch and pulls open her spyglass. "Only three hundred ties until the split, starboard."

The Admiral struggles against his bindings. "Leave my bones out of this! Ironsworkers know the dangers of maintaining the rails. If they die, it's their own damn fault for not appointing a lookout."

You can't help but feel there's a logic in what he's saying. Or maybe you're looking for a reason to disobey orders.
You get the right arm
You pry the right arm in such a way that the joint pops neatly out of its socket. It's certainly easier the second time around.

The Admiral curses you and the Empire even after the cannon is loaded, but you've already numbed yourself to his voice. Numbness is the only way you'll keep going.

"Two hundred ties!"
You wait
"Now!"
Shoot switch
The arm finds the switch, and the rails change. You can see the workers' fear turn to relief as the trolley jumps the split to the switch track beside them.

The Admiral is less than amused. "Oh, good shot and all that! For the good of the Empire, eternal servitude to the crown, blah, blah, blah," he says, his words drenched with venom. "You're all the same, breaking the world apart in the name of duty. You and that rotten, swine-faced witch for a queen."

near spins round. "If you say one word more word against Her Majesty, I'll grind your skull against the irons myself."

Under normal circumstances, you'd be appropriately horrified by his invective, but you're distracted by the sickly-white mould you
discover coating your hands. Strangely, no amount of rubbing will get it off.
The Pigmonger Sells To a Crowd
Rounding a bend, the trolley happens upon several docking tracks occupied by travelling fences, their railcarts full of ration tins and fire-starters and brass buttons plucked from the uniforms of the dead. Fences are inevitable wherever people can't afford the Royal Tariffs, and while the stuff of real value goes to the cities, a farthing or
two might be made in towns like these along the way. You note a great many items of standard military issue in their piles. The pirates must be growing bolder, or desperate.

A crowd is gathered around a pigmonger, his latest cuts splayed on racks and rusted hooks. The frenzied shoppers, jostling each other for a better position, have him surrounded. Many stand directly on the track.

"Three hundred ties!" the Captain shouts. You already know what must
be done.

Another switch, another duty. For the Empire.
You get the leg
Which do you mean, the left leg or the right leg?
You wait
The Admiral's bones rattle inside the cannon.

"One hundred ties!"
You wait
"Now!"
Shoot switch
The trolley swerves, and the crowd is spared, but not so for the skeltons huddled on the switch track. The trolley devours them, crunching on bones, spitting up dust. The air is bathed in their deaths.

The dust settles everywhere; your vision blurs. You grow sick inside. Why? Why is this happening? When will the nightmare end? You try, and try, but the whiteness won't come off. You look over to the Admiral
who has lost his fire. Dust peters out of his eyeless darkness.
Down With the Queen! Long Live the Queen!
The trolley pushes onward, through Innocence Lost, through markets, buildings, and wrecks. Then, a rally.

People everywhere. "Down with the Empire!" they shout with their
signs. "Down with the Queen!" So many people! People on the track. People on the switch track. The trolley pushes ever onward, trackward.

The Captain commands you to load a bone. Load a bone, she says. Save the people. Long live the Queen.

"Down with the Empire!" they shout. "Down with the Queen!"

The Admiral is silent, or maybe you choose not listen.

"Three hundred ties!" the Captain cries.
Right leg
The numbness has settled deep in your bones. You pull the remaining limb from its home. Now it's here in the cannon, where it should go. You must save the people.

"Two hundred ties!"
About you
The mould won't come off. You want chew the meat off your finger
bones, jam your limbs into wheel axle, stop this infernal contraption on a collision course with hell. If only you could make it stop.

"One hundred ties!"
You talk to Captain
You can't. You don't trust your tongue.

"Now!"
Shoot switch
You squeeze the trigger, and the bones find their mark. You saved the people! The people are crushed!

find. You realise no matter what you did, that people would die. But you're still alive.
The End of the Line
Her Majesty's Trolley Problem, long live the Queen. More than
three hundred years Her reign has carried on, like a trolley unable to dock. Clang, clang. Clang, clang. Clang, clang.

The Captain squeals her commands. The enemy is approaching, trackward, on the dread trolley End of the Line. Death rides the rails,
the lone escape on the switch, starboard, to which you have little time.

"Three hundred ties!" she cries. If you don't switch the switch, the trollies will collide, and you'll most certainly die.
You take the medallion
It's tangled around the spine.

"One hundred ties!"
You ask Captain about the medallion
Your handbook has all the commands you'll need to carry out your duties.

"Now!"
You open the book
Rules, rules, and more rules:

ITEM 23. Vigilance is of the utmost importance for an officer on
duty. When riding the rails, you should LOOK around to become aware of your immediate surroundings and ensure there are no obstacles on the track ahead of you. You may also find it useful to EXAMINE specific things for a better understanding of their natures.

ITEM 141. The harpoon cannon is an effective weapon that requires skill, precision, and a strict adherence to routine. To use, you must first LOAD HARPOON into the cannon and then SHOOT TARGET (where TARGET is whatever thing you are trying to shoot). In a pinch, another object may be used in lieu of a harpoon.

ITEM 335. In the event the mechanical brakes become damaged or otherwise inoperable, trolleys in Her Majesty's service are required
to carry an anchor in reserve. You should DROP ANCHOR outside the
rails to slow the trolley down, or once off the hotline, to force a complete stop.

ITEM 612. The moorsea is full of dangers, but none moreso than idleness. There will be times you have little to do other than WAIT, especially when awaiting an order from a senior officer. It remains paramount that you always carry yourself with the poise and demeaner expected of an officer of the Empire.

ITEM 998. While serving aboard a trolley, you are likely to
encounter many words and phrases unfamiliar to you. You may read the GLOSSARY at any time for pithy definitions of these linguistic deviations.

"Now!"
You open the box
You snatch the charm from the Captain's box and make the two halves whole. The skull's surprise is as wide as your own. "It fits," he says with wonderment. "Is it yours?"

"Now!" the Captain cries.
No
Life is a track, full of possibilities, with the split fast approaching. Here's the switch track now: escape to the moorsea where you belong, free from the Empire, her burdens and her laws... No. You'll stay where you are.

"No," you say. "No, it's not." You point at the Captain. Before his end, you think he should know.

A tilt of the cannon, a squeeze of the trigger, and the Admiral finds the switch. You jump the last split out of Innocence Lost, and the Problem is a problem no more.
Yes
Life is a track, full of possibilities, with the split fast approaching. Here's the switch track now: escape to the moorsea where you belong, free from the Empire, her burdens and her laws. You hit
the switch and jump the split.

"Yes," you say, not so loud that the Captain might hear. "Yes, it's me." You dig into your face and slough off the pigflesh only beginning to spoil, slapping chunks messily onto the deck. The air is delicious on your bone. You've worn a pig's face for way too long.

"My daughter... What you've done to me, you couldn't have known," the Admiral weeps, yet you are content in your lie. What's one skull to another? He'll never know. Everyone is bones beneath, even while most pursue the Queen's fashions. You'll look like Her no more.

You gather the pieces of your acquired father and make your way to the stern. The fall will be harsh and you'll lose your meat, but backward is now trackward.

This way is preferred.