Moving (On)
quackoquack
built-in hints dream female protagonist friendship game jam Inform 7 life NarraScope 2020 Game Jam parser second person slice of life time travel walkthrough
Nostalgia, jumping around in time, and clearing out your childhood room. It's been over a year since you were last home, and now it's time to finally clear out those last few things, and the memories they bring back.
%
It's been over a year since you last set foot in this house. Your parents told you they were selling it a while ago now, downsizing to a smaller property, but the words never really felt real. A house is a house, permament and solid. But now you're here, and you can see all the bubblewrap, the cardboard boxes, the empty spaces where you can't remember what used to fill them but you know they definitely weren't just empty spaces. It's really happening.

"We've almost finished upstairs," your mum says, bustling past you with a filled plastic bag in each hand. "There're just some things left in your old room - didn't know whether you still wanted them so I didn't throw them out yet." She pauses, looks at you just standing dumbly in the hallway, seeming like you've never been here before. Gently, she says, "You should probably go look before your dad gets to them. He'll definitely just chuck anything he finds."

That's enough to nudge you out of your silent daze. "Oh, yeah, I'll take a look. Thanks, mum."

Your mum heads out the front door with her bags, and you head up the stairs, running your hand along the bannister as you go. From the far end of the corridor, you can hear your dad shifting things around in the study. Your room is the first on the left. It's where you grew up, where countless memories were made, and nobody's used it since you moved out.

You take a breath, and you go inside.

The air feels stale. Afternoon sunlight filters in through half-opened curtains, illuminating a shaft of dust that cuts the space in two. Everything looks both completely different and entirely the same.

On the floor just in front of the doorway, there's an empty bin bag - your mum must have left this here for you to put things in, things you were sure you wanted to throw out. You pick it up and shut the door behind you.

On the right side of the room is your bed - or rather, bedframe, since the mattress is gone. Next to the end where the pillow would have been, there's a little bedside table. A wooden wardrobe sits in the far left corner. Beside it, there's a low chest of drawers. There's a window on the wall opposite the door, looking out onto the street. The light switch is on the wall next to the door, whilst the wall above the bed is covered in old blu-tac stains and one remaining sheet of paper.

Almost all of your old stuff is gone - taken to your new flat in the city, or driven off to a charity shop - but you know there'll be a few remnants still here.
You examine paper
(the comic drawing)
It's a comic strip you drew when you were eleven. The pencil is smudged and fading, so you carefully take it down from the wall to look at it more closely. At the top, in large, bubble letters, is the title: "THE MAGIC NOTEBOOK".

At school, you'd started off being the quiet kid, who liked to stay indoors rather than go run around outside with the others. You'd had your wild imagination to keep you company, so you hadn't really minded the loneliness. Instead, you just wrote things, and you drew things, and you daydreamed about being a movie writer, or a famous book author, or a comic book artist, or - the list went on. When did those dreams slip away?

This was one of the first comics you drew. If you tried hard enough to REMINISCE ON it, you could probably still remember where you were when you penned down the final panels...
Reminisce on comic
You close your eyes, and you dive deep into the memory evoked by the comic drawing.

You're eleven years old, and you're outside your primary school, in the yard for running around in during breaktimes. Your classmates are all around you, and behind you is the playground area, but nobody is playing. Instead, everyone is looking up at the roof of the main building.

(You're somewhere different now - a difference place, a different time. You can sense that there's a lesson for you, at the end of this memory, but you can always PINCH yourself to go back to the present, and continue this memory later when you've learned more lessons.)

"Oh no! Milo is stuck on the roof!" a girl with frizzy hair cries out, pointing at the roof.
You examine Milo
A small, grey tabby cat belonging to the headteacher. He is very cute, and far more popular with you all than his owner is. Nobody seems to know how he made it onto the roof, but he doesn't look happy about it. He peers over the edge, and miaows sadly.

"How are we going to get him down?" a boy asks worriedly.
You look at the roof
You follow the crowd's gaze and look up at the roof. And there he is - Milo, the headteacher's cat, perched precariously close to the edge.

"It's too high! How did he get up there?" someone exclaims.
Inventory
You are carrying:
a magic notebook

"We have to save him!" comes another cry.
You climb the roof
It's two storeys up, and you're not Spider Man. You do, however, have a magic notebook...

You can hear everyone continue to panic about how to rescue Milo.
You examine MAGIC
Your magic notebook! Anything you sketch in this notebook appears in real life! You just have to DRAW something.

You can hear everyone continue to panic about how to rescue Milo.
You draw the ladder
Good idea! You draw a huge ladder, filling up an entire page of your magic notebook, and then hold it up open to the sky.

A few people look at you strangely, but then there's a collective gasp and they all turn back round - now, just in front of the school building - there's a giant ladder!

"Woah!" everyone shouts.

You run forward and climb the ladder, and soon you're onto the roof. Milo mews happily as you pick him up.

"I've got him!" you say, and everyone cheers. You're a hero!

A primary school classroom, with tables and blue plastic chairs arranged in rows. It's raining hard outside, for the third day in the row, so you and all your classmates are spending yet another lunchbreak indoors. But you don't mind that very much - you've been drawing your comic. Your class teacher, Miss Andrews, is at the front of the room.

You're just finishing up the final panel - drawing the happy look on Milo's face as he's placed back down on the ground - when you hear a voice next to you.

"What are you drawing? Can I see?" It's Maya, a girl with red hair. You haven't spoken with her much, but she's one of the louder kids in your class. Her question makes you nervous - you haven't shown anyone your comics before, and you find yourself afraid of what she might say.
You examine Maya
A girl with red hair. You haven't spoken with her much, but she's one of the louder kids in your class.
You look at the miss andrews
Your Year 6 class teacher, brown hair in a bun. She's reading a newspaper at her desk and occasionally looking up to see what you're all doing.
You talk to Maya
"Uhhhm, it's kind of private..." you reply uncertainly, feeling your heart beating in your chest.

"Aw, please?" Maya says, blinking her eyes.
You talk to Maya
A part of you wants to say yes, but you're just too nervous about it. "Maybe tomorrow?" you offer, but Maya is still unsatisfied.

"Pretty please?" she tries.
Inventory
You are carrying:
a comic drawing
Examine comic
You've been working on this comic during breaktimes all this week. You're so happy it's finally finished!
You talk to Maya
You open your mouth again, trying to say yes, but your nerves still get the better of you. Maya pouts at you, and shows no signs of leaving.
Pinch
Maybe you can't reach the end of this memory just yet. You pinch yourself hard, and open your eyes.

On the right side of the room is your bed - or rather, bedframe, since the mattress is gone. Next to the end where the pillow would have been, there's a little bedside table. A wooden wardrobe sits in the far left corner. Beside it, there's a low chest of drawers. There's a window on the wall opposite the door, looking out onto the street. The light switch is on the wall next to the door, whilst the wall above the bed is covered in old blu-tac stains.
You open the drawers
You start opening up each drawer in turn. They're all empty until you reach the fifth one - in there, you see a green paper folder. This was the drawer you used to keep old school notes and books in. You took pleasure in shredding most of your notes after your final school exams, so you're surprised that whatever this is has survived. You pick it up and shut the drawer again.
You look at the folder
Made of green card, it has your name scrawled on the front in black biro. You open it up, and now you remember what this is - it's a folder you put in the few things you were proud enough of not
to shred with everything else. There's not that much in here: a couple pages of unusually neat revision notes, a certificate from a school art competition, and - ah, yes.

You haven't seen this bundle of pages for a good few years, but it's immediately familiar: a twenty-page report you had to write for your Physics coursework at sixth form college. You almost got full marks on it, even your teacher was surprised.

Still, it had been a close call. If you were to REMINISCE ON the report, you bet you could picture yourself the day of the deadline...
You look under the bed
You kneel down and reach a hand underneath the bed. Your arm emerges covered in dust, and in your hand - is your old teddy bear.
You examine the bear
He's definitely seen better days; one of his eyes is hanging a little loose, and his fur is uneven and matted, thanks to the various beverages that have been spilled on him over the years. But still, the threaded smile on his little bear face is intact, and seeing him again after all this time makes you smile too.

You used to sleep with him tucked under your arm every night. As a child you had been... embarrassingly terrified of the dark. Even leaving the light on stopped keeping the nightmares away, after that one time you caught your dad sneaking in to turn it off when he thought you'd fallen asleep. No. The only cure... had been good old Mr Cuddles.

You'd almost forgotten all about your old nightmares, but this bear brings the memories right back. You reckon if you tried hard enough to REMINISCE ON him, you could picture them...
You reminisce on the teddy
You close your eyes, and you dive deep into the memory evoked by the teddy bear.

For a moment, you're falling. You have no sense of speed, there's no rush of air against your skin, just that lurching feeling in your stomach. Then you hit the floor - gently, somehow - and you open your eyes.

All you see is darkness. No, blackness. The falling feeling
in your gut might be gone, but it's replaced by something worse - fear.

(You're somewhere different now - a difference place, a different time. You can sense that there's a lesson for you, at the end of this memory, but you can always PINCH yourself to go back to the present, and continue this memory later when you've learned more lessons.)

You hear a noise in the distance.
You listen
You hear nothing unexpected.

The noise is closer now - it sounds like a low mechanical rumble.
Inventory
You are carrying nothing.

Still, the ominous noise gets ever louder, and something tells you that you really don't want to find out what it is - you feel the urge to get away.
You run
You'll have to say which compass direction to go in.

You can still hear it, something, slowly, inevitably, moving towards you.
Go outside
If you want to get out of the memory, you can PINCH yourself.

For a second, there's silence - but then the sound is back, closer.
Go north
You stumble blindly, with your arms stretched out before you.

Everything is still pitch black, and you feel like you can't even move in a straight line when there's nothing to help you keep your bearings.

You cover your ears for a little while, just to drown out the noise. You need to move.
Go north
You keep moving, disorientated and afraid.

Dark as ever, but it feels like the ground is sloping downwards.

You can still hear it, something, slowly, inevitably, moving towards you.
You go downwards
The floor is hard and cold beneath you, there's nowhere to go down.

You cover your ears for a little while, just to drown out the noise. You need to move.
You go north
You don't know where you're going, but you have to keep moving, keep hoping you're growing and not reducing the distance between you and that sound. Next thing you know, you're hurtling down a slope, picking up speed. The only thing you can do is brace your arms over your head and hope.

You tumble and you tumble and you tumble, until finally the floor levels out and you come to a stop. For a moment, you just stay lying on the floor, breathing hard. Maybe you've at least escaped whatever was coming after you?

But the hope is brief - you can still hear that incessant, unfamiliar, noise, now somewhere above you.

The floor here feels soft, like carpet. And, maybe it's your eyes playing desperate tricks on you, but you think you can see the faintest glow of light in front of you.

You can still hear it, something, slowly, inevitably, moving towards you.
You examine light
The light is so faint... is it even there? You move closer to it, and you realise it's like the orange glow of a street lamp. Is this a window?

There's got to be a way to make the noise go away... You've always known that bad things happen in the dark, it's like they're attracted to it.
You open the window
You're not sure what is is yet - but when you reach out, your hands come into contact with the soft fabric of curtains. You pull them open, and more of the orange light streams in. It's dim, but it's something.

There's got to be a way to make the noise go away... You've always known that bad things happen in the dark, it's like they're attracted to it.
You touch the floor
That won't help make the darkness go away.

There's got to be a way to make the noise go away... You've always known that bad things happen in the dark, it's like they're attracted to it.
You examine the carpet
It looks just like when you were a kid...

There's got to be a way to make the noise go away... You've always known that bad things happen in the dark, it's like they're attracted to it.
You examine the light
The dim orange glow of a street lamp outside.

There's got to be a way to make the noise go away... You've always known that bad things happen in the dark, it's like they're attracted to it.
You enter the window
You know it won't open far enough for you to fit through.

There's got to be a way to make the noise go away... You've always known that bad things happen in the dark, it's like they're attracted to it.
You turn on the light
Of course! The light switch is here, by the strange doorway, just like it is in real life. You flick the switch, and the room is immediately bathed in familiar, yellow light. The eerie shadows the furniture was casting on the walls fade; and what's more, when you bring yourself to look at the doorway again, it's just your door, white and shut.

You can still hear something, but you realise - it's just the sound of cars intermittently driving down the street outside. Your brain had been twisting their engine noise into something far more sinister.

You're safe now, the nightmare is over. You feel yourself being taken back to reality...

You used to have nightmares about the dark all the time. The day after a particularly bad one, Mr Cuddles had appeared on your bed, with a red ribbon round his neck, and your mum smiling next to him.

After a few nights, the nightmares stopped, and as you grew older you realised - there was nothing scary about the dark, or about a lot of things. They were only scary if you let them scare you. And so, Mr Cuddles lost his purpose, though he never quite lost his place in your heart.

(You have learned the lesson of CALMNESS. To remind yourself of
this lesson, REMEMBER CALMNESS - this will allow you to apply this lesson to your next action. To check which lessons you have learned, REMEMBER LESSONS.)

On the right side of the room is your bed - or rather, bedframe, since the mattress is gone. Next to the end where the pillow would have been, there's a little bedside table. A wooden wardrobe sits in the far left corner. Beside it, there's a low chest of drawers. There's a window on the wall opposite the door, looking out onto the street. The light switch is on the wall next to the door, whilst the wall above the bed is covered in old blu-tac stains.
You look at the table
There used to be a lamp on here, but now the only thing on it is a birthday card, looking cheerful and out of place in your otherwise lifeless bedroom. You pick it up.

The front is innocent enough - flowers, balloons, a font almost as cheesy as Comic Sans. It's the inside that makes your stomach twist a little. The message is in your handwriting, because this card wasn't for you - it was for Maya. Her nineteenth birthday.

You know that if you were to REMINISCE ON the card, you could take yourself right back to that day.
Inventory
You are carrying:
a birthday card
a teddy bear
a Physics report
a green paper folder
a comic drawing
a bin bag
You look at the bag
Your mum must have left this for you to put things into.
You examine the bear
He's definitely seen better days; one of his eyes is hanging a little loose, and his fur is uneven and matted, thanks to the various beverages that have been spilled on him over the years. But still, the threaded smile on his little bear face is intact, and seeing him again after all this time makes you smile too.
You look around
On the right side of the room is your bed - or rather, bedframe, since the mattress is gone. Next to the end where the pillow would have been, there's a little bedside table. A wooden wardrobe sits in the far left corner. Beside it, there's a low chest of drawers. There's a window on the wall opposite the door, looking out onto the street. The light switch is on the wall next to the door, whilst the wall above the bed is covered in old blu-tac stains.
You open the wardrobe
You open the wardrobe - the left door is still as stiff as you remember it being. Inside, it's entirely empty other than for a lonely-looking coat hanger. And on that coat hanger, there's a very lonely-looking hoodie.

You rescue it from its solitude.
Examine hoodie
It's your school leavers hoodie, a dark blue with the names of the whole class arranged on the back, and your own surname in bold letters on the right side of the front. You used to love wearing it around at home on lazy weekends - the unisex sizing meant it had been much too large for you - and your tendency to fiddle with the sleeves meant both cuffs had an assortment of holes. Your parents must have taken the rest of your clothes to charity shops whilst you'd been away, but left this for you, just in case.

You're glad they did. Though you can't really see yourself wearing this anymore, you do have fond memories from the days when you did.

There's one memory in particular that you associate strongly with it - if you were to REMINISCE ON the hoodie, you could probably remember just how it played out...
Reminisce on comic
You close your eyes, and you dive deep into the memory evoked by the comic drawing.

A primary school classroom, with tables and blue plastic chairs arranged in rows. It's raining hard outside, for the third day in the row, so you and all your classmates are spending yet another lunchbreak indoors. Your class teacher, Miss Andrews, is at the front of the room.

Maya is still standing next to your desk, attempting to peer at your drawing.
You talk to Maya
You finally manage a smile. "Okay, I guess you can take a look! It's only rough, though."

Maya grins and doesn't hesitate to pick up the piece of paper. You watch her as she reads it. The smile doesn't fade from her face, even when she's finished.

"You're really good at drawing!" she says. "I wish the headteacher actually had a cat."

Her words fill you with warmth, and any nervousness you had is forgotten. Instead, you hear yourself laugh. "Me too," you reply.

"You should put, like, aliens or something in. Why make a
superhero comic and just set it at school?"

"I wanted to have everything realistic, so the notebook seems more special."

Maya tilts her head. "But that's boooring." She says it jokingly, and you find yourself laughing again.

"Okay, okay, how about you come up with the next story, and I'll draw it?"

It's the start of a long friendship.

You and Maya drew countless comics together, aliens and all. Inevitably, some of Maya's careless confidence rubbed off on you, and through spending your school years by her side, you realised that speaking up for yourself didn't feel as overwhelming as it had before. Maybe your comic self had a magic notebook, but the real you was good too.

(You have learned the lesson of CONFIDENCE. To remind yourself of
this lesson, REMEMBER CONFIDENCE - this will allow you to apply this lesson to your next action. To check which lessons you have learned, REMEMBER LESSONS.)

On the right side of the room is your bed - or rather, bedframe, since the mattress is gone. Next to the end where the pillow would have been, there's a little bedside table. A wooden wardrobe sits in the far left corner. Beside it, there's a low chest of drawers. There's a window on the wall opposite the door, looking out onto the street. The light switch is on the wall next to the door, whilst the wall above the bed is covered in old blu-tac stains.
You check what you're carrying
You are carrying:
a leavers hoodie
a birthday card
a teddy bear
a Physics report
a green paper folder
a comic drawing
a bin bag
You reminisce on the card
You close your eyes, and you dive deep into the memory evoked by the birthday card.

It's Maya's birthday, and you are stuck on the side of a motorway, three hundred miles away. You were on your way to the airport, and your dad was nice enough to let you borrow his car for the weekend. As it turns out, that blessing was a curse: you're still half an hour's drive from London Heathrow, but this old Fiat has given up.

Your flight to Newcastle is in just under two hours. You'd promised you be there, tonight, at the big party she's throwing in her university dorms. For weeks you've been looking forward to this, but instead you're here, with an engine that won't start. It's lucky you managed to veer into the hard shoulder before you lost all your speed.

You curse, you put on the handbrake, and you get out.

It's a dreary day for March - gloomy clouds cover the sky. The road is busy, but not packed - three lanes on both sides, everyone else's cars working just fine as they whizz past. The steep banks on each side of the motorway are covered in nothing but weeds and small trees, and you're far away from the last service station you passed.

It's just you and your dad's car.

(You're somewhere different now - a difference place, a different time. You can sense that there's a lesson for you, at the end of this memory, but you can always PINCH yourself to go back to the present, and continue this memory later when you've learned more lessons.)
You look at the car
It's red and it's old. Your dad never wanted to sell it out of some slightly misplaced sense of loyalty, but it looks like its time might finally be up.
You check your inventory
You are carrying:
a phone
You examine phone
Your trusty smartphone, now very old and mildly temperamental. The screensaver is a selfie of you and your friends, the last time you were all together before going your separate ways for uni. You really miss them.

You could TEXT someone - you know Maya, Alex and Isaac always have their phones on them. Your mum and dad have been getting better at checking their texts too.
Text maya
"hey! soo my dad's car broke down on the way to the airport..." you type out. Then you stare at the message and wonder if it's worth sending. It makes it sound like you've already given up, and you're not giving up. And you don't want to make Maya worry.

You delete the message again.
You text mum
You think about it, but your mum would just panic.
You text the dad
"hey dad, the engine won't start..." you send.

"where are you?"

"side of the M4..."

"oh no, be careful. call the roadside rescue?"

He sends you the number you need, so you now you can try to CALL RESCUE.
You call the RESCUE
You've always had a strong dislike of making phone calls - something about speaking on the phone always makes you stumble on every word you say. You know you have to, but, you can't bring yourself to hit the dial icon.
You remember the confidence
You remind yourself that you're a cool, competent person capable of cool, competent things.
You call the RESCUE
You rehearse what you're going to say in you're head, take a deep breath, and then you hit the dial icon.

The good news is that they pick up quickly, and the conversation goes surprisingly smoothly.

The bad news is, they won't be able to get anyone to you for another forty minutes. That doesn't leave much time for you to get to the airport on time... but you say yes anyway, thank them, and hang up. Damn it.
Text alex
"hey do you know how to fix a broken car??" you send.

"you're the one who took physics alevel not me!" is Alex's reply.

"ughhhh"

"try googling?"

You suppose trying to GOOGLE isn't the worst idea in the world...

Calmness wasn't useful for that; you stop concentrating on it.
Google
You pull out your phone and type in: "car that won't start".

A lot of possible causes come up - is your battery dead? Maybe it's the ignition switch? Or the fuel filter is clogged? The only option you feel qualified enough to rule out is that you're out of fuel altogether - you made sure to fill up before you left.

You sigh. Finding an answer isn't going to be as easy as you thought, not that you even thought it was going to be easy. You're going to need to Google harder.
Google
Thinking about scrolling through all those words you don't fully understand makes you feel exhausted...
Google
Thinking about scrolling through all those words you don't fully understand makes you feel exhausted...

Confidence wasn't useful for that; you stop concentrating on it.
Pinch
Maybe you can't reach the end of this memory just yet. You pinch yourself hard, and open your eyes.

On the right side of the room is your bed - or rather, bedframe, since the mattress is gone. Next to the end where the pillow would have been, there's a little bedside table. A wooden wardrobe sits in the far left corner. Beside it, there's a low chest of drawers. There's a window on the wall opposite the door, looking out onto the street. The light switch is on the wall next to the door, whilst the wall above the bed is covered in old blu-tac stains.
Reminisce on hoodie
You close your eyes, and you dive deep into the memory evoked by the leavers hoodie.

The sun is sitting low in the sky, and you and three friends are sitting in a circle, legs stretched out on the grass. This small square of greenery is a spot your group likes to come after school, when the weather allows. It's surrounded on all sides by ugly brick buildings, but it's still a breath of fresh air, and a good place to just relax before heading home.

You're sitting next to your best friend, Maya. It's her birthday today - the sweet sixteen - and she hasn't let any of you forget it.

"I told you!" she's exclaiming in her typical melodramatic manner. "I want to celebrate with alcohol! This is a milestone!"

Your friend Alex laughs and shakes his head. "Maya, I think you're confusing sixteen with eighteen..."

Maya waves her hand dismissively. "Shush. I want alcohol. We are getting our hands on some beer tonight, or I'm finding a new group of friends."

You all know she's only joking... but she's a stubborn one.

(You're somewhere different now - a difference place, a different time. You can sense that there's a lesson for you, at the end of this memory, but you can always PINCH yourself to go back to the present, and continue this memory later when you've learned more lessons.)
You look at Maya
Red hair, brown eyes, always talking. You've been close friends since you were eleven, and you can't really imagine not having her around, even if your life would be significantly more peaceful that way. You know she'll always have your back when it really matters.

Alex holds up his hands. "All right, all right - birthday girl wants some beer, we got it."

"None of us can buy alcohol..." your state-the-obvious friend Isaac points out.
You examine Alex
Absolute goofball. You're not sure you've ever heard him take anything seriously, but his constant cheerfulness is always welcome company.

Then Maya breaks into a grin - it's the grin that always warns you when she's got something up her sleeve. "So maybe we can't buy alcohol," she says, "but my nineteen year-old stepsister can." And she might not have had anything literally in her sleeve, but she did have something in her pocket - her stepsister's driving license, which she's now holding out proudly in her hand.
You examine the license
The driving license of a Miss Stephanie Thorpe. You've only met Maya's stepsister once, but the mugshot captures her grumpy demeanour pretty well.

Alex leans forwards to grab the driving license from Maya's hand, and inspects it more closely. "I thought you two hated each other! How'd you get this?"

Maya continues to grin. "Who says she knows I have it?"

Alex nods, impressed; meanwhile Isaac looks slightly horrified.
You examine Isaac
Lives next-door to Alex, but that's about where the similarities end. Isaac is the one you all tend to copy homework from.

"You're going to impersonate her?" Isaac asks Maya, and it's in a tone that suggests he doesn't really want to know the answer.

"I'd totally do it, except Stephanie's blonde, and I'm clearly not. So, no, I'm not impersonating anyone." Then Maya retrieves the license from Alex's grip and places it in your lap instead. "This lady is."

Oh, hell.

"So," Maya challenges, "you up for this?"
You talk to Maya
"Uhhh, I don't think so, Maya." You smile apologetically and hand the license back to her. You just don't believe you could pull it off.

Maya simply gives the card back to you. "You'll be fine!" she insists. "Cashiers never look that closely."

Maya is looking at you, hoping you'll agree to her bold plan.
You talk to Maya
"You can say whatever you like, but my anxiety still says no," you reply. "Why don't we buy you some blonde hair-dye instead?"

Alex chuckles at that. "As much as I would love to see Maya with blonde hair - you should do it! It'll be fun!"

This is going to be hard to get out of.

Saying yes to Maya's idea does sound like it could be fun... but you don't trust yourself to be able to do it well.
You talk to Maya
Maybe you can do this. So long as you look like you know what
you're doing - or rather, that you're not doing anything suspicious at all - nobody will know a thing, right?

"All right," you say, standing up dramatically. "I'll do it."

Alex whoops, and Maya claps happily. "I knew I could count on you!" she says. "Here." She places a ten pound note in your hand. "Get a six pack."

You put the money and the driving license in the back pocket of your jeans, and look to the west where the closest convenience shop is.

Time to go to the shop and hope for the best!
You go to the west
You start heading towards the shop, but Alex tugs at your leg.

"I think you might be forgetting something, if you don't want the cashier to spot anything odd," he chuckles.

Time to go to the shop and hope for the best!
You examine the license
The driving license of a Miss Stephanie Thorpe. You've only met Maya's stepsister once, but the mugshot captures her grumpy demeanour pretty well. Unfortunately for you, she does have very similar hair to you - dark blonde and down past the shoulders.

Time to go to the shop and hope for the best!
About yourself
You're sixteen, and your dark blonde hair is up in a half-hearted bun. You're wearing your leavers hoodie, still new and fresh having only been delivered last week.

Time to go to the shop and hope for the best!
Inventory
You are carrying:
a money
a driving license
a school leavers hoodie (being worn)

Time to go to the shop and hope for the best!
Badideas
SAVEOk.
You remove the hoodie
Good point - wearing a hoodie with a name that is definitely not Thorpe printed in bright, white letters across the front would perhaps not have been wise. You wriggle out of it and throw it to Maya. You decide to take your hair out of its bun as well - anything to make you look more like the photo on the license.

All right, now you're really ready to go!
You go west
"You got this, girl!" Maya yells after you as you go. She might be a terrible influence, but you wouldn't be you without it.

The operation is carried out without a hitch - the cashier looked barely older than eighteen himself, and almost forgets to even ask for proof of age from you in the first place. You return, triumphant, and the four of you spend the rest of the spring evening joking and laughing. Even Isaac manages to finish a can, despite spitting out his first mouthful.

Once the cans are empty and the sun is down, you split off to go home. Alex and Isaac take a left, you and Maya take a right, and a short walk later, when the two of you are in front of her house, she turns to you.

"Your company's the best birthday present, you know that, right?" She's definitely tipsy, but you can tell there's truth in there.

"Goodnight, Maya," you chuckle. "And happy birthday."

Those were easier days. Maybe they didn't feel them at the time, but you miss not really having any responsibilities. That, combined with spending too much time around Maya and Alex and their nonsense, let you learn that sometimes, doing something bold (and maybe even stupid) was the best way to get things done.

(You have learned the lesson of AUDACITY. To remind yourself of
this lesson, REMEMBER AUDACITY - this will allow you to apply this lesson to your next action. To check which lessons you have learned, REMEMBER LESSONS.)

On the right side of the room is your bed - or rather, bedframe, since the mattress is gone. Next to the end where the pillow would have been, there's a little bedside table. A wooden wardrobe sits in the far left corner. Beside it, there's a low chest of drawers. There's a window on the wall opposite the door, looking out onto the street. The light switch is on the wall next to the door, whilst the wall above the bed is covered in old blu-tac stains.
You look at the folder
Made of green card, it has your name scrawled on the front in black biro.

Nothing else in there is that interesting, really. You decide to just place it in the bin bag.
Inventory
You are carrying:
a leavers hoodie
a birthday card
a teddy bear
a Physics report
a comic drawing
a bin bag
a green paper folder
Reminisce on report
You close your eyes, and you dive deep into the memory evoked by the Physics report.

You're sat in front of one of the computers in your sixth form college's library, and you've just realised - you've messed up. Your Physics coursework is due at the end of today, printed and ready to hand in, and since you don't have a functioning printer at home, you emailed the document to yourself when you finished the report, in the early hours of the morning.

Or, at least, you thought you had - but you didn't send the final version. Long story short, you're missing the whole last section of your report, and your laptop is all the way back home.

You feel yourself begin to panic.

(You're somewhere different now - a difference place, a different time. You can sense that there's a lesson for you, at the end of this memory, but you can always PINCH yourself to go back to the present, and continue this memory later when you've learned more lessons.)
You check your inventory
You are carrying:
a phone
You look at the phone
Your trusty smartphone, a couple of years old. The screensaver is a nice photo of the Scottish Highlands, where you went on holiday with your parents last year.
You call the mom
At the moment, the only thing you can think about is how hard your heart is beating. You stayed up all night working on that report - what are you going to do? What are you going to do?
You remember the calmness
You take a deep breath and remember not to let your mind convince you something is scary when it doesn't need to be.

You feel a little better now as the panic clears from your head. Your goal is clear - you need to get back home, come back, print it out, and hand it to the office before the deadline at 4pm. Only thing is, it's already 1pm, the end of your lunch break, and you're supposed to be in a Maths lesson in ten minutes.
You call the mom
Making phone calls in the library is a good way to make the librarian hate you.
You call the home
Making phone calls in the library is a good way to make the librarian hate you.

Audacity wasn't useful for that; you stop concentrating on it.
You look at your surroundings
You're sat in front of one of the computers in your sixth form college's library, and you've just realised - you've messed up. Long story short, you're missing the whole last section of your report, and your laptop is all the way back home.
You look at the computer
Frustratingly slow.
You text mom
Yeah, you're not telling your mum about this...
Text maya
"sent myself the wrong version of my report..." you type.

"damn! you have to hand that in after our maths lesson today?" comes Maya's quick reply.

"yup"

"well, you know what i'd do ;)"

And you can tell just what your friend is implying - that you should skip the lesson. You'd need to get Maya to cover for you though, and Mr Wright isn't known for being friendly most days...
Text maya
"yeah, can you cov"

You get partway through the message when you realise it's completely out of character for you. Asking a friend to lie to a teacher so you can ditch a lesson? It seems risky.
Text maya
Maybe it's a slightly reckless plan, but it's all you can think of: you're going to ditch Maths, and you're going to ask Maya to cover for you.

"yeah, can you cover for me? tell mr wright i'm ill?" you type.

"i got you! now go get your report!!"

You knew you could count on her. But then your phone buzzes again -

"also i'm proud of your rebellious streak hahaha"

You smirk at that. She was always a bad influence.

You grab your things and head out of the building, grateful that the receptionist is too busy to ask where you're going.

It was a half hour bus journey from college, and your heart was in your mouth for most of it, but Maya texted you to say Mr Wright wasn't suspicious, and thus you could relax. You got home, resent the file - three times, to make sure you definitely didn't mess it up again - and made it back to the library to print, all in good time. You were sweating a little bit as you handed it in, but Maya was there by your side, and there to hi-five you once it was done.

And it was all worth it. It might have been written in the early hours of the morning, and you did almost miss the deadline altogether, but it was one of the best marks you ever got.

(You have learned the lesson of DILIGENCE. To remind yourself of
this lesson, REMEMBER DILIGENCE - this will allow you to apply this lesson to your next action. To check which lessons you have learned, REMEMBER LESSONS.)

On the right side of the room is your bed - or rather, bedframe, since the mattress is gone. Next to the end where the pillow would have been, there's a little bedside table. A wooden wardrobe sits in the far left corner. Beside it, there's a low chest of drawers. There's a window on the wall opposite the door, looking out onto the street. The light switch is on the wall next to the door, whilst the wall above the bed is covered in old blu-tac stains.
Inventory
You are carrying:
a leavers hoodie
a birthday card
a teddy bear
a Physics report
a comic drawing
a bin bag
a green paper folder
You reminisce on the card
You close your eyes, and you dive deep into the memory evoked by the birthday card.

It's a dreary day for March - gloomy clouds cover the sky. The road is busy, but not packed - three lanes on both sides, everyone else's cars working just fine as they whizz past. The steep banks on each side of the motorway are covered in nothing but weeds and small trees, and you're far away from the last service station you passed.

It's just you and your dad's car.
Google
You take out your phone again and prepare yourself to keep reading. It's draining, trying to make sense of all these mechanical terms you're unfamiliar with, but you keep reading, and hoping there'll be some magic, easy fix.

You follow the steps on some How To article, trying to narrow down the problem, but when it comes to testing whether your windshield wipers still work, you come to the depressing conclusion that it might be the battery after all. And there's not a lot you can do about that by yourself.
Google
Unfortunately, Google can't magic a new battery out of thin air. If only that magic notebook you used to write comics about was real...
Text isaac
"hello mr know it all, do you know how to fix a broken car?" you send.

"you're gonna need to be a little more specific" Isaac replies.

"engine won't start"

"still not specific enough"

"i don't know anything about cars!!"

"sorry, if i was there i'd help you :("
You examine the cars
A white BMW, a red Ford, a white Mercedes... they all drive past, either not seeing or ignoring you looking sorry for yourself. Maybe you could try and WAVE to get someone's attention?
Text isaac
It sounds like Isaac won't be able to help you much here.

Diligence wasn't useful for that; you stop concentrating on it.
You wave at cars
Despite your desperation, you feel too self-conscious to try and flag anyone down.
You wave at the cars
You wave an arm, ignoring how stupid you feel. Nobody slows down, and your confidence only lasts for about a minute before you lose hope again.
You wave at the cars
It's mildly suicidal, but you try stepping out of the hard shoulder a little bit, and wave at the next car in the outermost lane. All you get is a very angry honk, and you jump back out of the way.
You wave at cars
Despite your desperation, you feel too self-conscious to try and flag anyone down.

Diligence wasn't useful for that; you stop concentrating on it.
You remember the diligence
You forget about confidence and remember diligence instead.

You steel yourself to put some effort in, because you've learned that often there's just no way around some hard work.
You remember the confidence
You forget about diligence and remember confidence instead.

You remind yourself that you're a cool, competent person capable of cool, competent things.
You wave at cars
Despite your desperation, you feel too self-conscious to try and flag anyone down.

Calmness wasn't useful for that; you stop concentrating on it.
You search the car
The only things you have in the car is some changes of clothes, snacks, and a collection of balloons spelling out Maya's name. There's also an envelope containing her birthday card - you can't wait to see her face when she reads it.
Pinch
Maybe you can't reach the end of this memory just yet. You pinch yourself hard, and open your eyes.

You're back to the present, back to holding this card.

You sigh. Even just reliving that memory, you feel helpless. You didn't manage to fix that car. You didn't manage to make that flight.

You didn't manage to see Maya one last time, before her accident a couple of weeks later.

It's a guilt you've been carrying with you ever since, missing her last birthday. She'd always been there for you, ever since she first grabbed that comic from your desk. All you had to do was just be there for her that night - and you messed that up.

But, you suppose, maybe that's the hardest lesson there is. Sometimes there's just nothing you can do. You can be calm and you can be confident and you can be daring and you can be diligent, and it still won't change a thing. You can only give up.

It's a way you've not really thought about it before, but as you stand here, holding this undelivered birthday card, you realise that it makes no sense to keep blaming yourself. You did everything you could have. And you couldn't have known Maya's time would be up so soon after...

That's the past now. There's no use holding onto these things, or onto that guilt. You place the card into the bin bag, along with everything else, and you leave the room.

(You have learned the lesson of ACCEPTANCE.)