text: > describe your surroundings
  You try, but it just makes you seep deeper into the murk.
  
  You put your hands down, hoping to raise your weight, but there's no support. Your arms sink like toothpicks into a sponge cake.
  
  > Up
  You curl your legs up under your chest, slowly drawing them out of the muck, and you replant them in fresh muck. Gradually you wobble yourself into an upright fetal position and try to stand. You must weigh 350 pounds with all of your gear. Carefully, slowly, you stand. You get a little help from your chute, yanked by a sudden wind. For a moment you're not sure whether you're actually standing or not, and you realize it's because your faceplate is covered with marsh slime.
  
  > wipe the faceplate
  You are yanked backwards by your parachute. You stumble and again go underwater, the chute tugging you further down.
  
  You struggle to get up, but your chute feels like it's caught on something.
  
  > cut the chute
  You try, but it just makes you seep deeper into the murk.
  
  With growing horror, you realize that the chute has become entangled with something, and is dragging you further and further underwater.
  
  > release the chute
  You try, but it just makes you seep deeper into the murk.
  
  Your lungs burning, all of your limbs thrashing, you sputter for breath and take in a lungful of marsh water.
  
  > check what you're carrying
  You try, but it just makes you seep deeper into the murk.
  
  Distantly, you hear the thrashing of boots through water, the dulled booms of plasma rifles firing. Someone is trying to pull at one of your boots, but their hands slip away. The last bit of air in your lungs escapes, poisonous water takes its place.
  
  > examine the panel
  The emergency station panel has two levers. Pulling them releases the landing craft's emergency parachutes. There are three switches: homing beacon launch, distress call broadcast, and self-destruct failsafe. You aren't under orders to use the switches right now.
  
  Your forehead just started to itch.
  
  > scratch forehead
  You can't scratch it without taking off your helmet. You're just going to have to tough it out, soldier.
  
  > pulthe self-destruct
  You are unable to.
  
  > look at the cabinets
  Loaded with enough firepower to bugbomb an entire sector.
  
  Duggers swipes his holovid from you. "Hey man, don't you never give nothing back?" he says. He gives his girlfriend's picture a quick ogle before stuffing it into a side pocket of his pants.
  
  > Go upwards
  You swing yourself from the hatchway up into your emergency station. You're already starting to sweat inside your suit, but there isn't time to adjust the coolant controls.
  
  > look at the shelves
  The supplies are designed to last a five-man unit for two weeks.
  
  Chub says, "Three ..."
  
  > wait
  You wait.
  
  Chub says, "Shit ...!"
  
  > pull the lever
  You pull hard on the levers, which ratchet into a locked position with a satisfying, weighty "ka-chunk." From above, there is a noise like a screech owl colliding with a sheet of inch-thick plexiglass, and then the cabin seems to stop in midair, jolting everything that's not nailed down, which includes you and Duggers.
  
  Chub hollers, "Dammit! I said on my mark, Mitchum!" She comes bolting into view and yanks you down, eyeball to eyeball. "Since when does 'shit' mean 'mark,' Mitchum? We were still falling too fast to deploy. The chutes tore."
  
  Chub lets go of you and blows open the hatch. Icy wind snarls around the cabin, dragging at you. "Bail out! And I mean now, fuckwit!"
  
  Duggers gives you a curled sneer and leaps out of the hatch. Chub shoves at you from behind.
  
  You're in mid-air, falling fast. You can't see the ground, and there's nothing to see in the sky.
  
  > wait
  You pause.
  
  Chub says, "Shit!"
  
  > ask Chub about the shit
  Please use >TALK TO PLAYER to interact in this game.
  
  Chub says, "Mark!"
  
  > pull the lever
  You pull hard on the levers, which ratchet into a locked position with a satisfying, weighty "ka-chunk." From above, there is a noise like a screech owl colliding with a sheet of inch-thick plexiglass, and then the cabin seems to stop in midair, jolting everything that's not nailed down, which includes you and Duggers.
  
  Chub saunters into view. "Good work, Mitchum. All right, let's strap in and get ready for touchdown. That means you too, Duggers."
  
  Duggers says, "I got a hand on the strap, don't I?"
  
  Chub says, "Fine. Stand up if you want. When your kneecaps blow out and your hamstrings are severed by the compound fractures of your thigh bones you can crawl your ass through the swamp. Doesn't make any difference to me, as long as you keep one hand free to salute."
  
  Duggers gives Chub a severe salute and lowers his stubborn ass down onto the bench. You plunk down next to him.
  
  The cabin creaks and shudders. Chub checks her chronometer.
  
  > strap in
  You strap yourself in.
  
  Chub says, "Okay. We need to prepare to lose the AVLC when we land. This thing is going to fill with water and sink in about ninety-eight seconds. Duggers, as soon as we hit, blow the hatch and do a quick scout. Mitchum, launch the homing beacon and then get the hell out."
  
  > wait for a while
  You wait. Chub checks her chronometer. She says, "Touchdown in eight, seven, six..."
  
  > Go up
  (first removing the straps)
  
  You get off the bench.
  
  Duggers shifts his weight forward, ready to spring into action.
  
  Chub says, "Five, four, three..."
  
  > go upward
  You swing yourself up into the emergency station.
  
  Chub says, "Tw--"
  
  With a jaw-splintering jolt, the AVLC hits the swampwater. You're thrown hard to the floor by the impact, your helmet absorbing a lot of the shattering force. Bright splotches fill your vision. Maybe your goggles are damaged, you think at first, and then you realize that it's your eyes.
  
  You squeeze your eyes, wait for the blotches to fade, and hope it isn't a concussion.
  
  > go upward
  You swing yourself up into the emergency station.
  
  Duggers says, "Blowing the hatch..." Fwoom! There's a white flare in your goggles, and the hatch disappears into darkness. Instantly, freezing algae water pours into the opening. Duggers leaps out into it as the cabin starts to reel, pitching aftward.
  
  > Go outside
  You get off the emergency station.
  
  There's dick-all to see here, even with the goggles on. Armory cabinets, supply shelves, two brushed-steel benches, safety straps. The emergency station is a swivel chair three steps up a ladder, facing a panel with rugged switches and levers.
  
  Chub is at the hatchway, standing firm against the inrushing water.
  
  You force yourself out of the craft, fighting the freezing water. Your legs seize up a few steps from the sinking craft, or maybe they're just caught in the muck. You lose your balance, but can't move your feet to stabilize yourself. Slime splashes up into your faceplate. Your hands sink into something gelatinous. Everything is cold. You must be underwater.
  
  > go upward
  You curl your legs up under your chest, slowly drawing them out of the muck, and you replant them in fresh muck. Gradually you wobble yourself into an upright fetal position and try to stand. You must weigh 350 pounds with all of your gear. Carefully, slowly, you stand. For a moment you're not sure whether you're actually standing or not, and you realize it's because your faceplate is covered with marsh slime.
  
  > remove the backpack
  A soldier never removes his backpack unless his life depends on doing so.
  
  You smear the slime away with your hand, and see the marshland.
  
  The landscape is pitch black, even in your goggles. No heat from the freezing swampwater. Out of the blackness, looming shapes in obscene colors. You aren't supposed to see colors through these goggles, and you wonder if you're doing worse than you thought.
  
  The shapes are mushrooms, hundreds of them, rising on their moist stalks, ballooning heads eighteen feet around, eight feet high. You can't get much of a sight beyond them. There's too many mushrooms. Maybe you should waste some ammo clearing a sightline. Then again, maybe you don't have any ammo to waste, now.
  
  You can see Chub and Duggers here.
  
  Duggers and Chub are standing in front of you, pointing and screaming at you, wondering why you don't answer them.
  
  > remove the helmet
  You'll need that helmet to survive and to communicate with Duggers and Chub.
  
  You point at the comm antenna on your helmet and tap your finger to it. You shake your head.
  
  Duggers flings his arms wide and throws his head back, the universal pantomime for, "Well, that's just fucking GREAT." Chub approaches you, removing her thick gloves, reaching for her toolbelt. You hear her hands bumping against your helmet.
  
  > wait
  There is a burst of deafening static in your helmet. You flinch and turn to face Chub, who glowers at you and shoves your head away so she can keep working. You feel the bones in your neck grind together, a pain so bad you want to black out.
  
  Your training asserts itself. You clench your fists, bite your tongue, and hang onto consciousness.
  
  > wait
  There's another burst of static, and Chub's voice poking through it.
  
  "...hear that? ... if you ... --kay? ...Mitchum!"
  
  > talk to Chub
  You hear Chub say, "How about that?"
  
  "Got it," you say.
  
  A vibration ripples the water. Duggers's voice: "Heads up! Heads up! Can he hear through that goddamn thing yet? Come on!"
  
  > talk to Duggers
  What would you like to say?
  [1] Duggers, your girlfriend's a skank.
  [2] Yo mama.
  
  > 1
  Duggers says, "Don't you be talkin' that way about Lashawnda, motherfucker! I'll shuffle yo pasty pink Iowa corn-fed ass off this mortal fuckin' coil, you hear what I'm saying?"
  
  [1] Yeah, I hear ya.
  [2] I'll say what I like, bitch!
  [3] Fuck off.
  
  > 2
  Duggers bursts into hoarse laughter. "Man, you crack me up," he says. His face goes stony again. "Just don't push me."
  
  [1] Yo mama.
  
  > 1
  Duggers says, "No, *yo* mama."
  
  Chub whips out her plasma rifle. You whip out Charlene. Charlene's your partner, ready for the dance. You draw some strength from her, ignoring the spasms in your bad arm.
  
  Easy girl. Just... hold it ... steady.
  
  > talk to Chub
  What would you like to say?
  [1] Yes sergeant.
  
  > 1
  You affirm Chub's authority.
  
  Chub says, "I've called for reinforcements, but they won't come in until we hold this position for a while. No use aiding a lost cause."
  
  You say, "It is a lost cause, isn't it? The bugs are just going to keep coming."
  
  The vibration comes again. Somewhere, far ahead, twisting its way closer, the bug is coming.
  
  > shoot mushroom
  You hear the roar of many feet, so many feet it makes your stomach turn. Up ahead, through that maze of mushrooms, you see a slickened shape pass by, west to east.
  
  Chub shouts, "Fire!"
  
  You fire Charlene into the darkness. She purrs and growls. She's jumpy today, you can tell. Or maybe you are. Duggers fires. Chub fires. Mushrooms explode into spores. Fast-growing spores, you remember. In ten minutes, there will be more of them, full-sized. How are you supposed to win a war like this?
  
  > Shoot bug
  All you hit are more mushrooms, but you clear a path. Up ahead, the behemoth twists like a snake, heading west, then east, then directly at you. Duggers fires at the head of it, and the head explodes, but the beast keeps coming. It turns east again.
  
  > Shoot bug
  You fire at the beast, cutting the bug in two. The damn segments don't stop moving, though. Now there's two bugs, each twisting this way and that. One segment reaches a small tunnel, formed by columns of mushrooms to each side, and it twists between them, heading straight for you.
  
  "Fire! Fire!" Chub screams.
  
  > Shoot bug
  Charlene is white hot, searing your naked fingers. You love her most of all when she's like this, when she's on fire. Your skin melds with hers. Your hands become iron, her body becomes soft flesh.
  
  Your rifles flare in the damp night, shooting plasma pulses a million degrees hot and moving at 400 miles an hour. The charging beast loses its head, and then another head, and then another head, and then another. Suddenly, there are no more heads, it is gone.
  
  The second segment twists into view, just beyond the closest range of mushrooms, about to invade your empty black marshland base.
  
  Another noise, unlike the steady thrum of these insect feet, begins to grow, with a doppler effect, from dead ahead. A flying bug.
  
  > shoot flying bug
  You can only do that to something animate.
  
  > Shoot bug
  You fire at the centipede and miss, but it gives you light to see what's coming. It's a tick, two tons of chitinous carapace, bristly fangs, and bug meat, hurtling straight at the three of you, over the tops of the mushrooms. Its lazy feet scrape the mushroom heads, poisoning them as it passes, making the mushrooms change to ugly colors. If another bug touches one of those, it'll go into a hallucinogenic frenzy.
  
  "Spread out! Spread out!" Chub shouts.
  
  > Shoot tick
  You dodge left and fire, but you can't get a steady bead on the damn thing. Chub concentrates on the centipede, her plasma shots splitting it again in two. They're coming at you from both sides now.
  
  Duggers is right in the tick's path. He stands his ground, shouting at the sonofabitch. Duggers fires at it, misses. Fires again, misses. It's coming in too fast, even for Duggers.
  
  > Shoot tick
  You keep firing, trying to save Duggers, but the tick mows him down. Its sticky feet latch onto his body, his face purples and blackens as he's carted away to some nest to be digested. There is a scream in your helmet, and then silence.
  
  Dead silence. The bugs are gone. There's just two of you left.
  
  > talk to Chub
  What would you like to say?
  [1] Yes sergeant.
  
  > 0
  You decide not to say anything.
  
  You were right. More mushrooms have grown up already. It's harder to see. Up ahead, you see the segmented beast twisting this way and that. Up ahead, you hear another tick approaching like a dive bomber, coming right at you and Chub.
  
  Up ahead, you hear the thrum. Wave number two. Or is it just a continuation of the first wave?
  
  Something else, something new. Feet clicking, splashing, an almost musical chirp as the legs saw back and forth. What the hell? Some sort of cricket? No.
  
  > Shoot tick
  You shoot at the tick, and with a final good shot, it explodes into a greasy cloud.
  
  In the glow of Charlene's plasma bolts you see what this new bug is. It's a scorpion, sidling sideways. Fortunately, it's not coming at you. Chub takes it out with one quick shot. She then swings her aim at the beast, but only manages to cut it into three segments, damn her eyes.
  
  From the sky comes another tick, its poisonous legs turning the mushrooms purple and blue.
  
  > Shoot tick
  You and Chub concentrate your fire on the tick. You vaporize it with about thirty yards to spare. Plasma spray and unvaporized bug bits sizzle over the mushroom caps, a wet coat of death.
  
  And then you hear another tick, bearing down on you, following its kamikaze partner, poisoning even more mushrooms.
  
  > Shoot tick
  You take a lucky shot and destroy the second tick before it even gets close, before it can poison too many mushrooms, but it's already too late.
  
  One of the centipede segments hit the poisoned mushrooms, and the oil gets into its skin, scrambling its stupid bug neurons. Crazed, it charges forward, straight at you. Another segment hits another poisoned shroom, and it, too, charges screaming at you.
  
  The two segments swoop down on either side of you and Chub, circle, and play back and forth, zigzagging. The poison's worn off, thankfully.
  
  > Shoot segment
  You charge, firing with deadly aim. One down. You're just about to congratulate yourself when Chub shouts a warning.
  
  You see more centipedes arriving out of the darkness to your left and right. Where are they coming from? Just two segments each, a head and a tail, joining the dance. There's four of these damn things now, and more every minute.
  
  > Go south
  You slog a few steps in that direction. Your foot runs into something solid, probably the submerged landing craft.
  
  You shoot and shoot, vaporizing as many as you can. You start to think you're winning, that you're going to get out of this, when out of the corner of your eye, you see Chub backing up, not looking where she's going. You yell for her to move, to watch out. You're still busy firing as you try to move closer to her, to yank her out of the way, to give her cover, but it's too late. A new segment dances into the marsh, runs Chub down, stomps her into the muck. You hear a shriek in your helmet that becomes a helpless gurgle. The beast drips acid out of its flanks, out of its disgusting glands, and something sizzles underwater.
  
  A final shot from your rifle sails into the gloom. Far away, a mushroom explodes.
  
  Again, silence. And you're the only one left.