The Star Bridge (Text Adventure)

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Hi there. This is a sci-fi, psychological text adventure game, with me as the parser; anything – ANYTHING – any command, that is, goes. (Of course, this parser may be a wee bit snarky.)

I’ll be writing a unique adventure for everyone who makes a command, and I promise I will continue every single one. Since this might make this thread more than a little confusing, I can either play this game via whispers, or I’ll post each continuation up with labels. I’ll clarify with the labels (and maybe a contents page) if necessary.

Anyone can start at any point in time – just give me the searchcode to whichever post you want, and I’ll generate a separate game. There will be links, if necessary.

EDIT: Co-op is possible, if anyone wants.

 
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Is there any way to win? Well….you’ll have to find out.

Is there any way to lose? Oh, yes.

The Star Bridge // (#aaaa)

Nighttime. The tall spire of the tower, stretching in gothic finery and lines, with thin architecture
and windows, thin and fine like marzipan on a gingerbread house, rises before you.

Though you stand on a tall walkway, looking down at the trees below, rustling with the advent of the winds, you do not feel cold. One lone star stares down at you, so bright with its stabbing rays that you fancy you can see ribbons of rose and emerald swirling within its corona. The sand under your sneakers shift with every step you take, as you pace in place.

Should you, or shouldn’t you? Moving from here would alert the others that there is a new player in their long, long game, and you scarcely want to be hunted down at every turn. In your own world, when you began, you hated first-person shooters; too much adrenaline, too fast. And yet, here you are, venturing your own eternal soul – more importantly, your own peace of mind — on a fast game. But you are bored. And you have no way of getting home. You look around the night again, clenching your jaw. On the furthest horizon away, there is the faintest hint of the last sunset, sulphur yellow, smoky clouds on another tower. You look at the star again, before turning away.

If you open the door here, inviting you with its gothic finery, you would be absorbed in this world; you could form a new life, if you so wanted. This is the promise that many would-be players had once wanted, jumping once to form a new life. It was a life, too, that you had wanted when you first jumped; but faced with this promise of never-ending excitement, you do not know what you want, either. You look to your instincts, instead, and trust in the power that had swept yourself from your own boring waking world, to this hunt. It takes you.

You look at the star. It makes no special changes in its twinkling (for all that it can carry you to another world far beyond your ken), no special changes in the color of its light or the chill of the night. Instead, the world could change, if you let it.

What do you do?

 
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With a sigh, I continue to travel towards the tower. If I have no other choice than to eventually die out here via starvation or the like, then by gum, I’m going to go for the option that grants me the greater chance of eventual survival.

 
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(#aaab-BCLEGENDS)

You put all thoughts of travelling by the star bridge out of your head, and begin your trek toward the faraway tower. From the glimpses that you catch through the lower-down windows, it seems empty of furnishings or comfort; or, for that matter, of people. Exactly the type of place you could spend eons in, fortifying yourself up for the eventual rush of bounty hunters eager to claim another unwary traveler’s aura. Perhaps you could become another hermit. You are sure there are a few, in the infinite rushes of the stars (and the links between worlds) and the possibilities of travellers crossing it.

You place your hands in your pockets as you walk. As you take steps further onto the walkway, the sand stirs in a rush as the night wind carries it into whorls, vortices, and settles. The sand is not the pink you are used to, but instead a sort of whitish-yellow, with sparkling bits scattered throughout. The night is cold, and goosebumps trickle up the exposed parts of your skin.

The door of the thin tower looms ahead, and it is slightly ajar.

BCLEGENDS: What do you do?

 
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Search around the base of the tower for any additional items. And then enter the tower, obviously.

 
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(#aaab2-BCLEGENDS)

The base of the tower is something on the order of five hundred thousand feet below the walkway….or so you estimate. Below the walkway there is endless dark, lighted extremely far below by a pair of luminiscent bugs that quickly vanish deeper into the black. You sense that dropping a loose stone might get you a sound….but being that you’re not from this world, you’re not eager to hear exactly what sound that might be.

The area around the door, which is much more reachable, is empty except for the sand blowing in the night-time wind.
Wait…there’s a glint of something twisted and translucent, buried in a pile of sand. You reach in and gain A PIECE OF TWISTED GLASS.

You slide that into your pocket. It is sharp and hurts slightly, pricking against your leg through the thin fabric of your jean pocket.

In one graceful motion – not that anyone is there to see it – you slide into the tower.

You are instantly greeted with a vast mural that covers the back of the circular wall; only the front-side – the one with the walkway – has windows. The back, instead, has a vast map of stars. Constellation upon constellation. Galaxies of them.

BCLEGENDS: What do you do?

 
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Well, this looks interesting. Have a go at making sense of that mural; if that isn’t possible, though, take a look around for the other features of this room.

 
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(#aaac-BCLEGENDS)

The mural covers almost the entire wall, all the way up, and, as you look down, pretty much all the way down, too.

Stars gather, like clusters, over every inch of them. Shapes link as constellations and connections. You sense something shifting in the back of your head, as though something is forcing you to commit this to memory, as much of it as you can.

Someone, somewhere, collected all this information. This is a vital advantage to you as you run the star bridge; you sense that some of these connections only the most veteran, and dogged, pursuers might know.

Looking around you, you see stone pavings and tilings that form the floor, the walls, and the windowsills. The windows themselves are made of glass, and are supported by translucent bars. A staircase to an upper floor is next to you.

Your eyes roam, almost out of your control. Pattern upon pattern cascades into your mind, easing in, squeezing in, trying to find space. You find yourself forgetting your name….what you look like….your purpose for being on the star bridge, apart from escaping, or living.

You now have a vast knowledge of STARS. Running away from bounty hunters has abruptly become quite a lot easier, assuming you have access to a night sky somehow. Even pictures will do.

You have forgotten your BACKGROUND. You are no longer able to give truthful answers to anyone who asks, chiefly because you don’t know it, yourself.

BCLEGENDS: What do you do?

 
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Oh, whoops. Well, I probably wouldn’t need all of that stuff about my past anyway, unless there happens to exist some creature that forces me to tell it some part of my life story before entering this game, or else it kills me somehow. But what are the chances of something like that existing, huh? They’re low, that’s what they are. Anyways, I may as well give myself a recall of my own appearance. Look down at my body to see what I’m wearing and my general body build, then use a window to try and give myself a view of my face’s reflection. Then go to the previously-mentioned upper floor via the staircase.

 
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(#aaad)

You are wearing worn, tatty sneakers. You are wearing jeans of indeterminate fabric (the tag said 80% polyester, but it was also lying), with a piece of twisted glass inside your pocket. You are wearing a thin shirt whose fabric is nonetheless oddly warm in this cold world. You are not wearing any headgear.

You are a skinny, somewhat lanky, boy. Plucking a hair from your head, you see that it is dark in the blue lighting of the surrounding environment.

The windows are translucent but not reflective. You jump all about the place in an effort to see your face, and fail. Instead you get an excellent view of the walkway, from many different angles, but most of them limited to variances on your jump height. Which isn’t very much.

Climbing up the staircase grants you access to a long, flat platform with a soft, fluffy bed. The entire wall behind you is not wall, but is instead clear glass. Strange, as you remember that all was stone from the outside. The mural extends all the way around on the back wall, and threatens to draw your gaze back to it.

 
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[fzzt]

[calculating]

[target: BCLEGENDS]

[CONTROL MODULE ENABLED]

Looks like I’ve got control…

Who’s this?

He’s in the Star Tower… it seems, anyway…

Let’s see what I can do…

What’s this? Glass?

Hm… well, I shouldn’t take away all your power…

I am watching you, human…

[fzzt]

[CONTROL MODULE DISABLED]

 
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I punch the mural because I felt like doing it. Then I overturned the bed.

 
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[No, kilo. You stay away from my character. And Gotter, I think the idea is that each individual person starts from the beginning post.]

I keep my eyes averted from the mural for now, instead searching the area for anything I can use to not starve or dehydrate to death. Because that is, understandably, an issue I’d like to avoid.

 
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(OOC)
Oh no, BC, it’s fine, he can start from there; I’ll just label it as an offshoot from your line. Oh, but take note, whatever he might get or see may not be there in your line. And vice versa.

(BCLEGENDS: #aaaa-#aaab-#aaab2-#aaac-#aaad) (#aaae-GotterakaThing)

Your fist hurts as you punch the mural. It’s made of a strange kind of stone, almost metal in its coolness. It is just as dense as stone, however, and a cut opens up on your knuckles. Why did you punch so hard?

Even as your hand is stinging, however, you overturn the bed for the hell of it. The metal frame is difficult to shift for your body, but taking off the pillows, then the mattress, then flipping the frame seems to work.

The frame clangs on the ground, and almost instantly falls apart. You are glad you didn’t try to lie on top of it. It might have hurt!

What might also have hurt is a sudden glinting piercing out from the mattress. Another piece of twisted glass pokes out from the fabric.

GotterakaThing: What do you do?
-

(#aaae-BCLEGENDS)

You have been searching the room from top to bottom for quite some time. The night sky outside has faded to dawn as you inspect and search every nook and cranny. So far you have gathered quite the collection of lint and dust, but not a single speck of food can be found.

And yet you are neither thirsty, nor hungry. Food, the mere thought of food – although you can’t seem to remember what anything from home tastes like – doesn’t excite you or even make you salivate. Your throat works exactly as well as when you first jumped from your homeworld.

Experimentally, you begin to jog on the spot, moving faster and faster. Your body remains cool even long past the point that it should have gotten hot, and you don’t sweat at all.

You have no urge to relieve yourself, either. Which is good, since as far as you can see, there is no waste disposal in here, nor can you urinate out of the window, which is blocked by unbreakable glass.

BCLEGENDS: What do you do?


(Interlude: kilo) // [Otherwise known as backstory, unless you actually want to play]

“Jack.”
“Selza.”
“Kilo-zombie’s active again. Controlled some newster. Put out a massive aura. You want the bounty?”
“What do you think, sister?”
Jack Post’s smile swells, parting the stitches at each corner of his mouth. “Hell yes, he’d better run.”

 
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I sit back, leaning in my chair, rubbing tender eyes. It’s been a long night, and it doesn’t seem the newt will go long without help. I shut off the front two monitors, letting the other one run a recording script, and settle slowly into sleep.

[ffzt]

[timelinesplit detected]

[activating routine identifier…]

[user identified as “GotterakaThing”]

[storing…]

[done]

 
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I pick up the glass. Might be useful.

 
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(OOC)
Kilo, ARE you playing? Because even if you aren’t, I’m about to include you, so speak now or forever hold your peace. Or just game. That works too.
-

(#aaaf-GotterakaThing)

You add the piece of glass to its partner in your pocket.

The glass…hums…in your pocket, beginning to get a little too warm for something so close to your crotch. As you fumble it out you notice that you don’t have two pieces of twisted glass in your pocket. Instead you have one piece….and it’s in the shape of a translucent bracelet. Little dots appear all through it as you stare at it, sitting harmlessly in your hand; little dots of light, that are swirling in and out of each other in intricate dances. You’ve lost your two PIECES OF TWISTED GLASS, and gained one GLASS[?] BRACELET.

The movement of the glass seems purposeful, and you wonder what it might mean.

GotterakaThing: What do you do?


(#{iaaa}-kilozombie) <—- Slightly special, since you’re about to play it very differently.

Jack Post is known throughout the Star Bridge as the most maniacal bounty hunter that has ever jumped between worlds. Certainly the most persistent. The immortality, and slight invincibility, granted by burgeoning auras (and the consumption of other burgeoning auras, something which Jack Post has done plenty of) and sheer bloody-minded persistence, has made Jack Post something of a myth, even among the higher level feuding of the clans of bounty hunters bouncing between worlds. He likes to keep his reputation on a downlow, but he is only one man, and even he can’t kill off every survivor. So word of his name spread. There was that time Jack took out a clan. The time he accompanied a demigod on a suicidal charge that somehow he survived. The time he corrupted an entire major branch of the star bridge. By accident. (So that one isn’t the most flattering of his stories). The eons he spent searching for his sister. How, when, where, and how he found her.

He can, however, be fooled.

His sister, though, might be a different story.

You gain warning, through gossip networks (even travellers who are on the run talk, or leave whispers in the worlds their footsteps touch, leaving traces and panic that your aura automatically translates), that Jack Post has begun looking for you, in search of your aura and your flesh.

Rumors say the stitches around his lips are because he ate the flesh of a Taure; he was smiling as he ripped into another immortal’s body, drained of its aura, and the acid in the Taure’s blood smeared across his cheeks.

You know it’s true. You were watching as he disemboweled the Taure.

No world is safe.

You have four turns left. Make your preparations. Gather as many things as you need, as you want. Stand your ground. Flee. It doesn’t matter. Jack and Selza Post are coming.

 
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The bottom monitor blares loudly, and I’m already up- both of the larger screens display the same thing. My suspicions are confirmed- according to a cobbled together sighting record, I’m being hunted. Now, I may be one to stay in the dark, but I’m not unable to go mobile.

The flatscreens fold up into my side pockets, the mobile computer sleekly fitting in two arms. Finally the wires come undone, I can’t let anyone see me. It’s dark enough on the Sky Bridge front, and there aren’t many out- yet, anyway- and I’m able to slip through the door.

I scroll through a few options on the device, eventually hitting its main activation button and it’s already transmitting.

[fzzt]

[connection ENABLED]

[broadcasting…]

[target: _]

[target: user “BCLEGENDS”;user “GotterakaThing”]

[user “BCLEGENDS” found;user “GotterakaThing” found]

“Listen to me, the both of you. You’re going to help me, or trust me I will end your life.” At least, that’s what their aura should calculate it as. “In five minutes, I will give you instructions.”

[communication module initialized…]

[broadcasting as _]

[broadcasting as (langfile/default)(filter=n)]

[message sent… user “BCLEGENDS”;user “GotterakaThing” recieving…]

 
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i stand perfectly still staring at the star, waiting for something to happen, if there is.

 
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(#aaba-igotnousername)

The world changes.

You look up at the star on this side, which is barely visible with its swirls of rose and emerald against the bright backdrop of a cyan sky. The sun, so dim and smoky on your home world, is bright and white here. No matter; looking around on the street, you are bustled and hustled around by university students, rushing to and fro from their classes to their shops. Lunchtime, mayhap; a break?

Letting yourself be drawn with the flow, you travel from the asphalt where you stood, dodging bicycles and pedestrians, crossing over wide passageways and thin alleys, letting your feet take you where they
will. Strangely, there were no cars; no motorcycles, nothing loud that disrupts the noise of the chattering crowds. You slip into the side of the flow, your mind quieting your body’s protest at breaking its rhythm, and turn to walk around. If this was a world much like your home’s, your first, you will need money. First, a bank.

igotnousername: What do you do?


({#iaaz}-kilozombie)

“What type of idiot is he?” Selza asks, her nose buried in her tac-comp. “He seems to be reaching out to two newts for help.”

“Much help they’ll give him,” Jack says, his smile widening. His eyes deaden. “Cut him off, Selza. I don’t want to drain potential fun too early.”

“Got it, Jack,” Selza says. “Jamming.”

The tac-comp buzzes before lighting up, a long stream of codes running down the holographic screen, spilling onto the floor below.

“Done,” Selza says. “If they want to help, they can, of course, but they’re no longer bound to help him.”

“Good,” Jack says. His smile widens still. The stitches begin to pop. Blood begins to ooze, thick and chunky, from the sides of his lips. He licks the globlet away, and swallows the chunks.

He holds up a photograph, and clutches his sister’s arm. They vanish, as though they were never there.

Three turns left.

kilozombie: What will you do?

 
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I go check on the bank, noting its insides.
A thief must always plan its heist.

 
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I clench, the comms are lost, but I can fix them. I shouldn’t have to… but I do, at this point.

The old-fashioned tac-comp whirs, I hold it shaking and type.

[searchengine]

[select program _]

[select program (WHATYOUHEARD.exe)]

[initializing…]

[
WELCOME TO WHAT YOU HEARD
]

[
THE NEWEST IN AURA SECRETS, GOSSIPS AND WHISPERS
]

[
AT YOUR DISPOSAL!
]

[_]

[search]

[
YOUR T.A.C. COMPUTER CAN SEARCH USING THE WHAT YOU HEARD PROGRAM
]

[
ENTER A COMMAND PHRASE TO BEGIN THE PROGRAM
]

[“Jack Post”;“Selza Post”;]

[processing…]

 
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[
\——-user"Gabe Shwartz"
\——-user"Complex101"
\——-user"BCLEGENDS"
\——-user"GotterakaThing"
]

[viewhistory user"BCLEGENDS"]

[
0——-packet received from (10010:11034(“Jack Post”))
1——-packet sent to (10010:11034(“Jack Post”))
2——-packet sent to (10010:11034(“Jack Post”))
3——-packet received from (22010:90033(“StarBridgeAuto”))
]

 
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[view “3”]

[
LINE1——-Welcome to the Star Bridge Simulation Game!
LINE2——-This is a very realistic, real time game…
LINE3——-It consists of a multitude of pathways known as…

[view “2”]

[
LINE1——user"BCLEGENDS" accessed by user"kilozombie" (device_used: ERROR NOT FOUND)
LINE2——timestamp: 0030
]

[view “2”]

[
LINE1——user"BCLEGENDS" recieved message:
LINE2——“LISTEN TO ME THE BOTH OF YOU. YOURE GOING TO HELP ME OR TRUST ME I WILL END YOUR LIFE. IN
LINE3——FIVE MINUTES I WILL GIVE YOU INSTRUCTIONS.”
LINE4——timestamp: 0041
]

[view “0”]

[
findlink/

user"kilozombie":user"BCLEGENDS",user"GotterakaThing"

del:self
]

 
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[run COMMFIX.exe]

[fzzt]

[accessing packet data…]

[
findlink/

user"Jack Post",user"Selza Post":user"@all"

del:self
]

Now, Jack may be a strong man, but he certainly doesn’t provide his partner with hard-to-break code.

[fzzt]

[connection ENABLED]

[broadcasting…]

[target: _]

[target: user “BCLEGENDS”;user “GotterakaThing”]

“You should both have some kind of sharp implement according to what I can see. I want you to hold it up to the star in the sky, so that it’s between you and it. Trust me, this is your only option at this point.”

[communication module initialized…]

[broadcasting as _]

[broadcasting as (langfile/default)(filter=n)]

[message sent… user “BCLEGENDS”;user “GotterakaThing” recieving…]