infocom/articles/NZT-advice.txt

A COLLECTION OF NEW ZORK TIMES ADVICE COLUMNS
Copyright (c) Infocom
Transcribed by Graeme Cree

==================================================================== 
ASK DUFFY  (Summer 1984; page 5)

DEAR DUFFY:
     Some of my friends in the playground told me that opening a disk drive
while it's running can cause warts.  Is this true?
	-WORRIED ABOUT WARTS

DEAR WART:
     To answer your question, I went straight to an expert:  Professor
Humbick Q. Fiddleberry, Department Head of Harvard University's School of
Dermatology and Computer Science.  He claims there's absolutely no chance of
getting warts from opening a disk drive - unless, of course, there's a frog
inside it.



DEAR DUFFY:
     There's a girl in my Science class who I really have a crush on.  I
invited her to my house to play ZORK II on my TI-99.  We had a really good
time, but then her parents found out about it.  They've seen "Wargames" and
think that all computer hackers are dangerous criminals.  What should we do?
	- NOT A DANGEROUS CRIMINAL

DEAR NOT:
     This is a common syndrom among parents.  Explain to them, in an
intelligent and mature way, that you are not going to blow up the world, and
that ZORK II is a harmless and educational pasttime.  If this doesn't work,
get a lucrative job in the computer industry, start your own high-tech
company, attract millions in venture capital, buy a huge estate in California,
take lots of world cruises, get elected to an important government post,
discover a cure for cancer, and write several best-selling novels.  After
that, her parents probably won't mind if she visits you to play ZORK II.



DEAR DUFFY:
     I recently discovered that my daughter has been visiting the home of a
boy in her Science class to play computer games.  My husband and I are
terrified that they will accidentally break into some secret defense network
and start World War III.  We have told her to stop going there.  Are we being
overly protective?
	- NERVOUS MOM

DEAR NERV:
     You're doing exactly the right thing.  the kid is probably some kind of
dangerous Commie pervert.  You should give his name to the FBI so they can
stop him before it's too late.  Also, if your home is near any major
strategic nuclear targets, I'd start thinking about moving.



DEAR DUFFY:
     I'm very worried about my parents.  Lately, they spend all their time
playing those mindless arcade games on our home computer.  I've tried turning
them on to my favorite Infocom games, like PLANETFALL and ENCHANTER, but they
say they find them too difficult, and just keep playing Eggplant Kong.  My
dad used to be a news hound, and my mother loved the Times' crossword puzzle,
but neither of them has picked up a newspaper for months!  I'm worried about
their brains turning to mush.
	- FRANTIC SON

DEAR FRAN:
     If your parents found other Infocom games too hard, maybe you should try
giving them SEASTALKER.  It's easier than the games you mentioned.  Better
hurry, though, before your parents start smoking, hanging around the local
pool hall, and staying out late.



DEAR DUFFY:
     Are you any relation to the Sgt. Duffy in DEADLINE and THE WITNESS?
	- CURIOUS IN CANADA

DEAR CAN:
	I'm not telling.

================================================================

ASK JENNIFER  (Winter 1985, page 5)
     [The Winter 85 issue contained an article describing how during a
particularly busy Christmas rush, regular employees and family members helped
out on the assembly line.  The issue also contained the following column,
where one such family member answered her most frequently received questions
on the Tech Support Line. - Graeme]

WHY DO I GET A "FATAL ERROR" WHEN I TRY TO BOOT MY DISK?
     My daddy told me that these errors are caused by little goblins.  Some
of these goblins live in the disk drive, and some live in the disk itself. 
If you send me your disk, I'll give it to Tommy here at Infocom, and he'll
tell me whether there are any goblins living in your disk.  If there are,
we'll send you a brand new disk without any goblins in it.  If there aren't,
I'll send you back your disk.  Then you'll have to take your disk drive to
the store where you bought it, and have them kick out the goblins.

ONE OF THE THINGS THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE IN MY GAME PACKAGE WASN'T IN IT.
     Oops, sorry!  Occasionally, workers on the assembly line goof when
they're making up a package.  In fact, I was working on the assembly line
just last month (see story on page 3 - Ed.) assembling DEADLINE packages, and
I realized after doing around 700 that I was putting in pieces of my bubble
gum instead of "Pills Found Near the Body."  I didn't tell anyone, though,
'cause I was afraid they'd spank me.
     Anyway, just send me a letter with some proof of purchase, like the
sales slip from the game, and I'll send along the missing piece.  It might
take me a while, though, 'cause a lot of the pieces are kept on top of a
cabinet and only the grownups can reach up there.

SAVE AND RESTORE AREN'T WORKING IN MY GAME.
     That's goblins again.

I FOUND A BUG IN THE GAME.
     I don't like to hear about bugs; they're really scary.  In fact,
sometimes at night in bed in the dark you can hear them scurring around on
the floor and you have to keep your eyes closed absolutely tight with your
blanket completely wrapped around you or else they'll attack and eat you up. 
But if you call me or send me a letter, and tell me the bug and the name of
the game and the release number, I'll pass it along to someone who isn't so
afraid of bugs.

CAN YOU GIVE ME A HINT?
     No!  I can't and I won't.  And if you don't stop asking me, I'll throw a
tantrum!  I'm only here for important tek ... tek ... technikul matters.  If
you need help playing the game, you can order a hint booklet by calling (800)
262-6868.  By the way, hint booklets are printed in inivisible ink which you
get to develop yourself - they're really neat!
============================================================================

DEAR MISS UNDERGROUND MANNERS
(The Status Line; Fall 1986; page 2)

DEAR MISS UNDERGROUND MANNERS:
     I am a middle-aged gnome who likes to think he practices impeccable 
manners.  Recently, my next-tunnel neighbor, an ogre of good repute and 
social standing, invited me to be present at his son's wedding.  Naturally, 
I consented cheerfully.  When the date arrived, I appeared at the ceremony, 
only to find that my wife and children had been chopped up and were to be 
served as hors d'oeuvres at the reception.  Of course I was shocked to learn 
that my family was now a bowl of flesh balls.  How can I express my 
displeasure to my host?

GENTLE READER:
     You certainly have justification to feel shocked.  As we all know, 
flesh balls have been considered an absolute "faux pas" since Dundor of 
Vriminax quashed the Yippie Rebellion, in 466 GUE.  You might pleasantly 
suggest to your host that he instead serve flesh strips, in cream-cheese, 
spread over delicate wafers, as is the custom these days.


DEAR MISS UNDERGROUND MANNERS:
     I am a dragon on the debutante circuit.  What are the formal rules for 
immolating humans?

GENTLE READER:
     Miss Underground Manners finds the following rules acceptable:
     1) One should always introduce oneself before incinerating the human 
in question.  Making a bad impression could injure your sterling reputation, 
should your victim somehow manage to survive.
     2) Immolation can often be an embarassing moment for a human.  There's 
no need to mock or intimidate your victim with malicious peals of laughter 
or wicked masks of hatred.  Instead, put him at ease with a compliment, or 
a light remark.
     3) If recent gourmet experiences have included such elements as garlic, 
onion, or rotgrub, one should politely excuse oneself and rinse one's maw 
with a fresh, minty solution before spewing flames at the human.  Humans 
can be particularly sensitive to that most unpleasant phenomenon known 
as "bad breath."


DEAR MISS UNDERGROUND MANNERS:
     On a recent Sunday jaunt through a portion of the Underground Empire, 
in search of countless, untold fortunes as well as something to do, I 
found that I was encounterming many more ravenous dungeon denizens than 
on previous trips.  Why, only ten minutes into the trip, my right arm was 
lopped off completely in a surprise attack by a band of samurai worms!  By 
midday, I found that killing had become second nature; I was hacking up 
just about everything that moved.  At one point, as I was retrieving my 
pitchfork from a young man's chest, I realized that he was not, in fact, 
a scheming rogue or a slavering mass of claws and fangs; it was little 
Davey, my neighbor's son.  (Apparently, he was selling flowers to support 
the elderly.)  Have I committed a serious social blunder?

GENTLE READER:
     You, sir, have indeed violated what Miss Underground Manners would 
consider a cardinal rule of etiquette, even by dungeon standards.  The 
recent loss of one's right arm is no excuse for holding one's fork in the 
left hand, which is used only when one is mashing vegetables or gathering 
peas.  (Also, never confuse your pitchfork with your dessert fork.)