| Scanned and manually corrected by Dave Newkirk (dcn@ixplode.att.com). | |
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ | |
| >GET OUT OF THE TAXI | |
| The door is locked. | |
| "Hey, that's four pounds thirty, old chap." | |
| >GIVE THE FIVE POUND NOTE TO THE DRIVER | |
| "Thanks, chum." | |
| >UNLOCK THE DOOR | |
| The taxi door is now unlocked. | |
| >GET OUT OF THE TAXI | |
| Street Corner | |
| You are on a street corner on the outskirts of London. A signpost reveals | |
| that you are on the corner of Foominster and Frobbington. The sidewalk | |
| continues north and east. Because of the heavy traffic here, crossing the | |
| street is out of the question. | |
| >WHO AM I | |
| You are Chester Smith, an unemployed granola salesman. | |
| >WHAT IS THE OBJECT OF THE GAME? | |
| Well, the superficial object of the game is to get to the end of the story | |
| and achieve the maximum score. | |
| The real object of the game is to show a bunch of novices how interactive | |
| fiction works. | |
| >WALK NORTH | |
| Outside Blood Bank | |
| You are in the middle of the block on a street that runs north-south. | |
| Immediately to the east is the entrance to a massive granite (Footnote 9) | |
| building. Next to the entrance is a sign and a doorbell. | |
| >FOOTNOTE 9 | |
| Well, concrete actually. We wanted a granite building for the story, but we | |
| couldn't afford it because constructing that giant spaceship for the | |
| Aldebaran Battle scene took such a big bite out of the budget. But the | |
| concrete IS covered with a plastic veneer that does LOOK a lot like granite. | |
| >READ THE SIGN | |
| "OUTSKIRTS OF LONDON BLOOD BANK: We pay 30 pounds for a pint of blood. | |
| Painless, takes only an hour. Ring doorbell for admittance. | |
| >EAST | |
| The Blood Bank door is closed. | |
| >OPEN IT | |
| It's locked. | |
| >RING THE DOORBELL | |
| You already did that, didn't you? | |
| >NO | |
| I think you're wrong. I'm a computer, so I have a really terrific memory, and | |
| I'm almost positive you already rang the doorbell. Couldn't you be mistaken? | |
| >NO | |
| Hmmm...well, I just looked back, and I guess you didn't ring the doorbell | |
| after all. Do you still want to ring the doorbell? | |
| >YES | |
| The bell rings. A minute later, a stooped man opens the door and beckons you | |
| to enter. | |
| >ENTER THE BLOOD BANK | |
| Waiting Room | |
| This is a dim room with exits to the east and west. A narrow, winding stair | |
| leads downward. The room is sparsely furnished with several uncomfortable- | |
| looking benches. There is no one waiting ahead of you. | |
| There is a bottle of smelling salts here. | |
| The stooped man slams the front door and bolts it. "Please...have a seat. | |
| It will only be several...minutes." He exits to the east. | |
| >SIT DOWN | |
| What do you want to sit down on? | |
| >THE BENCH | |
| You are now sitting on the bench. | |
| >ENJOY THE BENCH | |
| Easier said than done, considering how hard and uncomfortable the bench is. | |
| >TAKE THE BOTTLE OF SMELLING SALTS | |
| You can't reach it from the bench. | |
| >STAND UP | |
| You are on your own feet again. | |
| >TAKE THE BOTTLE OF SMELLING SALTS | |
| Your load is too heavy. | |
| >INVENTORY | |
| You have: | |
| a briefcase | |
| a suit | |
| It looks like the suit contains: | |
| a ten-pound note | |
| a grapefruit | |
| >OPEN THE BRIEFCASE | |
| Opening the briefcase reveals an array of granola samples. | |
| >DROP THE GRAPEFRUIT THEN TAKE THE BOTTLE OF SMELLING SALTS | |
| Dropped. | |
| Taken. | |
| >WAIT | |
| After all, what's a waiting room for? Time passes... | |
| The stooped man enters, pushing a wheelbarrow full of bones. You're no expert | |
| on the subject, but they sure don't look like chicken bones. He spills the | |
| bones down the winding stairway. | |
| >WEST | |
| The front door is closed. | |
| >OPEN THE DOOR | |
| Which door do you mean, the front door or the laboratory door? | |
| >FRONT | |
| It's bolted. | |
| >LOOK | |
| Waiting Room | |
| This is a dim room with exits to the east and west. A narrow, winding stair | |
| leads downward. The room is sparsely furnished with several uncomfortable- | |
| looking benches. There is no one waiting ahead of you. | |
| There is a grapefruit here. | |
| The stooped man is here, pushing a wheelbarrow. | |
| >STOOPED MAN, OPEN THE FRONT DOOR | |
| "Who are you calling stooped? I've got a name you know - Igor." | |
| >IGOR, OPEN THE FRONT DOOR | |
| Igor chuckles. "Don't be nervous. It's completely...painless. There's | |
| nothing to worry about." | |
| >IGOR, WHAT ABOUT THE BONES? | |
| Oh! Um, they're just...fake bones...we use for the...anatomy class on | |
| Wednesdays!". | |
| A gaunt man emerges from the doorway to the east. "Igor, bring in the next | |
| subject." He exits. | |
| >BREAK DOWN THE STREET DOOR | |
| This results in a very sore shoulder. | |
| If you'll just...step this way," says Igor, producing a cattle prod. | |
| >DON'T WALK EAST | |
| You bravely hold your ground. Igor pokes you with the prod. You feel less | |
| brave. | |
| >WALK EAST | |
| Laboratory | |
| This is an even dimmer room filled with strange apparatus. A person-sized | |
| table fills the center of the room. | |
| The mad scientist is here, rubbing his hands. | |
| Igor enters behind you and locks the door. | |
| >DON'T PANIC | |
| You try your best. You fail. | |
| "The table...please lie down...on the table," says Igor, fondling the prod. | |
| >LIE DOWN ON THE TABLE | |
| You are now lying on the table. The mad scientist quickly shackles your | |
| wrists and ankles. | |
| >MAD SCIENTIST, LET ME GO | |
| "Who are you calling mad? They called me mad at Oxford also, but I'll show | |
| them!" | |
| The mad scientist produces a hypodermic needle filled with a bubbling green | |
| fluid. He slowly inserts the needle into your arm. Everything becomes dark | |
| and fuzzy... | |
| >LOOK | |
| Everything is dark and fuzzy. | |
| >NORTH | |
| If you recall, you passed out a few moves ago. | |
| >DIAGNOSE | |
| If you recall, you passed out a few moves ago. | |
| >LOOK AT ME | |
| Everything is dark and fuzzy. | |
| >WAIT | |
| Time passes... | |
| The fuzziness clears, and you find yourself in a strange new location. | |
| >LOOK | |
| West of House | |
| You are standing in an open field west of a white house, with a boarded front | |
| door. | |
| There is a small mailbox here. | |
| >OPEN THE MAILBOX | |
| Opening the small mailbox reveals a leaflet. | |
| >INVENTORY | |
| You have: | |
| a briefcase | |
| It looks like the briefcase contains: | |
| an array of granola samples | |
| a suit | |
| It looks like the suit contains: | |
| a ten-pound note | |
| a bottle of smelling salts | |
| >SMELL THE SMELLING SALTS | |
| It smells just like the lid of a bottle of smelling salts. | |
| >OPEN THE BOTTLE | |
| Opened. | |
| >SMELL THE SMELLING SALTS | |
| The smell is overpowering. Your surroundings blur and grow indistinct... | |
| Laboratory | |
| Sitting on the table are: | |
| some bones | |
| Sitting on your workbench is: | |
| a hypodermic needle | |
| a book | |
| >IGOR, REMOVE THE BONES | |
| "Yes, master." Igor clears the table. | |
| "There's another subject waiting outside." | |
| >IGOR, BRING IN THE NEXT SUBJECT | |
| "Yes, master." | |
| >WHO AM I | |
| You are Baron von Edelstein, the "Mad Professor of Oxford." | |
| >EXAMINE THE HYPODERMIC NEEDLE | |
| It is filled with a bubbling green fluid, your identity transfer serum. | |
| >READ THE BOOK | |
| (taking the book first) | |
| The book is entitled "Who's Who in Interactive Fiction Sample Transcripts." | |
| It would take hours and hours to read the whole thing; perhaps you'd like to | |
| consult the book about a specific individual? | |
| >CONSULT THE BOOK ABOUT ME | |
| The entry about Baron von Edelstein reads, "A minor and poorly developed | |
| character in the Hitchhiker's sample transcript." | |
| Igor prods the subject into the room and onto the table. | |
| >INJECT THE SUBJECT WITH THE SERUM | |
| You're not holding the hypodermic needle. | |
| >TAKE THE HYPODERMIC NEEDLE | |
| Taken. | |
| >INJECT THE SUBJECT WITH THE SERUM | |
| The subject, whom you forgot to shackle to the table, pushes you away. | |
| In the ensuing struggle, you accidentally inject yourself with the serum. | |
| Lights whirl around your head. Especially red, yellow, and green lights. The | |
| lights slow down and finally stop whirling, and you realize that... | |
| Your taxi is stopped at a traffic light. It's been an hour since your last | |
| fare. Suddenly, someone pulls open the door and slides into the back seat. | |
| "Corner of Frobbington and Foominster, please." | |
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