| Typed in by Ville Lavonius (lavonius@cs.helsinki.fi) from the manual | |
| included with the Infocom game "Plundered Hearts". | |
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ | |
| Sample Transcript and Map | |
| This transcript is not from PLUNDERED HEARTS, but it does show many | |
| of the usual things you can do in the story. It shows a few simple | |
| puzzles and their solutions, and it will give you a good idea how | |
| Infocom's interactive fiction works. The player's commands appear | |
| in capital letters after each prompt (>). The map shows the layout | |
| of the rooms in the sample transcript as you might have drawn it. | |
| [Map, five rooms, one object. Can be drawn from the transcript, | |
| and my meager skills at ASCIIzation would probably destroy it.] | |
| Ah, your first ball! For years you have dreamed of this night, | |
| begging dear Mama to let you put up your hair and lower the hem of | |
| your skirts. And now, here it is, your 17th birthday and your | |
| coming-out party. What beau might you meet? Who will steal away | |
| your heart? Will you be forced to spurn your father's massive | |
| fortune, in order to marry against his wishes, to elope with your | |
| true love, whoever he may turn out to be? | |
| Ballroom | |
| You are in the crowded ballroom of your parent's London house. | |
| The dance floor, twirling and swirling with finely dressed maidens | |
| and stalwart men, lies to the north. Near a grandfather clock to | |
| the south, French windows lead to a cool balcony overlooking the | |
| formal gardens. | |
| The butler stands nearby. | |
| The grandfather clock chimes the quarter hour. | |
| >DANCE | |
| But you haven't been asked! | |
| The butler clears his throat, "Miss Sophie?" He holds out a | |
| screw of paper. "A gentleman asked me to deliver this." | |
| >ASK BUTLER ABOUT PAPER | |
| "A gentleman handed it to me, Miss. Dressed all in black, he was, | |
| and quite handsome, too." | |
| >TAKE PAPER | |
| Taken. | |
| The butler bows and moves away. | |
| >READ PAPER | |
| On the paper is written, in an educated hand: | |
| "The first moment I saw you, I knew I had met my destiny. Your | |
| violet eyes, misty with youth and beauty, your fair skin, your | |
| golden tresses -- all these I knew I could not live without. | |
| I love you fair Sophia, I must be with you. Meet me on the balcony | |
| as the clock strikes midnight. | |
| With undying love." | |
| >LOOK AT CLOCK | |
| The clock shows 24 minutes after 11:00. | |
| >LOOK | |
| Ballroom | |
| You are in the crowded ballroom of your parent's London house. | |
| The dance floor, twirling and swirling with finely dressed maidens | |
| and stalwart men, lies to the north. Near a grandfather clock to | |
| the south, French windows lead to a cool balcony overlooking the | |
| formal gardens. | |
| >GO SOUTH | |
| As you turn to go, a young man sidles next to you, shyly. "Miss | |
| S-sophia, um, would you, um, care to dance? W-with me, that is?" | |
| The clock chimes the half hour. | |
| >LOOK AT YOUNG MAN | |
| Although he looks rather uncomfortable in his rich velvets, the | |
| young man has large brown eyes framed with a mop of curly yellow | |
| hair. | |
| "Um, Miss Sophia?" he asks again, painfully shy. | |
| >YES | |
| An amazed smile of relief opens his face as he leads you onto the | |
| floor. Together you dance a quadrille. You discover that, despite | |
| his shyness, he is a masterful dancer. He tells you his name is | |
| George. | |
| >LOOK AT CLOOK | |
| [I don't know the word "clook."] | |
| >OOPS CLOCK | |
| The clock shows 12 minutes to midnight. | |
| George leads you to the side of the dance floor. "Would you care | |
| for a c-cup of lemonade?" | |
| >GEORGE, YES | |
| He smiles, amazed again, and rushes off. | |
| >LOOK AT ME | |
| You look marvelous in a pink watered-silk gown. The thick strand of | |
| pearls around your neck sets off your creamy skin. | |
| >S | |
| Balcony | |
| You stand on the balcony overlooking the formal gardens, south. The | |
| scent of roses wafts up toward the full moon high above. Music | |
| floats through the french windows from the ballroom to the north. | |
| There are no other people here. | |
| >WAIT | |
| Time passes... | |
| In the ballroom, the clock chimes midnight. | |
| Suddenly, the moonlight is blocked by a tall broad-shouldered form. | |
| "Ah, Mistress Sophia. I expected you to answer my note." | |
| >KISS MAN | |
| You close your eyes and pucker up. Instead of the fiery touch of | |
| his lips pressing against yours, a rough sack is cast over your head. | |
| You open your eyes to total darkness. | |
| "Pretty you are, my dear" comes the man's chuckle. "But prettier | |
| still is the dowry that will be mine when we are wed." | |
| >SCREAM | |
| Your scream is muffled by the sack, but you hope someone may hear you. | |
| The wind is driven out of you as you are dropped several feet -- | |
| presumably from the balcony to the garden below. Moments later, you | |
| are slung over a shoulder, carried through bushes, and thrown onto | |
| some cushions. | |
| You hear a "giddyap!" and the crack of a whip. The carriage you | |
| have been put into moves forward. | |
| >LOOK | |
| Carriage, in the sack | |
| Dimly, through the rough weave of the sack, you can see that you are | |
| in a cushioned, empty carriage. Moonlight streams in one partly closed | |
| window. | |
| >INVENTORY | |
| You are carrying a screw of paper and your reticule (hanging from your | |
| wrist). Inside the reticule are a small needle, a small pair of | |
| scissors, a loop of elastic, a ball of beeswax, and one length of pink | |
| silk thread. Your mother always says to carry a repair kit in case | |
| you tear your ballgown. | |
| You bounce around on the floor of the carriage. | |
| >TAKE THE SHEARS.CUT THE SACK | |
| Taken. | |
| The tiny shears slowly cut a long rip in the sack. | |
| >GET OUT OF SACK | |
| You slip out of the sack. | |
| Countryside flies past the partly open window. | |
| >L | |
| Carriage | |
| You are in a small, cushioned carriage. There is a door to the east. | |
| >OPEN DOOR | |
| But the carriage is moving so fast! You would fall to your death! | |
| Just then, the carriage lurches to a halt. Someone climbs from the | |
| driver's seat above you. | |
| >AGAIN | |
| You open the door. Through it you can see a dark ruin of a house, | |
| one light burning at the door. | |
| Someone is walking towards the door to the carriage. | |
| >EAST | |
| You dash out of the carriage, into the darkness near the house. | |
| Wild Garden | |
| You stand panting in a clearing of a garden gone wild, behind a dark | |
| ruin of a house. One light shines from the doorway south of you. | |
| There is a lessening of the bushes to the north, away from the house | |
| and your pursuer. | |
| A carriage is stopped here, the horses stamping in the night. | |
| The man calls out, "Stop! Come back" and starts in your direction. | |
| >RUN NORTH | |
| In the Bushes | |
| You stand at a dead end in the undergrowth, surrounded on all sides | |
| by bushes. | |
| Through the leaves you can see the villain, silhouetted in the | |
| light from the house. He is moving toward you, blocking escape. | |
| >I | |
| You are carrying a screw of paper and your reticule (hanging from your | |
| wrist). Inside the reticule are a small needle, a small pair of | |
| scissors, a loop of elastic, a ball of beeswax, and one length of pink | |
| silk thread. | |
| The villain is moving closer, blocking escape. | |
| >PUT THE BALL OF BEESWAX IN THE LOOP OF ELASTIC | |
| Done. | |
| >SLING BALL AT VILLAIN | |
| You aim the makeshift sling at the silhouetted figure, pull taut, and | |
| let fly the ball of beeswax. "Yowch! Damnation!" he cries, clapping | |
| a hand to his face and staggering off. | |
| The sound of clattering hooves fills the garden. | |
| >S | |
| Wild Garden | |
| A carriage is stopped here, the horses stamping in the night. | |
| A saddled gray mare stands nearby, well lathered. | |
| You run straight into the arms of... | |
| George! "M-miss Sophie! Are you all right?" he cries. | |
| >ASK GEORGE ABOUT ABDUCTOR | |
| George explains, "I heard you scream on the balcony and raced | |
| out to see you being carried off. I made chase, fearing that I | |
| would arrive too late." | |
| "But you are too late," comes a gruff voice rom behind you. | |
| You whirl around to face your abductor. George stiffens and | |
| moves you aside. "I'll handle this," he says, drawing his sword. | |
| The fight is over shortly, as George proves he is as masterful | |
| a swordsman as he is a dancer. He does not kill the villain, | |
| since that coward turns and flees, realizing who is the master. | |
| George turns to you. | |
| >KISS GEORGE | |
| George takes you into his arms and kisses you. You soon discern | |
| that he is as masterful a kisser as he is a swordsman and a | |
| dancer... | |
| Presently, George lifts you onto the back of his horse and together | |
| you ride back to your parents' house, and the ball. | |
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