Sometimes We Deliberately Step Into Those Traps

While the first two Plot Your Own Horror Story gamebooks never seemed to get beyond the 'old town' part of Tunbridge Wells (at least until a second-hand copy of Nightmare Store turned up in a charity shop near the precinct last decade), the next couple were more widespread, and were actually the first books in the series that I ever saw. I wasn't all that interested in them by comparison with the likes of Fighting Fantasy, Lone Wolf, Grail Quest and Falcon, but I took the odd look at one of them, and became quite familiar with it after one of my sisters got a copy.

For some reason I didn't engage much with the other, released in the UK as Grand Hotel of Horror (perhaps because the original title, Horror Hotel!, was so similar to the British title of the first book in the series), but during a school trip to London, when we went into a bookshop at one point and that was the only unknown-to-me gamebook on the shelves, I did give it a little attention, winding up on the ending that has the viewpoint character falling into the piranha-infested pond.

That was the entirety of my history with GHoH until a few Decembers ago, when I chanced upon a copy on eBay and bought it. What with Christmas and related activities and acquisitions, I didn't give the book any real attention after it came in the post, so this will be my first proper attempt at it.

My family is taking a break at the Cliff's Edge Hotel in Colorado, and while my parents get settled in the room, I check out the nearby shops for souvenirs, buying a packet of photographic slides (wonder if they'll have any significance later on) and picking up a pamphlet about legends associated with the hotel. A sudden downpour discourages me from heading straight back to the hotel, and to pass the time until the rain eases off, I read the pamphlet.

According to the pamphlet, a gold prospector who'd struck it lucky had the hotel built at the turn of the century, but the place soon gained a bad reputation. One of the stone cutters working on its construction fell to his death, and on the hotel's opening night a honeymooning bride threw herself off a balcony. A maid tumbled into a laundry chute and was never seen again, a baby disappeared without explanation, and within a year the establishment was closed down and the owner moved away.

A while after that, the building was temporarily used to incarcerate convicts while a proper prison was being built, during which time three escaping felons had a fatal fall and a visiting spouse wandered into a closet and vanished. Around a decade after that the place became a girls' school, which initially did quite well, but was closed down after four of the pupils went missing.

Almost fourteen years later a doctor bought the Cliff's Edge and converted it into a 'special' hospital, but had difficulties retaining staff. Rumours spread concerning bizarre medical experiments performed on some of the patients, and another closure soon followed. After that the place remained abandoned until its current owners acquired it in the late 1970s. Extensive renovations preceded its reopening as a hotel, and five years have passed without any noteworthy incidents.

Some of the older locals are still dubious about the place, and assert that it contains a network of hidden stairways and a secret elevator that goes all the way down to the river (at least some of which you'd expect to have been discovered while the building was being renovated and the new central heating system was installed, but you can't always expect logic from gossip, gamebooks or horror stories, so anything is possible).

Suddenly I become aware that it's getting dark outside, and the rain has stopped. I hurry back uphill to the hotel, observing that surprisingly few lights are on it, and there are no cars parked outside - not even the one in which my parents and I travelled here. Though somewhat perturbed, I still go inside, and cannot find anyone else in the building. Not at the reception desk, not in the coffee bar, not in room 309, where my family is staying...

The malleability of reality that is a feature of this series of books immediately comes into play, as the first decision offered by the text requires me to determine whether the hotel has been evacuated or something strange has happened to me. Despite what I said about logic a couple of paragraphs back, I find the evacuation option that bit too implausible owing to the lack of any kind of cordon around the hotel or the hill, so I'll go with the unspecified weirdness.

Not only are my parents absent from the room, but none of our stuff is in there either. I resume my search for other people, trying the dining room since a meal is imminent. Also empty, so I carry on into the kitchen, and for the first time since I got back here, I see people. Two men stand by a table, and I approach them, but when they turn around, I realise that something is wrong. Even if I discard the frankly bigoted suggestion that nobody with facial scars would be employed in a hotel kitchen, the unsanitary stench of the first man indicates that he ought not to be in a food preparation area.

Backing away, I trip on an uneven tile. The men approach, one of them brandishing a knife. The other tells me I have no place here, and produces a rusty pair of handcuffs. He gets a cuff around one of my wrists before some semblance of narrative control returns to me, allowing me to choose whether or not I can escape from this situation. A twinge of déjà vu leads me to suspect that getting away may take me from the frying pans to the fish, so I risk seeing what happens if I fail to get away.

Well, either my memory played me false or I'd blundered into one of the 'all options lead to death' situations that can be found at times in these books. Once the cuffs are in place, the man drags me over to the walk-in freezer and uses the cuffs to suspend me from a meathook alongside several sides of beef.

The book doesn't confirm whether or not the light goes out when the door is closed.

Since writing the above I've had several more goes at the book, thereby establishing that my memory was not completely reliable. Escaping from the men in the kitchen does not lead directly to another bad ending (and the piranha death isn't even on the same branch as the convicts in the kitchen). Nevertheless, at another stage of the adventure, picking what appeared to be the worse of the possible developments was what led to the first 'good' ending I reached, so allowing seemingly bad things to happen isn't always a bad idea in this book. 

As of yet, there's been no mention of the photographic slides (beyond the initial purchase) on any of the routes I've taken through the book, so maybe they never become a Chekhov's pistol. Mind you, the back cover of the book mentions a gravestone with my name on, and I haven't seen any sign of that, either, so there's still potential for me to spot a clue or a nasty twist in one of the transparencies on a currently unexplored path...

Quite Dangerous and It Might Not Work

A local hospice has numerous charity shops scattered throughout the region (more than half a dozen in Hull alone), and several of them have helped me build up my gamebook collection over the years. Two were the source of almost a third of my collection of Puffin FF books (including the big batch that revived my interest in the series in the first place), another provided me with the then-elusive third Fabled Lands book, and the two closest to my home have enabled me to replace various well-used volumes in my collections of Blood Sword, Golden Dragon, Grail Quest and Way of the Tiger books with copies in much better condition.

Towards the end of last year, when an unavoidable appointment had taken me towards town during what would normally be working hours, my homeward route passed one of those shops, and I decided to pop in for a quick browse. The words 'Choose your own story' on the spine of one book caught my attention, and as the price was reasonable and nothing else on the shelves appealed, I decided to give it a go, and bought Simon Tudhope's Shadow Chaser. This is the first book in a comparatively recent series, published by Usborne this decade, and so far it's the only one of them I own. Playing it is liable to help determine whether or not I seek any of the later ones.

I don't usually include pictures of book covers,
but then again I don't usually get accused of making up details of what the covers say, either.

Character generation is largely done for me. I always start with 12 Life points, and have four Ability scores (Athleticism, Sixth Sense, Endurance and Skill). The latter all start at 3, though I may add a point to one of them before I start. With, as yet, no idea if the book tests one Ability more frequently than the others, I opt for Sixth Sense.

The adventure itself starts quite abruptly. as I am awakened by a loud cry and a knock at the door. Grabbing the locket which is apparently my only noteworthy possession, I sneak a peek outside. Five cloaked figures stand outside the door, their leader unnaturally pale, with sunken eyes.

Seemingly sensing my presence, the pale figure addresses me as 'young apprentice', telling me that 'an old friend begs an audience' and laughing. The cry sounds again, and I become aware that it's an inner voice, and that there's something familiar about the leader. A little belatedly the text notes that I should add that locket to my inventory.

Opening the door seems like a bad idea, but I might be able to remember or learn something if I stall for a bit rather than just fleeing straight off. I ask who the old friend is, and take stock, noting the belt and hatchet hanging nearby. The man mentions several things that my character is probably already aware of: I am a foundling, who was abandoned on a carpenter's doorstep one night, and I am known as Rowan, though my true identity is unknown to me.

The sound of footsteps around the side of the house suggests that my 'visitors' aren't going to wait to be invited in, so I grab the belt and hatchet and seek an exit other than the front door. An awkwardly placed nugget of exposition reveals that the carpenter who brought me up is known as Old Joe, and he's not currently around.

At the rear of the house a window overlooks an alley, spanned by a neighbour's clothesline. An Athleticism roll determines how well my attempted escape goes, and my chances of success are 50/50. What I roll would have been a failure even if I'd boosted Athleticism rather than Sixth Sense at the outset, but the consequent fall isn't catastrophic: I just lose a point of Life, and one of the cloaked figures notices me. As I hurry away, he mockingly tells me that 'All roads lead to us... All of them.' Which is at least a bit more original than 'There's no escape', 'Resistance is useless' or 'Nowhere to run.'

Four of the figures give chase, but my familiarity with the area provides a slight advantage. Vaulting a fence, I enter a yard in which a hog is sleeping. I could try waking it to surprise my pursuers, but that might backfire: if this not-so-little piggy wakes quickly, it might attack me, delaying me for long enough that the cloaked men can catch up. Better, I think, to let sleeping hogs lie and hope that those who follow me disturb it themselves.

Evidently they don't. As I draw near the market square, I consider my options. Seeking out some of the City Guard probably won't help, and hiding in a stable seems like a good way to get caught, so I'll head for the area known as the Tangles and hope that it's the kind of warren of twisting back streets that the name suggests.

Whether or not I can make it there before someone catches up with me depends on an Endurance check, and either I've already missed an opportunity to increase an Ability or the text is allowing for impossible contingencies, because it implies that my Endurance could be above 4. Mine is definitely lower, so the four men catch up to me.

Surrender could mean game over, so I'll attack in the (probably vain) hope that the desperate situation will unlock some hidden power within me, or I'll attract the attention of some noble rogue who goes around defending underdogs and righting wrongs. Nope, I just take some damage and wind up bound, gagged, and with a sack over my head. My captors take the hatchet but not the locket.

Prodding me with something sharp, one of the men tells me that while their master would prefer me alive, dead is still a viable option, and they will kill me if I try to escape. They bundle me into a cart and start to transport me away. I have no way of knowing where we are until I hear the voice of the city gatekeeper challenging us. Another nudge with the weapon comes as a hint that I would be advised not to try and attract his attention, and I decide not to call the wielder's bluff.

The gatekeeper chats briefly with the cart's driver, mentioning that a group of armed men has been glimpsed in the region. Would they be the men who came for me, or could there be another party roaming around, possibly potential allies?

Once we're on our way again, the man with the weapon removes the sack and gag, allowing me to see that only he and the driver are travelling with me. He is pale, and looks only slightly older than I am, and even though I can now see the weapon with which he threatened me, the text doesn't bother to specify its type, only to point out that it is inscribed with the word 'Flynt'. In a flat voice which could indicate that he's not entirely himself, the man informs me that he's half-Harlan (that's his name, not his nationality), from a fishing village to the north.

I ask about his odd name, and he tells me that 'whole-Harlan was purified', merely repeating that rather ominous phrase when I seek elucidation. The only other available conversational gambit that seems worth taking is to enquire about the reason why I've been captured. Half-Harlan tells me that he was ordered to do it by the Shadow Reaper, and responds to all further questions about said individual with the assertion that 'That is not for me to know'.

The only other information I am able to extract from half-Harlan is that he is taking me to meet 'others' at a nearby bridge. It won't take long to get there, so if I don't want to risk being 'purified' myself I should start thinking about escape.

From somewhere ahead I hear rumblings, clankings, and the sounds of people enjoying themselves. We are close to Gloamwold Forest (which my character knows as a sinister place), and for a while the trees screen the source of the noise from me, but eventually we round a bend and see that a circus troupe is approaching.

The driver of the cart yells at the convoy to get out of the way, addressing them as 'thieving vagabonds' and indicating that their sort are not welcome around here. He quickly changes his tune when the ringmaster summons three of the largest and burliest of his employees. This looks like a good time to abandon cart and call for help, and my attempted escape leads to an Athleticism roll. This goes no better than my previous one, and half-Harlan cuts me on the leg with Flynt as I make my move. Even so, I alert the circus folk to my predicament.

Before they can respond, the sound of galloping hooves indicates the approach of half-Harlan's companions. Half-Harlan leaps after me, the ringmaster urges his associates to help me, and things get a bit chaotic. One of the strongmen picks half-Harlan up and throws him at the rest of my captors, but their leader sorcerously deflects him. Flynt falls at my feet, I grab the weapon, the circus people start fighting the Shadow Reaper's men, and an acrobat severs my bonds and urges me to flee into the forest. I attempt to do as directed, but before I can get to cover, half-Harlan intercepts me and I get to see if the combat system is as bad as it looks.

Fighting involves a combination of dice-rolling and guesswork. Before each round I have to decide how much damage I want to try and inflict: to do 1 point of damage I need to get 7 or above on two dice, but I can increase the damage by 2 or 4 points by adding a similar amount to the target roll. I automatically take damage at the end of every round my opponent survives, and have a time limit in which to win.

This is probably about as easy a fight as I'm ever going to have, as half-Harlan is down to 2 Life, and only does 1 damage per round, but I only have 3 rounds in which to defeat him. Obviously I need only decide whether to try and strike two 1-point blows or one 3-pointer. While going for the easier attacks would guarantee that I'll lose some Life, I think the odds favour doing it that way. Besides, I can always switch to the riskier attack in the third round if unsuccessful in both of the first two.

Two misses later I am indeed forced to take desperate measures, but my third roll is only a 7. Half-Harlan smashes my hand against a rock, forcing me to drop Flynt, and his leader joins us, telling me I am my mother's child before using some arcane power to compel me to sleep.

I wake just in time to meet with an unclear end. I've been bound to a post beside or on a large metal disc with glowing symbols rotating around it. I hear a familiar laugh, something flies at me, and that's it. Maybe I was killed with a projectile weapon, maybe I was 'purified' with some dark enchantment, maybe some malign entity possessed me, maybe I saw the author's cursor just before he hit 'Delete' - I don't know, and the book doesn't specify.

Well, that wasn't the worst gamebook I've ever played. Nor even the worst one I bought in one of those charity shops (on a perverse whim I once picked up an appalling CYOA called Prisoner of the Ant People for 25p in the branch closest to my former place of work). But it wasn't particularly good, either, so I shan't be going out of my way to get hold of any of its successors. 

Are You Sure?! Are You Sure?! Are You Sure?! Are You Sure?! Are You Sure?! Are You Sure?! Are You Sure?! Are You Sure?!

Fighting Fantazine 16's mini-adventure, Sister Angela's Veil, includes material that would probably merit a trigger warning if included in a film or TV series these days, and author Mark Lain has been critical of readers who've expressed objections to that aspect of it, so there could be controversy ahead. That's not a valid reason to skip the adventure, though, so I need to get on with it.

My character would appear to be some kind of religious investigator: at any rate, I have been sent on a mission to find out if there's any truth to the rumours that somebody has stolen a holy relic, the veil of Sister Angela de Culpa, from the Convent of the Nuns of Blessed Relief. Doesn't sound that big a deal, but from playtesting Veil I know that there's a tough fight towards the end, and a couple of places where failing a Luck roll will doom my character, so I shall definitely be allocating stats. Doing so gives me:
Skill 12
Stamina 19
Luck 11
Well, I'm in with a chance, though there's still plenty of potential for going wrong, as it's been years since the playtesting. Both times I played it for challenges at the Fantazine forum, my memory let me down: once I caused a metal statue to animate, and died fighting it, and on the other attempt I took a wrong turning, missed an essential item, and was killed by an undead foe I had no way of harming.

I start the adventure outside the convent, a grim-looking building which nevertheless seems more appealing than its surroundings, as night is falling and the temperature is dropping. A parchment is attached to the doors which are the only way in, but I ignore it. While it's not a death spell, reading it won't help me unless I want to exploit a loophole that my feedback as a playtester inadvertently helped create. So I just knock at the door.

After a short time, a man in monk's garb unlocks the door and motions for me to enter. At this point the text presents me with three possible courses of action, two of them insane (though attacking without provocation is, admittedly, something of a norm for gamebook heroes). Not wanting to get into an unnecessary fight, or to die as a consequence of refusing to enter the place where I'm supposed to be carrying out my mission (as becomes very clear later on, trying to get the reader to steer clear of doing what needs to be done is something of a Lain-ism), I walk inside.

The man relocks the door behind me and invites me to talk with him. I sit on a nearby bench, and he introduces himself as Rosgard, formerly a Templar Warrior, but now Principal Priest of the chapel. He comments that the Sisters don't seem overly keen on his preaching, and that he steers clear of the inner parts of the convent. 

Though (in an arbitrary attempt at misdirection by the author) I get a sinister vibe from Rosgard, I tell him the real reason for my visit. He admits to being dubious about relics, recommends I seek out Father Grandier, and advises me to get some holy water from the font in the north transept, providing a flask in which to carry it.

I do as he suggests. As I turn to leave the font, an elderly Dwarf offers 'a word to the wise', and again I choose conversation rather than psychopathy. The Dwarf reveals that he came here seeking sanctuary from the authorities in Port Blacksand, and warns me to avoid the convent's dortoir.

I could now go over to the altar, but doing so would not benefit me. If I'd murdered Rosgard and stolen his robes, there'd be potential for a mildly humorous incident involving mistaken identity and a hastily improvised sermon, but I went with the path that's more ethical (and avoids combat against an opponent with a double-figure Skill score), so that's not an option for me.

Proceeding towards the interior of the convent, I pass through the south transept, observing a stained glass window that depicts incidents from the life of Sister Angela, and enter a triangular vestibule with a marble floor, and a wooden seat against one wall. Sitting down for a short rest provides a (for me) redundant Stamina bonus, and also enables me to spot a small leather pouch on the floor. Picking up the pouch, I can feel that it contains a bottle or flask (not a flash, which the text still says even though I tried to fix that typo before publication), and remove the vessel for closer inspection. It's a bottle of blue liquid, with a label on which is written a rather awkward verse hinting at the nature of its contents. A test sip confirms that this is a Potion of Invisibility, which I pocket before heading for the exit.

At this point I must Test my Luck (though it's not one of the 'do or die' instances), and I get a favourable outcome, so I don't slip on the floor and break the bottle and flask. Beyond the door is a corridor, with a side opening into an octagonal chapterhouse. Alcoves in its walls contain seats, each with a plaque bearing the name of a senior Priestess, and on the seat with Angela's name there is also a small wooden box, presumably for offerings.

If I remember rightly, investigating the box will cost me Luck but provide something that can avert loss of Luck later on. It's a risk, but one I think could be worth taking, so I take the chance. Something rattles inside the box when I pick it up, and I manage to avoid taking damage from the blade that pops out when I undo the catch to open the box. The golden nugget which the box contains is too light to be real gold, but I take it in case I meet anyone who's both bribeable and gullible.

At the end of the corridor are two doors, and I think choosing the wrong one will mean missing out on a vital clue. There's something sinister afoot, so if I try the appropriate door... I find the library I was hoping to discover. Again the text asks if I want to do something obviously stupid and fail, this time phrasing it as not wanting to waste time, but I wasn't fooled the first time I found this room, and the only reason I ever checked out the 'read nothing' option was because playtesting requires thoroughness.

So, what do I read? There's a half-decent reason given for ignoring most of the tomes in here: they don't have anything written on their spines, so they don't grab my attention in the same way as the few volumes which do give an indication of the nature of their contents.

The book I select has strange black stains on the edges of the pages, and while its original text contains little of relevance (at least unless I want to try selling tales of not-so-devout nuns to the tabloids), notes made in the margins by a previous reader include a reference to 'The Second Of The Two' and a 3-digit number, which just screams 'hidden section reference' at any remotely savvy gamebook reader.

I can't turn my attention to any of the other books, because the lone candle lighting the room has almost burned out. It's time to go, and as I head for the exit, the text makes it clear that, yes, Mark Lain has read and/or watched The Name of the Rose, but the poison on the pages of the book I read is weak, and merely diminishes the effectiveness of the next portion of Provisions I consume.

Following a slightly clumsy check of elapsed time, which gives anyone who chose the wrong door a hint about what they missed, I go through the other door and find myself in a small room containing robes, dresses, and an alabaster mask. Nothing good is to be gained by taking the mask, so I just pass straight through to the cloisters, where a flock of bats swoops to the attack in case prudent players are getting combat withdrawal symptoms. They're pretty flimsy opponents, and I have no trouble disposing of them.

Now I have four doors to choose from. A couple of them have very clear distinguishing features, one of which I remember as indicating somewhere I need to go, but there's a side quest I would benefit from taking first, so I want to try and find the door leading to that. As I recall, it's accessed via the kitchen, and the other distinctive marker on a door isn't particularly kitcheny, so I'll try one of the more nondescript ones.

And that’s the kitchen. No keys being heated on the stove, and there’s a tasty-looking roast duck on the table. Even though I’m at full Stamina, I eat some duck, and find some way of carrying around the rest as an extra portion of Provisions. Searching the kitchen turns up a cleaver, which would make an adequate substitute weapon if I’d read that parchment at the start and obeyed the instruction to leave my sword outside, and a disappointing selection of herbs – no garlic, no Aramance, no wolfsbane, just stuff for seasoning food. I don’t know what the chefs here think they’re doing.

There’s nothing more to do in here, but the exits from the kitchen include a door leading out into a garden, so I go through that. In addition to the inevitable plants, there’s a hut (which I seem to remember contains nothing but trouble) and a path leading away from the building.

Taking a closer look at the plants, I see some carrots, a couple of orchids, a bed of some unidentified herb, and a lot of what looks like grass. I find the orchids beautiful and the smell of the herb off-putting, but then I remember how the text made me unnecessarily suspicious about Rosgard, and decide to investigate the herb more closely in case Mr Lain is being sneaky again. The herb tastes bitter, but I risk consuming a sprig anyway, and it restores some of the Luck lost in earlier Tests.

The orchids are probably trouble, so I now turn my attention to the path. Oh, bother, it’s the bit like an annoying child who won’t stop going, “Are we nearly there yet?” during a long journey. Only here the text is padded with way too many variations on ‘Do you want to turn back now?’

So, I proceed into a more unkempt part of the garden (no, keep going), finding it hard to see what’s up ahead (no, carry on). Overhanging branches scratch my face, and the foliage becomes thick enough that I need to hack my way through with my sword (okay, this is a legitimate spot for a 'turn back' option). As soon as I draw a weapon, the verdant mass blocking my way shrinks back, which is a little disconcerting, but I don't delay in case the plants are mustering their forces in preparation to attack.

The path terminates at the door of a building with a fresh-looking inscription that reads 'Cellarium' (yes, I want to take a look inside rather than turning back after all that effort). The door opens easily enough to suggest that it gets used regularly, and I see steps leading down into darkness (of course I'm going to descend them). While the lack of dust and cobwebs also indicates that this place is far from abandoned, an unpleasant smell drifts up from below (no, that is not going to discourage me from investigating). Before descending, I eat the rest of that duck to make good the minor Stamina loss incurred passing through the garden (and to get out of the way the reduced Stamina gain associated with that weak poison). 

At the bottom of the stairs is a more neglected-looking passageway: though there is a convenient lit torch illuminating it, dust covers the floor, and I see the tracks of rats. The corridor leads to a door which has a cross nailed to it, and someone has chalked the words 'REMAIN WITHIN, ALL THAT IS CORRUPT' below. Finally conceding that any reader who's come this far isn't about to be dissuaded by such hints that there may be something nasty ahead, Mr Lain doesn't give a retreat option this time, though there's still a section transition before we get to find out what lurks behind the door.

It's a torchlit burial chamber, containing a coffin on a plinth. And an undead Tomb Guardian, which calls me a defiler and attacks me with a rusty broadsword. I could try using the holy water to destroy it, but between the Skill advantage I have and the fact that I'd have to spend a point of Luck to throw the contents of the flask, I think I'll just fight the thing normally.

The Guardian wounds me once in the course of the fight, but that's no big deal. Less positively, the annoying padding is back. Apart from dust, the chamber contains only the coffin (yes, I want to take a closer look at it). A plaque identifies the occupant as Sister Angela (of course I want to see what's inside), but all I find in it is a stone warhammer. There's no new section to turn to if I want to take the weapon, but I still have the option to leave it behind in case I want to have wasted my time and the Stamina I lost in the fight.

Heading back up the stairs with my new acquisition, I leave the cellarium and start to retrace my steps through the garden. Now the animated plant life attacks me, but I fight off the Bush-being without taking any damage and hurry back to what the text oddly describes as the 'relative' safety of the kitchen. I'd be hard pressed to find a less dangerous kitchen than this one in all FF, so there was really no need for the qualifier.

Once back in the kitchen, I don't loiter. Returning to the cloister is not an option, so I must choose between the door with a cross nailed to it and the one with no distinguishing features. I try the door with the cross on, which leads into an unoccupied refectory. The only thing of note in here is another potential replacement weapon for anyone who's currently unarmed.

The only door from here that doesn't lead to somewhere I've already been has the letter 'W' painted on it. Probably short for 'Washroom', considering the large bath in the room beyond. Clouds of warm steam, and the sight of a hand (not severed) gripping the side of the bath, indicate that the room is currently in use.

Luck determines what happens next, and I only just succeed at the roll: if I'd used the holy water on the Tomb Guardian, I'd have no chance of beating the adventure on this occasion. But I was Lucky, so the occupant of the bath is still alive. He speaks, asking who has come to disturb him, so I tell him I need assistance. Introducing himself as Grandier, Grand Abbot, the bather says that he is hungry, and will tell me what I need to know in return for food.

I hand over a portion of Provisions, and after wolfing it down, Grandier opens a concealed hidey-hole in the side of the bath, removes a scroll, and hands it to me, explaining that this is Sister Angela's confession. She's not dead, and there never was a veil (other than the veil of lies concealing her continued existence). Everything that is wrong with the convent has its source in her, but confronting her with the confession may put an end to the corruption.

Taking the scroll (and with it a Luck bonus that brings me back up to maximum), I leave by the door leading to the inner sanctum. The décor is fancier here. At the end of the corridor is another door, and just before it a side passage leads off to the left. Vague memories of how I last failed this adventure suggest that this is a slightly devious bit of design: 'ahead'  tends to denote progress, while side turnings are often associated with optional (but sometimes essential) side quests, but here I think the left turn leads to the next stage of the adventure, and I need to go through the door first if I want another vital clue.

As I approach the door, it opens to reveal a Calacorm - a two-headed lizard of a type that I've encountered in a couple of FF books before now - wearing a tunic with a big '1' on it. Calacorms are often employed as gaolers, and the dank air wafting out from behind this one suggests that I may have found a cell. Then again, the tunic could indicate that he's a goalkeeper, and the smell be a hint that this is the convent team's changing room.

Remembering that fighting and killing the Calacorm would get me hit with a Luck penalty for murdering a mildly intelligent being who's just doing his job (never mind that another section implies that his job involves torturing defenceless prisoners), I get him out of the way by offering that nugget of fool's gold as a bribe. He grabs it and runs off to the washroom, leaving me free to go through the door he was guarding (or ignore it now it's accessible and take that side turning, because gamebook readers should always be given the chance to reconsider if they're on the verge of doing something right, right?).

Beyond the door is the convent's misericord, and while in the real world such rooms were places in monasteries where the rules were relaxed slightly, here it's basically a torture chamber for punishing errant members of the order. Its current occupant is a woman in shackles, stripped to the waist (but facing away from me so the scene can be illustrated without making the 'zine adults only - though the picture does not show the post to which the text says she is chained, but has her bonds connected to the walls), with welts on her back.

Mistaking me for her tormentor, the woman begs me not to flog her again, so I explain that I mean her no harm, and she asks me to free her. I break her bonds, and she explains why she's here. A Templar got her pregnant and, accusing her of blasphemy, had the baby taken from her after she gave birth. She attempted to get her son back, but was caught and imprisoned here. Her torturer's taunts have indicated to her that the infant is being kept in a room with the number 1 on the door, and prior to her capture she learned the combination to its lock from a Dwarven pilgrim. No longer in a fit state to try and escape, she tells me the combination so I can seek the child.

I give her some of my Provisions, and she indicates that the side passage I passed on the way to the misericord leads to the room where her baby is being kept. She then heads off to the bathhouse while I proceed the other way.

Whereas the corridor from the bathhouse to the misericord had plush carpeting, the floor here is metal. Around a corner is a small chamber, in which a life-sized metal statue of a warrior stands on the floor. Dare I risk the expenditure of Luck that trying to sneak past the statue is likely to entail, or should I try to deliberately animate it and hope that my high Skill will enable me to prevail where once I was beaten to a pulp?

Taking a closer look at the statue, I observe that part of its chest can open up. Undoing the catch, I look inside and see two buttons, one blue, the other brown. Hazy, decades-old memories from Physics classes suggest that those are two of the colours found on the wiring in British electrical plugs, and a quick check online confirms it. 

I press the button that doesn't match that of the live wire, and the statue activates. Its eyes open to emit a dazzling light, hitting me with an Attack Strength penalty, but I still have a narrow lead. Even so, the Metal Warrior strikes the first blow, but after that I get lucky: not only do I narrowly win the second round, but I roll a double when generating my Attack Strength, and the combination of those two factors has me deliver so powerful a blow that the statue falls over, breaking the circuit that enabled it to draw power through the contact of its soles with the metal floor. Instant victory for me.

Continuing on my way, I eventually reach two numbered doors. I turn my attention to door 1, which has a mechanical combination lock, and input the number I learned in the misericord. The door opens, and the air in the room beyond has a slight smell of ammonia. Entering, I see a wicker basket on the floor and a cross on the wall.

Disregarding the opportunity to just leave the room (and thus ensure failure), I approach the basket, which starts to move as if containing something alive (no, I still don't want to exit the room and doom myself, thanks very much). Looking into the basket, I see a sleeping baby.

Here we reach the controversial element of the adventure: the text gives me the option of killing the infant (and doing so with the correct implement is commended and rewarded). Readers have objected to this, and the author has objected to their objections and responded with arguments which convinced me that he cannot justify it and would have been better off not trying. 

Now, having had to play through every possible course of action in Sister Angela's Veil as a playtester, I am well aware that this is not the child of the woman I rescued, but is actually a disguised monster, and the safest course of action at this stage is to smite it with the warhammer. But there are no clues - indeed, all the information provided to the reader prior to this encounter points towards this being a real baby. Even the unpleasant smell is redolent of dirty nappies rather than supernatural evil. 

While acting on metaknowledge gained during previous attempts is pretty much inevitable when replaying gamebooks, that's not a good excuse for making it necessary (or even just advisable) to perform actions that are irrational or abhorrent. And no, 'other authors allowed or encouraged the readers to do bad things first' is not a valid excuse, either. Those earlier (and generally nowhere as extreme) instances have come in for plenty of criticism too.

Way too late for me to have included it in my playtester's comments, I did have an idea for an option other than 'endanger yourself' and 'act like a homicidal maniac'. If a player who'd acquired the holy water and got this far without using it were given the opportunity to pronounce a blessing over the presumed child, that could provide a low-risk and character-appropriate way of exposing the true nature of the beast. Regrettably, it didn't occur to me until some time after publication.

Anyway, I crush the monster and (after disregarding the inevitable 'leave before you can find the only thing that justifies coming here in the first place' option) go on to discover that the cross on the wall is actually a magic sword. There's really no reason why the reader shouldn't have been able to ignore the supposed child and look at the cross, thereby gaining the essential weapon without the contrived moral dilemma (maybe with a Test your Luck to avoid falling victim to a sneak attack while turned away from the room's occupant), but that's not how this mini-adventure rolls.

There's nothing else of interest in room 1, so I go back out and check out the other door, which also has a combination lock. This one opens when I try the number I found noted in that library book, revealing an apparently empty room with two damp-looking stone walls and one brick wall that looks as if it was put up comparatively recently. As I recall, it was at this door that I failed my very first attempt at the adventure, having missed the library and thus not found the combination, which somehow led my character to the conclusion that giving up on the mission and leaving the convent was the only acceptable course of action. Not sure what was preventing me from going back and searching more thoroughly - similar endings in older FF books would have things like an immovable portcullis or a room full of malicious entities to explain why being thwarted by a lock meant that my adventure ended there - especially as, having previously been knocked out and taken to the misericord while unconscious, I had no idea of the way out, and was going to have to search for that anyway.

Incidentally, if you were to go up to door 2 and use the combination for door 1, you would just be let into the room behind door 1 (and vice versa). Some might consider this to be a mistake, or at least a bit sloppy, but the same kind of thing can be found in a few of Ian Livingstone's books, so Lainian argumentation would doubtless cite those instances as a rebuttal.

Taking a closer look at the brick wall, I see that the mortar is in a pretty poor state, and it would be easy to remove enough bricks to create a way through. After making a decent-sized hole in the wall, I climb through, and am attacked by the animated corpse of a Priestess (whose appearance in the illustration doesn't really match the one given in the text). This Wight-Priestess can only be harmed by magical weapons (and a bit of editorial oddness has gone on here: the section to which you may only turn if you have a magic sword has gained a sentence telling players who lack a magic sword that they're doomed).

Even with the Attack Strength bonus provided by the magic sword, I lose a few rounds of the fight. Still, the Wight-Priestess loses more, so I survive the battle. The body crumbles to dust, and I notice a large mirror against one of the walls and decide to smash it (acting more on metaknowledge than any real logic, but this is small potatoes compared to the last thing I did with that hammer). And despite a certain playtester's having pointed out that any player who lacks a magic sword will have been killed by the Wight-Priestess before they could get this far, the text still says '(if you have one)' when including a sword in the list of things with which the mirror could be struck.

In any case, I hit the mirror with the hammer, and everything goes weird for a bit. The next thing I know, I'm on the floor of a sumptuously decorated bedchamber. Seated on a throne beside a table with golden goblets on it is an elderly lady. She wears the gown of a Priestess and some expensive-looking jewellery, and beckons me over. I ask who she is, and she reproves me for my lack of trust and introduces herself as Sister Amandla.

Again she invites me to join her and, because the text indicates that now would be a good time, I accuse her of being a fibber, and reach into my pack for the scroll that Grandier gave to me. The Priestess is enraged, and demands that I give her the scroll, and again I succeed at a crucial Luck roll by the narrowest of margins. Though my head hurts from the sound of her unnaturally amplified voice, I am still able to open the scroll and read out its contents. It's essentially a contract granting her eternal life, which can only be rendered null and void by telling her it's not true. As loopholes go, that's a pretty big one, and reading out the 'confession' is enough to cause her to age centuries in seconds, decaying until nothing remains but her gown.

So, while the relic I came here to investigate didn't exist, it is now true that all that remains of Sister Angela is the veil that lies on the floor. There are still a few issues, what with Angela having been evil rather than saintly, and responsible for corruption instead of miracles, but I'm sure some people would prefer to stick with the myth rather than the reality for the sake of the money that can be gained from gullible pilgrims. Deception and exploitation have featured prominently in the trade of relics and associated abuses in the real world, too. But precedent and justification are by no means the same thing, and if my character has any say in the matter, the veneration of Sister Angela will cease as soon as I report back to my superiors. However, that is beyond the scope of this adventure, which ends with me anticipating a good night's rest in the comfy bed that Sister Angela no longer requires.