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.