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.

The Embarrassing Early Works That You'd Rather Forget About

Apologies that this blog has been quiet for a few months. The next title I shall be playing here contains a controversial element, and the author has not handled criticism of it well in the past, which has been proving something of an obstacle to getting motivated to get back into it.

In the course of some decluttering at home I recently rediscovered an incomplete amateur gamebook that I wrote during my teens. Not sure exactly when, but in-jokey references to reading Trial of Champions suggest 1986. Looking back through the existing material (around a quarter of what was planned), I have to wonder how I ever came up with such nonsense. It involves a modern-day sorcerer investigating the actions of an individual (ultimately revealed to be named Elric Zaiphrex, and yes, on at least one route through the book it would have been necessary to convert his name into a number via the A=1, B=2 etc system) who's been transforming random bystanders into statues, before becoming involved in an attempt to establish a colony on another planet.

Incoherent as the narrative may sound, the material I wrote is even more muddled. Having chosen to write the sections in numerical order rather than following the sequence of events, and only having reached section 97 (of a planned 400) before getting permanently distracted from it, I have a scattershot selection of fragments of different set pieces, including random incidents of vigilantism, a meeting with the Prime Minister, and assorted perils encountered in an alien maze that I shoehorned in towards the end of the adventure to bring the section count up to the target number.

Mind you, the last of those did lead to what must be my favourite line in the whole text: a surprisingly bland description of the player character falling into a pool of acid and dying concludes with the statement, "Your last thought is that you should never have threatened the apes." The way things have been going of late, I needed a good laugh, and that phrase certainly provided one.

So Impenetrable to Human Thought, So Pitiless to Human Weakness

Back when I had a go at the Judges Guild Tunnels & Trolls solo The Toughest Dungeon in the World, I said that JG's T&T output 'at least initially' had the approval of Flying Buffalo, the company behind Tunnels & Trolls. Something appears to have changed by the time Judges Guild brought out their second T&T solo, Glenn Rahman's Jungle of Lost Souls, as the word 'Approved' on my copy has been covered with a label reading 'Suitable', and (in smaller print) 'Use of trademark not sanctioned by holder'.

Cursory research has turned up no information on what happened, but it's possible that FB may have had an issue with Jungle specifically rather than Judges Guild's publication of T&T material in general. The list of JG products inside the back cover still advertises Toughest Dungeon and the multiplayer dungeon Rat on a Stick as 'Approved for use with Tunnels & Trolls', but Jungle has been crossed out in blue pen.

Still, this blog is about playing the adventures and occasionally reminiscing about how I got them or what happened when I played them before, so I shan't speculate further. As regards my history with Jungle, I have very little to say. I got my copy on eBay, possibly along with some other titles, and I've not yet had a proper go at it.

Well, time to roll up a new character. The adventure introduces some new attributes, which I'll list after the usual stats. And I get:
Strength 10
Intelligence 8
Luck 15
Constitution 10
Dexterity 14
Charisma 13
Speed 8
Stealth 14
Willpower 10
Jungle Lore 5 (which is actually pretty good, as it's based on the roll of a single die)
The rules indicate that upon joining an expedition I will be issued with a machete, a short sword, and a suit of leather armour (and in this climate wearing heavier armour is not an option), so I limit expenditure on equipment to clothing, decent footwear, and a compass.

I start in a stockade a short distance to the north of a jungle in this world's equivalent of Africa (or possibly Wales, given that the local name for the jungle is Yspadden Wydyr). Two separate parties are preparing to embark on expeditions into the jungle, and while Jungle does have one of the 'refuse the call' options that are so inexplicably popular with some gamebook authors, I shall treat the opportunity to opt out with the contempt it deserves, which leaves me to choose between the explorers who are trekking in on foot and the ones who are taking a raft up river.

River, I think. Assorted die rolls establish that the party consists of a wizard, three warriors, and three Taweii (indigenous inhabitants) who didn't get to choose whether or not to go on the expedition. I don't approve of slavery, but both possible expeditions have a similar make-up, so the only way to avoid working with people who support the trade would be not to play the adventure, and if I were to avoid all gamebooks in which my character might interact with anything ethically questionable, there'd hardly be any I could play.

We set off down river, and randomness determines what happens next. In this instance, an unexpected whirlpool unbalances the raft, causing one member of the party to fall into the water, which is inhabited by flesh-eating mochdrev fish. The text gives no indication of who goes overboard, so I'll use an 8-sided die to choose: on a 1, it'll be the leader, on 2-4 one of the warriors, on 5-7 a slave, and an 8 means me.

It's a warrior. Using the table at the back of the adventure for determining companions' stats, I find that the warrior in question (whom I will henceforth refer to as Dunc) has a high Luck, which is good, as that's the score that will determine whether or not he gets rescued before being eaten alive. A few of us join forces to help him (the text says only that he gets a bonus to his roll for each party member attempting to assist him, but realistically, having all seven of us on the same edge of the raft is just asking for trouble, and between his Luck and the way the rules always allow for the possibility of failure, I don't think adding helpers makes any real difference), and the number rolled is more than good enough to enable him to get back onto the raft in good health. I gain a small experience bonus for participating in the rescue.

After that incident we must decide whether to carry on or turn back. As adventures go, 'one of us got wet' is pretty unimpressive, so I think we'll keep going. And this time the roll of the die determines that the river becomes unnavigable, forcing us to abandon the raft. Again we have the option of turning back, but it still seems too early for that, so we continue on foot.

Again what we encounter is down the whim of the die. Now it's a booby trap set by the natives, and another roll of the d8 clarifies that a different warrior (let's call this one Brad) falls into a spiked pit. Since he has his own stats, it seems fair to give him the same roll against Dexterity that I'd have had to make if I were the unfortunate party member - and he is badly injured but not killed by a bamboo stake. We extricate him and everybody gains a little experience.

The leader of the expedition (who probably merits a full name, so I dub him Edgar Ghaspipe) casts a healing spell on Brad, bringing him back to about half his full health, and we resume our trek. The next roll of the die has us discovering human footprints, but nothing to indicate whether the people who left them are benign or hostile. That's probably randomly determined as well - let's find out.

A little further along the trail we encounter a group of Taweii, and choose not to attack on sight. A roll against either Luck or Jungle Lore determines their reaction, and while I go with Luck as that's the higher stat, I roll well enough that I'd have succeeded either way. Even so, we're not out of the woods yet (nor the jungle, for that matter), as the outcome of our interaction depends on a Charisma roll. I can gain a bonus by offering a bribe, but I only have enough funds to potentially improve my chances from extremely low to highly unlikely. I don't think it's worth it... and with what I rolled, I'd have failed even if I'd have handed over the GDP of the entire planet. Still, while we gain nothing (beyond a little experience) from the encounter, we don't lose anything either.

Once more we must decide whether to continue exploring or turn back, and 'continue' includes the option of building a raft and trying to find a river to use it on. Taking the time to construct a raft would also allow Edgar to regain some of his spellcasting power and Brad to heal a bit more, but at the same time it would increase the risk of a random hostile encounter. Let's chance it... Nothing nasty attacks, but another lousy roll means there's no nearby river suitable for travelling on, so the raft we built is of no use. We've still not achieved anything noteworthy, so let's keep going on land.

Well, that was a poor decision. Disease-bearing insects infest the area, and I contract something fatal. Edgar and Brad also die, but Dunc and the other warrior survive, as do two of the slaves. Maybe the remnants of the party go on to discover a vast treasure hoard and return to civilisation with it, both Taweii gain their freedom, and Dunc becomes a renowned adventurer and saves the world a few times, but my part in the expedition is definitely over.

Open Doors Would Soon Be Shut

It's about time I went on with my probably-doomed-but-can-still-be-informative attempt at Sir Ian Livingstone's The Port of Peril. So I'm on my way to the Moonstone Hills, hoping that the map I obtained in Chalice will enable me to find some treasure and turn around my fortunes.

As I trek on, I catch sight of some birds circling above a building. I can think of a couple of earlier books by Mr. Livingstone in which circling birds were a sign of nothing good, but I also know that he does like to throw the occasional curve ball (like the way he clearly has a preferred direction at left/right junctions, but often makes it advisable or essential to go the other way at some point), so I'll investigate in case this time the birds are drawing my attention to something useful or essential rather than potential trouble or death.

The building is a simple cabin, and the birds would appear to be interested in the blueberry bushes planted in front of it, yet not helping themselves to the fruit for fear of the scarecrow in the midst of the bushes. Would I be right in thinking that the scarecrow is neither inanimate nor as good-natured as Worzel Gummidge? There's only one way to find out...

Well, I was half right. The scarecrow turns out to be a live human, held captive and used to deter birds by the inhabitants of the cabin. As I draw near, the door bursts open and a trio of Blue Imps charges towards me, brandishing oversized cutlery (and I'm not talking tablespoons). I have the option of trying to flee, but the Imps don't seem like a serious threat, and rescuing their prisoner seems like a worthy cause.

They were in the bottom tier of opponents in the Deathtrap Dungeon computer game.

For no good reason the Imps attack one at a time, and I manage to kill them all without taking any damage. When I untie their unwilling scarecrow, he explains that they captured him while he was camping in the area, and threatened to eat him if he didn't keep the birds away from the bushes. They were cultivating the berries in order to make dye for their skins rather than for food, but the man I freed proves that the fruit is edible by devouring several handfuls, and I also eat some to restore a little of the Stamina I lost fighting Man-Orcs.

When I explain my quest, the man advises me to build a fire to deter nocturnal predators, and gives me some stikkle wax to use as a remedy for Gronk bites, before setting off home. I opt to check the cabin for potentially useful bric-â-brac, helping myself to an Imp's knife along the way. Inside the cabin I find some Imp-sized furniture, a simmering cauldron of dye, and a shelf cluttered with jars. There are seven jars, and I can take just three of them because whatever. No idea what could be useful, beyond the fact that I was not able to remain spoiler-free regarding the identity of this book's villain, and one of the jars contains one of the substances that were needed to help defeat him the last time he was a gamebook antagonist. I take that one and more or less arbitrarily also select Noop Powder and Fireroot Juice.

Continuing on my way, I don't reach the hills until dusk (though if I hadn't detoured to the Imps' hut, I'd have arrived no sooner - section number recognition is not a skill I can turn off).  Before settling down for the night I gather up some fallen branches to bodge together a bivouac, and rummage through my backpack for some scraps of food (despite still having the cobs of corn I picked earlier in the day and the Provisions that the rules said were part of my starting inventory). It's a warm night, but I remember the ex-scarecrow's advice, and build a fire anyway. Consequently, while I hear animals in the vicinity a couple of times during the night, nothing attempts to prey on me or press-gang me into becoming a weathervane or a paperweight.

In the morning I press on towards the crag indicated on the map. Along the way I notice a cave mouth leading into another hill and, aware that not exploring the cave is just as likely to prove lethal as exploring it, I take a closer look. Almost immediately I am attacked by a Plague Witch, and while her stats are negligible, she only needs to win one round of combat to infect me, with game-ending consequences. The dice continue to favour me (though I did draw one round, so if I hadn't restored the Skill point I temporarily lost, that would have been it for this post, bar some kind of pithy summing-up paragraph).

The only item of potential interest in the cave is a clay pot with a cracked lid. It could contain something essential, or its contents might be harmful - with Ian Livingstone and pots, you never can tell unless you check. And it holds 5 gold pieces and a lock of hair, presumably from the head of the hag I just slew. Well, that could come in very handy, unless Ian is playing an elaborate prank on readers of his earlier books.

Continuing through the hills, I unavoidably stumble and hurt my arm, taking negligible damage. After a while I reach a gully with a stream running through it, and pause to top up my drinking water. A boulder rolls downhill towards me, but I manage to dodge it. For a moment I think it might be a Boulder Beast, as the author does like including them in gamebooks, but no, it seems to be just a regular boulder, rolled at my by a couple of Wild Hill Men (also quite popular in his works, but I've already linked the relevant books once in this post).

Annoyed at having failed to kill me, the Wild Hill Men try firing arrows instead, but I take cover behind the boulder. One of them flings everything remotely throwable in the vicinity my way (including his bow and shoulderbag), and once they're out of potential missiles, the two give up trying to harm me and wander off. I help myself to the bow and arrows, and find that the bag contains a gold coin, some salt, and a box of fish hooks. What is it with Ian Livingstone and fish hooks nowadays? One of his other 21st-century gamebooks included what seemed like dozens of opportunities to acquire them, and if there's any point in that book at which they become useful, I never found it.

I also take a drink from the stream, regaining the Stamina I lost when I fell over, before resuming my travels and finally reaching my destination, a hill shaped something like a massive skull, not unsurprisingly named Skull Crag. Openings in the hill roughly correspond to eye sockets and mouth, and I risk going into the one at ground level. My lantern reveals charcoal drawings of monsters on the walls, and at the back of the cave is a tunnel entrance leading to a junction. Time to see if Sit Ian's favourite direction remains unchanged...

Apparently it has changed. Or he's picked up Steve Jackson's trick of giving the reader a choice between death and death, and I should have avoided Mouth Cave altogether. Either way, a stone slab descends behind me, trapping me in the depths of the crag to starve to death.

Well, after a pretty poor start, that book was okayish. Not up there with Mr Livingstone's finest, but an improvement on at least the previous two FF books he penned. I am a little less pessimistic than I was about the news that he has another Deathtrap Dungeon sequel coming out later this year.

Lives of War and Blood and Fury and Hate

After Blood of the Zombies failed to inject new life into Wizard Books' second range of Fighting Fantasy gamebooks, there was no new 'official' FF published for around five years. Then Scholastic started publishing the series, and after reissuing several books that had already been republished twice, they brought out a brand new adventure, Ian Livingstone's The Port of Peril.

Port was the first Scholastic FF book I bought, since I already had more than one copy of the books that preceded it. The cover illustration of the Scholastic The Citadel of Chaos did tempt me a little, but when I came across a copy in the local WHSmith and saw how appalling the internal artwork was, I decided it really wasn't worth it. A new book was a different matter, even if it was by Ian Livingstone, whose last two additions to the canon had proved disappointing, so I ordered a copy online.

Once it arrived, I took a brief look at it, but the opening of the adventure failed to grab me with its mixture of rule-contradicting instructions and haggling over uninteresting tat. The book went on the shelf, and I did little or nothing with it until it came up in 2022's 'play all the FF books' challenge at the Fantazine forum. So I finally had a proper go at it, and started to engage with some actual plot, but then my character got bitten by a Zombie and infected with something terminal, and the plot hadn't engaged my interest enough to make me want another go. Eventually last year's similar challenge reached Port, and I had another go at the book, finding the early stages a bit more bearable thanks to the snarky observations I'd made when summarising paragraphs in my gamebook manager. While I did get a little further on my second attempt, poor communication between author and reader resulted in my character's being trapped in a cellar to starve.

I haven't had another go at the book since then, so this will be my third try.

My character is a down-on-his-luck adventurer, unsuccessfully seeking employment in the town of Chalice, and reduced to scavenging for scraps of food. Towards the end of one miserable day, I overhear a conversation between two men on their way out of a tavern, who helpfully address each other by name: Gregor has bought a treasure map from an impoverished old man, but Eryk believes him to have been conned, and convinces him to discard it. As they wend their unsteady way to a different tavern, I help myself to the map, hoping that it is genuine and will provide a means for me to drastically improve my circumstances. But it's a bit late to embark on a new adventure right now, so I find somewhere I can sleep rough in comparative safety and settle down for the night.

I think it's time to roll up my stats. My previous attempts at the book have made me aware that my Luck is liable to come in for quite a bit of Testing early on, and I am well aware of Sir Ian's tendency to throw opponents with high Skill scores at the players, so I think allocating dice might be prudent. This gives me
Skill 11
Stamina 16
Luck 9
That Luck is slightly iffy, but the rules say I start with the standard 10 Provisions and potion (apparently I'm the kind of near-starving hero who carries around more than a week's supply of food and a magical restorative), so if I take the Potion of Fortune I can improve my chances a little more.

Woken at dawn by inconsiderate cockerels, I go rummaging through the oddments discarded by market traders and bodge together a tomato sandwich, which allows me to gain a point of Stamina. Or would if I didn't start the adventure at full Stamina, the rules not permitting me to exceed my Initial score without explicit permission, but I guess that, having (erroneously) concluded that nobody ever plays these books by the rules, the author can't be bothered to follow them either.

I then carry out a quick inventory check, which reveals me to be carrying almost a dozen items in addition to the standard adventuring set-up. The list doesn't include the map on which this adventure hinges, but who can be bothered to remember trivia like that when there are nails and twine to be keeping track of?

Anyway, having determined the precise nature of the clutter I'm carrying, I can get started on my adventure. By which I mean 'chat with the man who's sweeping the road'. He is, at least initially, not in a talkative mood, so to get him to open up I have to offer to trade one of my belongings for something else to eat. I think this might have been the last straw that prompted me to quit reading the book back when I first got it: having started out by getting an unusable boost to my Stamina, I now have to pay for another one in order to unlock what could be an essential interaction. Right now I don't know what will prove indispensable in Port, but acquiring the right odds and ends has been key to success in every previous gamebook by Mr. Livingstone, and it would be just like him to make this rather tiresome encounter the only way to acquire something without which I will later be doomed.

With deep anger and resentment I hand over those nails in return for the ingredients of another unnecessary sandwich. The sweeper then offers me some snake oil, which will apparently protect me from snake bites, if I can give him some twine in return, and following the conclusion of that deal, reveals that he needs a bird-shaped ornament for his wife's imminent Birthday, and is willing to let me have some foul-smelling skunk oil if I can provide him with one. I do happen to be lugging around a brass owl, so I hand it over, wondering if the sweeper got tricked into buying the skunk oil by a dodgy perfume salesman and was at least astute enough to check the contents of the bottle before he could make the mistake of presenting it to his spouse.

By now the market traders have opened up and a crowd is forming, so I hang around, wondering if there's someone here who desperately needs skunk oil and happens to be carrying a useless-to-them key with a number engraved on it. Seemingly not, but I do catch sight of a cutpurse helping herself to a pouch from someone's backpack. I confront her, and she loudly accuses me of trying to rob her. Initially the crowd takes her side, but then the old man from whom she stole confronts her, and the tide of public opinion turns in my favour. Another man (possibly a purveyor of fruit and vegetables who's just discovered that some of his wares have spoiled) orders that she be put in the stocks, and encourages the mob to pelt her with rotten tomatoes.

The old man thanks me for intervening, and reveals that the thief almost got away with a month's earnings. I ask him what his trade is, and he tells me he makes lucky charms. As a reward for my assistance, and for showing some interest in his business, he gives me a little money and an example of his handiwork.

Continuing to look around the market (and being told by the book that I am penniless even though I literally just received some coins), I encounter a card sharp who offers to wager 5 gold pieces against my sword. And this looks like the point at which a wise player will conclude that they've probably got everything they need from this stage of the adventure, and move along before the penalties start getting applied.

The section to which I now turn is the same one as for not talking with the sweeper, so if I hadn't exchanged my nails for that superfluous sandwich, I'd have missed the whole encounter with the thief and the lucky charm manufacturer. There are three possible exits from the market square, and I choose Beggar's Alley.

Unsurprisingly, it's full of people who are even worse off than I am. I hand over some of my recently-acquired coins to the closest beggars, and learn that one of them used to be a jeweller in Port Blacksand. I now have the option of asking him about Gurnard Jaggle... Who? Rechecking the map, I see that the accompanying instructions are signed 'Murgat Shurr', which doesn't help. Have I come this way too soon and missed out on a clue, or is this like the time Ian Livingstone required his readers to ask for a very specific item that had never been mentioned before in the book?

A quick look at the FF wiki's list of errors for this book reveals that 'more likely than not' I won't have heard that name before, implying that there is a path to here on which I would have heard it, so I think I need to pass up the conversational gambit this time,and hope I don't miss out on anything too vital.

Continuing down the alley, I see a barrel in front of a door. Remembering the author's previously displayed tendency to have barrels contain nothing but trouble, I ignore this one, and try knocking on the door. Which leads to my being mistaken for a door-to-door salesman and clobbered with a chair leg.

I got off lightly compared to these salesmen.

Hastily moving on, I reach Lion Street, which is clearly a more prosperous part of town. On one side of the road, a gargoyle-topped wall limits access to a large mansion, while the other side is lined with shops and houses. I think I'm least likely to come to further harm checking out a shop.

The only shop of potential interest that's open is a locksmith's. There I am offered a bunch of random keys for a price that makes me regret not having chosen a path that would net me more money than I've acquired. Looks like I've just failed this book, however long it might take me to actually reach a bad ending.

I still have the option of trying to climb that wall, or I can just leave town. Given the likelihood that my not being able to afford those keys has already doomed me, I figure that I might as well check if the gargoyles are as animated and lethal as I expect them to be. In the unlikely event that their presence is just a bluff, I could discover something worth knowing about for future attempts at the book.

The wall is too high and smooth to climb. Catching sight of a couple of off-duty bakers trudging home, I decide to risk their summoning representatives of local law enforcement, and ask for their assistance. They are amused rather than outraged, and one of them tells me that trespassers in Hog House aren't prosecuted, they're executed. Nevertheless, I persist in seeking help, and the bakers give me a bunk-up before going on their way.

While the gargoyles don't come to life and attack, a couple of guard dogs respond to my unauthorised presence. I could try jumping back down into the street, but I'm going to check and see if this side quest really is just the dead end it's made out to be. Leaping into the mansion's grounds, I land badly, taking Skill and Stamina damage, and the dogs attack one at a time for no logical reason. Despite my impairment, I kill both without taking further damage.

Proceeding to the mansion's front door, I get to choose between ringing the doorbell or trying to open the door. It's a bit late to try and avoid attracting attention, but I make a half-hearted attempt at getting into the house anyway, and find that I cannot open the door. All right, then: time to see if the residents were in urgent need of the services of an itinerant dog-slayer.

I hear footsteps, followed by the sound of a bolt being undone, and a bald-headed butler in mostly traditional garb (but red socks) opens the door and indicates that he wants to know why I'm here. While I could say I'm an out-of-work adventurer seeking employment as a guard, I also have the option of claiming I've been sent to collect a letter. Given that this book was written by a man who once made ringing a random handbell at an undead monstrosity the best course of action, randomly endeavouring to intercept a complete stranger's mail is way too specific an action to pass up.

The butler indicates that deliveries to and from the house are only made by Striders, on Lady Francesca de la Vette's orders, and as I don't resemble a Strider (I guess my arms are too short, thinking back to the primary distinguishing feature of the one Strider encountered in a previous Ian Livingstone book), he threatens to summon the guards.

I could still try asking about a job as a guard, but Lady Francesca probably only employs Ocelot-Men or something similarly nothing-like-me as guards, so I'm going to conclude that if anything of value is to be gained from this whole interlude, it's her name (or possibly the fact that her staff wear red socks), and leave while I still can.

Heading towards the gates that lead out of the grounds, I see a couple of guards patrolling on top of the wall (species not mentioned, so maybe they are human after all), and avoid attracting their attention. There are another two on duty at the gates, but by using the 'I have a perfectly valid reason for being here' saunter, I get close enough to be able to make a bolt for freedom before they think to challenge me. One tries to give chase, but I take to the back streets and lose him before continuing towards the gates leading out of Chalice.

The road leads past a ruined church and its graveyard, and passes scattered dwellings before terminating at the edge of a cornfield. In the distance I see Darkwood Forest, but this is not (yet) an adventure that requires me to go there, so I head around the field in the direction of the 'X' marked on Murgat's map.

Before I've got very far, I hear galloping hooves and the sound of a hunting horn. Previously I've hidden from the approaching rider, but since I'm now using this ill-fated character to test the inadvisability of reckless-seeming choices, I think I'll wait and see who's coming.

The rider wears black robes, and gestures at me to get out of the way. He doesn't slow down at all, so I have to dive aside to avoid being hit, and an Unlucky roll leads to my losing four coins as I hit the ground. An impressive feat, given that I only had one on me, and there's not much point in rolling to determine the type of each dropped coin. Well, I guess I could argue that if the dice were to indicate that I only dropped gold pieces, I should be allowed to retain my lone copper, but this is ludicrous enough as it is.

Pilfering some corn from the field (an action I don't get to choose whether or not to take), I restore the Stamina I lost jumping from the wall, and stash a few cobs in my pack for later. Soon I leave the field behind, and as it's getting late, I start looking for somewhere to shelter. Not far away is a tumbledown cottage which has lost most of its roof. That's where both of my previous attempts at this book have ended, so I down my Potion of Fortune before taking a look inside.

Two Man-Orcs are already sheltering inside the ruin, and attack as soon as I enter. Despite my substantial Skill advantage, I take a couple of wounds in the course of the fight. Searching the bodies and the remains of the cottage, I find an assortment of what could be junk or might serve some useful purpose, including a selection of jars with unprepossessing contents. Still, I'd have to discard items if I wanted more than one jar, which suggests that they might not be completely useless, so I grab the one containing bones.

My search also turns up a trapdoor, partially concealed under an iron stove. I risk moving the stove and unbolting the trapdoor. A smell of decay emanates from below, and I hear dragging footsteps and what could be a death-rattle. Naturally I investigate, and I'm still descending the stairs when the lurking Zombie attempts to bite my ankle. On this occasion it doesn't succeed, and while the subsequent fight is another one in which I get injured by a woefully inferior opponent, the wound isn't game-ending.

As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I see graffiti (written in blood) on a couple of the walls - the message 'help me' and an arrow indicating a crack. Then I hear footsteps from above, and now I know that 'stay where you are' means not 'attempt to avoid detection by the new arrival' but 'stand in plain sight of anyone who glances through the open trapdoor and gawp like a moron while they trap you down here', I charge up the steps while I still can.

A third Man-Orc has entered the building, and attacks me. It is no better a fighter than its late companions or the Zombie, so naturally I take another wound before killing it. This one's possessions include an iron trinket in the shape of a pig. Items shaped like animals are often dangerous or lethal in books by Ian Livingstone, but on occasion they can be essential acquisitions, so I'll risk adding this one to my inventory. Then I return to the cellar to check out the crack indicated by the blood arrow.

Stuffed into the crack is a piece of paper, on which is written a message from a miner whose co-workers trapped him in the cellar and abandoned him after he was bitten by a Zombie. In addition to apologising for any attacking he might have done while undead, the author reveals that he hid his belongings under the stairs, so I check and find a bag containing a copper bracelet. This could be a malicious prank played from beyond the grave, but if so, better to find out now than lose a character who had a shot at winning this book.

The bracelet makes me feel weak and numb, but then invigorates me, restoring the Skill I lost earlier and a little of the Stamina damage I've taken in this cottage. That Skill point could be taken as implying that checking out Hog House is indeed part of the optimal route through this book, but given the earlier examples of Stamina gain in defiance of the rules, I'm not convinced that Ian Livingstone put as much thought into it as I have just now.

Remember how I was looking for a place in which to shelter for the night when I came here? If not, don't worry: neither did the author, as the text now has me leave and resume my trek towards the Moonstone Hills.

Okay, my computer just froze, costing me a load of progress in the gamebook manager, and ran into difficulties when restarting because it was attempting to boot from a Monty Python's Flying Circus DVD, so I've had enough shenanigans for one day. I'll post what I've achieved so far, and get back to Port when I'm in a less irritable state.