Relic of the Disciplines of Geography

Not for the first time, I find myself making an unexpected cartography-related post in response to another gamebook blog. Deathtraps and Dungeons has just reached Fighting Fantasy book 40, Dead of Night, and it raised an issue I thought worth addressing. It says of the tiresome teleporting maze through which you must pass in the build-up to the endgame, "because you teleport you can not map it like a physical map".

While I agree that a conventional map would not work, I know that it is still possible to map the maze, because I was enough of a nerd to work out how to do so over 20 years ago. And here is that map:

Some explanation may be required. Almost every room in the maze is painted the colour of the lines indicating its walls on the map. The dark grey room in the top right corner is just said to be 'bleak', so I went with the grey. I realise that the indigo and violet are a bit tricky to tell apart, but those are the colours that were given - and as there's no actual need to pass through either of those rooms, it's not that big a deal.

The pale grey doors at the top and bottom of the middle rooms are the exit and entrance. Every other door has been given the colour of the room to which it leads. Thus, the white door leading from the red room leads not to the adjacent-as-depicted green room but to the white room on the far left. And as the corresponding door from the green room is not red but pink, it leads to the pink room on the lower right.

Once you understand the map, getting through the maze is actually quite simple - it can be done in just four moves. The maze is still one of the weaker aspects of the book, but it becomes a good deal less frustrating and time-consuming once you know the trick.

Well, I'm Back

It's taken a while, but I've finally reached the last of the Magnakai Lone Wolf books, The Masters of Darkness (unless you're looking at the spine of the Mongoose reissue, which omits the first 's', with bizarre implications). Traces of glue from a price label on the spine of my original copy suggest that, like The Dungeons of Torgar, I got it from Ballard's. Possibly even at the same time - that could help explain why I have no memories of reading any of Masters until the climax of my playthrough of the entire series back in the early 1990s. If simultaneously buying two books in a series with an ongoing plotline, I would most likely have opted to focus on the earlier one. Indeed, I might well have chosen to leave Masters unopened until after I’d played through the intervening title, The Prisoners of Time.

The narrative and the rules are somewhat out of sync right now: though I have collected all the Lorestones that I needed in order to become a Kai Grand Master, and thus ought to know all ten Magnakai Disciplines and have completed the four Lore-Circles, having completed Prisoners only permits me to add one of the two Disciplines I’m missing. I guess it’s possible that Animal Control might come in helpful at some point during this adventure, but Curing is more obviously beneficial: it lacks the ‘cannot restore Endurance lost outside of combat’ limitation of Healing. As I took a significant amount of non-combat damage shortly before the end of the previous book, was denied the restoration of Endurance that usually accompanies the acquisition of a Lorestone, and am about to incur further Healing-proof damage, I could potentially be stuck at around 60% of maximum Endurance for a hefty chunk of the adventure if I don’t upgrade from Healing to Curing.

At the end of Prisoners I entered the Shadow Gate that would take me back to Magnamund. The opening section of Masters describes my passage through the void, and the text has been polished a little for the Mongoose Publishing reissue. I’m not sure that most of the changes are necessary, but they’re nowhere near the worst of the alterations I’ve seen.

At last I find myself in familiar surroundings, and randomness establishes that I lost 8 points of Endurance in transit, so I’m very glad I went for Curing. Given that I do still have wounds sustained during the climactic battles in Prisoners, I would in any case be regaining Endurance throughout the decision-free chain of expository sections with which this book is front-loaded, but my new Discipline means that I shall probably still be getting better rather than as healed as I’m going to get by the time I next get to make a choice.

Let the info-dumping commence: I’m back in Sommerlund, in a chamber beneath the Guildhall of the sorcerous brotherhood to which my surviving friend Banedon belongs. He is present, as is Lord Rimoah of the Elder Magi, having been notified by prophecy that this is where and when I would return. The Mongoose edits start over-clarifying - is anybody really going to need it pointed out that my having survived means that I’m alive? Or that Rimoah is not happy at the prospect of being defeated by the forces of evil?

Thanks to trans-dimensional weirdness, while my adventures in other realms only took a few days, over eight years have passed on Magnamund since Darklord Gnaag dropped me through the Shadow Gate. Gnaag claimed to have killed me, which demoralised my allies (the loss of the wielder of the only weapon known to be able to kill the enemy leaders is liable to be a tad discouraging), and the Darklords have been spreading out across the world ever since. They used to be unable to survive for long outside of their home territories, but have now developed technology that makes it possible for them to thrive anywhere. Sommerlund has not yet fallen to their armies, but a naval blockade has cut off support from the allied forces of Durenor, so our defeat is inevitable unless I can save the world. Again.

The location of the Darklords’ naval base has had its name changed slightly in the Mongoose edition, ‘Helgenag’ becoming ‘Helenag’. This alteration is present on the frontispiece map as well as in the text, so I don’t think it’s just a typo. Perhaps someone at Mongoose felt that an acquaintance named Helen was complaining too much…

Anyway, the devices that sustain the Darklords in the field could also be the means of their defeat, as they depend on a power source based in the Darklords’ capital city of Helgedad (not renamed Heledad in the Mongoose text). If some valiant hero (i.e. muggins here) were to infiltrate Helgedad with an explosive device such as the one Rimoah now hands me, and blow up the Transfusor that keeps the Darklord life support network functional, the forces of evil would suffer a blow severe enough that Joe Dever wouldn’t have to write another Lone Wolf gamebook for at least a year.

There is more to the plan than that, of course. A small ship will run the blockade after night falls, transporting me to Darklord territory, where I am to contact an undercover ally who will take me the rest of the way to Helgedad. Most of the Darklords are currently causing bother in other parts of the world, so there won’t be many of them in the city. Just hordes of mooks, minions, mutants and monstrosities.

Oh, and for the bulk of this mission I need to avoid using the Sommerswerd, my Darklord-slaying blade, because Gnaag and his buddies would be able to sense it. Rimoah gives me a scabbard that blocks its emanations, which doesn’t count towards the limit on how many items I can carry because the author has realised that he kinda painted himself into a corner when he introduced that restriction a few books back. A similar loophole applies to the amulet that Banedon gives me to protect me from the noxious atmosphere of the Darklands.

At the harbour I am also given an envelope for Borse, the Captain of the Intrepid, the ship on which I will be travelling. It turns out that, to guard against leaks, the mission briefing he’s received is incomplete and misleading, and only when we’re through the blockade am I to let him know that, rather than going out for ice cream like he was originally told, we actually have to head for the heart of enemy territory.

Once Banedon and Rimoah have said their farewells, we set off, aiming to build up as much speed as possible before we reach the blockade. I head up onto deck to see if I can be of any assistance, and the enhanced night vision provided by Huntmastery at my level of proficiency enables me to spot that there are five ships patrolling up ahead, powered by something other than sail, and we’re on a collision course with the middle one. I point this out to the Captain, and randomness (with a bonus provided by one of my Lore-circles) determines how he responds.

I score just too low to be able to convince him of the danger, and while his own look-out does confirm the accuracy of my warning a short time later, that doesn't happen until we’re close enough to the Darklord ship to be seen and fired upon. What happens next is also randomised, and now that a low score is preferable, I get a higher one. The missile explodes above the Intrepid, and I take severe damage from the shrapnel (the RNG really has it in for me today).

The crew of the Intrepid prove competent and efficient in their response to the attack, extinguishing the fires and bringing the ship back under control. While the Darklord vessels are awkwardly manoeuvring with a view to pressing their attack, we slip through them and hasten on our way.

After warning his crew to be on the alert in case there’s a second line of Darklord vessels on the look-out for ships that run the blockade, the Captain heads for his cabin and instructs the first mate to show me to my quarters. While the possibility of a back-up blockade adds an element of ambiguity, I don’t like the idea of having the ship sail in the wrong direction all night, so I hand over the envelope from Banedon. Borse says he’ll look at it in the morning, and will not be persuaded of the need to read it immediately.

I can turn in for the night, or go back up on deck, and I think I’d rather be on hand to alert the crew to any further potential hazards. Not that that’s how things pan out: I wind up briefly conversing with the crew, learning that the Darklords have laid waste to their homelands, and then head for my cabin anyway. Still, it does provide me with another section’s worth of Endurance recovery, and right now I need to do a lot of healing.

My cabin is cramped and stinks of fish, but this does not prevent me from getting to sleep. In the morning the Captain finally reads his new orders and instructs the crew to change course, which they do without question. A quick peek reveals that things would have gone the same way if I’d chosen to hang on to the envelope until morning - I’d just have passed through fewer sections. Thanks to Healing and Curing, that does still make a small difference, but even so, the first proper decision in the book borders on irrelevant.

Our voyage is uneventful for the first couple of days, and then a thick fog descends, becalming the Intrepid and making the crew jittery. The sudden appearance of a shoal of red-finned fish alarms the sailors. Animal Control would now come into play if I had it, but I’ve just passed the point at which Curing starts to restore Endurance that Healing wouldn’t affect, and I doubt that whatever inconvenience may arise from my being unable to influence fish will be worse than being stuck at less than half of my potential Endurance.

A vast serpentine behemoth known as a Xargath attacks the ship, seriously damaging it and seizing several crewmen. I don’t know if we’re yet close enough to Darklord territory for the Sommerswerd to betray my presence if I draw it, but I’d rather not take that risk, so I’ll try and see if an arrow in the eye will discourage the beast.

Regrettably, my character seems rather more clueless than I, and wastes time scanning the monster’s scales in search of a vulnerability. A combination of Divination and Animal Control would help with identifying a weak spot, but I haven’t gained the latter Discipline since the previous check. A blast of Xargath halitosis blows me across the deck, doing a little damage but not causing me to lose my grip on the bow. I now get a choice of targets, and I’ll stick with my original plan. Regrettably, it turns out that Xargath have unusually hard eyeballs, and the arrow has no effect.

The Xargath lunges at me, but I dodge. It tries again, I evade it once more, and it smashes through part of the ship and gets stuck in the debris. So, do I attack it while it’s trapped, or whine ‘Go away!’ in the hope that that will discourage the massive aquatic predator? No, sorry, the second of those options is a strategy employed by a character in Jaws 2 rather than a choice offered in the text, but the actual alternative to combat looks like a similarly futile recourse to wishful thinking.

Leaping onto the creature’s scaly neck, I draw the Dagger of Vashna (the text doesn’t go into detail about my choice of weapon, but I’m not risking the Sommerswerd, and the magic spear that is my only other weapon would be a bit awkward under the circumstances) and stab away. Though the Xargath does its best bucking bronco impersonation, it’s a pretty underwhelming opponent stats-wise, and a single blow suffices to mortally wound it.

In its death throes, the Xargath manages to pull free of the ship’s superstructure, and the corpse sinks into the depths of the sea. The surviving crewmen who are still fit start tending to the wounds of their injured shipmates, and I assist.

Captain Borse is still alive, but his legs are broken, and without Curing I would be unable to help him. Even with it, I can only help stabilise him, but that enables him to remain conscious for long enough to pass command of the Intrepid to Davan, the first mate, and to invite me to help myself to the contents of the chest in his cabin. These turn out to be fancy armour, which add to both Combat Skill and Endurance, and I do have to discard items to make space for them, so I think I’ll ditch the blue stone triangle that opened locks in Kalte and Vassagonia, along with my last remaining Fireseed.

The Captain then passes out, and Davan and I go back out on deck. Only around half the ship’s crew are still fit for duty, and the Intrepid sustained a lot of damage in the attack, but it is still seaworthy. Davan observes that we’ll be doomed if a storm should hit, which is right up there with ‘What could possibly go wrong?’ and ‘I’ll be fine as long as I don’t roll a double six’ for inviting disaster.

Fate refuses the bait, and by the time the fog has dispersed and a breeze starts blowing, much of the damage has been put right. To reduce the risk of getting caught in a squall, we head for the coastline, but this does increase the likelihood of our encountering another Darklord vessel - which happens shortly after we sight land.

Two warships sight us and come after us, and we are unable to outrun them. The crew and I prepare to repel boarders as Drakkar warriors leap from the first ship to catch up, and I take down my first opponent with one stab of my spear.

Observing that Davan is outnumbered, I move to improve his odds, not even needing to use the Combat Results Table to carve up enough of his attackers that he can deal with the remainder. Then I see that enemy troops are attempting to seize control of the helm, and head astern to interfere with their plan (I was going to say ‘thwart’, but then I’d feel obligated to come up with a pun based on the nautical meaning of the word). A Drakkar Sergeant intercepts me, uttering underwhelming threats in Giak. If I spoke his language, I might respond, “Raz zuk!” but as it is, I get my message across with actions rather than words, taking negligible damage in the course of repeatedly impaling him.

His troops are a little demoralised by this, and I fight my way through them towards the helm. Davan warns me of an archer in the rigging, but I am unable to prevent the Drakkar from firing an arrow. Randomness determines the outcome of his shot, modified by my having Huntmastery and the most impressive Lore-circle, so there’s no way I can get the worst possible result. Good thing too, as I get a rubbish number, but the bonuses turn what would have been Instant Death into a scalp wound. I dodge his next shot altogether, and then a couple of glory-hungry allies of his blunder into his line of fire, hoping to carve me up, but getting perforated before they can land a blow on me.

I then show off, grabbing a dagger from the belt of one of the warriors I just killed, and hurling it at the archer with lethal accuracy. Observing the second ironclad approaching, intent on crushing the Intrepid between itself and its sister ship, I attempt to steer clear. Again the random factor comes into play, though I’d have no chance of getting the better outcome if I were playing this without having completed any of the preceding adventures. As I’ve made it through the other half-dozen in this sub-series, I have a 60% shot at getting the good result. That does, of course, leave a 40% chance of faring poorly regardless, but on this occasion I score highly enough that we avoid getting caught, and start to pull away from the enemy ships.

The text mentions that an unexpected attack is about to occur, somewhat diminishing the unexpectedness. Okay, I don’t yet know precisely what is about to happen, but I am now aware that something is imminent.

Oh. It’s a flaming projectile fired by one of the ironclads. A large piece of burning sail falls onto me, but I have Nexus and sufficient experience that I can extinguish it and take no damage from the fumes.

The others aboard the Intrepid can’t treat fires so lightly, and start to abandon ship. A Discipline check follows, and my old nemesis, the use of ‘or’ when it should be ‘and/or’, is back. Yes, I have all of the Disciplines that could help me here, and can thus sense that one of the surviving boarders is about to try and knife me in the back. I dodge, and retaliate with a lethal blow.

One of the ironclads has almost caught up, so I decide to leap overboard myself. As I’m preparing to jump, the ships collide, and I lose my balance and fall into unmodified randomness. I land on the ironclad’s deck, taking a little damage, and a Drakkar attacks me. He only just lasts long enough to regret his action.

Incidentally, the accumulation of non-combat damage means that if I hadn’t gone for Curing, I wouldn’t be able to heal above 3 Endurance without the help of potions or other restoratives. Actually, in view of damage sustained as a consequence of not having Animal Control, the healing ceiling might be 5, which is still woefully low. Oh, and armour provides another 4 points’ worth, but being stuck in single figures would not bode well.

My killing blow sends the body flying, and it knocks overboard the only other Drakkar who’d noticed me. Obscured by smoke, I sneak over to the wheelhouse. Three more Drakkarim come through a doorway, but (in slightly sloppily worded text that is not changed in the Mongoose edition) I casually slaughter them. Divination warns me that reinforcements are close behind them, so I slam the door shut and scurry off in search of a hiding place.

Drawing near to what may be the gun that fired the incendiary device at the Intrepid, I see the Drakkar Captain urging a trio of subordinates to load it and target the foundering caravel. Or possibly casting aspersions upon their parents: the word ‘muzar’ looks very French Taunter to me. No, a combination of Disciplines allows me to grasp that he’s preparing to commit an atrocity so sickening that a section transition is required to build apprehension.

The surviving members of the Intrepid’s crew are hanging on to floating bits of debris, and the Drakkar Captain intends to set them on fire. I have the option of trying to put an arrow through his head, and it’s not clear whether choosing not to do so means endeavouring to remain unnoticed or choosing a more ‘up close and personal’ means of dissuading him. No, I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to take action either way, so I shoot. The book has me put the arrow into his spine - a bigger target, but that’s rather nasty, even considering that he’s intent on immolating castaways.

A couple of the gun crew turn their attention to me. I have enough arrows for them as well. Except that one of them is protected by a steel breastplate, so I have to fight him mano a mano. The duration of the fight matters, but my Combat Skill advantage ensures that I’ll win within the optimal time frame regardless. The randomiser is unfavourable, so I take a fair bit of damage, but not even those lousy numbers can keep me from killing the Drakkar in the nick of time.

Though visibility is poor, the smoke doesn’t muffle sound very well, so other Drakkarim have heard the fighting, and I can hear them heading my way. Rapidly seizing control of the big gun, I rotate it in the direction of the approaching mob. They get close enough to see me, and I am not impressed at the far-from-pithy line the text has me utter before opening fire.

For the most part I’ve refrained from commenting on the Mongoose edits, most of which just simplify text that wasn’t that complex in the first place, but here the Mongoose edition omits the first digit of the section number to which readers are now directed to turn, and that is too serious a blunder to overlook.

The projectile tears through the Drakkarim and the ironclad’s deck, and continues until it reaches the store of armaments not currently in use, detonating the lot.

Somehow Lone Wolf survived. Without even losing any Endurance. I imagine a certain fan-unfavourite character from the novels and the next sub-series of gamebooks would take the credit for that, but it’ll be a while before I have to acknowledge her existence, so let’s say no more on the subject for now.

Anyway, I regain consciousness in a surprisingly buoyant fragment of the ironclad, and see that I have drifted some way from the site of the explosion. Indeed, I’m only around a hundred yards from the shore. Observing movement, I use my Huntmastery-derived enhanced vision, and am able to make out that a patrol of Giaks is helping survivors out of the water, and further assisting any of Borse’s crew out of this life. Not wishing to join the ranks of the skewered, I make for a less busy part of the coastline.

What with the end of the month and all that, I’ll leave it there for now. I have something else lined up for the end of October, so if I can finish Masters in just two or three weeks, the conclusion will follow. Otherwise there will be a brief interruption before I get back to Lone Wolf’s adventures.

A Knight on a Special Quest

My rota of shorter gamebook series has cycled back to Dave Morris’ Knightmare tie-ins. If the previous book in the series is anything to go by, the title The Sorcerer’s Isle will apply only to the novelette that takes up a little over half of the book, and the actual adventure is unlikely to take me outside of the castle dungeons.

For this venture into non-interactive fiction Dave Morris has, like Alan Garner in The Weirdstone of Brisingamen, drawn inspiration from the legend of the Wizard of Alderley Edge, though he takes things in a very different direction (geographically as well as plot-wise: the story is set in the Middle East rather than Cheshire). Treguard, residing in the city of Acre between the Fourth and Fifth Crusades, is sought out to assist with the quest for the Holy Grail after one of the sleeping knights is awakened. There are other interested parties, of course, and Treguard experiences various losses, hardships, perils and twists along the way.

The adventure includes a spoiler for the story, as I wouldn’t be being sent into the dungeons beneath Knightmare Castle in search of the Holy Grail if Treguard hadn’t already brought it here. Still, anyone who was planning on reading the novelette would probably have done so prior to making a start on the adventure, because the stories sometimes provide information that helps with solving puzzles within the gamebook.

There’s a small amount of character creation to be done, as I start with an Armour score of 1 and a Dexterity of 6, but can increase the former by decreasing the latter – the more protective gear I wear, the more restricted my mobility becomes. There is a third stat, Chivalry, but that always starts at a set total, and will change according to how I conduct myself over the course of the adventure. Obviously I need to aim for a high score, as an insufficiently chivalrous knight will have no chance of getting anywhere near the Grail.

I’ll start off as:
Armour 2
Dexterity 5
Chivalry 3
Unless I fare particularly poorly, playing the adventure should at least give some indication of what degree of balance between Armour and Dexterity works best.

It turns out that this might not be quite the dungeon-crawl I expected. While I will be starting under the castle, I may be transported by ley lines to all manner of different locations. As I prepare to set off, Treguard’s fae assistant Pickle discreetly hands me a bar of chocolate, which presumably constitutes an item of food that can be used to restore lost health when the text indicates that I can eat.

From the entrance I proceed to a pentagonal chamber, from which four doors lead on. Each door is marked with a different symbol, and in view of the object of my quest, I think it wisest to choose the door bearing the sign of the cup. After I step through, Treguard’s voice rings out, telling me it’s not that obvious, but I have chosen a path as good – and as hazardous – as any other.

A short distance along the passage, I espy a door in the left wall, and risk checking to see what’s behind it. It opens into a chamber containing a curtained podium and a white-haired hunchback, who asks for a favour. Refusal may be considered unchivalrous, so I allow him to lead me to the podium. It then transpires that he wants someone to act as judge in his mistresses’ annual Ugliness Contest. There are three candidates: the conventionally attractive but sinister-seeming Lilith, the significantly less good-looking Mildread, and the positively grotesque Alison Gross. So, do I pick the obvious candidate, choose one of the others, or refuse to pass judgement?

It may be a cop-out, but I’m not going to select anyone. This earns me a point of Chivalry, and gets me called a variety of rude names by everyone in the room. I absent myself before any of them thinks to progress to more puissant curses.

The next section provides an opportunity to eat, which suggests that I could have taken some damage if I’d named a name and caused more serious offence to the wrong woman. As I got away unscathed, I can just move on to the next choice.

Suddenly transported to a garden with high hedges, I wander around until it dawns on me that I’m in a maze and have got myself lost. At a fountain I pause to rest, and a woman beneath the water offers a challenge. If I can solve her three conundrums, she will teach me some magic. Two correct answers will buy me freedom from the maze, while one will provide only a clue. Should I get all of them wrong, I will be trapped here forever. Risky, especially as Dave Morris can be a bit sneaky with puzzles, but the sorcerous ability could prove essential later on, so I’ll chance it.

They’re all true or false questions, with tricky aspects, and having read the novelette provides no assistance with any of them. I get two of them right (one for a reason other than the one specified, as I was looking for deviousness in the wrong place, but in this instance being correct is all that matters), so a gate appears in one of the hedges. Hastening on my way, I find thick, thorny vegetation on the other side of the gate, and an Armour check determines whether or not I get through uninjured. Owing to my low score, I do take a little damage, so it might be worth eating that chocolate when the book next indicates that I may do so – which turns out to be almost immediately. While I’m still two wounds from death, there is precedent for taking double damage in a single incident, so I heal up while I know I can.

Beyond the thorns is a stream, and at its edge I find a fishing rod and bait. Stealing the rod would obviously be a bad idea, but catching a fish and leaving it for the absent angler might constitute a chivalrous act. A Dexterity roll determines how I fare at this endeavour, and even though the odds are much more favourable than they were for the previous roll, I still fail, and thus catch nothing, not even the discarded footwear that traditionally signifies an unsuccessful session of fishing.

Resuming my travels, I head down a road until dusk begins to fall. Someone approaches from the other direction, and the clanging of a bell indicates them to be a leper. Shunning him because of his illness strikes me as being a pretty unchivalrous course of action, so I don’t go out of my way to avoid him. He asks for alms, but I have no money, and recently ate the only food I had, so I can give only my apologies.

Up ahead is the Forest of Freneville (I’m not sure how I can identify it quite so specifically, but apparently I am able to discern its name). Cautiously I enter, and before long I hear indications that someone or something is following close behind me. For a moment the moonlight illuminates a face, the mouth fanged, and then a cloud plunges my surroundings into complete darkness. While there are, it seems, a few different ways in which I might escape this peril, I’ve acquired no items or spells, nor (so far as I can tell) did I encounter the individual who could be of assistance, so my only hope is to try running away from the Vampire. Can I at least succeed at this Dexterity check?

Yes, I can. He manages to wound me, but I escape with my life. The lateness of the hour prompts thoughts of getting some rest, and a failed item check leaves me with no alternative to climbing a tree and wedging myself into the fork between two branches. Following another check for an object I lack, I doze off and dream of a confrontation with the revenants of all the knights who attempted and failed this quest before me. They prick me with their lances, and I wake to hints that I have been preyed upon by a flock of vampire bats.

Nope, it turns out that the winged predators which sucked my blood while I slept are mythical birds known as striges. Regardless of my Armour rating, they were able to find unprotected patches of flesh into which they could stick their probosces, and a roll of the die will determine whether I’m merely near death or already carrion. I narrowly survive, and spend the rest of the night awake and filled with dread, my hair turning white from the experience.

In the morning I descend and find my way through to the other side of the forest, where a new trial awaits me. A fast-flowing river cuts across my path, the only visible bridge being guarded by one of those knights who won’t let anyone across unless they lop off all of his limbs best him in friendly combat. That’s ‘friendly’ as in ‘not liable to end in death unless one of the combatants is already in as pitiful a condition as I am’.

So, do I chivalrously engage in a play-fight that probably has a 2 in 3 chance of killing me, or trudge along the river bank in search of another way of crossing, doubtless with its own risks? I seek an alternative, and find only a boatman who charges a price I cannot afford. Well, then, I must fight the knight.

Unexpectedly, my low Armour score may prove advantageous. The knight finds me too unimpressive a potential opponent to be worth fighting, and scornfully returns to the pavilion in which he sits out the periods when nobody sufficiently imposing wants to make use of the bridge. I cross before he can change his mind.

Up ahead is a snow-clad moor, its only noteworthy feature a circle of standing stones that must date back centuries at least. At its centre is an altar stone, upon which I see the Grail. Before I can draw near, white-robed Ladies of Avalon block my way, checking to see if I am sufficiently chivalrous. It all hinges on one last roll of the die, and I get the best score I’ve had all adventure. With no further obstacles in my way, I reach for the Grail…

…and find myself back in Knightmare Castle with Treguard. He reassures me that I did succeed in my quest, having lived up to the ideals represented by the Grail, thereby proving myself worthy. As victories go, that's a little anticlimactic, but not unpredictable, all things considered.

So, I’ve finally won a Knightmare gamebook, though not in a particularly heroic or impressive manner. At the start Treguard indicated that there were many routes to the Grail, so it might be worth playing again at some point, to see if I can have more of an adventurous experience along the way. Still, an end to this latest losing streak is a good thing, however underwhelming the manner in which I achieved it.

Beat the Inevitability of Death

It's my 400th post here, which strikes me as being as good a reason as any to return to the topic of gamebooks it is impossible to fail. I've already spent some time going on about the more linear variety, in which the plot follows essentially the same beats and progresses to the same ending no matter what choices you make, here.

However, there are also books in which your decisions do make a difference - sometimes to the extent that a completely different adventure happens (or fails to) depending on some of the earlier choices made - but all of the endings are 'good'. Some may be better than others, but failure is not going to happen, no matter what you do.

William Rotsler's Star Trek III gamebook The Vulcan Treasure fits more into this category than the preceding one, though all routes throught the book do end at the same Epilogue section. Pedantic geeky digression: exactly what the book has to do with the third Star Trek film is unclear, as (do I need to add a spoiler warning for films from over 4 decades ago?) Mister Spock is an active member of the Enterprise crew throughout the book, even though he's basically dead at the start of the movie, and by the time he's properly alive again the ship has been destroyed, with no point during the narrative into which the events of the book could be shoehorned.

Continuity concerns aside, it's a pretty straightforward plot. The U.S.S. Enterprise discovers clues hinting at the whereabouts of the crown jewels of Vulcan, sent away from the planet for safety during the civil war centuries ago, and lost ever since. Captain Kirk and his crew investigate, at various points along the way the reader decides what happens next, things occur (I avoid using the term 'adventure' here, because in many instances that would be overselling the sequence of events), and ultimately the missing treasure is found and prompts some pseudo-philosophical waffle about what is truly of value in the universe.

I said 'what happens next' rather than 'what the ship's crew do' above, because this is one of those gamebooks where the reader has greater control over the narrative - for example, getting to choose whether or not a corridor turns out to be booby-trapped. While I'm not as hostile towards that sort of thing as some gamebook fans, it's not one that appeals to me much, either. Still, my issues with this book have less to do with the occasional immersion-breaking decision than with the fact that so many of the paths through the book just aren't very interesting.

Reader choice occasionally influencing more than just the actions of the viewpoint character is also an aspect of some of the Doctor Who-based Decide Your Destiny gamebooks. But only some - the lack of consistency across this series is remarkable. Or should that be 'these series'? There are two separate numbered runs, one set during the first David Tennant era, the other in Matt Smith's run. And only half of the Matt Smith ones qualify for mention here, as the series unexpectedly introduced the possibility of failure into the last two books.

Setting aside the books with some bad endings for proper playthroughs at some future point, the rest are variable. Some intermittently allow the reader to decide what happens, others only allow you to choose the actions taken by the Doctor and/or his companions. Some have a coherent central plot, others diversify into different and mutually incompatible narratives. Some take an interesting premise and develop it into an engaging adventure, others rely on a clichéd set-up and waste whatever potential it may still have. Some are decently structured, others give the impression that the author never really cared about continuity from one section to the next (for one particularly sloppy book I created a mini-game based on seeing how many times my character could make the same 'shocking' discovery during a single playthrough).

In a way it's appropriate - Doctor Who the TV series has at times been similarly inconsistent, with some of its highest peaks and lowest troughs close together in broadcast order - but I'd have preferred not to have the books that are just dull and uninspired. I got the original run of twelve books as a job lot, but anyone buying individual books from the series would (at least until they learned which authors' names were to be taken as red flags) have little to no idea whether they'd be getting an enjoyable (if limited) gamebook or a waste of paper and time. 

While I'm talking about Doctor Who gamebooks, I'll also give a dishonourable mention to part of Michael Holt's Crisis in Space from the Find Your Fate series. I say 'part of' because this book has a design feature I've never seen anywhere else, splitting into a 'no possibility of failure' linearity-fest and a more conventional (but still rubbish) gamebook at the first decision. Pick one destination, and your subsequent choices (and the occasional roll of a die) will have some effect on whether you live, die, or get press-ganged into becoming a hair stylist for the villain's consort (yes, that really is one of the possible ways of failing). Go for the other option, and all roads lead to the same partial victory (except for the typo that takes you to the wrong section, relocating you to another planet and the narrative strand where you can influence the outcome). Almost 40% of the sections are taken up with this 'fixed outcome' route, including a load of 'No, you've taken the wrong turning' padding towards the end of one sub-path. Crisis might not quite be the worst gamebook I've ever encountered, but I'd be surprised if any other can beat it for sheer variety of flaws and bad ideas.

Another slightly questionable fit for this post is The Mind Master, the second book in Philip Herriott's inconsistent Magic Mystery series. The book has three endings - two partial victories and one complete success - and a few less positive non-endings. Two of these are the kind of 'you messed up, so go back to section 1 and choose better' cop-out used in the F.E.A.R. Adventures series, while the other would be a proper 'fail' ending if it weren't for the way it's presented. In essence, the relevant page says, "You're in a dire situation. You can either seek help (turn to another page) or accept abject defeat." What reader, presented with such a choice, is going to pick the latter option? Well, I suppose that, since the only person available to help in the situation is a woman, a really hard-core misogynist might decide 'I'd rather fall victim to the bad guy than be rescued by a female', but really...

I've only read one of Carolyn Keene & Franklin W. Dixon's Be A Detective Mystery Stories gamebooks, and thus cannot be certain that it is representative of the series as a whole, but at the very least book 3, The Feathered Serpent, has only successful endings. A third person narrative, featuring the authors' characters Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys, it frequently presents the reader with a different kind of choice than most gamebooks: on which character the narrative is to focus. There's little to no consistency between different paths through the book - the identity of the criminal(s) and even the nature of the crime being perpetrated varies from one route to the next. As mysteries, they're not that great, with clues frequently being discovered 'off-page', or not revealed until whichever of the amateur sleuths has figured things out chooses to show off how they solved the case, or villains proving incapable of keeping from confessing the moment they're confronted with even the flimsiest of evidence against them. 

Oh, and on many of the plot strands, the book's title is rather misleading. In a few instances it refers to a smuggled antique, but the rest of the time it has nothing to do with the story (beyond the fact that it refers to a Mesoamerican deity, and a separate strand of the investigation is being conducted in Mexico).

To end on a more positive note, I'll finish with Douglas Hill's Have your own extra-terrestrial adventure. This is a noirish first-person narrative, in which the viewpoint character is interplanetary investigator Del Curb, the only human to survive an encounter with the alien psychopath known as Rimeq the Renegade.

Curb is approached by the Federation Police to assist with the hunt for Rimeq, who claims to be in possession of a weapon that could destroy all life on Earth, and is threatening to use it if he doesn't get his own way. And 'assist' is the right word: the FedPol are carrying out a large-scale search for Rimeq with their own resources, but there are places that are off-limits to them, which is why they're also bringing in Curb. While, for Curb, all roads do lead to Rimeq, the fact that his investigations are just one small aspect of a much bigger operation makes a pleasant change from the 'you must undertake this mission alone for no adequately explained reason' set-up found in a lot of gamebooks.

Like many of the gamebooks mentioned above, it branches into an assortment of mutually incompatible storylines: the first decision concerns which of two very different planets to investigate, and Rimeq and the weapon are on whichever one you pick. Still, the different stories into which the plot develops depending on the decisions you make are all entertaining, and the fact that some endings are more satisfying victories than others goes a little way towards making up for any loss of tension occasioned by the certainty of Curb's surviving and thwarting Rimeq.

As I recently mentioned, inventive, nasty, and/or well-written ‘bad’ endings have been part of gamebooks’ appeal to me for almost as long as I've been reading them, and there's plenty of evidence that I’m not the only person for whom the sections describing defeat hold some fascination. Nevertheless, a few of the books mentioned above prove that it is possible to create an entertaining gamebook even when failure is literally not an option. Perhaps when I’m next killing time in the vicinity of a selection of second-hand books and chance upon a new-to-me gamebook at a ‘not sure if worth it’ price, I won’t be so quick to reshelve it if a quick perusal fails to reveal any juicy deaths.

Running Towards Nothing

Before I get back to undertaking quests in Steve Jackson’s Secrets of Salamonis, I’d like to raise a question: what is wrong with the majority of modern adventurers? A little under two months ago, when  I first arrived in the eponymous city, the Adventurers’ Guild was advertising seven or eight different quests. In the intervening time I’ve undergone training and undertaken three of those quests (with varying degrees of success), and not one of the many other would-be-heroes who were here before me has managed to complete any of the quests I have yet to attempt. Going from ‘total newbie’ to ‘one of the few remotely competent adventurers in town’ isn’t quite the most extreme instance of zero-to-hero in all Fighting Fantasy, but it’s still a pretty steep career trajectory.

Anyway, it’s time I had a go at one of these missions that none of my peers seem able to carry out. Thanks to what I learned about removing a curse in my recent dream, I now know that I need some powdered Unicorn horn, so I shall see how I fare at the quest to obtain the horn of the Black Unicorn.

When I indicate my intent, the Guildmaster warns me that this is a particularly challenging quest, with which even seasoned adventurers may struggle. An Amonour check follows, and I have more than the required amount, so I don’t back down. Resignedly, the Guildmaster explains that this job will take me into the Forest of Yore, an ancient place filled with mystical secrets. He advises me to be sure that I am well-prepared, and suggests that I seek out a companion, ideally someone who can use magic.

The text suggest that I might want to go looking for Ruznik Ullsen (well, ‘Ullssen’, but I imagine that that’s just a typo). On this playthrough, that makes sense, but on my first two attempts at this book I never learned of his magical abilities, and I’m pretty sure that it is possible to obtain enough Amonour to qualify for this quest without learning Spelling, so a player could theoretically reach this section while unaware that Ullsen is anything more than an information-dispensing map vendor, in which case the mention of his name would appear something of a non sequitur.

In the course of seeking out Ullsen I find someone else who’s faring poorly enough that they’re willing to work at the Guttery. When I explain my quest to Ullsen, he indicates his willingness to help, for a fee, and says that we’ll also require the assistance of his daughter, who will also require payment. My dream-derived funds are more than sufficient to cover this cost, so I pay up, and Ruznik leads me to his home on Spendthrift Alley. His daughter Deyna seems a little awestruck at getting to meet a genuine adventurer, which suggests to me that she’s more of a rookie than he’d implied, making me wonder about her suitability for what is apparently such a tricky job, but I’ll keep an open mind.

Ruznik gets together some equipment and comments that he could do with more rope and nose plugs, suggesting that I pop to the market to buy some. I already have both, but take the opportunity to head to the market anyway, as there are some other things that might be worth getting there. The description of one of the quests I have yet to undertake suggests that I might yet have further encounters with Shriekers, so I buy a quantity of beeswax to help avert more damage to my ears. I also get some more Provisions, a couple of empty bottles, and a purported treasure map, and identify another prospective Guttery worker.

Rejoining Ruznik and Deyna outside the city, I reflect on what I know about my current quest. According to Zenib Attito, the man who wants the Black Unicorn’s horn, we need to find the Silver Pool if we are to have any chance of tracking down the Unicorn. Not much to go on, but as long as the pool isn’t one of those enchanted places that periodically change their location, it should be less tricky to find that than a mystical creature that can go more or less where it likes.

Or maybe I was overly optimistic. Next paragraph, it’s several days later, and we’re all lost. Ruznik notices various fungi for which people in Salamonis would be willing to pay good money. Do I want to risk upsetting the locals by allowing one of my companions to help himself to some of the Forest’s bounty? Causing similar offence in Bu Fon Fen got me killed. Twice. And Steve Jackson is certainly sneaky enough to follow up ‘you should get someone to help you’ with ‘the person you brought along to assist you makes a complete hash of the quest’. Odds are that taking the Unicorn’s horn won’t go down well with the denizens either, but we’re not going to have any chance of doing that if we get ejected or slaughtered or turned into buttercups for the lesser offence of grabbing a few toadstools.

Continuing through the Forest, we reach a clearing containing a pool of water. The fish swimming in it have silver scales, the pebbles lining its bed have a silvery sheen, and the droplets that splash up where a spring feeds into it shine like silver. I'd say there’s a chance that this could be the Silver Pool.

A moment later the Black Unicorn emerges from the trees to drink from the pool. Deyna approaches it and, Unicorns traditionally being suckers for nubile young women, our quarry just stands and watches as she walks up to it and places a garland of flowers around its neck to subdue it. Okay, Ruznik did have a valid reason for wanting his daughter on the team after all.

I now have to choose between taking the Unicorn’s horn and letting the majestic beast go. Is it going to be possible to remove the horn without harming its owner, like conservationists do with rhinos to make them less appealing targets for poachers? Evidently not, as the Unicorn drops dead straight after I sever the horn from its head. Doing this nets me a couple more points of Amonour, but also brings a hefty Luck penalty, and the guilt-ridden Deyna weeps as we seek a way out of the Forest.

We return to Salamonis without incident, and I deliver the horn to Attito’s home in the Mystics’ Quarter. A servant in black clothes takes it and hands over a bag of money. I return to full Stamina by paying to spend the night in a tavern.

None too surprisingly, the quest took one day over a week, so it is now Seaday. That’s another of the days of the week that trigger an event, and this time it’s a rude awakening as a swarm of Shriekers launches a noisy attack on the guards in Titan Square. Well, the description of them matches the creatures I encountered in the mine, but the text leaves them unidentified, presumably because it’s possible to get this far without having undertaken the job in the mine, so for some readers this would be the first encounter with the things.

Hurrying to the source of the disturbance, I prepare to help fight off the horde, but then the sun begins to rise and the Shriekers fly off, heading north. A gathering of alarmed locals seeks a response to the invasion, for some reason demanding to see the Archbishop rather than the King, and consequently gathering in a Temple rather than outside the Palace. Knowing a plot hook when I see one, I join the throng.

It turns out that the Shriekers have been attacking places in the locality for some time, generally preceded by a sighting of the Shivering Man. People start calling for his death, but Archbishop Kalivan quietens the mob, explaining that the Shivering Man is said to be under a curse, and freeing him from it will stop the Shriekers from following wherever he goes in search of help. My erstwhile travelling companion Healing Hans volunteers to try and assist the Shivering Man, as does an elderly Dwarf. And so do I.

The three of us get together to discuss strategy, and I discover that the Dwarf is Longbeard, the author of the book which inspired me to become an adventurer. Before I can ask him to sign my copy, Hans explains that he can lift the curse if he gets close enough to the Shivering Man, but has no idea where to find him. Longbeard is equally clueless, but the encounter I had in the mine suggests that the man we seek may be hiding out there.

To suggest his whereabouts, I have to convert the name of the location into a number using the a=1 code that many FF readers have burned into our brains through frequent use. Alas, the section to which this takes me makes no sense in context, which would probably be a ‘game over’ if I didn’t have Spelling. That Special Skill gives me a second chance, enabling me to work out… that I was right after all, but picked the wrong words. Silly me, using the name that was provided by the related quest rather than a generic description.

Anyway, we head off to King Salomon’s the silver mine, arriving towards the end of the day. Longbeard reflects that we could do with more help, and laments having lost the horn he could use to summon other Dwarfs to assist him. Could that be the same horn I purchased from the Bruise Brothers not so long ago? It is, of course, and I gain a point of Amonour (but no reimbursement of what I paid for the thing) for returning it to him.

Longbeard sounds the horn, and before long another six Dwarfs have joined us. All seven of them (groan) troop into the mine, emerging some hours later with the Shivering Man in a net. Before Hans can take any action to dispel the curse, a hideous noise issues from within the mine, indicating that the Shriekers are on their way. At least this time I have some wax with which to fashion earplugs - hopefully enough for every capable fighter present.

It’s not clear whether or not I’m able to provide the Dwarfs with protection for their ears, but they are at least able to fight when the Shriekers emerge and attack. Being unable to hear the screaming means that I have a decent Skill advantage rather than fighting the swarm on more or less equal terms. Even so, the dice are initially against me, and I take some damage in the early stages of the fight. Shortly after the tide of battle turns in my favour, I roll a double 6, which  represents an opportunity to use my Instant Death ability, and as I get the impression that the climax of the book is imminent, and I still have two uses of the ability left to me, I bring the fight to a rapid conclusion before the dice can turn on me again.

Well, while I still think I’m right about having reached the final phase of the adventure, it’s now looking as if this is just the beginning of the endgame. While we kill some Shriekers, many of them flee. Hans harvests a quantity of blood from the dead Shriekers, explaining that it has powerful alchemical qualities, and he’ll need some of it to break the curse. I get a phial of the stuff.

Hans then explains that we now need to take the Shivering Man to the Rainbow Pools in the Forest of Spiders. Longbeard protests that that’s three days’ walk away, but then the cavalry turns up in the form of a group of Strongarms on horseback, led by Nanoc and accompanied by Ruznik, who explains that ‘an interested party’ sent them to provide assistance.

The Dwarf miners remain behind while the Strongarms take Hans, Longbeard, the Shivering Man and me north towards the Moonstone Hills. Longbeard points out that the Rainbow Pools are supposed to be under the protection of a clan of Elves, but Hans reassures him that he knows them.

We reach the Forest of Spiders, and are soon intercepted by some of those Elves. They demand to know who we are, and why we’re trespassing, and we explain. The Elves note that their Queen had a vision indicating that adventurers would come seeking their aid, and endeavour to ascertain whether or not we are the foretold group.

It would appear that there are several ways we might convince them that we are the prophesied party. There’s an item that would presumably show us to be in good standing with Elves (unless it's a trap item that guarantees death - Steve Jackson can be sneaky like that). A sufficiently high Amonour score would give me the heroic stature to impress them. Or if I’d spent more time training with Rodriguez, I might be able to fast talk them into accepting us. But I never acquired that item, I only learned a card trick from Rodriguez, and my Amonour falls a couple of points short of the required score. So the Elves give me more points. The ones at the tips of the arrows they fire at me and the rest of the party. If death doesn’t break the Shivering Man’s curse, we may be indirectly avenged by the surviving Shriekers before long, but that’s scant comfort.

That was a bit abrupt. Still, I got a lot further than on any previous attempt at the book, and now have a better idea of how the questing phase works and what I need to do or obtain to make it through to the finale, so I should be able to do better next time. Which won’t be for a while, but I am looking forward to replaying this more than some of the other solely-Scholastic FF adventures.

A Good Death Is the Best Anyone Can Hope For

It is fourteen years to the day since I started this blog. Fourteenth anniversaries aren’t usually seen as being particularly noteworthy, but in the realm of gamebooks the number 14 has a special significance, as it’s the number of the section to which players of J.H. Brennan’s Grail Quest books are sent whenever their character dies. This strikes me as being a good excuse for waffling on about gamebook deaths and the like for a bit.

I’ve had an interest (I’m tempted to call it a ghoulish interest, for reasons which will become clear later) in the sections dedicated to undesirable outcomes almost since I first got into gamebooks. Often, when a new gamebook hit the shelves of the local booksellers, I’d spend a while looking through a copy in search of the defeats and demises. There have been occasions when, undecided on whether or not to buy a gamebook, I wound up making my decision based on an Instant Death section. An underwhelming account of being murdered by a couple of low-lifes delayed my getting into the Lone Wolf saga by several weeks. Brain-burrowing spiders were what finally got me started on collecting The Way of the Tiger (a series that marked every unsuccessful outcome with a specific between-sections illustration, suggesting that somebody may have noted the draw of the demises, and chose to highlight them in order to appeal to readers who appreciated a good bad ending).

I know I’m not alone in this fascination. When I started looking into online gamebook fandom almost a quarter of a century ago, one of the first relevant websites I found was a catalogue of favourite ‘fail’ sections from gamebooks. I don’t think that site is around any more, but it has its successors in the likes of You Chose Wrong and Lose Your Own Adventure, and Deathtraps and Dungeons always takes the time to list noteworthy deaths in the book being profiled.

Nine years ago, in response to a query from a reader, I listed five of my favourite Instant Deaths. I think it’s time I expanded that list, and for obvious reasons I shall make it a top fourteen. So, in no particular order (other than starting with the ones I listed before, to make it easier for impatient readers to skip to the previously unmentioned titles)…

“It eats you, starting with your bottom.”
Fighting Fantasy 1: The Warlock of Firetop Mountain, Ian Livingstone & Steve Jackson. Section 64

I’ve told this tale before, but here we go again. This is where it really began. Gamebooks as a concept had appealed to me since I read an article on one in a Sunday supplement. I’d enjoyed the first one I read (Stephen Leslie’s Skyjacked). However, I wasn’t hooked until, during my first attempt at TWoFM, I let morbid curiosity get the better of me. 

This was a diceless playthrough, so I ought to have won the fight against the Ghoul, but this was the first combat to give a section number for if you lost as well as one for victory, presumably because the Ghoul could paralyse as well as kill, so it was possible to be defeated yet still alive. Reasoning that, this being a book targeted at kids, it couldn’t be anything that bad, I snuck a peek at what would happen if the Ghoul prevailed.

Our hero gets eaten. Possibly alive. By now I’ve been reading books for around half a century, and I can think of few literary experiences as mind-blowing as that moment.

Poetry in immobility.
Golden Dragon 6: Castle of Lost Souls, Dave Morris & Yve Newnham. Section 279

Being turned to stone by a Gorgon (or, as some authors persist in calling the creature, a Medusa) is not that uncommon a way of dying in a gamebook – heck, Ian Livingstone’s included it in at least four different adventures. What makes this instance stand out from the rest is the sheer quality of the writing. Though structured as prose, it’s far more poetic in tone than most of the verse that may be encountered in gamebooks, transforming what could have just been another ‘Game over, try again’ into something strangely beautiful.

Does exactly what it says in the title.
Starlight Adventures 6: Trance, Pat Hewitt. Section 294

Another could-be bog-standard ending elevated by authorial artistry. Loss of identity is another occupational hazard for gamebook adventurers, but this book has a particularly evocative description of the gradual erosion of your character’s resistance and the subsequent descent into mindless oblivion. When I say that memory paints the section as being around twice as long as it actually is, I don’t mean to suggest that it drags, but to indicate that it gets a great deal across in a comparatively short passage.

Till my head comes off.
Grail Quest 8: Legion of the Dead, J H Brennan. Sections 211 & 222 (and thence 14, but the real gold is in those two)

As regards the situation and outcome, this is almost identical to an Instant Death from Dave Morris’ Golden Dragon book Crypt of the Vampire: while being throttled by a cursed item, you attempt to cut through it, and an unlucky roll causes you to inadvertently kill yourself. The difference is in the approach. Morris’ version is impressively gory, and slightly sadistic, while Brennan’s take on it is downright hilarious. Humour in gamebooks is a very hit-or-miss affair, but Brennan made it work better than most, and this sequence is one of his finest.

Verse than death.
Date with Destiny Adventures: Night of a Thousand Boyfriends, Miranda Clarke. Pages 9, 34, 42, 56, 34, 42, 56, 34, 42, 56…

One of the few highlights of this largely disappointing parody gamebook is the most horrifying inescapable loop of sections I’ve ever encountered, in which you wind up stuck listening to your flatmate recite dreadful poetry about her ex-boyfriend for ever. 

Shockingly unsportsmanlike.
The Legends of Skyfall 4: The Garden of Madness, David Tant. Section 320

This series made the intermittently accurate claim that the books were ‘structured carefully to reward the thinking player and to penalise the careless’. One aspect of this approach was to try a new angle on some of the tropes of fantasy adventures. Case in point: while infiltrating the villain’s castle, you may reach a room in which much of the floor consists of an 8x8 chequered grid of tiles. An inscription on one of the walls warns, ‘Let evil betide him who follows not the knightly path.’ 

A pretty straightforward chess-based puzzle, right? Except that the tiles corresponding to the starting positions of the knights in a game of chess are just as electrified as the rest of the grid, because the castle’s owner is too smart to make things easier for his enemies by providing intruders with hints about how to avoid the booby traps.

Oh, the inhumanity.
Forbidden Gateway 2: Terrors out of Time, Ian & Clive Bailey. Sections 108 & 65

The FG books are packed with gruesome and hideous fates, but this one stands out for the sheer overkill. 

Acquiring an item that enables you to summon a dragon, yet lacking a proper understanding of how it works, provides several opportunities for losing control of the beast and consequently expiring. However, only one of them happens while you’re on top of an airship. Fire-breathing monstrosity plus dirigible filled with flammable gas - that's never going to end well. Spectacularly, but not well.

No means nonexistence.
Tunnels & Trolls solo 5: Dargon’s Dungeon, Michael Stackpole (based on an original work by Bill Hart). Section 21A

T&T being targeted at a more adult readership than most gamebooks, some of the solos touched on the possibility of characters indulging in sexual activity. Unwelcome advances tended to meet with unfavourable outcomes, as is the case here. Should any would-be Romeo proposition the sorceress encountered within this dungeon, she declines with extreme prejudice, transforming him into a cockroach, crushing it underfoot, and casting a spell which causes anyone who knew him to forget that he ever existed. Some people I’ve encountered online would opine that her response isn’t harsh enough, but as a gamebook ending it does its job.

Masonic leg-pull.
Fighting Fantasy 47: The Crimson Tide, Paul Mason. Sections 52 & 400

What makes this ending special is not so much what happens as the way the book handles it. In your quest for justice against the mercenaries who murdered your father and enslaved your mother, you have found your way to the King, who hears your story and instructs one of his officials to put things right. As you and the official depart, the text says to turn to 400 - an instruction that has preceded victory in the majority of FF books - so you proceed to the final section to see how your success is to be rewarded… and get dropped into a pit containing the skeletal remains of numerous other victims of the King’s treacherous advisor. Cruel. And brilliant.

It’s a wrap.
Plot-Your-Own Horror Story: Nightmare Store, Hilary Milton. Pages 56, 38, 17 & 119

Around 40 years ago I was looking through a copy of this book in a shop, and found an ending that disturbed me. The eponymous store’s automated delivery system mistakes you for an item of merchandise, wraps you tightly in packaging material that makes breathing difficult, crams you head down into a crate, and nails it shut.  

Rereading it now, I find that the horror is more in the concept than the execution, but the combination of utter helplessness and incipient death by smothering still creeps me out in spite of the slightly goofy tone of the writing.

We don’t need another hero.
Rescue the Princess, Paul Turner. Section 4

Before you confront the Demon who has kidnapped Princess Amber, you want to seek the advice of the wizard whom some call… Brian. However, the most direct route to his home leads through a forest inhabited by Elves who have a zero tolerance approach to trespassers. You may opt to make a detour around the forest, adding a couple of weeks to your travel time, but reducing the risk of getting a few dozen arrows through your vital organs. This strategy keeps you unperforated, but also causes you to reach the wizard’s home a couple of days after a more enterprising adventurer thwarts the Demon, brings the Princess home, and claims the reward. 

You’d expect this sort of thing to happen a lot in worlds where ‘adventurer’ is considered a viable career path, but comparatively few gamebook authors give much thought to the possibility that it might turn out to be a book in which someone else is the hero.

High in the mountains.
Lost in the Mountains of Death, Tracey Turner. Page 104

On the surface, this ending is nothing out of the ordinary: many gamebooks feature deaths brought about by sub-zero temperatures. The specifics, however, add a touch of whimsical absurdity that stands out all the more in a gamebook that takes itself as seriously as the Lost books do: after making the mistake of dining on hallucinogenic flora you succumb to the delusion that you have transformed into an alpaca, and die of hypothermia before regaining your senses. Not the first time that woolly thinking has had lethal consequences, I’m sure.

I feel your pain.
Wizards, Warriors & You 5: The Haunted Castle of Ravencurse, Lynn Beach. Page 95

WW&Y could get a bit wacky on occasion, whether with bizarre situations or preposterously arbitrary means of determining randomised outcomes, and this ending has a bit of both. While playing as the Wizard, you are captured and bitten by a giant spider whose venom has unusual properties, causing all injuries sustained by the spider to be exactly duplicated on anyone it has bitten. Seeking to rescue you, your trusty companion the Warrior fires a poisoned arrow at the spider before you have the opportunity to explain why that’s not going to help. Should you be reading the book on the wrong day of the week, you have just enough time to regret having concocted quite so lethal a toxin before it kills you.

Met a fiction.
Choose Your Own Adventure 21: Hyperspace, Edward Packard. Page 90

This book is designed to mess with and/or expand its readers’ minds. Multiple pages are devoted to your character’s reading a gamebook. You may encounter the book’s author (and, in one ambiguous ending, be transported to a dimension he never visited, as a result of which the narrative ceases because he has no way of knowing what happens there, and thus cannot write about it). In the ending I’ve selected here, you take it badly when a character from several of Packard’s earlier CYOAs reveals to you that you too are a character in a gamebook. Demoralised by the realisation that you are not real and have only limited autonomy, you find a way to keep the book from having any further influence on your actions.

You stop reading.

Can You Be a Hero, Or Do You Always Give Up Hope?

Now that my character in Steve Jackson’s Secrets of Salamonis has finished training as an adventurer, it’s time I got started on a proper sub-quest. Rather than listing the available options in the text, the book depicts the Quests Board outside Adventurers’ Guild HQ, and has the Guildmaster obscuring my view of one of the posted notices. I wonder if the unreadable one is going to prove important at some later stage…

For now there are seven listed missions that I can see, so I’ll pick one of them. They include accompanying a caravan to Shazâar, a city to the west of the Forest of Yore, and as I already have experience of similar work, it seems like a good first choice.

The Guildmaster explains that the merchant Luquin Garreau is transporting a valuable cargo to the Southern Plains, and wants experienced fighters to guard it during the weeks that it’s on the road. He’s already engaged the services of a Strongarm Captain to lead the security detail, so the armband I received from Nanoc should suffice as evidence of my suitability for the job even if the Strongarm heading up the squad isn’t my recent comrade-in-arms and trainer.

None too surprisingly, the veteran in charge is Nanoc, and he’s delighted to see me again so soon. Garreau pays half our wages up front, and stresses that the cargo must be delivered as quickly as possible. While working at the Guttery I learned that its clients are based in Shazâar, so I wonder if we’re transporting a consignment of their special rancid animal innard sauce. Wouldn’t want that to spoil in transit, now would we?

A couple of days into the journey (so according to the tracker on the Adventure Sheet it is now Fireday), Nanoc seeks my advice. We can cut short our travel time by taking a short cut through the foothills of the Craggen Heights, but that region is inhabited by Trolls and Goblins and other such ‘bad guy’s cannon fodder’ species, some of them in service to lucifugous demi-sorcerer Balthus Dire. Should we prioritise caution or speed?

Considering how insistent Garreau was that we get the job done quickly, I advise taking the riskier route, hoping that this lack of caution won’t cause me to end up an imprudent dead ‘un. The next day (Earthday by the local calendar) we enter a pass with steep, rocky sides, which Nanoc notes to be ideal territory for an ambush. I could offer to scout ahead, but that might just lead to my being cut off from the rest of the guards. Or it may provide intel that helps us avoid an otherwise lethal trap - when Steve Jackson is the author, cautious behaviour is sometimes rewarded, and on other occasions it gets penalised.

I stick with the caravan, and nothing untoward happens. For some time, at least, and our wariness gives way to boredom until the arrows start flying. A mob of Hill Goblins, mounted on Dire Wolves, rides to the attack, causing some of my companions to panic. Will Spelling help here? Yes, it enables me to conjure a protective barrier into existence, protecting us from the arrows and gaining me a point of Amonour.

We pick up our pace, hoping to outrun the Goblin Wolf Riders, but they catch up to us and battle commences. Though the term ‘Brawling’ implies punch-ups and disorganised combat, the Special Skill turns out to encompass techniques like wielding a sword while riding a horse, giving me a slight advantage as I endeavour to fight off a couple of our assailants. I take one wound in the fight, but kill both Goblins, and the rest of the bodyguards take down half of the attack party. The surviving Goblins retreat, and I take some cash from the two I slew.

Resuming our journey, we encounter no further trouble in the Craggen Heights, and by Seaday (two days later, for those of you unfamiliar with the Allansian week), we reach the fringes of the Southern Plains. This region is arid and windswept, and a Luck roll determines that my horse is startled but does not throw me when something erupts from the sand. We have been ambushed by a group of desert-dwelling reptilian predators known as Gretch. This could be a nasty fight, as their claws do extra damage when they land a blow, but my slight Skill advantage enables me to prevail without losing an Attack Round. At one point I had the potential to use my Instant Death ability again, but by then the Gretch was low on Stamina anyway, so I chose to risk fighting on, and beat my enemy the conventional way in the very next round.

The rest of the party dispose of their opponents just as efficiently. The condition of the bodies suggests that these Gretch have been short of prey for some time, and attacked us out of desperation. Even so, it may be worth searching the area for past victims, so I do a little digging, finding the skeletal remains of a human. On one finger is a brass ring, which I risk taking: rings have often proved beneficial in Steve Jackson’s books (though not always).

Several days later (why was I instructed to keep track of when in the week it is if the book’s going to give imprecise measurements of time like that?) we reach our destination. Elsewhere, Shazâar is often referred to as the City of Madness, and the sight of the architecture and the locals’ bodily adornments (plus what I already know of their culinary habits) suggests that this epithet is not undeserved.

The caravan comes to a halt in the hexagonal plaza known as Star Square, and while we are unloading, a female Hobbit beckons me over to an alleyway. She says that her master is willing to pay a good price if I’ll transport something for him. Could be a trap, could be a legitimate solo commission. I risk sneaking away from the caravan to find out more, and the Hobbit leads me to a house occupied by a Lizardine. While taxonomically accurate, this name indicates little about the nature of the species: based on an encounter in another book, they would seem to be intelligent traders, not hostile (except to shoplifters). This one gives me a pouch of money to take a parcel to a sage in the tower on Brightstar Street when I get back to Salamonis. I wonder if making this delivery will get me a point of Amazonour.

I rejoin the caravan before anyone notices my absence, and we travel back to Salamonis without further incident. For the first time since accepting this quest I am specifically instructed to update the day of the week, so I guess my earlier calculations weren’t necessary after all, and it’s Fireday again.

Now I have a parcel to deliver, but the book has my curiosity get the better of me, and I sneak a peek at the contents, finding a significant quantity of the rare herb known as Medusa Grass. I have the option of keeping it for myself, but I have no desire to join the ranks of the couriers who fail to make their deliveries (my gamebook collection is smaller than it should be because of a couple of online purchases that never reached my mailbox).

Proceeding to the address I was given, I am greeted by a Chervah (a ‘little people’ species that sort of featured in Steve Jackson’s FF novel), who leads me up a flight of stairs to a cluttered study occupied by a Hamakei scholar (benign vulture-headed humanoids). The Hamakei thanks me, comments that he’d foreseen my arrival in his scrying glass (so even Titan has courier tracking), and gives me some of the Medusa Grass as the glass also revealed that I’m liable to need it in the near future.

The sun is setting as I leave the tower, and the fact that this detail gets its own section has me wondering if it’s a textual cue pointing to a hidden section - Steve Jackson has used such mechanisms before now. Well, even if it is, I don’t have the relevant lead, so I just have to sort out where I’m going to spend the night. And a calendar check indicates that what happens next depends on whether or not today is Fireday. Sundown is usually a while before midnight, so I guess it still is. I wonder if that’s a good thing…

A couple of guards are heading towards me, but as I have no codewords identifying me as a lawbreaker (probably because I paid that pesky tax collector), it turns out that they’re just walking down the street, and our paths cross without incident.

Paying a gold piece to spend the night in the Half-Darned Sock enables me to recover the Stamina I lost in the Craggen Heights, and another calendar check establishes that this is neither of the days of the week on which something time-specific occurs at this point in the narrative.

In the morning (Earthday, not that I’ve been instructed to update that information) I set off to Guild HQ again, pausing along the way to see if there’s anything worth buying at the Bazaar. Another check ensues, and I have neither the item nor the affliction mentioned. Thus, as I browse at the adventuring supplies stall run by the Bruise Brothers, a shady-looking duo who make the mildly disconcerting claim that they’re not going to forget me, Pinchpenny approaches, now accompanied by an intimidatingly big dog. Again my not having assaulted or fled from him keeps me from getting into serious trouble, but does not avert the issuing of a demand for a cut of my recent takings. Hoping that he turns out to be up to his neck in something villainous enough to provide me with a valid excuse for putting him out of circulation one of these days, I pay the new tax and receive a token confirming that I have done so.

Returning my attention to the stall, I buy some Chainmail that adds to Initial and Current Skill, and also purchase a brass instrument in the shape of a Dragon’s head, as weirdly specific items like that usually wind up proving useful or essential. Elsewhere in the Bazaar I also buy a couple of portions of Provisions, a length of rope, a bag of salt, some nose plugs, and a copper armband for the ‘no idea what it’s for, but it may save my life’ pile.

Nothing has changed on the Quests Board by the time I get back to Guild HQ. I think now I’ll see if I can survive the job that brought my previous two attempts at this book to an end: acquiring supplies of Cauldronweed for the Witches of Dree. This will require me to head north to Bu Fon Fen, a swampy region inhabited by Toadmen who get a bit proprietorial about the vegetation that grows in it.

It takes me a few days to reach the fen. Making my way through towering reeds, I enter a clearing from which two new trails lead. Webbed footprints on the path leading north-west suggest the presence of many Toadmen, and as I don’t have an expendable Half-Orc companion with me, I think it advisable to steer clear of them and head north-east.

A Swampsnake attacks me, and despite having a 5-point Skill lead, I still take a little damage in the fight. Not as much as the snake, though, and I take its skin, hoping to be able to sell it to an alchemist. Continuing along the trail, I draw near to a riverbank, and a couple of bushes catch my eye. Circumstances will, of course, prevent me from taking samples of both. The first time I played Secrets, I made an educated guess as to which bush was more likely to be Cauldronweed. On my second attempt, my training included some data acquisition which backed up my theory. I will, thus, be picking clumps of the same plant as before.

Once I’ve stashed the leaves in my backpack, a Toadman leaps to the attack. This is the fight I didn’t survive when I first had a go at the book, but this time around I win without incurring any damage. Anticipating that more of his kind will soon follow, I hurry back the way I came until I reach an unexpected fork in the path. The last time I got this far, I picked the turning I thought should lead back towards dry land and encountered many more Toadmen (the collective noun for toads is a knot, so I’m tempted to call it a tangle of Toadmen), who overpowered me and dumped me in a sinkhole to decompose. So, did I get confused and head the wrong way, or did I get surrounded on the way out of the marshland, and if the latter, will heading deeper into the fen actually prove any more survivable?  While Steve Jackson has on occasion created detailed areas in which all decisions lead to defeat, the book mentioned opportunities to sell the snakeskin on Brightstar Street and in the Bazaar, which suggests that there is a way of getting out of here alive.

Taking the turning that should take me away from the river, I find that that is the way I went last time, so at least I know that my past self didn’t get mixed up. As before, I find myself hemmed in by Toadmen. However, on this occasion I have Spelling, which enables me to raise a thick fog, causing the batrachian bunch to lose sight of me. Evading them, I flee south to the Windward Plains.

After a while I reach a path, and a signpost shows the way to Dree. Heading in the direction indicated, I reach the witches’ village (so either that wasn’t the misleadingly rotated signpost that features prominently in Creature of Havoc or this is before it got turned around). Not a particularly pleasant part of the world, but it’s where I need to be to complete this quest. Unless I got the wrong plant, in which case I’m liable to end up marranghaed into something that Doctor Moreau would consider an abomination. No, as indicated by that passing mention I spotted on my previous attempt at the book, my inference was correct and I did get some Cauldronweed. A crone says she’ll pay me 3 gold pieces for it, but other locals are starting to take an interest, so I could try to get a bidding war going.

The fact that I gained Amonour on the caravan to Shazâar implies that acquiring it remains relevant even after I raised my stats with what I gained in the earlier stages of the adventure, and I think raising my profile by auctioning off the fruits of my expedition into the fen is more likely to gain me another point or two, so I opt to have a go at selling the Cauldronweed on DreeBay.

Attracting more attention is easy enough, but as I didn’t go back to Rodriguez for advanced training in manipulating people, a Luck roll determines how I fare. Fortune is not with me, though, and the hag with whom I first spoke threatens to do something adventure-ending if I don’t accept her offer. Concerned that her idea of giving feedback might involve relocating my mouth to between my shoulder blades, I hand over the leaves and receive the scant payment. The harridan indicates her willingness to become a repeat customer if I ever have any other spell components to sell, netting me another point of Amonour. I risk offering her the Swampsnake Skin, but she’s not fussed about it, offering only a gold piece and not caring if I hang on to it in the hope of getting a better deal elsewhere (which I do).

Trekking back to Salamonis, I am again instructed to track the passage of time. Just over a week has passed since the last official update of my calendar, so it’s Earthday again. As before, a night’s rest in the Half-Darned Sock is all I need to return to full Stamina, and in the morning I set off to the Guild again

Along the way I check out the Bazaar, encountering the same check that prefaced my previous visit. This time I do have the item in question, so I’m spared another run-in with the taxman, but don’t get to revisit the Bruise Brothers’ stall either. Then again, I probably wouldn’t have been able to afford anything, considering the negligible profit I made on my last quest. Still, I’m not as hard up as some: in the crowd I find someone sufficiently desperate for cash to be willing to work at the Guttery. Before proceeding to the Quests Board I buy a Potion of Luck and sell the snakeskin for twice what the hag offered me.

For my next quest I think I’ll try and get rid of whatever is interfering with local mining operations. Several of my other characters have fared quite well at adventures involving mines. Not all, mind you… The Guildmaster tells me that the silver mines are located to the north of the city, and the excavations have disturbed an as yet unidentified ‘something that would have been better left alone’. It happens.

While the mines aren’t far from Trolltooth Pass, home of assorted Trolls, Goblins and the like, their output is valuable enough that plenty of soldiers have been posted to guard the approaches. And it would appear that none of them are the sort who enjoy throwing their weight around, as I make my way to the mine workings without incident.

A Half-Ogre appears to be in charge, so I show him my Adventurers’ Permit, and he asks if I’ve come for the pest control job. For some reason I have the option of denying it, but I can’t see any benefit to be gained by lying, so I confirm that that is my current quest. He explains that work in the western galleries has ceased owing to an infestation of Rock Grubs. What a bore!

The Half-Ogre gives me directions to the relevant part of the mines, and says I’ll get a gold piece for every Rock Grub I kill, though I will have to bring evidence. At each junction along the way I’m given a choice of which way to go, and while sometimes not heading straight to the right part of a mine can prove beneficial, right now I’m not going to risk straying. Especially as someone has inscribed a picture of a skull at the mouth of one of the wrong turnings. The correct path has been marked with what appears to be a representation of some vicious-looking fangs, which isn’t a lot more encouraging, but I’m not going to gain anything by fleeing the first hint of danger, so in I go.

This tunnel starts to show signs of not having been created by miners, and then I encounter a Rock Grub. These pests have a pretty low Skill, but a lot of Stamina, so there’s a good likelihood of one getting in the odd lucky blow in the course of the fight. Indeed, that is what happens here: while I do prevail, I take a wound along the way.

Taking the Grub’s head, I head back the way I came. On my way in, I thought I heard footsteps coming from one of the wrong turnings, and I am again given the opportunity to investigate. As the alternative appears to be leaving the mine with a single trophy and making less on this quest than I did getting ripped off by a witch, I think now I will take a look.

Moving quietly so as not to alert whoever I heard in case they’re up to no good, I reach another junction. This time there are no hints. Well, this book isn’t by Ian Livingstone, so I don’t go in his favourite direction. It leads to a cavern where I find a Jib-Jib, a harmless fuzzball on legs, with a formidable-sounding roar that tricks predators into thinking it’s much bigger and more vicious than it really is. Startled by the light from my torch, the Jib-Jib bellows and scurries away. Still not ready to leave the mine, I give chase, but once the little critter stops making a noise, I lose track of it. To reduce the risk of my also losing myself, I down that Potion of Luck.

The passage I’m in joins another and leads on to the lip of a massive crevasse, spanned by a rope bridge. On the far side is a scruffy-looking man, hunched over and shivering. I am about to step onto the bridge when the man turns and yells at me to stay away, putting a knife to one of the ropes that hold the bridge up. I halt, but the risk of falling from a severed bridge isn’t the only peril here. A horrendous shrieking noise issues from the fissure, and I have nothing with which to plug my ears, so the noise costs me a point of Skill. Then I see what’s causing it: a swarm of Shriekers, which are basically undead winged piranhas. Not being equipped to deal with them, I try to flee, but a Stamina roll determines how I fare, and the damage I took from that Rock Grub is enough to make the difference between success and failure. Still, having the Shriekers catch up to me isn’t an Instant Death: I merely lose a randomly determined amount of Stamina, which turns out to be just over half of what remains to me.

I do at least make it out of the mine alive, and while I only have a single gold piece’s worth of trophies, I still gain 2 Amonour for my efforts. Trudging back to Salamonis, I am instructed to advance the date by one day. I eat some Provisions to recover some of the Stamina I lost, and then lose another point by spending the night on the streets, as paying for a room would deplete my already negligible funds.

Another calendar check follows, and as it’s now Windsday, something happens. It’s another dream, in which I find myself at the entrance to what FF veterans should recognise as Firetop Mountain. This must be a lucid dream, as I get to choose whether to head inside or turn away. Well, Secrets was written to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the publication of TWoFM, so I might as well check out the nostalgia-fest.

An instruction to take note of my current stats suggests that any harm incurred during this dream might not carry over into the waking world. Apart from that parenthetical directive, the section repeats the final paragraph of the first section of TWoFM word for word, right down to the section numbers given at the west-or-east choice with which it concludes. This duplication continues as I investigate: the boarded-up door to the east (which I don’t risk charging down in case I’m wrong about dreamed Stamina loss not persisting into reality), the dozing Orc guard (though, doubtless to avoid having to pay royalties to Russ Nicholson, there’s no illustration of him)…

The clip show goes on. My dream-Luck suffices to keep me from waking the snoozing sentry, but lets me down when I try to steal the box belonging to his napping associate in the closest room. That Orc wakes, but my dream continues, the text in Secrets only deviating from the original insofar as it provides an additional section number to turn to if I should lose the ensuing fight. I win, claiming the coin inside the box (and the rather more useful Luck bonus that comes with it) and releasing the dead Orc’s pet mouse.

Advancing through the déjà vu, I kill the snake-in-a-box in the next room, and take the accompanying key. No picture, added instruction in case of fight loss, and ‘turn to’ has inexplicably and inaccurately become ‘return to’ in the direction for leaving the room. The inebriated Orcs in the next room also lose an illustration and gain a ‘However, if you lose the battle…’, and while the original text mentioned me facing them in combat, the Secrets variant has them facing me (a trivial alteration, but the odd thing is that it should have been made at all).

The book guarded by the Orcs differs from the one in TWoFM in two regards, and while the change of ‘Dragonfire’ to ‘Dragon Fire’ is no big deal (beyond suggesting that Steve Jackson has bowed to the tyranny of the spellchecker), the fact that the spell for killing evil Dragons has been replaced with instructions for lifting a curse must have some significance. Perhaps I will be able to make up for unintentionally hurting Dog by restoring him to humanity.

Resuming the rerun, I reach the junction, meet and kill the Orc Chieftain and his seemingly masochistic servant. As usual, no picture, added note of where to go if killed in battle (or by the booby-trap on the treasure chest). In other minutiae, the (redundant by Secrets rules) opportunity to eat Provisions remains in the text, and in one paragraph there’s a whole new comma. All this comparing of texts is making me want to sneak a peek at section 291.

The trap doesn’t kill my dream-self, but it does bring his Stamina uncomfortably low. Still, the loot in the chest is as before. The section describing it is on the same page as the one to which any in-dream character death leads, making it easy for the curious or careless to learn the outcome of such a fatality.

Continuing through the copy, I proceed to the next junction and take a calculated risk. If fighting the quintet of squabbling Orcs still brings the Stamina bonus it did in TWoFM, it’ll leave me in better shape than I was when I entered the dream. Unless I lose a couple of Attack Rounds, in which case I’ll be dream-dead, but nothing ventured…

Flawless victory. A pity the Shrieker-induced Skill loss was to Initial as well as Current, or the originally superfluous bonus awarded for the victory might finally have come into play. But my dream-Stamina is now more than twice what it was before I fought this mob, and the dining room still contains the Giver of Sleep, so I should be thankful for the benefits gained from this encounter. Anyone not yet bored by the ongoing textual comparison will doubtless be pleased but not surprised to learn that there’s no picture, but there is a direction to the dream-death section for anyone who fares less well than I just did in the fight.

Incidentally, this has just alerted me to the existence of an arguable mistake in Return to Firetop Mountain. If the hero of TWoFM takes the Giver of Sleep from here, they take ‘the bow, arrow and case’ (my italics). But if, while playing RtFM, you come in here and kill the Orcs’ animated skeletons, you find the empty case.

But I digress. Back to the last junction and north. Secrets ditches the mention that the right-hand wall is to the east, and adds the inevitable ‘where to go if you die’ direction in case anybody should sustain lethal damage while trying to break down the door behind which a man is screaming. It’s not as formidable a door as some, and I release the captive. No picture, same advice as in the original adventure.

I can’t be bothered to go through all the faff associated with breaking into the armoury and acquiring the marginally helpful shield. However, I do go into the torture chamber, which has gained an illustration. The text has also been trimmed a little, though the basic scenario (two Goblins stabbing a captive Dwarf, who expires as I enter the room, options to fight, flee, or stab the corpse and go "Muahaha!" in a bid to look villainous) remains unchanged. The fight includes the usual addition, but it’s only the Goblins who expire.

At the portcullis, my dream-self automatically identifies the bogus lever as a fake and pulls the correct one, proceeding to the junction beyond. Despite this deviation from the core text, the section numbers for moving on are as before. So, do I go the way I would need to go if I wanted a shot at success in the original text, or the way I would need to go if I wanted a shot at success in the Warlock magazine edit? Stick with the original true path.

The passage leads me to the 'Rest Ye Here Weary Traveller' bench (the text gaining a few commas), but this is where the recapitulation of TWoFM ends, as seated on the bench is the small man I encountered towards the end of the dream with which Secrets opened. He congratulates me on having got this far, and says it’s time to wake up, sending me to the section to which I would have had to go if I’d ever died in-dream.

I wake with a start, wondering what the dream was. Well, from one perspective it was around 10% of the book’s sections being partially or wholly recycled material. And unless there was a radical edit that I missed, the Orc Chieftain’s room was the last part prior to the awakening that mattered - everything in between provided neither gold nor Secrets-relevant information. Maybe Steve Jackson has some issue with fictional Dwarfs – his previous FF book opened with a set-up that made it impossible to avoid murdering a Dwarf, and now this one has a score or so of (gameplay-wise) redundant sections that allow for the inclusion of a picture of a Dwarf being tortured to death. Unresolved childhood trauma related to a viewing of Disney’s animated Snow White, perhaps?

My stats have, as I expected, reverted to what they were when I turned in, and the items I collected in the dream have disappeared, but the money remains with me, and I get a Luck bonus that would have come in very handy if I hadn’t downed that Potion in the mine.

It’s time to head back to the Quests Board, but I think along the way I’ll do some more shopping before Pinchpenny can come running after me for payment of ‘Dreams of Wealth Tax’. I think that can wait for another blog entry, though, as the end of the month is looming, and between quests seems like a good point at which to leave things hanging.