Life's Rich Demand Creates Supply in the Hand

The Fighting Fantasy playthrough contest I set up to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the launch of the series has entered its final phase. For the readers who enjoyed my earlier list of outcomes to the books I'd played by the time I posted about the challenge, here's how I fared in the remaining titles (leaving out the ones I have yet to play here). As before, adventures I won on this blog but failed this year are highlighted in blue, while yellow indicates success at an adventure I didn't beat here.

The Warlock of Firetop Mountain – Won
Deathtrap Dungeon – Killed by the second Flying Guardian (again)
Scorpion Swamp – Killed by leeches after assorted fights wore my Stamina down
The Seven Serpents – Killed by the Moon Serpent 
The Crown of Kings – Poisoned by a Mucalytic’s toxic breath
Temple of Terror – Missed one Dragon artefact, so the villain (who missed the other four of them, but obviously wasn't playing an adventure written by Ian Livingstone) succeeded in his quest and went on to wage war against my homeland
The Rings of Kether – A bureaucrat hit me on the head with a paperweight
The Dark Chronicles of Anakendis – Killed by the Astromancer
Appointment with F.E.A.R. – Was destroyed by lasers along with my home city for not knowing the date (seriously, I was in the right place at the right time, but since I didn't know which day it was, I failed to spot the villains and thwart their scheme)
Rogue Mage – Killed by the Scitalis
Deadline to Destruction – Cut the wrong wire while trying to defuse a bomb
Clash of the Princes: The Warrior’s Way – Killed by a Werewolf
Masks of Mayhem – Blundered into a chasm in the dark
Star Strider – Was forced to play Russian Roulette and got unlucky (again)
Midnight Rogue – Killed by an Ogre
Chasms of Malice – Something furry killed my cat and clawed my face off
Slaves of the Abyss – Got locked in a cell and never released
Daggers of Darkness – Trapped by rapidly thickening ice, suffocated and frozen
Dead of Night – Got a sharpened pendulum in the frontal lobe
Spectral Stalkers – Was electrocuted on a staircase after getting Fibonacci and prime numbers mixed up
The Crimson Tide – Imprisoned and tortured or worse by the king’s adviser
Siege of Sardath – Failed to spot the exit, and got killed by a Ghost I lacked the wherewithal to fight
Return to Firetop Mountain – Dematerialised by a Doppelganger
Night Dragon – Fake pilgrims cut my throat while I was sleeping
Knights of Doom – Killed by Mummers
Eye of the Dragon – Killed by Cyclops
Howl of the Werewolf – Killed by Werebear
Stormslayer – Killed by Naiads
Night of the Necromancer – Got trapped in the floor for not knowing how my usurper self-identifies
Prey of the Hunter – Won
Vengeance at Midnight – Killed by the last two of six criminals
Blood of the Zombies – Killed by Attack Dogs (but not while wearing a suit of armour this time)
Starhunt: Void Slavers – Killed by Sump Monster

To my surprise, a few people joined in more than two thirds of the way through the challenge, some of them expressing the hope that I'd run another one in 2023. I hadn't been planning on doing so, but since nobody else was willing to take up the baton, I've now organised a new one here, to start on January 1st. Learning from some of the things that proved awkward this year, I've made a few minor changes to the set-up, but in essence it's the same: play through one or two adventures a week, and see how you fare compared to other people attempting the same titles. It'll be interesting to see how much of a difference the amended rules make: even among those who played every week, there's a wide range of scores.

Best wishes for 2023 to all my readers.

Whichever I Choose, It Amounts to the Same

The adventure I'm currently playing is proving something of a slog, so to keep the blog ticking over, here are some tangential musings I've been intermittently working on this year.

A while back I found a post at the Gamebook Reviews blog which got me thinking about 'unlosable' gamebooks. I made a comment there, but subsequently it occurred to me to post something on the topic here because:

1. I thought of more to say.
2. Not that many people were likely to read a comment made on a blog post that was already months old.

In case anyone is unclear on what I mean by 'unlosable', this is nothing to do with gamebooks like Starship Traveller and the Virtual Reality Adventures series, where you can be certain of succeeding at the adventure so long as you take the correct route through the book. I'm talking about gamebooks that don't have any 'fail endings'.

There are different types of gamebook that fit into this category. For now I'm focusing on the books which only have one ending and one basic plot, which unfolds more or less the same way regardless of the decisions you make (though I do intend to waffle on about the other sort at a later date). 

The most basic examples of this would be the 'CYOA for toddlers' series Your First Adventure, a set of optimistically fatalistic micro-adventures with just one decision, both choices leading to the same favourable outcome. I'm too far removed from the mindset of pre-preschoolers to have any idea what sort of appeal such books would have to the target audience, but so much is said about young children's love of repetition, it wouldn't surprise me if most tots exposed to these books preferred making the same decision every time. Which, let's be honest, is good practice for a lot of the more 'one true path' gamebooks for older readers.

Today's youngsters may have encountered David Glover's Maths Quest gamebooks. Practically every decision in these is not a choice in the normal gamebook sense: instead, the reader is presented with a mathematical problem and a small selection of possible answers. Pick the correct answer, and you progress to the next stage of the adventure. Get it wrong, and there's trouble afoot. It's not the first time such a formula has been tried - the Be An Interplanetary Spy series had a bit more variety in the types of puzzle used, but essentially worked the same way. Except that in BAIS, getting it wrong usually meant death or some other form of failure. MQ, by contrast, hints at some terrible fate that is about to befall you, but then averts the threatened doom, usually via the intervention of the book's designated mystery sidekick. It's like Bullseye's evil twin - "Come and have a look at how you would have died."

There was a subsequent series of Maths Quest books by different authors, and similar books released under the History Quest and Science Quest banners, which went a step further. Pick a wrong answer, and the book just tells you why you didn't get it right, and sends you back to the question to try again. Not even a narrow escape, making these books rather less 'thrilling' than their blurbs assert them to be.

An earlier series of gamebooks that worked similarly to Maths/History/Science Quest was Martin Waddell's The Mystery Squad. Decisions were mostly puzzle-based, and getting a wrong answer led to your being told you were wrong (and often pelted with custard pies for your foolishness) and sent back to the puzzle section for another try. Still, those books did require the reader to keep track of how many times they got pied, and used that figure to rate the reader's performance at the end, so there were at least consequences to making mistakes in those books.

Much the same kind of rating system (using red herrings rather than custard pies) features in Mary Danby's The Famous Five and You books. It's a long time since I read any of the Enid Blyton books on which they're based, but the point (such as it is) of the gamebook adaptations appears to be to reproduce the original narrative as closely as possible. The first decision in the first book regards whether the children should travel by train or by car, and if you don't pick the 'right' one (determined, as far as I can tell, by what happened in Five on a Treasure Island), you get a redirect and a red herring. These books (yes, plural - there were apparently half a dozen of the things) aren't about finding new takes on 'classic' children's adventure stories, they're disguised trivia quizzes based for the most part on dull minutiae. I think I may have a new least favourite gamebook series here.

A not-so-obvious variant is Harry Harrison's misleadingly-named You Can Be the Stainless Steel Rat. Play it once, and it's a moderately entertaining adventure in which you're a rookie in the Special Corps, sent to a prison planet to find a certain mad scientist. Play it again, and you soon discover that the decisions you make are meaningless. For instance, at one point you get to take one of three weapons with you. Immediately afterwards, you encounter an opponent against whom the weapon you chose is of no use. The nature of that opponent varies depending on which weapon you picked, but the plot beat is always the same: you chose 'poorly', and get robbed as a consequence of not having selected the 'right' weapon. 

Almost every fork in the narrative is like this. Faced with a binary choice, one option leading to success, the other to disaster, your selection always takes you to the outcome the author has already chosen. And it's not just decisions. Flip a coin (renamed an amphisibenic bipolar determinator in the text because jargon) to determine who wins a contest - the result for heads is identical to that for tails. When captured by the Star Beast, your freedom depending on how well you answer its riddles, wrong answers leave you no worse off than correct ones.

There are a couple of sort-of exceptions, where picking one option leads to being told something like, 'No, doing that would be stupid and doom you. Go back and choose the alternative course of action, you idiot,' but that's not exactly an improvement. The book's interactivity is illusory, and the decisions you make are irrelevant.

Most of the Back to the Future mini-gamebooks given away with breakfast cereal in the mid-1980s are similarly railroady. Follow the course of events that played out in the film, or don't - you end up in the same place regardless. Except for in the second and sixth 'books' in the series.

I only ever read book 2 once, decades ago, so I don't remember it clearly, but I do know that it makes it possible to avoid causing the paradox on which the movie's plot hinges, at which point the gamebook narrative rather fizzles out because the author didn't have the space to develop the concept. Book 6 has more diversity of outcomes, but in the end they all boil down to either a variant of what happened on screen, or words to the effect of, 'Oh well, you have a time machine. Better go back to the start and try again.' Obviously there are limits to how much you can do for a cereal packet freebie, but there are other examples that provided more challenging adventures over breakfast. 

Three Men in a Maze, published as part of the Tracker Books series, is a slightly different sort of interactive adaptation of a novel, based on an anecdote from Jerome K. Jerome's Three Men in a Boat. As a textual simulation of what it's like to get lost in Hampton Court Maze under the guidance of a buffoon who thinks he's a lot smarter than he is, it's not bad, but you'd probably derive more entertainment from reading the book on which it's based.

I shan't say much about the pseudonymous Jak Shadow's F.E.A.R. Adventures, as I've already played most of them on this blog. Still, they merit a mention here. As in the Glover Maths Quest books, you can make 'bad' decisions, but never actually face the consequences of your 'error'. Instead you get sent back to the start to try again - which I consider a failure, hence my covering them in the blog, but the books themselves shy away from demoralising their readers with that f-word. Instead, they demoralise you by disregarding logic and reality, and punishing sensible decisions, but I've ranted about that elsewhere.

I never really got into Bantam Books' Time Machine series, but given that it lasted for over 20 books, it must have found a decent audience. In any case, at least some of them merit a mention here, though they're a bit of a special case. As I understand it, the point of these books is to find the chain of decisions that leads to the ending, with poor choices causing you to loop back to an earlier point in the narrative. That might make them sound like the F.E.A.R. Adventures, but while F.E.A.R. uses the looping back to cop out of having the viewpoint character come to any harm, Time Machine is more like attempting to navigate a textual maze (only with options more varied than choosing a direction at each junction).

Well, that's how the earlier ones work, at least. Reviews suggest that there are also books in the series where progress towards victory is inevitable regardless of the choices made, and a couple in which it's possible to get trapped in a loop on account of having chosen the wrong item at the outset. So, not every entry in the series is 'unlosable', though the exceptions may be that way owing to authorial or editorial errors rather than a deliberate change from the norm.

Anyway, those (and arguably the Marvel Super Heroes book that helped inspire this post) are all of the 'reach the same victory ending no matter what you do' gamebooks of which I am aware. Readers are welcome to mention any I've missed, correct errors, or just make their views on the subject known. But please don't say anything about 'unlosable' gamebooks with a variety of different plotlines and/or endings, as I'll be covering those in a separate blog entry.

The Vultures Circle Overhead and Pray for My Demise

I explained how I acquired the first four of Tracey Turner's Lost gamebooks in my playthrough of the first one. One thing I didn't mention about Lost in the Jungle of Doom was that it ended with a brief teaser for the second book, Lost in the Desert of Dread. The teaser vaguely implies continuity of character between the books, but the scene-setting passage in Desert makes no mention of my having previously wound up stranded in a jungle, so I could be playing a different individual. It's not that big a deal, but if this were explicitly the same person every time, by about the fourth book I'd expect my character to have been blacklisted by travel agents and transport providers worldwide.

Anyway, I'm in the Sahara Desert. I hadn't realised how massive it is until I saw the map of Africa at the start of the book. Just... wow.

I was on a camel safari, but became separated from the rest of the party during a sandstorm. Exactly what happened after that is a bit vague, but the adventure starts as I wake and throw off the sand-covered blanket under which I was lying. It's day, it's hot, I can see a vulture overhead, and I need to find help. Having been one of the group's water carriers, I have a few bottles of the stuff with me, but they'll only provide what I need for a day or two. Other useful possessions include a spade, matches, an aluminium mess tin, sensible clothing, and sun cream. 

As in the previous book, the intro is followed by a little information about the environment in which I find myself and some of the perils I am liable to face there, followed by a short list of survival tips. Amusingly, the list concludes by pointing out that in circumstances similar to my character's, the best option is probably staying put, doing what you can to attract attention, and waiting to be rescued, and then goes on to ask, "But where's the fun in that?"

So, do I immediately start searching for water, or wait in what little shelter from the sun is available, and travel when it's cooler? A look at the water consumption chart near the back of the book reveals that, depending on the temperature, exertion could potentially double the amount I need to drink, so I'll rest in the shade for a while. That does require me to find shade first, but I can see some boulders up on a ridge, and what could be a building a bit further away. The sidebar on finding shelter mentions that there are some abandoned buildings in the Sahara, so I'll investigate that.

It turns out to be a partially-collapsed mud hut, but the part that's still standing provides the shelter I need for today. Towards sundown, noises alert me to the proximity of a pack of jackals, apparently feeding on something dead. I have the option of trying to scare them off and seeing if I can scavenge any food from the corpse, but that seems a bad idea for a multitude of reasons. The jackals could turn on me, chasing them off will involve a fair bit of exertion even if they don't attack, and the book's already warned me more than once that eating will increase my need for water, so I'm probably better off going hungry for a while.

As I rather fortuitously have an analogue wristwatch, I can use it as a crude compass. The book explains how to do so (and lists some alternate options for people who've gone digital), but the text describing my actions doesn't follow quite the same procedure, and the accompanying illustration doesn't match either (unless the face is askew so that the 12 is not at the top). Based on where I was when we entered the desert, I need to go south or southwest, but working out which direction is which gets that bit more complicated when I'm pointing the wrong part of the face at the setting sun and the picture seems not to even be showing that.

Well, I know that in this hemisphere the sun sets in the west, so if I'm pointing the 12 at the setting sun, south should be in the direction of the 9, right? The book gives me the option of heading in the direction of the 6, 9 or 10, so I think I should go for one of the latter two. I'll go with 9. This takes me across an arid plain towards some sand dunes, which doesn't look massively promising, but depending on how deep into the desert I was when I got lost, there could be a lot of inhospitable terrain even on the best route out.

I've been walking for a while when a hissing sound brings me to a halt. There's a snake on the ground close by. Perhaps more dangerously to me as a reader, the body of the paragraph and the choices available don't entirely match up. There's a not insignificant difference between 'ignore' and 'step around', and 'back away' isn't the same as 'run away'. A sudden movement could startle the snake into attacking, so I try being more cautious - and that's the wrong thing to do. The saw-scaled viper bites me in the ankle, and its venom proves painfully lethal owing to the lack of medical facilities in the vicinity.

A not-so-convenient sidebar across the page from the section describing my death says enough about the temperament and behaviour of the species to make it obvious what I should have done and why (the snake was warning me away, so I needed to back off), but it's too late for that information to do my character any good.

I had a couple more goes at this book between making the failed attempt outlined above and posting this entry. Though I took a slightly different route second time round, I still wound up encountering that saw-scaled viper, but at least by then I knew the appropriate course of action. At every other point where I had to make a choice, the more sensible-seeming option (often suggested or backed up by advice given earlier in the book) had a non-lethal outcome, and I made it to an oasis and civilisation.

My third try suggested that non-suicidal routes through the book might converge in a manner which makes it impossible to win without passing through the 'using the watch as a compass' sequence and the run-in with the snake. If so, it's a pity that the unnecessarily confusing bit and the part where important information is withheld until after the reader could have used it to avert death are unavoidable, but most of the time the book does seem to be playing fair. Not quite up to the standard of the first book in the series, but still pretty good overall.

I Am My Own Bad Luck

Time for the third part of my playthrough of Ian Brocklehurst's Starhunt: Void Slavers, the gamebook equivalent of a 1990s straight-to-VHS sub-Steven Seagal action film, with slightly less interactivity than one of the more tediously linear Lone Wolf Magnakai books. Well, that's my opinion of the mini-adventure so far: some critics haven't been so positive about it.

Anyway, it turns out that things aren't quite over on Aquatine. The Starhunt collects me, and Kraven-8 informs me that security ships have been launched in response to my unauthorised departure, but my encyclopaedic knowledge of the capabilities of different models of ship reassures me that I'll be gone before they can catch up to me. Besides, a run-in with the law could result in decision-making, and that's just not what this mini-adventure's about.

Before my not-remotely-thrilling escape is concluded, Arthur contacts me. Showing signs of having been in a pretty nasty fight, he provides me with the information he was able to track down: a mixture of stuff I learned by eavesdropping and new information. Though Rhea Mosa is behind the kidnapping, her ship has developed a fault, so the captives are being transported by Collo, the former gun-runner. Arthur also gives me details of Rhea's ship and where she's having it repaired, which I dismiss because Collo's obviously the person I need to focus on now.

Incidentally, my character is confident that Mosa's ship, The Siren's Fury, will be no match for the Starhunt, even though my ship's capabilities are as randomly determined as my own. Now, that could just be an indication of my character's arrogance, or it might be a 'fact' in-story. If the latter, I can think of four ways it could have been handled:

1. The Fury has rubbish stats, so even if I roll nothing but ones during vehicle generation, I have a decent chance against it in a straight fight.
2. The Fury's stats are determined relative to the Starhunt's, so regardless of how good or bad my ship is, I will have the edge. That trick worked for Fang-Zen in Deathmoor.
3. The author has assumed that the readers will cheat and automatically give themselves and their ships maximum stats, so the Fury is designed to be not as good as the best ship dice can build, and honest players who don't roll high are likely to fail for not matching the stereotype.
4. The Fury's stats don't come into play because the author thinks punishing the person actually responsible for my sister's suffering is irrelevant, so going after Rhea is not an option, or at best a one-way trip to failure.

The second of those options would be best, the first would be acceptable, and I suspect that the adventure will go with one of the others. But maybe I'll be pleasantly surprised.

Arthur points out that it might be worth seeking Rhea out first in case she can be 'persuaded' to provide me with some useful information. This might lead some readers to think that I could make an actual decision here, but that is not the Brocklehurst way, so instead what happens next depends on what I did earlier. And my not having interacted with the crooked cop means that I leave planetary gravity without incident.

Kraven-8 confirms that the star-drive is ready, and I establish that it will take a minute and a half to reprogram it if I want to go after Rhea rather than Collo. Is that enough time for the Aquatine security forces to catch up with me, or just another of the irrelevant details with which this adventure is crammed? I'll risk the detour in case that's the only way of acquiring some vital data.

Taking the extra time has no adverse consequences, and I arrive at the asteroid belt where the Fury is so quickly, the author didn't even have time to tell me that I'd started to travel there. My ship's sensors pick up signs of Kalithium leakage, a probable consequence of the malfunctioning star-drive on Mosa's ship, so I follow the trail of particles. Kraven-8 advises scanning for traps before I enter the asteroid field, and I have to choose whether or not to do so. Wow. Two decisions without any intervening runaround. This second one seems a bit of a no-brainer, as the text gives no indication of why I might want to ignore the robot's recommendations, but that makes me suspicious. Nevertheless, I shall do the sensible thing.

Well, that's sloppy structuring. Choosing to do the scan has me voice the concern that taking the time to do so might give Rhea time to escape. Why not at least have me consider that possibility before making the decision, to make it slightly less blatantly 'do you want to be careful or suicidal?' As Kraven-8 points out, the fault on the Fury prevents Mosa from making a run for it, so smart players would have had a chance to figure out that there was no need to worry about her getting away, but there would at least be a reason to consider the more reckless option.

Scanning reveals weapons mounted on two nearby asteroids, a trick that is apparently common enough to have gained its own nickname, 'the old ion-plasma one-two'. Destroying both cannons is too easy to involve any activity on the reader's part, but continuing into the asteroid field requires me to roll against my ship's Manoeuvrability, so I do need to generate those stats after all.
Manoeuvrability 10
Weapons System 11
Deflector Shields 18
Hull Integrity 21
All decent scores, for what it's worth.

I successfully manoeuvre around a spinning asteroid and into a fresh chain of decision-free section transitions. A message comes in on the communications system, and an unidentified woman warns that I'm not going to leave here alive. Then the Fury attacks (while there was never any real doubt that the woman was Rhea, the jump from lacking confirmation to being certain is clumsily handled), and it has average stats, which means that Mr. Brocklehurst seems to have gone with option 3 from that list. I do indeed outclass Rhea's ship in every regard, but only because I was lucky enough to get high scores when determining its capabilities. Anyway, time to check the rules for ship-to-ship combat.

So, we take it in turns to fire at each other. Every shot hits, but my Deflectors absorb almost half of the damage inflicted by the Fury, while Rhea's Shields don't help her at all. Even so, I lose more than half my Hull Integrity in the course of bringing hers to zero. Wait, no, it's not quite that bad: sub-optimal formatting of the rules makes part of one step appear to be an aside. It turns out that with my first shot I did some flukey extra damage, so the fight ended one round sooner than I'd thought, and I can disregard Rhea's final shot. So I lost just under half of my Hull Integrity. Still a pretty hefty proportion. And according to the rules, winning a fight automatically means that the opposing ship explodes, so interrogating Rhea could be tricky.

My character gloats over Rhea's destruction before realising the flaw in plan 'reduce the slaver to her component atoms and then question them'. Kraven-8 then reveals that he was able to intercept a message she attempted to send to the starport whither Collo was bound. We are unable to make sense of it because it's written in Super Secret Slaver Code, but we do at least have the precise location of the intended recipient, which should narrow down the search once we head over there. Also, Collo doesn't get the benefit of whatever information Rhea was sending (not that she could have told him much beyond 'There's an unfamiliar spaceship here, and I've attacked it but am getting shot to scrap').

I have to make another Manoeuvrability check to get back out of the asteroid field, and narrowly succeed. Just as I'm about to set off for the starport, I receive another communication, this one a distress call purporting to be from a damaged transporter. Could be a trap, could be legitimate but a failure-ensuring waste of time, could be the only way to acquire some crucial plot token, could even be pure padding. Given what's been established about my character, I might be required to do the 'hard man making hard choices' thing and abandon them to their fate, but then again, the adventure might go down the moralistic 'you did something inhumane and must be punished with ignominious defeat' route, and if I'm going to fail, I'd rather fail for doing the right thing than for being callous.

After I've made my decision, the text has me observe that that kind of ship has no reason to be in this region, but head in their direction anyway. This is not good design: if I had such suspicions, they should have been made clear before I was asked what I wanted to do. Failure to provide relevant information, and then penalising the reader for not acting on what they weren't told, is a dirty trick, and doesn't become any less reprehensible just because other authors have been guilty of it before.

It is a trap, and the next time I try to contact the ship, they respond with a blast of sound that renders me unconscious. It does not, however, affect the competent member of the Starhunt's crew, so I now have to play out the fight between Kraven-8 and the space pirates who incapacitated me. Their ship's stats are worse than the Fury's, and we only take minor damage before my long-suffering robot atomises the scurvy bunch.

When I come round, Kraven-8 explains what just happened. Given that the reader already knows, there's no real need for the text to cover the explanation in as much detail as it does, but maybe the author thinks that saying more than necessary here compensates for not having said enough prior to the decision that got me embroiled in the encounter. It doesn't.

Anyway, we reach the starport. Restrictions here aren't as tight as they were on Aquatine, so I can carry a blaster, but it'll have to be my second-best one, as my unauthorised departure from that planet meant that I never got to retrieve the blaster I had to hand over to the customs droid. I had been wondering if Mr Brocklehurst would remember that I'd been forced to leave the first one behind. Still, whatever credit is due to him for not forgetting and creating a continuity error is largely wiped out by the fact that my having a replacement available renders the whole business with the loss of the first gun irrelevant. Unless you value the character insight provided by my being more concerned about weapons than people - the fact that Arthur's enquiries on my behalf earned him a beating didn't bother me anywhere near as much as the loss of that blaster.

It would appear that not chasing after Rhea was an automatic failure, as the adventure proceeds on the assumption that I have the location to which she attempted to send her final message. Inconveniently, that location turns out to be off-limits to anybody who doesn't have clearance from the ISRFA, the local association for no-holds-barred fighters and their fans. Consequently I resolve to head for a gibberish-named bar where shady stuff goes down, and see if I can get myself registered as a fighter.

As I approach the bar, a couple of security guards drag an unconscious man out of it and barge past me. Odds are, that's just more padding, to add in yet another gratuitous section transition. Mercifully, the text does elide the next half hour of chatting with people, and people who know people, and people who know people who know people, skipping to the meeting with the ISRFA rep who asks me why I want a career in beating other people to a pulp. Figuring that 'I want to find one of your honoured guests and rip appendages off him until he tells me where he stashed my sister' might not go down too well, I claim to need the prize money as I have unpleasant debts to large people. Or maybe the other way round.

Orlando the rep takes me to a medic to ensure that I'm in good enough health to fight. There's not even a perfunctory Stamina check, so I'd be approved even if I were in a condition where a kick to the shin could kill me. And then I have half an hour to prepare for a bout against Jonah Quayle, the Painmaster, undefeated champion of 27 fights. The reward for winning is more than enough to cover my imaginary debts, so regardless of the outcome, this will be my only licensed fight.

Once Orlando has left me to get changed, I use my earpiece to contact Kraven-8 and bulk out another section that serves only to fill the gap between one non-choice and another. Then Orlando returns and takes me to the cage where the fight is to take place.

Combat starts with a Skill check as the Painmaster charges at me. I succeed at the roll, thereby taking just 2 Stamina damage from his opening flurry of blows, after which I get five rounds of combat in which to inflict 6 Stamina damage on him, or I automatically lose. Though I have a 2-point Skill advantage, I've had a higher Skill than every previous melee opponent this adventure, and lost a disproportionate number of rounds every single fight, so this could be game over.

As it turns out, I take just four rounds to hit him enough times, after which he loses a point of Skill and this becomes a regular 'to the death' fight. Except that I now have a fifth of the Stamina he does, so he need only get in a couple of lucky blows to finish me off. He wins the first round, I try using Luck to reduce the damage and prolong my existence that bit longer, and an inconvenient double six enhances the effectiveness of his blow and ends my life that bit sooner.

So, I'm dead, and my sister faces a worse fate. But on the positive side, I can stop playing this tiresome mini-adventure now.

Well, actually I now have to play it again for the FF 40th anniversary contest I mentioned here, but at least for the replay I can use my gamebook manager to skim through all that wearisome padding.

Nothing's Gained and Nothing's Lost

Today is the 40th anniversary of the publication of The Warlock of Firetop Mountain, the book that got me hooked on gamebooks, and I've done more to celebrate this one than I did the 30th.

Since the start of the year I've been running a Fighting Fantasy playthrough contest at the Fighting Fantazine forum. Each week I use a randomiser to select two FF titles - one that was published or reissued this century, and one that only came out last century. There's almost a 50/50 split between the two categories, and once the new books scheduled for release next month come out, there will be exactly the same number of titles in each. I am including the Fantazine mini-adventures (except for the one that only came out today, about which I shall say nothing for now). And the ones from Warlock magazine that aren't variants of full gamebooks. Plus Clash of the Princes and The Adventures of Goldhawk.

Anyway, there are currently 104 titles on the list, and by the end of the year it should be at least 106. So two a week would have got through the lot in one year, and since a year is 52 weeks and one day, that extra couple can theoretically be squeezed in at the end.

The random order was for a bit of variety. I made a start on playing through FF in publication order (more or less) at a no longer extant FF forum, and after that forum ceased to exist, I did so again at its successor (which has also vanished to section 404). This blog, thus, represents the third time I've done the series in order, so I felt like shaking things up a bit for the contest. Sorcery! still gets played in sequence, since it's possible to carry things over from one book to the next in that series, and a couple of the books would become a lot trickier if played in isolation, but the randomiser still determines when a Sorcery! title comes up.

Participants only have to play one of the selected titles each week (though they are free to play both if willing and able, and then decide which one counts as that week's entry in the contest). Points are awarded to add a competitive element, but they're not really that important. What matters is that, because of this contest, I've played 70 FF adventures so far this year (not including the ones covered in this blog), and assorted other players have done in the region of 34-35. Some fans have revisited and reappraised titles they hadn't given a try in years. Others have played certain gamebooks for the first time ever (myself included). These replays and first plays have inspired fresh discussion of many of the adventures. As celebrations go, I think that's not bad.

You may be wondering how I did at each adventure I've played. If not, you might as well skip to the final paragraph. For those who would like to know, read on. Any that I won this year but failed when I did them for the blog are highlighted in yellow. Ones I won on the blog but didn't beat this year are highlighted in pale blue. 

The Warlock of Firetop Mountain – Not yet played
The Citadel of Chaos - Won
The Forest of Doom - Won
Starship Traveller - Won
City of Thieves - Won
The Shamutanti Hills – Crushed by a rolling boulder
Deathtrap Dungeon – Not yet played
Island of the Lizard King - Won
Kharé - Cityport of Traps – Killed by a Deathwraith
Scorpion Swamp – Not yet played
Caverns of the Snow Witch – Killed by an Elf Zombie
The Seven Serpents – Not yet played
House of Hell - Won
Talisman of Death – Won
The Crown of Kings – Not yet played
The Dervish Stone – Got hugged to death by a Bronze Golem
Space Assassin – Killed by Sentinels
Freeway Fighter – Got knocked out and had my car stolen
Temple of Terror – Not yet played
Dungeon of Justice – Took a crossbow bolt to the throat
The Rings of Kether – Not yet played
Seas of Blood – Killed by a Sith Orb (whatever that might be)
The Dark Chronicle of Anakendis – Not yet played
Appointment with F.E.A.R. – Not yet played
Temple of Testing – Killed by the Orcish Referee again
Rebel Planet – Got caught by an Arcadian search party
The Floating City – Was turned into a seal by a sorcerer who didn't like the present I got him
Demons of the Deep – Killed by a Devilfish
Fortress Throngard – Killed by a mob of guards
Sword of the Samurai – Killed by a Samurai Horseman
Rogue Mage – Not yet played
Trial of Champions – Killed by a fellow slave while fighting blindfolded in the arena
The Land of Changes – Won
Clash of the Princes - The Warlock's Way – Killed by a Thunder Beast
Clash of the Princes - The Warrior's Way – Not yet played
Robot Commando - Won by curing the sleeping sickness
Deadline to Destruction – Not yet played
Masks of Mayhem – Not yet played
Creature of Havoc – Caused the roof to cave in while searching for secret doors
The Temple of the Pharaoh – Killed by a Swarm of Bats
Beneath Nightmare Castle – Killed by Xakhaz
Crypt of the Sorcerer – Killed by the Harpoon Flies again
Star Strider – Not yet played
Phantoms of Fear – Killed by a Wild Boar
Midnight Rogue – Not yet played
Chasms of Malice – Not yet played
Battleblade Warrior – Killed by a Tyrannosaurus Rex
Slaves of the Abyss – Not yet played
Sky Lord – Killed by Pelhon Rangers (I think they're some kind of spacegoing busybodies, but given the weirdness of this book, they could just as easily be a football team)
Stealer of Souls – Killed by Mordraneth
Daggers of Darkness – Not yet played
Armies of Death – Killed by the Elite Fanatic
Portal of Evil – Killed by a bandit named Kran
Vault of the Vampire – Killed by the Baobhan Sith again
Fangs of Fury – Captured by Mage Warriors
Dead of Night – Not yet played
Master of Chaos - Won
Black Vein Prophecy – Biantaied a Polybleb (I'm not entirely sure what that means, but it turned out to be very bad for my health)
Keep of the Lich Lord - Won
Legend of the Shadow Warriors – Indefinitely imprisoned for being unable to pay my tax bill
Spectral Stalkers – Not yet played
Tower of Destruction – Killed by a Man-Orc
The Crimson Tide – Not yet played
Moonrunner – Absorbed by a large blob which Gruul conjured up
Siege of Sardath – Not yet played
Return to Firetop Mountain – Not yet played
Island of the Undead – Killed by the Greater Ghoul again
Night Dragon – Not yet played
Spellbreaker – Killed by the Piper
Legend of Zagor – Killed by a different Great Orc from the one that killed me on my last two attempts
Deathmoor – Killed with the Baron's poisoned sword
Knights of Doom – Not yet played
Magehunter – Killed by Bath-House Bouncers
Revenge of the Vampire – Killed by Igor
Darkmoon's Curse – Killed by the Banshee yet again
The Demon Spider - Won
Mudworm Swamp – Got drugged, robbed, and dumped in the swamp because drinking alcohol is bad, kids
Ghost Road – Won
Curse of the Mummy – Got crushed by a toppling statue
The Eye of the Dragon – Not yet played
Bloodbones – Killed by the Second Pirate
Howl of the Werewolf – Not yet played
Stormslayer – Not yet played
The Resurrection of the Dead – Killed by bad design a Xoroa Warrior
Shrine of the Salamander – Killed by a particularly vicious Tadpole
Night of the Necromancer – Not yet played
Prey of the Hunter – Not yet played
In Search of the Mungies' Gold – Killed by a large group of Mungies
Bones of the Banished – Fell off a cliff dodging a spear
Escape From the Sorcerer – Killed by a trio of Asura (intermittently invisible demonic pests)
Queen of Shades – Killed by ghostly Shieldmaidens
Vengeance at Midnight – Not yet played
Return to the Icefinger Mountains - Won
Blood of the Zombies – Not yet played
Hand of Fate – Killed by some Wheelies (disc-shaped creatures that throw knives, not a cycling stunt gone wrong)
Ascent of Darkness – Hit in the shoulder with a poisoned arrow
Starhunt: Void Slavers – Not yet played

As I haven't yet covered the more recent titles here, I shan't go into detail about the ones I've played (basically everything but Assassins of Allansia) until I attempt them for this blog. Suffice to say that they did not improve my success rate.

So, Happy Birthday to Fighting Fantasy. One of the playtesters for the impending new releases has made some encouraging comments about them, so things could be looking up for the range. Let's hope that there's a new renaissance under way.

Do You Know What Happens to Vampires When They Die?

It's 10 years since I started this blog. Where does the time go?

In a departure from what happened in previous anniversary posts, I've decided to do a bonus playthrough here. Earlier this year I acquired the Fabled Lands Publishing reissues of the Golden Dragon gamebooks. The first one, Crypt of the Vampire, has apparently undergone some changes beyond the correction of errors, and there's more than one viable route through it, so I could potentially play it again without just repeating exactly what I did last time. It also happens to be one of the first gamebooks I actually won on this blog (and I've only recently replayed the very first one I beat here, for reasons I shall be going into a little later on in the year), which makes playing it again quite an appropriate way to celebrate the occasion.

The differences between the two versions of the book start before the adventure. The original's dedication to author Dave Morris' parents has been replaced with a quotation from Dracula, and the introduction now explains something of what the author was trying to achieve with the book.

As for the rules, while everything appears to work as it originally did, some of the text has been rewritten. The bit about thinking up a name for your character has gone, the explanation of how the combat system works has been rephrased, and, bizarrely, the mock paragraph used to help illustrate how it works has been changed in parts: most of the colour text and all of the stats are the same, but the section numbers mentioned are different, the opponent has transformed from an Ogre into a woodsman, and the terminology describing a successful outcome is different. 

The paragraph on items has also been modified, and starting equipment has been pared down, losing the armour and backpack. Finally (for the pre-adventure material), the lead-in to the first section replaces 'the adventure' with 'your nightmare'.

Time to generate my character.
Vigour: 27
PSI: 7
Agility: 5
I think I'd better give the chimney-climbing a miss this time round.

The first section of the gamebook is the same atmospheric scene-setting passage as before up until the last line, but the description of the latticework gate into the grounds of the house where I seek shelter is less informative, merely describing it as 'unusual' rather than pointing out that it's in the shape of a large humanoid with talons. Trying to make it less obvious that the figure will animate and attack if you touch the gate? Trusting in Leo Hartas' illustration to get the point across?

Oh, and I'm reaching for the latch rather than about to reach for it when I notice the design. The choices available are the same, though, and I'd rather not unnecessarily risk death this early on, so I'll avoid the gate altogether and use vines and creepers to climb over the wall.

As I approach the mansion, I see someone approaching, but instead of a bow-toting Elf, this is a soldier in a dishevelled uniform, armed with a musket. Morbid curiosity had me sneak a peek at the consequences of speaking to him rather than immediately attacking, and to my surprise, this doesn't give him a free shot at me. In either version of the book: I've been misremembering that detail for years.

Observing him to be crazed and preparing to fire, I attack, and the combat stats are unchanged. A few poor rolls highlight one problem arising from the change of weapon: the Elf nocking a fresh arrow after each round I can just about accept, but reloading a musket isn't the sort of thing that even a clear-headed soldier would be able to do with ease while fending off a swordsman, yet this frothing individual manages it at least twice before I run him through.

My opponent's dying words are largely unchanged, beyond repetition of 'His eyes!' in reference to the 'evil lord', and my character is still so clueless as to attribute the puncture marks in the corpse's throat to an unspecified animal. Stashing the body under a tree to keep the rain off it, I continue towards the house, which has a somewhat unsettling appearance.

I'm pretty sure that money is largely irrelevant in this adventure (beyond the fact that some lethal traps are baited with what appears to be valuable treasure), so I throw a few coins into the stagnant pond outside the house. For some strange reason, this briefly causes the water to turn red and show me a vision of a hostile face with hypnotic-looking eyes, which is enough to get even my dopey character to suspect that there may be something ominous afoot around here.

Nevertheless, I proceed to enter the house. The double doors on my right lead to a study or library, where I find a lantern and discover that it's not possible to set light to the logs in the fireplace. Returning to the hall, I head up the stairs, finding bedrooms so dusty that they can't have been used in years, and a minor rewording of one sentence. The thought of sleeping here does not appeal (not so much on account of the dust as because I remember that doing so leads to an Instant (Un)Death), so the only option that remains to me is to investigate the downstairs passageway leading deeper into the house.

The walls have wood panels, which have been deliberately broken in places. Could that be a consequence of people trying to improvise stakes? And the section number for one of the options here has changed in the new edition - but bypassing the two doors I'm approaching would be a bad choice, possibly even fatal in the long run, so I won't look into the differences just yet.

The first door leads to a small storage room, 'little more than a closet' (and this is the first time I've picked up on the fact that the animated skeleton hiding in it is a joke). Another thing that hadn't registered before: the listed clutter includes coils of rope, but I don't get to take one. I'm not sure I'll ever need one in this adventure, but considering how important having rope can be in gamebooks, it's odd to have the stuff mentioned in the descriptive text and then just disregarded.

Anyway, I search the closet, defeat the skeleton with ease, find the golden helmet it was guarding, and go on my way with new headgear (but no rope). Oh, and the section covering returning to the passage is right next to the one that, in the original text, covered proceeding straight to the end of the passage, so I imagine the changed numbers are just to avoid having a 'turn to 105' option in section 104.

The next door has a crucifix-shaped design on it, so even if I didn't already know that this is where I can acquire an essential item, basic knowledge of tropes relating to vampires would indicate that investigating here is advisable. Behind the door is a workroom, in which a monk is putting the finishing touches to a shuttered lantern. There was an illustration of the scene in the original book, but it's gone from the reissue.

So far the changes made to the text have been minor, leading me to wonder if the consequences of threatening the monk are still as mild as in the first edition. Still, if the decision has been made to now penalise unprovoked aggression, that could guarantee failure, so I'll stick with a friendly greeting.

The monk, now Brother Hark rather than Father Harkas, offers food and drink that puts right some of the damage I took from being shot by the soldier, then tells me about the history of Tenebron Hall and its vampiric Lord, and explains that he uses his holy talismans to keep himself safe from the house's monstrous denizens so he can equip potential heroes to confront Lord Tenebron. It turns out that the soldier had been on his way home from the wars when he came here and was persuaded to oppose the vampire, which slightly enhances the tragic nature of his failure. I accept a second lantern and a crucifix from Brother Hark before heading off in search of Tenebron.

The corridor ends in steps leading down to the cellar. Being amply provided with light sources, I descend to find long-abandoned racks of wine. Passing up the opportunity to impair my stats with intoxication, I open the barred door on the far side with the obligatory creaking noise and proceed along another corridor.

A door on the right leads into a bedroom, currently unoccupied, though by the time I've checked that the candlesticks on the mantelpiece are solid silver, a crone in a pointy hat and her pet crow have turned up to glower at me. She turns the smoke from the fireplace into a monster when I refuse to leave, but opts not to hang around once I've used my wits to get rid of it. I then help myself to the plate of food on her desk, which restores the rest of the Vigour I lost fighting the soldier.

My low Agility makes climbing up the chimney (after dousing the fire) inadvisable, and now I'm at full health, I don't think there's anything to justify the risk, so I head back out to the corridor and move along to the evil chapel located beyond a nearby archway. As in my previous playthrough, a lucky roll while searching the altar turns up a concealed compartment containing a bone carved from marble, which I add to my inventory before going on my way.

The corridor opens up into a gallery, decorated with portraits of the thirteen Lords Tenebron. It also contains the remains of another of my predecessors, now just a skeleton in rusting armour. As his sword shows no signs of decay, I help myself to it, retaining my original one as a back-up.

Beyond the gallery is a dining hall, its contents covered in dust and cobwebs, apart from the painting of an archer on the far wall, which fires an arrow into my shoulder. I retaliate by setting the picture alight with one of my lanterns, and head up a flight of stairs to one of the two exits leading onwards. The room beyond is occupied by a drunken Cossack, virtually indistinguishable from the Barbarian who was here in the original text. He injures me a couple of times, but I win the fight. His drink of choice is rye beer rather than fermented yak's milk, but apart from that everything he owns is as it was in the first edition. I take his money and the food items that could be of use to me later on.

The room has one exit other than the one through which I came, proceeding down a passageway to a junction. To the left the corridor ends in a door with a hand-shaped handle, which I open. The room beyond has an unidentifiable light source, and is occupied by a man dressed in black and white, who sits by a chessboard and silently invites me to play against him. As I am about to make my first move, I find myself on a stony plain, commanding an army dressed in white, and opposing a force of black-clad soldiers. Eventually I wind up in single combat against the Black Queen, who wins more rounds of combat than I do, but has a lower Vigour and ultimately falls to my sword.

Just like that I'm back in the room with the man and the chessboard, restored to full health and having just won the game. My opponent causes the pieces to disappear, and then brings three of them back, now adapted into amulets, one of which I may claim as my prize. I take the rook, which increases my maximum Vigour and boosts my current score to match.

Returning to the junction and heading the other way (which causes me to turn from 243 to 242, a transition that remains unchanged in the reissue), I ignore the suit of armour I pass, as I have no need to replace my sword. The corridor leads to a room containing a chest with a coil of rope on it, another scene that was illustrated but is no longer.

I take a closer look at the chest, and the rope animates and starts to throttle me. Passing up the opportunity to experience a bit of authorial overkill (a bad roll while attempting to cut the rope results in slicing open your jugular and not quite bleeding to death before the rope snaps your neck), I fling open the chest and use the item within that deanimates the rope. The only other thing in the chest restores me to full Vigour, which would be more impressive if I hadn't been at maximum before the rope attacked me.

Two doors lead onwards. This is where the book splits into two different but viable routes to the endgame, but can I remember which one I didn't take last time? Yes I can, so now I can proceed to some encounters that weren't covered in the previous playthrough.

As I approach the door, I hear strange music coming from beyond it. Wary, I break a couple of small chunks off the cheese I took from the Cossack, and use them as ear plugs before opening the door. Stairs lead down to a chamber in which a quartet of skeletons plays music to an apparently enraptured knight in armour. The illustration of this is also missing from the reissue.

Speaking to the knight, I discover that he's dead and turned to dust, having been fatally captivated by the music a long, long while ago. His possessions consist of a little money and a bottle of now undrinkable water, both of which I take. I then turn my attention to the musicians: two playing violins, one on the harpsichord, and a percussionist whose instrument is the harpsichordist's skull. A flute lies unused on the podium, animated skeletons lacking the lips and lungs required to get the best out of such an instrument, so I add it to my belongings.

I don't think there's anything to be gained by trying to steal one of the glowing crystals that illuminate the chamber, so I move on to the far doors. They're soundproofed, so once I've shut them behind me, I can take the cheese out of my ears. This enables me to hear the snoring emanating from a curtained alcove close by. I investigate, finding a drunken brute with warts and leathery skin (and another picture absent from the reissue).

Not content to let sleeping whatevers lie, I creep closer. Randomness determines that I disarm him before he wakes, and strike a rather unsporting lethal blow as he becomes aware of me. Somehow while doing this I learn that... Well, originally he was a Hobgoblin, but the reissue turns him into a Szgany, one of the people who were encamped outside Dracula's castle in Stoker's novel. Despite avoiding the really prejudicial term for such people, this is (in my view) a somewhat regrettable edit. The reissue also contains a comma that really doesn't belong there, but that's more trivial. 

As he dies, he attempts to cast a spell on me, but my PSI is high enough that I can shrug off the effect of the curse, and go on my way. If I remember rightly, I could have learned something useful from him had my sneak attack failed, forcing me to face him in battle, but as it is, the encounter was pointless, and leaves me feeling a little uncomfortable.

Passing a flight of steps leading up, I realise that the two paths from the room with the chest have converged sooner than expected. So, as on my previous attempt, I visit a paladin's tomb and, as a consequence of attempted shroud-theft, acquire a shield that helps me get past the nearby zombie-filled pool of water (another deleted illustration) unscathed. Parts of this book are odd.

Up ahead are three doors, and as a consequence of having gone through the room with the skeletal musicians, I have no key and must again diverge from the route previously taken. The only unlocked door leads to a large cavern, home to a multitude of bats. They don't appreciate being disturbed, and swoop to the attack, so I pull out the flute and play it. The music (the book doesn't specify the tune, so I'm going to assume it's a certain well-known piece by Neal Hefti) disrupts the bats' sonar, enabling me to evade them as I make for the exit.

Again the different routes through the adventure converge, this time at a crossroads, and authorial fiat compels me to go straight ahead. From this point onwards things happen much as they did last time: the helmet I found near the start enables me to avoid being tricked by a bogus treasure hoard (and has been renamed in the reissue), a more elaborate illusion briefly distracts me, leading to a fight with a giant spider (illustration omitted from the reissue), and I use the marble bone to distract the hellhound which guards Tenebron's chambers. With a crucifix and the Cossack's garlic I weaken the vampire, and while he puts up a better fight than before, I still win, using the sword I found in the gallery, which has powerful enough enchantments to ensure that Tenebron stays dead when I kill him.

So, I win again. The changes made to the text for the reissue are less substantial than I'd expected, but they do achieve the goal of shifting the tone of the book a little closer to Hammer Horror than generic fantasy. I do think the Szgany was an inadvisable edit, but overall, this new edition compares favourably to a lot of the other gamebook reissues on my bookshelves.

No Telling What's Been Breeding Down There

It's been a month since my last post here, so I ought to stop putting off the continuation of my playing Ian Brocklehurst's occasionally interactive mini-adventure Starhunt: Void Slavers, which I started here.

The first part of this playthrough ended at the point where I got to make my second decision: go immediately to the gate where the Slavers are going to pay off the crooked cop who helped them carry out the recent raid, or ask for more information. This appears to be a less exciting choice than it sounds: I wind up turning to the same section regardless of whether I depart at once or loiter to ask a question or two, so unless there's a 'gotcha' moment later where I'm asked how much time I spent quizzing Arthur, the implied urgency is just for show.

I ask for more information on what Slavers do after conducting raids, and learn that they deposit their captives in holding cells until the next Slave Mart. Owing to the cost of keeping the prisoners in marketable condition, the raids probably aren't carried out until shortly before a Mart is due to take place. Because few things make a villain more menacing than good timetabling and resource management, right? I also get a reminder that my character isn't that pleasant an individual, with a statement of my utter indifference towards all the Slavers' victims to whom I'm not closely related.

Since it looks as if it makes no difference how many questions I ask, I also take the opportunity to find out what Arthur knows about the Sovereigness, leader of the Slavers (or possibly a lackey with a fancy title who makes sure the Slavers who do the actual slaving keep their diaries up to date). She's the new CEO of Slave Mart Inc., who assumed the role just after her predecessor accidentally brutally annihilated himself with enough explosives to destroy a sun. Her true identity remains a closely guarded secret, but the most popular rumours have her related to aristocrats or the President of the TCA, because, you know, even the most reprehensible criminals still have standards, and wouldn't work for anybody common.

Saying my farewells to Arthur (in an exchange that would be just soggy with irony if it turned out that he were on the side of the Slavers), I walk out of the club and into a new section. On my way back to the monorail station I contact Kraven-8 and ask him to do some more hacking. What I want him to find depends on whether or not I went to the police earlier (so a more discreet approach must make it possible to survive pursuing that line of enquiry). As I didn't, I ask about the gate Arthur mentioned. Kraven-8 reports that it's been closed for 4 days, since a sewer worker got killed by a Centi-Crab. That means the area has been very quiet (since places where people recently met violent deaths never attract the attention of morbid onlookers), so it would have been a good spot for getting in unobserved.

Arriving at the station (and a new section), I must 'choose' where to go next, though as in this life I never spoke with the corrupt police officer, I don't have the (doubtless false) lead she would have provided, so I can only go to the gate mentioned by Arthur. And if I'd been daft enough not to make a note of the gate number, I'd be stuck, as I need to turn to the section corresponding to that number to go there. It seems a little petty to have this check that the reader did receive information that it's impossible not to receive before getting to this point, but I guess it contributes to the façade of player agency.

After changing trains twice, I reach the right part of town, noting that it's pretty run-down, and after changing section once I get to find out the identity of the figures who shamble towards me as I walk towards the gate. It turns out to be a couple of junkies, who accuse me of trespassing and attack. One has a Skill almost equal to mine (because narcotic-induced delusions improve fighting prowess, right?), and lousy rolls mean that even his less adept (or possibly not so stoned) partner manages to wound me a couple of times. If I hadn't used Luck to reduce the effectiveness of a couple of blows, I'd be down to my last point of Stamina.

Time for a quick reminder of the rules regarding regaining Stamina. Okay, I have two portions of food, each restoring the traditional 4 Stamina, and a medi-kit that heals 8. Bit odd, but whatever. Meal, medikit, almost back to full health.

Having knocked the junkies out, I now get to choose whether or not to search them. Doing so could expose me to something harmful, or it might provide something essential for successful completion of the adventure. Or both. Or neither. I'm probably doomed whatever happens, so I'll see what they're carrying, and if it kills me, at least I'll know of one more mistake to avoid on my regrettably inevitable next attempt at the adventure.

And it's 'neither'. Well, I find a badge belonging to someone from the dance troupe of which my sister is a member, which suggests that they were brought through here, but I don't think having a dancer's badge is likely to be a game-changer.

I proceed to the gate, which isn't actually a gate: it's a hole in the ground large enough for a person to climb through, with a circular metal cover. There is a 7-letter word for it, but I'd prefer not to be accused of any more hate crimes, so I shall steer clear of using such language. Checking with Kraven-8, I establish that communication with him is likely to be impossible once I descend to Under-Aqua, and arrange for him to contact the authorities if I don't get back in touch after an hour.

Climbing down into another section, I find myself at one end of a tunnel. Heading the only way I can go, I reach a door with a handprint-activated lock. Despite not being authorised to be down here, I put my palm to the scanner, and the door opens onto a new section, so I'm guessing that the lock was sabotaged to help the Slavers gain access and hasn't yet been fixed.

The door leads to what a convenient schematic identifies as a maintenance section. It contains eight monitors, five of them showing security camera footage. I, the reader, infer that the other three cameras have been tampered with to keep them from recording footage of the Slavers' activities down here. My character merely finds it curious that the screens are blank, and concludes that the cameras are off. Indeed a towering intelligence.

Another not-to-be-named hole leads down into the sewers, while the door across the room from me will enable me to go down a level to a network of freshwater pipes (maybe that would make sense if I could see the schematic). The sewers and the freshwater pipes both lead to an area named Hangar Quay, which could be where the Slavers are meeting their associate from the local law enforcement community. Also in the room are a selection of rebreathers and a number of pole-mounted fishhooks.

I get to choose which exit to take from the room. It's likely that the door also requires a handprint to open, and possible that that one hasn't been interfered with, in which case trying to open it would probably trigger an alarm and get me arrested and, at best, held in custody for long enough to lose any chance of catching up to the Slavers. Consequently I'll travel via the sewers.

As I prepare to climb down, the rebreathers and fishhooks again catch my attention. Despite having been told about the different types of hostile fauna found down here, my character theorises that the hooks might be used for muck-dredging. Fortunately, I'm the one making the decisions, so I take a rebreather and what's probably the best type of weapon to use against an Armoured Centi-Crab before clambering down to the next section. Well, I say I make the decisions: in fact, I can only choose to take both a rebreather and a hook, or not to take either. I mean, I'd have gone for both anyway, but it's odd that the choice should be so binary. Given the number of gratuitous section transitions, it's not as if Mr Brocklehurst didn't have enough free sections to cover 'take rebreather but not hook' and vice versa.

A ladder leads to a small room with one door. Beyond that door is a corridor to another door, this one with a warning about noxious fumes written on it. I'm given the option of going back up and trying the door to the freshwater pipes, and the section for doing so is just two after the one for passing through this door, so unless there's a well-placed page break, it'll take a little effort not to catch sight of the outcome of the choice I don't make. I have a rebreather, so I'm sticking with the sewers.

The two sections in question are on separate pages. Beyond the door, a ledge runs alongside a stream of filthy water, but a force field keeps those noxious fumes contained. I move along the ledge to a new section. Here, steps lead down to a chamber containing four vats of sewage. At the bottom of the steps, the sewer stench suddenly kicks in, and it's probably game over for anyone who didn't think to bring a rebreather. I put mine on, and hurry through the chamber to another new section.

There are three vats in here, one of which turns out to be inhabited by a tentacled monstrosity that I guess must be a Sump Monster: Arthur mentioned them, giant rats, and Centi-Crabs, and there's nothing particularly ratlike or crablike about this thing. It has the same Skill as the more competent of the junkies, but around twice the Stamina, and despite my Skill advantage it wins almost as many rounds as I do. Well, this is fun. I've already used the medikit (and I might be dead if I hadn't), and while the rules don't say I can't eat while wearing a rebreather (it's only forbidden during all forms of combat), common sense says that it's going to be a lot trickier to stuff my face with food while wearing breathing gear than it would be while seated at my ship's controls, blasting away at hostile spacecraft.

Leaving the room by another door, I find myself at an L-junction (isn't that a corner?) of ledges beside streams of muck, and continue on my way towards the hangar (and, of course, a new section). A ladder leads back up, and the text has me ditch the rebreather and hook before I go up. Eating while climbing a ladder seems a little impractical, but there's probably another fight imminent, so I'll take what healing I can.

I can hear voices even before I reach the top, and a convenient grille enables me to peer through the cover on the hole that shall not be named. Not having been to the police, I don't recognise anybody, but I can see that one of the people present is wearing a police uniform. The conversation helpfully provides me with a few names of people and places, as well as the information that the cameras will only remain offline for another five minutes. The Slavers apologise for the delay in transferring the bribe to the officer's account, and hand over a down-payment before departing in a sea skiff. What happened to the traditional 'We no longer require your services' sudden but inevitable betrayal?

The officer has a blaster, so making my presence known to her would be inadvisable, and I don't open the still-not-saying-it-hole until she's gone on her way. Not wanting to waste any more time, I 'borrow' a sea-skiff and head out to the ocean. There I contact Kraven-8 and tell him to fly the Starhunt to my current location and collect me. He makes some petty quibble about its being illegal or something, but I'm the kind of action hero who knows that you have to fight crime with crime, and overrule him.

Having been banned from the starport to which the leader of the Slavers who took my sister is currently heading, I'm going to have to travel instead to the starport where her associate, the former gun-runner with whom I have had unexplained dealings in the past, is due to put through the rest of the bribe. But now seems a convenient point to pause the narrative until I can summon up sufficient motivation to continue with this miserable mini-adventure.

A Crazy Breed... Half in Love with Death

My first (and, until now, only) attempt at the mini-adventure in Fighting Fantazine issue 12, Ian Brocklehurst's Starhunt: Void Slavers, went almost as badly as my first go at Ascent of Darkness. I got through a few more sections, but that's largely because there are two 'Turn to' redirects before the first decision. Judging by the comments of some others who've endured Slavers, the fact that you have to read three sections before even getting to make a choice is a good indication of how the whole adventure pans out, linearity outweighing interactivity to the extent that some reviewers have questioned whether this even constitutes a gamebook.

I failed my previous attempt by ignoring my own advice. I've commented before on the futility of seeking help from the authorities in gamebooks, but in this one I started out by going to the police, and a corrupt officer drugged me and had me dumped somewhere with a lot of hungry rats. As with Ascent, at the time I played it I was focused on making sure I'd played every Fantazine mini-adventure at least once, and issue 13 was already out by the time I gave these a try, so I moved straight on to that after meeting my grisly end.

While I'm not going to deliberately fail this, I doubt that I'll fare particularly well at it either, and since it's quite plausible that I'll make another 'wrong' decision and run straight into an Instant Death at the next choice, I won't even bother generating my stats until/unless I reach a point at which I need to know one of them.

Before the adventure's prologue there's a little information on the setting, which doesn't even manage to get through the first paragraph without annoying me. I know that the misuse of 'sentient' to mean 'sapient' is by now so widespread that 'sentient' is probably going to change its meaning, 'sapient' will fall into disuse, and we'll be left with no word for what 'sentient' used to mean, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.

Anyway, it's the 37th century, and humanity has colonised a variety of planets and moons, but has yet to encounter any aliens that have a similar capacity for intelligence and stupidity. Some worlds are in the Federation TCA, some are independent but trade with the TCA, the people in the Outlying Territories largely keep to themselves, and the Void, despite having a name suggestive of emptiness and nothingness, is actually your standard hive of scum and villainy, only on a multiple-solar-system scale.

As for me, I own a spacecraft named the Starhunt (seemingly a bit ramshackle) and have a robot (for some reason called Kraven-8) for a travelling companion. The latter detail may be because I'm not a particularly likeable individual: when my estranged father unexpectedly contacts me, I'm so impatient and focused on old grudges, he barely has a chance to let me know that my sister has been kidnapped by slavers. I am, at least, quick to respond once I understand the situation, and within minutes I'm on my way to Aquatine, the world on which my sister's dance troupe was vacationing when the slavers conducted their raid.

Aquatine is, as the name suggests, largely covered by water (at least it didn't wind up called Oceany McOceanworld), and most of the people there (almost as many tourists as residents) can be found in floating cities. As I prepare to disembark, I set Kraven-8 the task of hacking into the local mainframe to find out what is known about slavers. We dock in bay 94 (I might need to remember that number in order to get back to my ship, even though I have an earpiece that keeps me in constant communication with my robot), and I arm myself with a blaster and knife before heading out of the Starhunt.

The bay contains a few freighters and a space-yacht named The Eye of Orion (who knows which details are set dressing and which might turn out to be significant). A mechanical customs officer makes me turn in my blaster for the duration of my stay, but allows me to retain the knife, albeit with a warning that the police carry blasters, and will shoot me if I try to do anything illegal with it. Asking how the police failed to prevent the slaver raid, I get told that I'd have to ask a police officer about that.

I proceed onto a busy street, and the text enigmatically tells me that the night sky is visible overhead owing to 'the unique nature of Aquatine's orbit'. Last time I checked (which was just after I wrote the previous sentence), it was possible to see the night sky on Earth, too. I check a map, and find out the location of the nearest police booth and monorail station. A friend of mine lives here, albeit in a different district, so I'll need to use public transport to call on them (despite all the info-dumping, I have no idea whether this friend is male or female yet).

At last I get to make a decision. But not much of one, considering what I learned on my previous attempt at this adventure. Do I go to the police booth and get murdered, or pop onto the monorail and visit my unidentified (and, as far as I can tell, uninformed of my presence here) friend?

On my way to the station I bump into a couple of women pushing a pram (is this relevant?). While I'm waiting on the platform, Kraven-8 contacts me and I get another decision-free section transition. The only information he's been able to get (my robot is apparently male - still not a clue about my friend) is a short list of names, one of which I recognise, as this particular slaver used to be a gun-runner. I tell Kraven-8 that I'm going to meet my friend (thereby discovering that it's a man, though his name remains undisclosed), and travel 17 stops and one section transition on the monorail.

The streets are not busy, though this part of the city would be crowded if it were night (so that orbit business means you can see the night sky during the day?). I head for my friend's workplace, 'Fishnet High' - a high class place, no really, high class - they don't have any of that. That is right out. Then I become aware that someone is sneaking up on me, but I need to turn to another section to find out who.

It's a deranged robot. Unlike the robotic customs officer, which was an I-Bot, this one is a ME-Bot - a distinction that may mean something to my character but, like my friend's name, remains a mystery to the plebs reading this adventure. And since I have to fight the mechanical maniac which has attacked me in a bid to disguise the lack of interactivity in this part of the text, I need to determine some stats. Personal ones, at least. My ship also has stats, but I won't bother with them unless I last long enough to use any of them.

Skill: 11
Stamina: 17
Luck: 12
Blaster Skill: 9
So if/when I fail, it's more likely to be the result of a wrong decision (on one of the rare occasions that I get the opportunity to choose anything) than a bad roll. Though, judging by one of the many complaints raised by one reviewer, it is possible to lose at the last minute thanks to a roll that has nothing to do with any of my stats because completely randomised failure is such fun.

Despite having a 4-point Skill advantage over the metallic madman, I still take a couple of wounds. Then I enter Fishnet High, paying little attention to the anti-grav pole dancers, and when a rollerblading waitress approaches me, I ask to see the manager. It turns out that his name is Arthur (and mine is apparently 'the captain of the Starhunt'). I explain what has brought me here, and Arthur tells me that the slavers, probably assisted by a crooked cop, got into the city via Under-Aqua. Arthur then speculates that the captives will be held in a safe base until the next Slave Mart, and I let him know about the names I've learned. To actually tell him them, I have to turn to another section.

Arthur then tells me potted biographies of the slavers, concluding that Rhea Mosa is probably the one behind the raid. I then ask him about Under-Aqua, and guess what? Time to turn to another section. That'll be the tenth one I turn to on this attempt at the adventure, and I've made one decision and had one gratuitous fight. This got labelled a bumper adventure because it has over 200 sections, but without all these unnecessary hops back and forth through the text, it'd be well below the norm.

Under-Aqua is the part of Aquatine the tourist guides don't like to mention. The homeless, the hunted, and assorted sewer monsters live down there. Arthur has heard that the Slavers gained access to it via Gate 79, and will be meeting their crooked cop there to pay for services rendered. He advises me to head there at once while he contacts some of his shadier associates to find out anything else that might help me. Shockingly, I actually have the option of asking him something first.

I'm not sure I can handle the stress of making a decision right now, so I'm going to post what I've written so far, and continue this slog of an adventure another day.

You May Find Yourself in Another Part of the World

I guess it's time I had another go at Lone Wolf book 11, The Prisoners of Time. My first attempt went about as well as could be expected, and owing to the extremely linear nature of the adventure, much of my replay is liable to go the same way, so I'll be brief about the bits that happen much as they did before. In the past, I've written such repeat performances in the style of a verse found in the gamebook I'm replaying, but if there's any attempted poetry in this book, I have yet to find it. Thus, making a tenuous connection with the word 'time' in the title, I shall use They Might Be Giants' song Older as the lyrical skeleton to be fleshed out with a summary of my actions where they barely differ from the previous account.

Right now I'm very glad I went to the effort of creating my gamebook manager, as it makes it a lot easier to skim through all the exposition and lack of interactivity.

I take 3 damage from the trip, and in the cairn I shelter,
The Yoacor transport me,
I meet with the Beholder.
He sends me on to Vhozada to liaise with Serocca.
Endurance drops to 12.

At this point I can briefly deviate from my previous course of action. Knowing that approaching the nearby monolith will trigger an alarm, and that there appears to be no benefit gained by doing so, I stay away from it. Continuing to follow the stream that led me here, I start to wonder if there's no intelligent life in the vicinity (even though the Beholder told me this is the home of 'one of great vision', and metallic pyramids tend not to be naturally occurring phenomena), but then I find some fields planted with orderly rows of fragrant yellow herbs.

I take a closer look at the herbs, but not having the Discipline of Curing leaves me unable to determine what effects sampling them might have, so I leave them alone. The section in which I examine them has been slightly edited in the Mongoose Publishing edition, probably in response to an oversensitive grammar checker making a fuss about a sentence that was perfectly legitimate anyway.

Following a path up a hill, I see that on the other side is a city inhabited by simian creatures. For some reason I regard this as the first sign of civilisation I've seen in this land, despite having just passed blatant evidence of agriculture. There's another unnecessary Mongoose edit here, changing 'who' to 'that'. Probably just more grammar checker nonsense, but given that this book's portrayal of the natives is problematic already, replacing a pronoun which implies personhood with one that can be used for things doesn't look good.  

I... reach the city.
The lo-cals manhandle me.

Serocca speaks of Destiny, and says the Chaos-Master
Is causing much destruction,
Then tells me where to go next.
I rest and heal and have to get rid of two Special Items
To make room for more tat.

I meet a doomed companion and travel by onipa
Until we reach a village
And stop for something to eat.
The local fortune teller offers to give me a reading.
She tells me I will dream.

Though the outcome of the fortune-telling is randomised, I got the same outcome as before, so I don't learn any new cryptic hints this time round. I hope I won't have to play this again, even if that would give me another chance to get a different vague info-dump, but I'm not optimistic. From the top...

We drive on and approach a bridge. I see it has been damaged.
We stop so we can fix it.
The Chaos-Spawn attack us.
I help until T'uk T'ron tells me that I should go now,
And then I run away.

I... spot Ironheart's men.
Will they... shoot at me again?

This time just I stealthily approach them before initiating telepathic contact with the receptive scout, and am thus able to hear that they're talking about me and my escort, wondering what's taking us so long to get here. I also see their sleeve-mounted crossbows, and reflect that it would be inadvisable to startle them (in a sentence that is actually improved in the Mongoose edit). This leads me to speculate on how this scene must have played out on my previous attempt.

Scout 1: Still no sign of this 'Lone Wolf' bloke we're supposed to be meeting?
Scout 2: Nope.
Scout 3: He should have been here hours ago.
Lone Wolf: Hello! I'm Lone Wolf. I believe you've been sent to meet me.
Scouts: AAAAAAH!!! Kill it!

The scouts determine who I am, and take me to their leader.
He waffles on for ages,
Then picks Odel to guide me,
And offers me the option to pick up some fresh equipment,
But this time I decline.

As a result of leaving immediately, I get an info-dump from Odel about the lichen that catches my attention. It's very toxic. I have the option of taking some with me, and decide to in case I get the chance to use it against an opponent. My more prompt departure also means that I don't encounter the attempted ambush by an Agtah, and we proceed straight to the burial grounds where the Lorestones arrived. Last time I played this book, enemies turned up and intervened before I could get the stones, but I got here more quickly on this occasion. You think that'll make a difference?

I solve the puzzle lock and get into the Grand Sepulchre.
My sword lights up the exit.
Odel gets killed just off-stage.
I step onto the roof and see the dragon helm-clad soldier
Who means to take the stones.

Firing an arrow didn't seem to help last time, so I think I'll just launch straight into an attack. Not that that's any better, actually. I hit the warrior, momentarily driving him away from the Lorestones, but when I approach them, they make me feel so good that I space out for a moment, during which time the warrior draws his curved sword, forces me away from the stones, drops them into his pouch, and presses his attack - with better stats than he had after I used the bow. For the first two rounds of the fight I get lousy numbers, taking 6 points of damage. Still, the Combat Ratio is such that in the third round I cannot fail to do enough damage to force him to retreat - and now I score a killing blow.

The railroad will not be thwarted, though. The warrior's death throes cause his hand to become entangled in the rope ladder attached to the saddle of the giant bird which bore him here, and the bird flies away, taking his corpse with it. Here we go again.

I attempt to cut loose the pouch in which he put the Lorestones,
But merely cut it open,
Causing one stone to fall out.
I descend to ground level to at least recover that one.
Two Agtah scouts attack.

They... die instantly.
The stone... now belongs to me.

The sword dropped by the warrior reveals the place he came from.
My way is blocked by monsters.
I choose to shelter elsewhere.
The puzzle lock on Baylon's Tomb still defies explanation,
But I still get it right.

There are actually two search options in the tomb, apparently mutually exclusive. The burial chamber yielded nothing on my previous attempt, so I'll check in case there's anything potentially useful inside the sarcophagus. Doing so highlights one significant difference between the Lone Wolf gamebooks and some other series: I pay scant regard to the body's 'mattress' of diamonds and gemstones, and dismiss the golden-bladed ceremonial sword at his side as being an impractical weapon. What does get my attention is the silver flask of wine, and as its contents smell good (the Mongoose edit stresses that it is surprising for wine that's been stowed in a tomb for years to smell so fresh), I risk a sip.

It's good stuff. I can take it with me and drink from it twice, restoring 4 Endurance points each time. The Mongoose text also has the test draught provide an Endurance boost - one I can't use, but if I'd somehow managed to take damage between recovering the Lorestone and getting here, that could be a life-saver.

Sounds of battle from outside prompt me to head to the roof and see what's going on.

Now Ironheart's army has arrived: they're slaying all the Agtah.
The Chaos-master turns up.
I very mildly wound him.
We fight: his stats are lower in the Mongoose Books edition.
Regardless, I still lose.

I think I may have to go all the way back to the beginning of the series and get myself a Lone Wolf with a higher starting Combat Skill. I know of an Instant Death that can be encountered quite early on in Flight from the Dark, so I can use that to dispose of any character who gets 17 or less, and maybe then the next time I reach this tiresome book it'll be with a Lone Wolf who actually has a chance of winning.

It's Way More Dangerous Than That

A longer-than-planned gap between posts here, at least in part because I've been busy playing gamebooks in a different context (about which I intend to say more at a later date). Still, my aim is to cover at least one gamebook a month here, so with the end of April not that far off, I'd better get a move on.

Next on my (provisional and flexible) list is Fortress of Assassins, the third of Dave Morris' Knightmare tie-in gamebooks. Like the previous two, the book is a combination of novelette and short gamebook, and before starting on this I read the story. Given that it has Treguard searching for Richard the Lionheart's heir, it doesn't take a particularly detailed knowledge of English history to figure out that his quest would not be successful. Knowing from the outset that the hero isn't going to succeed doesn't automatically make for a bad story, but it did mean that the question of how he would fail was prominent in my mind all the time, and I anticipated the twist some way ahead of its revelation. Mind you, I'm significantly older than the target readership, and cannot tell how unexpected it might have been for a reader in the age bracket for which Morris was writing.

More serious flaws are Treguard's failure to pick up on a blatant clue that one of the characters he encounters is not what he seems, and the contrived 'rocks fall, villains die' climax to the story. Nevertheless, it's quite an entertaining tale, and makes decent use of its historical backdrop to add some colour and low-key horror.

Still, this blog is about the gamebooks, so I should move on to that aspect of the book. While the story took Treguard further afield than the earlier ones, this is another exploration of the dungeons beneath Knightmare Castle. Prior to entering I can choose to learn a spell or take a slice of quiche to eat when low on health. Food is generally easier to find than magical knowledge, so on this occasion I will not give quiche a chance. I get to pick one of three different spells, and go for Rust, as I can think of a couple of ways in which it could come in handy.

A narrow passage leads me to a room with four exits, each marked with a different symbol. Comets are traditionally associated with ill fortune, so I'll avoid that one. The ringed planet is most likely Saturn, 'bringer of old age', which seems similarly unpromising. That leaves the sun and the moon, and the moon is linked with wisdom. Also madness, now I think about it, but the sun has its own fair share of negative associations (Icarus and Phaethon, for instance), so I'll stick with the lunar option.

Once I step through, a door decorated with runes bars the way back. I advance to a hearth where a woman is embroidering a cloak. Close by is a table on which I see an eye-patch, marked with a glyph signifying destructive power. Trying to steal the patch is liable to have dire consequences, and just walking past without saying anything would be rude, so I greet the woman.

She asks if I can help her solve a riddle. I've encountered some rather tricky riddles in Dave Morris gamebooks before now, but this is one I've seen before in a gamebook by associates of his, and I solved it straight off at the age of 14, so unless the author is being particularly devious and picky, I should be fine here. It really is that straightforward, and the woman rewards me with a ring of luck that I can use to automatically succeed at one die roll in this adventure.

Continuing on my way, I reach a room occupied by a group of Ogres, who were playing at dice but are now arguing about an alleged incident of cheating. Upon catching sight of me, they draw their weapons, one of them commenting that I'm probably a worse cheat than Scumbore. Neither fight nor flight is likely to help me much here, but diplomacy was one of the virtues recommended in the introduction, so I shall try talking.

Good choice. I reply that I'm nowhere near as big a cheat as Scumbore, and while that earns me his enmity, it also convinces the others that they were right to suspect him of dishonest play, and they turn on him. I make a discreet exit while he's too busy being beaten up to make good on his threat to pull my fingers off and stuff them up my nose.

Proceeding further, I encounter a man who appears to have had one of his hands cut off. Regrettably, he can handle a sword perfectly well with the remaining one, and attacks me without provocation, taking my Life Force down to Red. He then apologises, claiming to have mistaken me for someone else, but when (by authorial imposition) I express my annoyance at his careless action, he threatens my life and demands that I show him respect that he really hasn't earned. I leave by the exit he indicates before anything worse can happen.

Stairs descend to the second level. On the way down I reach a door set into the wall, and take a look behind it, hoping to find some healing. It contains a chest, but there's a pit in the way. The pit is five metres wide, and dropping a pebble into it indicates it to be deep enough to kill anyone who falls down it. With only a metre for a run-up, and the Helm of Justice adding weight, even a champion long-jumper might find that a challenge. My character might not be as deficient in athletic prowess as I, but I doubt that he's Olympic team material. Lacking the winged sandals that might be of assistance here, I decide not to risk it, and carry on down the stairs.

A man wearing rainbow robes and a golden diadem, wielding a wand of ice, waits at the bottom of the stairs. He suspects that I might be a disguised goblin, and threatens me. Lacking the spells and item that could be of use here, I can only run or protest that I'm at least as human as he. If I make a dash for the exit, he might hit me with a spell, so I'll try talking again, and hope he's not as quick to lash out as the last person I encountered.

He demands that I prove my humanity by solving a puzzle, and somehow I know his name to be Hordris without having been told it. A quick Google establishes that this is a character from the TV series, and thus would probably be familiar to any fan of the show reading the book. Possibly even familiar enough that they'd know the actual spelling of his name, which has a double 's' at the end according to around 93% of online sources.

The answer I give is apparently wrong, but Hordris considers my mistake understandable enough that, today being his Birthday, he is inclined to give me the benefit of the doubt, and allows me to pass unharmed. I suspect that I've just missed out on a plot token, and am consequently doomed anyway, but I can still potentially learn things that could be of use in subsequent attempts, so there's no point in giving up. Oh, and working backwards from the hint provided when Hordris told me I was wrong, I can see the logic, so I know which of the other possible answers must be correct for next time.

Exits lead east and west. I don't know if the first Knightmare book's advice on picking a direction when faced with a blind choice remains valid, but in the absence of any other hints, I might as well stick with it. The archway leads to a circular room in which a jester is practicing juggling. He hasn't noticed me, so there's a risk that by talking to him I might break his concentration, with potentially harmful consequences, but the doors leading onward have distinctive handles, so there could be a clue to be had in conversation. Couched in a riddle, no doubt, but that's still preferable to pure guesswork.

Though I do startle him, he's too relieved that I'm not a vampire to be cross with me. He asks if I feel like a sausage roll, and while I suspect that answering 'yes' will merely garner the response, "You don't look like one," the slim possibility of getting some food and thereby moving my Life Force Status one step away from 'hanging on by a thread' is not something I can afford to pass up.

Yep, saw that one coming. The jester thinks his joke a lot funnier than I do, but I force a laugh, as the only alternative is to be unnecessarily rude, and taking lethal damage from being clouted in the face with a juggling club by an offended jester would be a terrible way to go. He then asks me a riddle, and after much reflection I go with a not-great-but-possible-to-make-fit answer. It then transpires that the author has played a prank on me: though the text warned me to think carefully about my answer before turning to the next section, the answer I give is irrelevant, as the jester can't remember the right one. If there even is one - for all I know, Dave Morris might have just made up a riddle-esque question and not have given any thought to an actual answer.

It looks as if the food for thought that that riddle provided might be the only food to be had here. After enduring more puns and other banter, I make a discreet exit while the jester is looking for some puppets. And maybe I was wrong about having been pranked: I'd been focused on the riddle for so long, I'd forgotten about the different door handles, but now I get faced with the choice between them, I can see how the riddle could relate to the material from which one handle is made, and choose that one. No idea where I came across the bit of trivia crucial for making that connection, though.

Proceeding to a junction, I am compelled to take the turning which has at least a little illumination. It leads to the head of another flight of steps, and Treguard reveals that I need to find a key of luminous crystal on the lower level if I am to succeed at my quest.

At the bottom of the stairs I face another blind choice of exits, and continue to go with the recommendation from book 1. I then get asked if I want to open the door or try a different one. When a gamebook gives an option to reconsider, sometimes it's a chance to avoid a disastrous outcome, and sometimes it's an attempt at discouraging the reader from making the right decision, and trial and error is often the only way to determine which it is. I'm sticking with this door.

The tunnel beyond has an iron grille rather than a stone floor, and dropping a coin through one of the gaps indicates the drop beneath to be bottomless. As I advance towards the door at the end, I hear hoofbeats coming up behind me. It's time to use that Rust spell, and hope I have the sense and ability not to target the part of the grille that I'm standing on.

Such fine-tuning is apparently beyond me. My pursuer plummets into the void, but as I still don't have the winged sandals that were mentioned earlier, so do I. Still, I imagine the jester would have been impressed at my handling of the adventure. That was, in the end, a floorless performance.