Running Towards Nothing

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Good Death Is the Best Anyone Can Hope For

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stop reading.