(font: "Courier New")[//Tipster// is an original concept for a third person, investigative mystery adventure game by **Allison Michelle Morris**. The game places heavy emphasis on problem solving and puzzles to complete the game.
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Paige Smith, a sophomore at Williamson College and writer for the campus newspaper, sits at her desk in the nearly empty staff room. Empty energy drink cans and the remains of a disappointing, half-eaten sandwich flanks the right-hand side of Paige’s desk. Photos of Paige and her friends and one of her with an older man wearing a police officer’s uniform are propped up against a lamp on the left-hand side of the desk.
Paige reads a small notebook covered in seemingly indecipherable scribbles before looking back to her desktop computer. The word document on her computer screen is blank, except for the title: “Campus reeling after mysterious death of student.” Paige glances up at the wall clock in front of her. It’s 11:46 PM. She begins to type a sentence, but almost immediately deletes it.
[[“Rough story?”]] Michael, the Williamson Gazette’s editor-in-chief, asks as he adjusts a messenger bag across his shoulders.]
(font: "Courier New")[Paige pushes her chair back from her desk and shakes her head in frustration. “I just don’t get it. The coroner ruled it a suicide, but everyone I interviewed said that Jacklyn was a really nice, happy-go-lucky person. She even volunteered at the campus Suicide Prevention Resource Center. Tell me Michael, what kind of person tells other people that suicide isn’t the answer, and then goes and kills herself?”
“You’re not a cop. You’re a reporter, so quit angling for a hook. Just state the facts and be done with it. This is going on the front page, so I want your draft on my desk in the morning. If you can’t get the piece written, I’ll give the assignment to a senior writer. You said you wanted more of a challenge, so [[don’t blow it]].”]
(font: "Courier New")[“I can finish it, I promise! I’ll stay here all night if I have to.”
Michael turns to leave. “Yeah, yeah, yeah…. Look, Paige, I don’t need to hear any stirring speeches. Just get that shit done.”
Paige nods and turns back to her desk. Michael heads out of the staff room, and Paige hears a faint //ping// as he takes the elevator to the first floor.
Completely alone, Paige stares at her computer screen but she can’t focus. The sudden sound of rain against the dark window catches her attention, and she watches the water droplets rhythmically strike the window.
//**Drip. Drip. Drip…**//
Paige’s cell phone rings, startling her. It rings a few times before she answers it.
[[“Hello?”]]]
(font: "Courier New")[“Paige Smith?” a gruff voice asks on the other end.
“Yes. Who is this?”
“I heard you’re writing an article about Jacklyn Santorro.”
“I am. How did you get this number? Were you a friend of Jacklyn’s?”
“Sorta. I have some information that might be useful for your story.”
“I’m almost done with my article,” Paige lies. “No offense, but what kind of info could you possibly have that’s any different from what I’ve already got?”
[[“It wasn’t a suicide.”]]]
(font: "Courier New")[Paige takes a moment to process the tipster’s statement. “…Excuse me?”
“I said it wasn’t a suicide,” he repeats.
“What makes you so sure?”
“I can’t tell you over the phone. We have to meet in person.”
“How do I know that you’re not lying?”
“You don’t,” the tipster admits. “But do you want to the truth or not?”
Paige replies:
[[“Of course I do, but this sounds shady.”]]
[[“If you’re so sure it wasn’t a suicide, why call me? You should talk to the police.”]]
[[“Yeah. Can you meet at the internet café on 5th and Main in half an hour?”]]]
(font: "Courier New")[“Of course I do, but this sounds shady,” Paige replies.
“I don’t know what to tell you. I thought all you journalist types were looking for the truth.”
“And how am I supposed to know you’re not some crazy axe murderer?” Paige retorts back. “You still haven’t told me how you got this number.”
“I know my word isn’t much right now, but it’s all I’ve got.” The tipster’s tone softens. “I…I just think [[Jacklyn deserves justice]].”]
(font: "Courier New")[“If you’re so sure it wasn’t a suicide, why call me? You should talk to the police,” Paige replies.
The harsh voice on the other end of the line laughs darkly. “The police don’t care. You think Jacklyn is the first girl this has happened to? There were many before her, and there’ll be more if [[they]] aren’t stopped.”]
(font: "Courier New")[“Yeah, can you meet me at the internet café on 5th and Main in half an hour?” Paige asks. She waits anxiously for a response. [[“Hello, are you still there?”]]]
(font: "Courier New")[Paige looks at her reflection in the dark, rain-streaked window. She hadn’t slept properly in days, and it was beginning to show. Even from her desk, she can see the deep purple shadows hidden behind her glasses and the messy, unkempt hair piled high into a topknot. She had been wearing the same Williamson College sweatshirt and jeggings combo for the past two days and hoped no one had noticed. She didn’t know why, but Jacklyn’s story was really affecting her.
[[“Meet with me,” the tipster asks again.]] “How about at Buzz’n’Bytes on 5th and Main at 12:30? It’s a public space with lots of witnesses. I’m wearing a black hoodie, what about you?”]
(font: "Courier New")[Paige sighs and turns back to her computer screen. The blank document glares back at her. She checks the wall clock again. It’s 11:55 PM. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t have time for this. My deadline is in the morning and my editor’s been riding my ass about this story all week.”
“Any way I can change your mind? I don’t know what else to do, and the police won’t believe me.”
“I’m sorry, but my hands are tied. Maybe if you’d come forward earlier I could have interviewed you for the story, but you’re literally calling me at the twelfth hour.”
“Whatever. I thought all you journalist types were looking for the truth.”
“We do look for the truth,” Paige replies defensively.
“Don’t you think Jacklyn’s friends deserve to know the truth?”
“Who even knows if what you’re saying //is// the truth?”
“Please, just come and listen to what I have to say,” the tipster says. “I’ll be at [[Buzz’n’Bytes]] if you change your mind.”]
(font: "Courier New")[Paige ends the call and puts her cell phone on the desk. She looks at the blank document on the computer screen in front of her and shakes her head. “What am I doing? This is crazy,” she says to herself.
Paige looks at her phone once more before opening a map app and searching for the shortest route to Buzz’n’Bytes café from campus. It’ll take her fifteen minutes – plenty of time to drive there, order a coffee, and watch the front door for Black Hoodie.
Paige stands up from her desk, pulls on her anorak, and shoves her notebook and pens into her backpack, slinging a strap over her shoulder. She walks towards the elevator but then doubles back to her desk and grabs a can of pepper spray from the bottommost drawer.
“Yeah, definitely crazy.”
GO BACK TO [[START]] TO PLAY AGAIN
To learn more about //Tipster// or to keep up with the game's development, please visit www.allisonmichellemorris.com]
(font: "Courier New")[“Who’s ‘they’? This sounds like some Illuminati shit.”
“I already told you, I can’t talk about it on the phone. We have to meet in person.”
“Why are you telling me all of this?”
“I thought you journalist types were always looking for the truth.”
Paige looks at her reflection in the dark, rain-streaked window. She hadn’t slept properly in days, and it was beginning to show. Even from her desk, she can see the deep purple shadows hidden behind her glasses and the messy, unkempt hair piled high into a topknot. She had been wearing the same Williamson College sweatshirt and jeggings combo for the past two days and hoped no one had noticed. Paige didn’t know why, but Jacklyn’s story was really affecting her.
“So, [[do you want to know the truth or not]]?” the tipster asks again.]
(font: "Courier New")[“If we meet, it’s going to be on my terms. Got it?”
“No dice.”
“Hey, you’re the one who called me, remember? You’re asking me to meet some stranger in the middle of the night because you can’t give details over the phone. For all I know, you could be some psycho.”
The tipster remains silent. Just before Paige is about to [[hang up...]]]
(font: "Courier New")[“Fair enough," the tipster replies. "Where and when?”
Paige checks her wristwatch – it’s 11:55 PM now. “Meet me at the internet café [[Buzz’n’Bytes]] on 5th and Main in half an hour. I’m wearing glasses and a blue anorak. What about you?”
“A black hoodie.”
“And…? Anything else that sets you apart from other axe murderers roaming the streets?”
“Look, if they know that I’m going to meet with you…I could get into a lot of trouble. I’m sticking my neck out here, too.”
“Right. ‘They.’ Can’t be too careful with the Illuminati watching our every move.”
“Ha-ha, very funny.”
“Whatever. Don’t be late.”
“I could say the same to you.”]
(font: "Courier New")[“I’m here,” the tipser replies
“Can you meet or not?” Paige asks.
“Yeah, I’m just…kind of surprised you said yes.”
Paige pulls a face of disgust. “Are you kidding me? Is this some sort of joke to you? I’m writing a story about a girl’s death, and you thought you’d call me up for shits and giggles? [[What the hell is your problem]]?”]
(font: "Courier New")[“No!” The tipster’s tone softens. “You misunderstood me. I’m sorry, I just didn’t know who to call.”
“If you turn out to be some catfish creeper, I swear to God I’ll–!”
“I’m not!”
Paige looks at her reflection in the dark, rain-streaked window. She hadn’t slept properly in days, and it was beginning to show. Even from her desk, she can see the deep purple shadows hidden behind her glasses and the messy, unkempt hair piled high into a topknot. She had been wearing the same Williamson College sweatshirt and jeggings combo for the past two days and hoped no one had noticed. Paige didn’t know why, but Jacklyn’s story was really affecting her.
Paige sighs and drops the defensive tone. “Please don’t waste my time. [[I still have to finish Jacklyn’s story]].”]
(font: "Courier New")[“I thought you said you were almost done?” the tipster asks.
“Apparently I’m not if I haven’t checked all of my available sources. Besides, //something// just doesn’t seem right about Jacklyn’s suicide.”
“You’re right.”
Paige checks her wristwatch – it’s 11:55 PM now. “So we’ll meet at [[Buzz’n’Bytes]] at 12:30. I’m wearing glasses and a blue anorak. What about you?”
“A black hoodie.”
Paige shakes her head in frustration. “Anything else...?”
“Look, if they know that I’m going to meet with you…I could get into a lot of trouble. I’m sticking my neck out here, too.”
“Fine. Just don’t be late.”]