You wake up on a hard floor, dazed, groggy, and totally confused. The room around you is dark, but gradually your eyes adjust. A light moon glow creeps in from somewhere above you, and you see that you are in the foyer of an opulent mansion. Ahead of you is a grand marble staircase leading up to a pitch-black hallway. You’re curious as to where it leads. To the left is a closed door with a large brass handle. Maybe it leads to a way out. Dust chokes the air and cobwebs thread along the handrails that lead up the stairs. You don’t know where you are, but it’s definitely spoopy.
[[The door on the left.]]
[[Up the stairs]].The door creaks open into a surprisingly small kitchen; it’s modestly decorated, with a 50s-style yellow refrigerator, a round table, and white cabinets with dark marble countertops. Overall, it’s cozy, but still very dusty and a little gross.
In the middle of the table sits a covered dish. Lifting the lid, you find plate of shrimp.
Do you eat a shrimp?
[[Yes, get shrimpy.]]
[[No, be shrimpless.]]You climb the stairs. The room is pitch black ahead of you, but you decide to press on. You take about three steps when suddenly, torches along the walls light themselves to reveal your path! Vwhoosh! It seems like a bit of a fire hazard, but it does look pretty cool, so whatever.
You’re standing in a long, ominous hallway. There are three doors that you can see, one at the far end and two facing each other near you, on the left and right.
Before you decide which door to enter, you notice something on the ground. A trail of what appear to be candy bars lead from where you’re standing into the door on the right. That could be fun.
Which door do you try to open?
[[The door on the left]]
[[The door at the end of the hall]]
[[The door on the right with the candy trail]]As you bravely pop the shrimp into your gob, you realize with horror that it’s the worst possible way for shrimp to be: warm and linty. You try to spit the nasty mess out of your mouth, but the flavor is trapped on your tastebuds, and your tummy grumbles with disgust.
Still gagging from your shrimp-scapade, you are startled by two noises coming from behind the doors in the opposite corner. You press your ear against each door to confirm what you hear: To the left, a soft ‘meow.’ It sounds like there’s a little kitty behind the door, and it sounds scared. To the right, some whimpering and panting. It sounds like there’s a dog in the next room, and it too sounds scared.
Which door will you open?
[[The left (kitty door)]]
[[The right (doggy door)]]
Something seems definitely wonky about this little shrimp plate. You hold a shrimp up to the faint light and feel it in your fingers. It has a bizarre texture and temperature. You realize with horror that this shrimp is both warm and linty. Gross.
You are startled by two noises coming from behind the doors in the opposite corner. You press your ear against each door to confirm what you hear: To the left, a soft ‘meow.’ It sounds like there’s a little kitty behind the door, and it sounds scared. To the right, some whimpering and panting. It sounds like there’s a dog in the next room, and it too sounds scared.
Which door will you open?
[[The left (kitty door)]]
[[The right (doggy door)]] Careful not to startle whatever cat might be hanging out in the next room, you slowly push open the door to find a darkened staircase leading down.
You hear the meow again further down the stairs. Determined to rescue the feline friend you’ve found, you descend the stairs. You can’t see anything as you walk down the creaky steps, the cat’s calls getting closer and closer. All of a sudden, you feel a sharp digging in the back of your ankle. The cat has reached out from behind the wooden stairs and clawed your leg! Whoa!
You tumble into the dark. When you land, the ground is soft and wet and uneven. Weird. In fact, it’s not ground at all. It almost feels like you’re floating on something. The air smells meaty. The only light is a torch, but what that torch reveals is terrifying: you have landed in a large pit filled with sausages!
Despite your beliefs about the physics of sausage pools, you quickly begin to sink. You have only moments to decide: Do you
[[Try to swim through the sausages to reach the torch on the other side]]
or
[[Try to grab hold of the stairs behind you and climb out?]]
As you slowly pull open the door, you’re startled by a beast bursting forth from the darkness. It dashes around the room behind you, dizzyingly active and quick. It’s...it’s….
It’s a flopsy little basset hound. It looks up at you with sad basset eyes and a wrinkly face and long ears. You reach out to pet its squishy little head, but it trots away, tail wagging. It reaches the door back to the foyer, and beckons you with its head before scampering into the other room. It seems to want you to follow. But since when do you follow strange dogs around? Maybe there’s something cool in the room the dog just came from.
[[Follow the dog back to the foyer]]
[[Go through the door the dog just came from]]
You remember your training in gym class and start to paddle your way through the slimy sausage pool, towards the light. The salty stench of beef tubes stings your nostrils, but you press on, certain that you must be able to swim in sausages. Because that’s how sausages work.
As you swim, you spot something. A great big fin breaching the surface of the meat. Terrified, you freeze. The fin weaves back and forth, getting closer with each turn. You’re about ready to try and swim back to the stairs when you start to sink. Without maintaining your forward momentum, gravity has taken hold, and you are sucked under the surface of the sausages, as physics dictates.
You gasp for breath. The last thing you want to do is drown in pork rods. And there's no hope, because here comes the second-to-last-thing-you-want: a shark. It’s rows of razor-sharp teeth bare at you as it swims towards you. When it sees you, though, something strange happens: The shark talks.
“Hey human, you okay?”
[[Ask the shark for help]]
[[Punch the shark in the nose]]
You struggle back through the sausages toward the staircase, and are barely able to grab the bottom step. But your hands are slippery from the recent touching of meat, and you it's hard to get a grip to pull yourself up.
Just then you hear a purr. Looking up at the steps, a black cat rests between your hands.
“Kitty,” you gasp, “help me!”
The cat licks your fingers to collect the meat juice. It tickles. You try to pull yourself up again. With a sudden fury, the cat chomps down on your hand. You yelp and fall back into the meat tubes.
“Why, kitty, whyyyyy?” you cry, as you’re swallowed up by the sea of sausages. Weakened by the struggle of lifting yourself, you quickly lose the ability to swim to the surface, and you sink down into the dark and succulent abyss.
[[TRY AGAIN|Start]].
With the little oxygen you can muster, you gasp, “Help!”
The shark reaches one of its stubby little dorsal fins towards you. “Grab on!” he says.
You grab hold. The shark swims with gusto towards the surface. It’s so fast that it breaches the air and sails up in an arc, dragging you along. It’s like that sausage jumping scene in Free Willy.
“Whew, that was a close one,” the shark says. “You good?”
You shake your head. You’re not good. You’re trying to find your way out of a dingy dungeon of hot dogs, and you’re talking to a shark.
“Oh,” the shark mutters. “Uh, well, sorry, but, um, I gotta, you know….bye!”
It swims away into the darkness before you can ask any questions. After a minute of silence, you hear, faintly, distantly, the sounds of the iconic opening scene of the classic Kevin Costner sci-fi action movie Waterworld.
You ascend the stairs as quickly as you can. You reach a room lit completely by candles, flickering light off rows upon rows of bookshelves, thickly grey with dust, and off a plush lounge chair and a wooden nightstand. These are also dusty. Everything is dusty. Just assume going forward that everything is dusty.
Suddenly, the door slams shut behind you. The rush of air from the swinging door snuffs one of the candles. But, strangely, the wick reignites itself almost instantly.
Browsing the titles on the shelves, there are tons of books you don’t recognize, although there is a copy of Eat, Pray, Love tucked away in the corner. You notice that there’s also a book on the nightstand, already opened, facing down, clearly damaging the spine and thus reducing its resale value.
Well, you’ve come this far. What do you do in this room?
[[Read the opened book.]]
[[Read Eat, Pray, Love.]]
You remember from your favorite movie, Angelina Jolie’s Tomb Raider, that a shark’s greatest weakness is a bop on the nose. You rear back and lob a wallop at the shark’s schnoz. The shark rears back.
“Ouch!” it screams. “Not cool! Forget this, I’m gonna go watch Waterworld.”
It swims away in a huff, but in its hasty retreat, it’s huge tailfin swats you in the face, sending you spinning down into the meaty depths of the pit. You’re struggling, unsure which way is up and which way is down. You kick and flail. In a short time, you black out. This is how you die, choking on sausages. This is how you die.
[[TRY AGAIN.|Start]]
You pull the tome from the nightstand onto your lap. To your surprise, it isn't a conventional book at all, but a photo album!
The open spread features two photos. The picture on the left is of a man in profile. He’s slightly chubby, rosy-cheeked, but smiling a jolly smile. On the right is a woman, facing the man. She looks proud, maybe a little severe, but overall quite strong in stature.
Your fingers brush some dirt off the photos, and it all comes rushing back. You’re assaulted with knowledge. Turns out, by touching the pictures, you know exactly who these people are.
You point at the man. “I know you, Mr. Hansen,” you whisper. You point to the woman, “And also you, Mrs. Hansen.”
Yes, the Hansens. Just by touching their faces, you remember them as if you’ve known them forever. They were wealthy elites in the age of the Industrial Revolution. Together, they ran a sausage factory and made a small meat fortune. It was enough to build their dream house. But, shortly after moving in, they disappeared.
Just then, you hear a rustling above you. You stand and spin around. On top of one of the bookshelves is a black cat. And it's preparing to pounce. But right before it leaps at your face for no apparent reason, a loud bark rings out from behind the chair, and the cat recoils in horror. A flopsy little basset hound rushes at the bookshelf, barking the whole way. With each bark, however, it stops sounding like a normal dog. In fact, little by little, you start to understand words forming.
“Get back, Christopher!” the dog shouts. “Leave this person be!” The voice is female.
The cat hisses in response. But its hisses also start to sound like words. “Stop it, Lucretia!” it says. “Haven’t you tortured me enough?”
The dog turns to you. “Listen, you need to help me. Christopher is crazy. He dabbled in black magic, with human sacrifices. Then he ground up those humans and put them into sausages. When I found out, I tried to expose his wickedness, but he turned me into a dog! Now he lures people into our home to grind them into more meat for his dastardly hot links.”
“Don’t listen to her!” the cat cries. “She’s the one practicing witchcraft. She accidentally turned herself into a dog, and when I found out, I laughed at her. As punishment, she turned me into a cat so she could chase me around the house forever. She’s been keeping us alive by drinking the blood of people she lures into our mansion with magic.”
“Liar,” the dog bellows. “Please, you need to tear out his picture from the book and burn it. That will release his power over us and turn us back into humans. Then I can help you escape!”
“No!” the cat responds. “Burn her picture. It will make us mortal again, and break her magic seal on the front door of the mansion so you can get out.”
What will you do?
[[Burn the woman’s picture (trust the cat)]]
[[Burn the man’s picture (trust the dog)]]You are inspired by the totally inspiring story of an inspiring white lady traveling to other countries, where she gets inspired by food, religion, and random dudes.
So inspiring.
After that, you decide to [[pick up the other book|Read the opened book.]].
You tear the woman’s portrait out of the photo album and hold it over one of the candles.
“Nooooooo!” the dog howls.
Before your eyes, the dog grows to human size, then reforms into the shape of the woman from the picture. She tries to stand and run towards you, but from her first step, her skin shrivels up, her hair turns grey and thin. She looks at you with gaunt, horrified eyes. She ages a long lifetime in moments, and falls to the floor, a skeletal corpse.
You’re grossed out and ready to leave. You run for the door to the stairwell. You tug on the handle. It doesn’t budge. You push. It’s locked.
Behind you rings out a deep and rising laugh. You turn with dread and find the cat on the floor, growing, contorting, rising into the figure of a man.
“Finally. You’re the first fool she’s tried to get to burn my picture. But she overplayed her hand, and now I’m rid of her for good.”
“But-but-but,” you stammer.
“We both fibbed a little bit,” he says. He creeps toward you. “You see, I taught her to use a little magic back in the day. We used our power to create portraits which would trap our youth and allow us to live forever. But when she saw me shoving a sacrificial body into the meat grinder, she lost her nerve. I turned her into a dog. With the last bit of magic she retained, she turned me into a black cat, and sealed off her portrait so I could never touch it. I, of course, did the same with mine. But I retained more of my magic than she did, and I used it to lure people into the house, draining their blood to regain control. Even as a cat, I’ve kept grinding my sausages for years, biding my time until I could again become human and live as a wealthy meat merchant for the rest of time. She tried to stop me, but I was too powerful for her. And now she’s dead, and I’m free and you...well, you’ll make a tasty meal for my hungry customers.”
You scream.
You die.
You get eaten.
THE END.
You tear the man’s portrait out of the photo album and hold it over one of the candles which light the room.
“Nooooooo!” the cat wails. It jumps down from the bookshelf and lands with a thud on the floor.
Before your eyes, the cat grows to human size, then reforms into the shape of the man from the picture. He tries to stand and run towards you, but from his first step, his skin shrivels up, his hair turns grey and falls out. He looks at you with gaunt, horrified eyes. He ages a long lifetime in moments, and falls to the floor, a skeletal corpse.
At the same time, the dog grows and becomes a woman again. She remains the age she was in the photo, tall and bright. “Thank heavens,” she sighs. “I thought I’d never be back in my own skin again.”
You back away slowly. She notices.
“Oh no, don’t be frightened,” she says. “Look, I’m sorry you had to get dragged into this. You see, I didn’t tell you the whole truth. Christopher and I were madly in love, but he became so enamored with his riches he wanted to live forever. He sought out books on black magic, and when he learned to make a portrait to seal his youth, he encouraged me to do the same. In my brief studies of the magical arts, I saw he’d been pouring over texts encouraging blood sacrifices. I caught him murdering a young woman and stuffing her corpse into our factory’s meat grinder to hide the evidence. When he realized I’d seen him, he turned me into a dog, incapable of revealing his secrets.
"But as I was transforming, I cast the last spells I’d learned: One sealing my portrait so he could never destroy it, and one turning him into a cat so he could never harm another soul. Unfortunately, I underestimated his power. Even as a cat, he was still able to trick poor souls into wandering through our house, soaking up the energies trapped in our home until he was ready to pounce and steal their life essences. But the last time he did, well, I’m ashamed to admit I snuck some of the blood for myself, enough to let me speak again as a human. I waited until he trapped another person in his web, and used your strength to free me from my prison and destroy him.”
“‘Kay,” you reply.
There’s an awkward silence between you.
“Anyhow,” she sighs. “I promised I’d help you out of here, so follow me.”
She pulls on a book and a secret passageway opens. Guiding you down, she brings you back to the front door, where you’d first woken up. She beckons you to open it.
“What will you do now?” you ask.
“Hmm,” she says. “I’m not sure exactly. But I know this: I won’t let anyone else die for the sake of gaining power. I dunno, maybe I’ll spend some time with that talking shark in the basement, he’s pretty cute.”
You smile uncomfortably and pull the door open. “Welp, bye,” you say, and run into the night, desperate for your own home.
THE END.
Well, bad news: It’s locked. Try another door.
[[The door at the end of the hall]]
[[The door on the right with the candy trail]]Despite the definite allure of the candy bars, you decide to avoid the fun stuff and go straight for the door that’s furthest away from where you’re standing. It opens with a creak and a squeak. The room within is small, almost the size of a walk-in closet. You step inside, and to your shock, the door slams shut behind you. You’re trapped!
Melting red candles in one corner reveal in flickering glimpses white walls that are decorated with roughly painted black symbols. They look like dark ancient runes out of a bad supernatural movie or something. On the opposite wall is the only sign you recognize: A large pentagram. Which, yeah, not great.
Behind you, you hear a light meow. In the darkest corner lies a black cat. It looks back at you with wet, tired eyes. Its fur is matted, its frame is thin. You realize it might have been trapped in here a while. You crouch down with concern and begin to pet the poor creature. It receives your attention with warm purring. You’re glad you’re not alone in this place.
But just when you’re starting to feel more relaxed, the cat’s demeanor changes. Without warning, it bites down on your hand, sinking its sharp fangs into your flesh. You yelp and try to pull your hand away. Despite this being completely common cat behavior, you are somehow surprised that this fickle creature has decided to attack you for showing it affection.
And that’s when the floor drops out beneath you.
You tumble into the dark. As you fall, the cat looks down at from the edge of the trap door, unfeeling. When you land, the ground is soft and wet and uneven. Weird. In fact, it’s not ground at all. It almost feels like you’re floating on something. The air smells meaty. The only light is a torch, but what that torch reveals is terrifying: you have landed in a large pit filled with sausages!
Despite your beliefs about the physics of sausage pools, you quickly begin to sink. You have only moments to decide: Do you
[[Try to swim through the sausages to reach the torch on the other side]]
or
[[try to grab hold of the stairs behind you and climb out?|Try to grab hold of the stairs behind you and climb out?]]
Following the sugary delights at your feet, you reach for the door on your right. Before you turn the handle, you stoop down and pick up one of the candies. It smells like insert favorite candy bar here. You take a bite, and sure enough, it is aforementioned favorite candy bar! You throw the door open with excitement, eager for more candy.
The room beyond is dimly lit. The space is spartan and clear, but for one thing: A boxy, old-school robot. At the sight of you, its red eyes blink on, and a panel of buttons and dials blinks on its chest. It rises up on two thick metal legs and reaches out to you with two claw hands. It begins to walk towards you.
“Hello human,” it says in a monotone robo-voice. “Would you like a candy bar?”
It’s definitely unnerving to be approached by a robot, but the possibility of more candy makes your mouth water. You’re surprisingly hungry.
“Okay,” you say.
It turns around, squats, and dispenses chocolate from its shiny bot butt. You take it with a mixture of disgust and gratitude.
“Does this candy meet your satisfaction, human?” it asks.
You take a bite. It’s still good candy, regardless of its source. “Yeah,” you say.
“I am programmed to provide quality candy for any user who requests it,” it says. “As long as they’re of pure white heritage.”
Uh-oh.
“My builder used to say about black people-” it begins, then proceeds on one of the most horrifically offensive racist rants you’ve ever heard in your life. As much as I would love to make David read a whole bunch of racist stuff on a podcast, for the sake of the show let’s just say you can imagine whatever the most terrible racial opinions you can possibly conceive, and many you can’t. The robot is highly animated as it exudes its abhorrent racism. It spins and waves its robo-arms. As it turns around at one point, you see an “On-Off” switch on its back.
You could turn the robot off and spare yourself the pain of its awful opinions. Then again, there’s a chance the robot can tell you how to get out of here. What will you do?
[[Switch off the racist robot]]
[[Ask the racist robot for help getting out of this place]]You quickly flip the switch on the robot’s back just as its about to launch into a tirade about international zionist conspiracies. The lights in its eyes and chest panel go dark, and its legs pull back into its body as it sinks to the floor. You breathe a sigh of relief.
You try to leave. But, you suddenly realize, the robot’s lifeless form is blocking the door. You try to push it aside, but its metal body is way too heavy for you to move. You cast about for another way out, but you don’t see anything. What will you do?
[[Turn the racist robot back on and ask for help.|Ask the racist robot for help getting out of this place]]
[[Pace around until you think of another solution.]]“Hey,” you say. The robot keeps ranting. “HEY!” you shout.
It stops.
“How do I get out of here?” you ask.
The robot beeps and bloops for a moment. It’s thinking. Then, it turns its head towards you.
“Escape is not permitted,” it says. “Do not attempt to escape, or I shall be forced to take you to my builder.”
“What do you mean?” you blurt. “Please, I just want to get out!”
Its red eyes glow brighter. “Force mode activated,” it says. “Do not resist.”
You try to run, but it zaps you with an electric charge and you fall to the floor, twitching. As it reaches its claws towards you, you scream.
[[TRY AGAIN.|Start]]
“Think think think,” you mutter to yourself.
A floorboard creaks below you. You stop. The floorboards!
You dig your fingernails between the floorboards beneath your feet. It’s a bit of effort, but as you suspected from the sound it made, the board you stepped on is loose and you manage to pull it up and set it aside. Inside is a red button. You press it, obviously. To your relief, a panel in the wall slides open, revealing a secret passage. You step inside, but are startled by the robot’s voice behind you.
“Voice verification please,” it says.
“What?” you say.
“Voice verification failed,” it says. “Passage not permitted. Please exit the doorway, or be ejected.”
You don’t care much for the sound of that. Acting on instinct, you run away, deeper into the darkness of the passageway. Behind you, the robot begins emitting a loud siren. It's dark, and you don't see the hole ahead of you. You're tumbling, down, down, down.
When you land, the ground is soft and wet and uneven. Weird. In fact, it’s not ground at all. It almost feels like you’re floating on something. The air smells strangely . . . meaty. The only light is a torch, but what that torch reveals is terrifying: you have landed in a large pit filled with sausages!
Despite your beliefs about the physics of sausage pools, you quickly begin to sink. You have only moments to decide: Do you
[[Try to swim through the sausages to reach the torch on the other side]]
or
[[Try to grab hold of the stairs behind you and climb out?]]
You decide a doggo that acts like Lassie is a good indication of the path to safety. You follow back to the foyer. The room has not changed since you first arrived. You also don’t see the dog anymore. You reason it must have gone up the stairs, so you follow.
The room is pitch black ahead of you, but you decide to press on. You take about three steps when suddenly, torches along the walls light themselves to reveal your path! Vwhoosh! It seems like a bit of a fire hazard, but it does look pretty cool, so whatever.
You’re standing in a long, ominous hallway. There are three doors that you can see, one at the far end and two facing each other near you, on the left and right.
Before you decide which door to enter, you notice something on the ground. A trail of what appear to be candy bars lead from where you’re standing into the door on the right. That could be fun.
Which door do you try to open?
[[The door on the left]]
[[The door at the end of the hall]]
[[The door on the right with the candy trail]]You decide to let the dog run away in peace. You go through the door. There’s a staircase here, going up. On the bottom step is a lit lantern. You pick it up, and start to climb.
The staircase runs in a spiral, and the light from the lantern is dim, so you can’t really see how far up the stairs go, but you’re sure you’ll find a door or a window or something soon. You ascend. And ascend. And ascend. After what feels like five minutes, you stop to collect your breath. You keep climbing. Eventually, your legs start to give out. No matter how long you walk up these stairs, you never see a single sign of how far you’re going. After what feels like days, you try to go back down. You spend several days descending, with absolutely no sign of the door you entered to reach this place.
Eventually, you go mad, and starve to death, your body trapped forever in an empty endless staircase.
[[TRY AGAIN.|Start]]