You can't really open your eyes, but you are aware that you are surrounded by water and nutrients. The room you are in is tight and red; you can see light, though. [[Wait for the doctor to remove you from the womb, and cut your cord.]] [[Remove yourself from your mother's womb, exiting into the hospital room, cutting your own umbilical cord, and instructing the doctors in perfect Russian on the best way to heal your mother after her pregnancy.]]Congratualtions! You are a baby. You are Ayn Rand, the eldest of three daughters of Zinovy Zakhrarovich and Anna Borisovna. Your father is a successful businessman. You grow up quickly, with a passion for the liberal arts. You are now nine years old, and you have some chores to do. But you've been working on some screenplays that you really think will get you noticed. [[Go downstairs and help your father with his business, therefore not being a taker and contributing for your own food.]] [[Work on your manuscript.]]Good Job. You are not a taker, however, your writing career may suffer because you didn't practice. Haha, just kidding. You're Ayn Rand! You don't need to practice. The October revolution is happening and it may disrupt your father's business. What do you do? [[Stay and fight everyone, to protect your property and propriety from the taker class.]] [[Flee with your family to the Crimean Peninsula.]]Good job! Your writing is better, but you will spend the rest of your life knowing that you are a filthy hypocrite who took from the actual worker. The October revolution is happening and it may disrupt your father's business. What do you do? [[Stay and fight everyone, to protect your property and propriety from the taker class.]] [[Flee with your family to the Crimean Peninsula.]]Cool. What're you going to do now? [[Study history and social pedagogy at Petrograd State University.]] [[Feast on the Innocent.]]You are dead. Try again? [[Birth]] You go through high school in Crimea, which, like, totally sucks, and then omg even when you graduate and get back to Petrograd you're like, starving or something??? This is totally the fault of those revolutionaries. Omg. Luckily, one good thing comes out of this mess: thanks to the Russian Revolution, universities have been opened to women. You get to be among the first group of women to enroll at Petrograd State University. What do you get your degree in? [[Mathematics.]] [[Social Pedagogy, with a major in history.]] [[FUCKING BITCHES GETTING $$$$ YA BOI, GIMME ALL THAT DOLLAR]]Don't be silly, this is the 1920s. [[Flee with your family to the Crimean Peninsula.]] Nice. That's something you can take to the bank. Over your three years, you get introduced to Aristotle (pronounced /ˈaːrɪstouːˌtʰɛːleɪ/) and Plato; Aristotle is your fave, whereas you find Plato to be more of a little asshole, to be honest. You also study Nietzsche, who is peachy. Surprisingly, you also enjoy the work of Victor Hugo, which is like. Wow. Did you read Les Mis? Like, you say you did, but did you understand it? How can you enjoy a book that is almost entirely about human empathy? Did it not speak to you? What the-- okay, moving on. Alongside many other "bourgeois" students, you are purged from the university a year before graduation. What do you do? [[Allow a group of visiting foreign scientists to argue in favour of you continuing your education, allowing you to complete your work in October 1924.]] [[Independently go into the woods to seek screenwriting education from the Bear People.]] [[School? Who needs school!? Not you! You don't need nobody!]]WORD UP AT YOU. You are now Ayn Rand, boss bitch with a criminal empire reaching from Russia with love; head of an international drug smuggling ring and ready to fuckin' party. [[Throw up the gang signs.]] [[Live a long, drug filled life, with many lovers, never depending on anyone, changing all history so that the Republican party is obsessed with a drug smuggling jewel thief and dying appropriatly at the age of 420.]]You're white. What's wrong with you. [[FUCKING BITCHES GETTING $$$$ YA BOI, GIMME ALL THAT DOLLAR]] You died old, gurl. Try again? [[Birth]] Study it? You don't need to take from there! In fact, you're teaching it! [[School? Who needs school!? Not you! You don't need nobody!]] It's a metaphor, you see. In fact-- write this down. [[destroy souls]] [[Write book about feasting on the innocent and destroying souls.]] So you have your degree; subsequently you study for a year at the State Technicum for Screen Arts in Leningrad. You want to visit your American relatives, but first, you need a name. [[CaSH M0ney$$]] [[~~xXM1dn15t3-4ng3lXx]] [[Ayn Rand.]]You walk for days and nights, taking only what you need to survive, and eating your own toes to keep upright. You find yourself on the mountainside where the bears are meant to live. [[Go into the cave.]] [[Climb this whole mountain.]]You're free from school and Learning forever! Who need it? You sure don't! Wut r u gonna do now? txt it [[leave]] [[stay]]HELL YEAH HELL YEAH [[FUCKING BITCHES GETTING $$$$ YA BOI, GIMME ALL THAT DOLLAR]] You write on your livejournal that you're coming to the United States, and you're like, super excited. You can speak some English (cuteeeeeeee!~!!) and you have a collection of all sorts of American things, like burger wrappers, a green light just out of reach, and the shattered remnants of the American dream. (Cutteeeeee!!~~!) However, upon getting to America, you are immediately jumped by a group of Bostonian hardboys who don't take kindly to you telling them that "OMG ur so cute!!! America is great! I love your surfers and San Fransisco!" You are dead. Try again? [[Birth]] Correct-a-mundo, chum. This //is// called 'Ayn Rand Simulator,' after all. You've been granted a visa to visit your family in America. It's 1925. Fall. Chilly, but the sun is still shining. You get to America in spring of the next year. It's still chilly. You get to New York, and you weep at the sight of the skyline. [[Do everything you can to stay in America, living with relatives in Chicago, and then eventually setting out for Hollywood, California.]] [[Cry your way back to Russia and probably die.]]They are watching you from the walls. Eyes bright, they follow you as you carefully walk forwards towards a flickering fire in the midst of spun ice. Your feet, still bleeding, crunch against the ground. The elder bear steps forward. He is a large, fuzzy man. "Our people," he says, "Have a tradition before we go to battle our Hated Enemies, the Twinks. Do you wish to battle your own daemons?" [[Hell yes.]] [[Hell no.]]You did it! You climbed the whole mountain, and won the game! Just kidding, you die in mysterious circumstances on the side of a mountain. Generations of teenagers don't read your works. The only reason anyone knows your name is that a YouTuber named Markiplier plays a horror game based around the mystery of your mysterious death in 2015, and even then, your name is only repeated through hundreds of commentors complaining about game mechanics. Try again? [[Birth]] "You are wise," The Bear says. He plunges you into the fire. Engulfed in flames, you see a red light-- [[Birth]] [[Hell.]] He shakes his head, slowly but sadly. "I'm sorry, then. We have nothing for you." You leave, shaken. If the bear men can't help you, who can? [[School? Who needs school!? Not you! You don't need nobody!]] [[Allow a group of visiting foreign scientists to argue in favour of you continuing your education, allowing you to complete your work in October 1924.]] [[Climb this whole mountain.]] You wander into the city. [[Turn left.]] [[Turn Right.]] You sit at your desk for years, unmoving, until you eventually die of dehydration. After years. Yes, I know how anatomy works. Try again? [[Birth]] Don't be silly, Ayn Rand would never turn left. [[Turn Right.]] You fall down a manhole. You are in the sewers, and have the worrying feeling that you're being watched. [[Go forwards.]] [[Go back.]]You forge forwards into the sewer, but you can hear breathing. Something hot trickles down the back of your neck. [[Go forwards again.]] [[Go back.]] [[Look behind you.]]There's a wall behind you. [[Go forwards.]] [[Walk into the wall.]]This is where you start to realize your mistake. The sewage is rising around your ankles. [[Go forwards again again.]] [[Go back.]] [[Eat the sewage.]]Argh! It's a scary face, and it killed you! The jumpscare effect is cheap but effective. If only this had images. Try again? [[Birth]] Oh no, it's a metaphor for your entire life; food, hunger, and salvation, all at the edge of a hand trapped behind transparent glass. What are you going to do? [[Smash the glass and grab the hand.]] [[Do nothing; do not allow yourself to become a taker, a faker, a hater, knowing that you will condemn yourself to death.]]It's almost up to your waist now, and still rising. [[Go forwards again.]] [[Go back.]] You get sepsis and DIE. Is that what you wanted? Try again? [[Birth]] Shit, it really was a trap; the hand drags you down to hell. [[Hell.]]This day, your death has meaning. You are born again, but better. [[Remove yourself from your mother's womb, exiting into the hospital room, cutting your own umbilical cord, and instructing the doctors in perfect Russian on the best way to heal your mother after her pregnancy.]] Turns out, hell is pretty cool. A lot of the good philosophers are in hell, and a lot of people down there either really really agree with you or really really disagree. There's a lot of talk about doing evil for the collective good, but also that being a dick gets results. Satan, it turns out, is a lesbian. She doesn't take kindly to the way you called lgbtq people disgusting, and stabs you. What do you do? [[Cry your way back to Russia and probably die.]] [[Get over it.]] [[Seduce Satan.]]In Hollywood you take odd jobs to pay for living expenses, but eventually you become a junior screenwriter. While working on The King of Kings, you meet Frank O'Connor. [[Flirt with Frank O'Connor.]] [[Do nothing.]]You probably die. Try again? [[Birth]] [[Do everything you can to stay in America, living with relatives in Chicago, and then eventually setting out for Hollywood, California.]] He's into it! [[Flirt with Frank O'Connor.]] [[Bang the heck out of Frank O'Connor.]]Shit, your visa ran out. [[Cry your way back to Russia and probably die.]] He's into it! [[Flirt with Frank O'Connor.]] [[Bang the heck out of Frank O'Connor.]] [[Marry Frank O'Connor.]]Nice. You get married on April 15, 1929, around the time your last visa extension was set to expire. You became a permanent US resident in July 1929, and an American citizen on March 3, 1931. You make several attempts to bring her parents and sisters to the United States, but they were unable to acquire permission to emigrate. [[I don't care about them.]] [[Shit, I should do something about that right?]]Great! Let's write. [[Write Night of January 16th.]] [[Write We the Living.]] [[Write Anthem.]]Well there is one thing you can do... [[Cry your way back to Russia and probably die.]] You write the courtroom drama Night of January 16th. It gets produced by E.E. Clive in Hollywood in 1934 and then successfully reopened on Broadway in 1935. Each night the "jury" was selected from members of the audience, and one of the two different endings, depending on the jury's "verdict", would then be performed. In 1941, Paramount Pictures produces a movie loosely based on the play. You hate the result. [[Kill the producers.]] [[Write We the Living.]] [[Write Anthem.]] Your second book is semi-autobiographical and set in Soviet Russia, it focuses on the struggle between the individual and the state. It's as near to an autobiography as you will ever write. Initial sales are slow and your publisher lets it go out of print, although European editions continue to sell. [[Kill the publisher.]] [[Write Night of January 16th.]] [[Write Anthem.]] Your novella Anthem was written during a break from the writing of your next major novel. It presents a vision of a dystopian future world in which totalitarian collectivism has triumphed to such an extent that even the word 'I' has been forgotten and replaced with 'we'. Indeed, the idea of sharing is so alien to you that the idea of altruism becomes exaggerated to this extent. You honestly don't think that humanity should exist dependently on each other. Ayn, Ayn, Ayn. Human history is gonna come as a shock to you. [[Write the Fountainhead.]]Well, they're dead, but you're now in prison for murder. Good job, friendo. [[Be in jail.]]You are in jail until you die. Try again? [[Birth]] Well, he's dead, but now you're on death row in jail. [[Be in jail.]] You're getting all politically active. Both you and your husband worked full-time in volunteer positions for the 1940 presidential campaign of Republican Wendell Willkie. This work led to your first public speaking experiences, including fielding hostile questions from audiences who had just viewed pro-Willkie newsreels, an experience you greatly enjoy. Ludwig von Mises referrs to you as "the most courageous man in America." [['I am no man.']] [[You're actually super glad that he called you a man.]]The witch king screams and kills you. Try again? [[Birth]] Your first major success as a writer comes with The Fountainhead in 1943, a romantic and philosophical novel. What is it about? [[The novel centers on an uncompromising young architect named Howard Roark and his struggle against what Rand described as "second-handers"—those who attempt to live through others, placing others above themselves.]] [[Did you know they call water fountains 'bubblers' in Rhode Island? Weird, huh.]] You get rejected by twelve publishers before finally being accepted by the Bobbs-Merrill Company on the insistence of editor Archibald Ogden, who threatens to quit if his employer doesn't not publish it-- what a guy! At this point, you get addicted to amphetamines to fight fatigue. The Fountainhead eventually becomes a worldwide success, bringing you fame and financial security! Nice. You extend your involvement with free-market and anti-communist activism while working in Hollywood. You became involved with the Motion Picture Alliance for the Preservation of American Ideals, a Hollywood anti-Communist group, and write articles on the group's behalf. You also joined the anti-Communist American Writers Association. You testify for McCarthy and the House Un American Activities Committee. There's a movie made of the Fountainhead. You hate it. [[Kill the producers.]] [[Get on with your life.]] [[Make fun of Communists.]]Your first of many books about water fountains is a smash hit. You retire, changing the landscape of American politics to be obsessed with water fountains. Good job. Try again? [[Birth]] You get a bunch of letters from people who really, really like your book. Nice. You know what's nicer? They all want to come hang out with you in a collective. You know what's nicest? You've kinda got a cult going on. Your group (jokingly designated "The Collective") includes Alan Greenspan. At first the group is an informal gathering of friends who meet with you on weekends at your apartment. Later you let them read some of Atlas Shrugged. [[Get romantic with Nathaniel Branden with the consent of your spouses.]] [[Get crackin' on that magnum opus.]] Haha! Those silly commies. I hope they all die! You do too! lol [[Get on with your life.]] Nice. [[Get crackin' on that magnum opus.]] Time to write Atlas Shrugged. Are you sure you want to do this? [[Yes.]] [[Why not?]] Are you totally sure? It's gonna change American history. [[Awesome! Let's do it!]]Atlas Shrugged will change everything, and turn selfishness into a justifiable philosophy, at least even more so. People will be in charge of aid and refuse to give it out, even when people need it. You push the entire discourse of American politics and economics so far right FDR looks like a commie. [[That doesn't sound so bad.]] [[Hmm, maybe I won't write Atlas Shrugged after all...]]Not necessarily in a good way. You don't even care, though, do you. [[Write Atlas Shrugged.]]You publish Atlas Shrugged in 1957. You described the theme of the novel as "the role of the mind in man's existence—and, as a corollary, the demonstration of a new moral philosophy: the morality of rational self-interest." Do you know what that means? Do you care? It advocates the core tenets of your philosophy of Objectivism and expresses your concept of human achievement. The plot involves a dystopian United States in which the most creative industrialists, scientists, and artists go on strike and retreat to a mountainous hideaway where they build an independent free economy. They do this without any laborers or "takers." They build an economy based on nothing but "being good at things." The novel's hero and leader of the strike, John Galt, describes the strike as "stopping the motor of the world" by withdrawing the minds of the individuals most contributing to the nation's wealth and achievement. This is because poor people contribute nothing. With this fictional strike, you intend to illustrate that without the efforts of the rational and productive, the economy would collapse and society would fall apart. Unfortunately, this hasn't happened in real life, and the novellic version is simplistic. This is despite like 1000 pages of just John Galt talking. Why. Despite many negative reviews, Atlas Shrugged becomes an international bestseller. [[Declare yourself "the most creative thinker alive".]] [[Kill the reviewers.]] Fine. I warned you. [[Write Atlas Shrugged.]] Awesome! What're you going to do instead? [[Get romantic with Nathaniel Branden with the consent of your spouses.]] Unfortunately you fall into a depression. This is your last work of fiction; you are no longer a novelist, but a philosopher. This horrifies me. [[Get published, make speeches.]] [[Retreat into the woods and speak from on top of a holy stone.]]Well, good job, but you got arrested. [[Fuck the police.]] Throughout the 1960s and 1970s, you promote Objectivism through your nonfiction works and by giving talks to students at Yale, Princeton, Columbia, Harvard, and MIT. You are, apparently, welcome at these places. You also receive an honorary doctorate from Lewis and Clark college, which blows my mind. You take controversial stances on political and social issues; supporting abortion rights, opposing the Vietnam War and the military draft (though you call draft-dodgers Bums), supporting Israel in the Yom Kippur War of 1973 against a coalition of Arab nations as "civilized men fighting savages", saying European colonists had the right to take land from American Indians, and calling homosexuality "immoral" and "disgusting", while also advocating the repeal of all laws about it. You also endorse several Republican candidates for President. Wow. Nathaniel Branden, the guy you were sleeping with, began an affair witha young actress and tried to hide it from you. Even though your relationship has ended, you're upset about this. [[Kill them.]] [[Write an angry letter then get over it like an adult.]] [[Terminate your relationship with them, destroy your group, publish an article calling Nathaniel Branden irrational and dishonest.]]You speak for many years about the valience of capitalism before dissolving into stone. Try again? [[Birth]] You're still going to jail. [[Be in jail.]] Well. That was murder. So. [[Be in jail.]] You'd think write. [[Terminate your relationship with them, destroy your group, publish an article calling Nathaniel Branden irrational and dishonest.]] He bitterly responds by apologizing for ever being involved in Objectivism and perpetuating "the Ayn Rand mystique." You part company with several more associates in similar ways. You have lung cancer. What are you going to do? [[Get over it.]] [[Get a doctor.]]Unfortunately, the human body can't do that. Fortunately, you're Ayn Rand, immortal nether-goddess. You live on through the All-Times. Try again? [[Birth]] You undergo surgery for lung cancer, but, exhausted, you stop writing your newsletter. With no source in income, what do you do? [[Enroll in Social Security and Medicaid.]]During the late 1970s your activities within the Objectivist movement decline, especially after the death of your husband in 1979. [[End.]]You died of heart failure on March 6, 1982, at home in New York City. Your funeral was attended by some of her prominent followers, including Alan Greenspan. A 6-foot (1.8 m) floral arrangement in the shape of a dollar sign was placed near your casket. Congratulations! You have reached the true end of Ayn Rand Simulator. If you took this path, you may have learned some true things about Ayn Rand. This simulator was all in good fun, and I hope you had a good time. Try again? [[Birth]] She, Satan, is impressed with your fortitude and your hypocrisy. Nice. You have a romantic relationship with Satan and become Queen of Hell by her side. You are hellqueen eternal, forever more. Try again? [[Birth]] Nice job destroying souls dude. Wanna write a book about it? [[Write book about feasting on the innocent and destroying souls.]] It's a smash hit, and Satan wants to talk to you about it. So you go to-- [[Hell.]] Congratulations! You are a satanic talking baby. What are you going to do now, weird baby? [[Clean yourself up, get dressed, and immediately start writing novels in Russian, the language you taught yourself.]]