After piecing together the messages from the island survivors, you plan to find their location. Thanks to technology, you manage to pinpoint where they are and land on a remote island off the coast of India.
[[land safely]]
[[crash]]You land safely and see the shipwrecked people waiting for rescue. They are gathered near the edge of the woods, looking at you apprehensively.
[["I'm the one you sent the code to, remember?"]]
[["Are any of you named Morse?"]]You crash on accident, one of your propellers becoming stuck in a tree. You die engulfed in flames, never able to rescue the poor islanders who had called on you for help.
THE END "Of course we remember," scowls an elderly woman, narrowing her beady eyes at you. "There was only one reason we called you to this island."
[["I'm guessing it wasn't for rescue..."]]
[["...What?"]]"How do you know that name?" huffed one of the elders, her beady eyes narrowed at you as she smooths back her scraggled shock of white hair.
[["It was left at the end of the morse code message."]]
[["Are you...?"]]"You've got one thing right," she grins, the edges of her lips cracked from the heat of the island. Within moments you find yourself surrounded by a small tribe of islanders, their spears prodding your back as they steer you toward a roaring fire.
THE END The elderly woman grins at your confusion, the edges of her lips cracked from the heat of the island. Within moments you find yourself surrounded by a small tribe of islanders, their spears prodding your back as they steer you toward a roaring fire.
THE END The elderly woman steps forward, the wrinkles around the edges of her eyes wrinkling as she frowns at you.
"You were able to decipher the message?" Her eyes suddenly widen, and she bares a toothless grin in your direction. "The gods have answered our prayers, my friends! They have sent us a deity from the realm of modern technology!"
[[continue]]
"Morse?" The old woman chuckles. "No. But you're dinner."
Within moments you find yourself surrounded by a small tribe of islanders, their spears prodding your back as they steer you toward a roaring fire.
THE END You try to explain to the old woman that she's quite mistaken, but within minutes, the entire tribe of apparently-not-so-shipwrecked islanders is crowning you with some kind of bramble headpiece.
Hey, it could be worse.
THE END