A Grim-ish Tale

Black smoke billows out from the ether, and from the swirling cloud emerges a hooded figure. Under his cowl, there is nothing but the bare skeletal face of the Grim Reaper. Cold, hollow eye sockets stare at you, through you, seeing all. Or perhaps seeing nothing. "Hello, young one," Reaper said, his jawbone bobbing up and down to the chattering drumbeat of yellow teeth. "Don't be frightened." [["W-what... w-who are you?"]] [["Be gone demon!"]]

"I am the Reaper, obviously. The narrator just told you so, and that means it's not up for debate." Reaper sighed. "Readers these days... what ever happened to no child left behind?" ["Trump's the President now."]<TrumpVar| (click: ?TrumpVar)[ (display: "Trump") ]

"Oh, as if I'd never heard //that// one before. Brilliant." Reaper held his bony hands up, palms facing forward. "Don't hurt me, please! What ever will I do?" [[Threaten him with your keyboard.]]

"Of course you are. I don't know how I didn't see it before." Reaper tapped at his empty sockets. You think he might be smiling, but there's no way to be sure. [[Laugh.]] [[Don't laugh.]] (set: $PlayerGender to "male") (set: $SheHe to "he") (set: $HerHim to "him") (set: $HisHers to "his")

"Of course you are. I don't know how I didn't see it before." Reaper tapped at his empty sockets. You think he might be smiling, but there's no way to be sure. [[Laugh.]] [[Don't laugh.]] (set: $PlayerGender to "female") (set: $SheHe to "she") (set: $HerHim to "her") (set: $HisHers to "hers")

"Oh," Reaper said. "I'm sorry to hear that." Reaper rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat to break the awkward silence. (display: "Xanax")

"Suit yourself, but you might find that later you'll wish you had!" (display: "Reaper Initiate") (set: $PlayerTookXanax to false)

"Really?" Reaper shook his head. "I mean... I don't even know what to say. You're clearly deranged." (display: "Xanax")

"Perhaps you might like some complimentary Xanax?" Reaper extended his hand, white pills slipping between his thin fingerbones. "They do work wonders for me on the many long nights I spend harvesting. I swear my quotas keep going up year after year. Damnable inflation!" [["Uh... no thanks."]] [["What is Xanax?"]] [["Sure, why not."]]

"Your sincerity is underwhelming. Still, at least you're polite, and one cannot underestimate that quality in today's world. Especially considering my occupation. I love comedy, you see, but I get to enjoy so little of it these days. Even when I harvest a comedian, they never say anything funny. There's no punchline. Just... screaming. Some crying. But mostly screaming..." Reaper trails off, lost in thought. [["Uh, did you have another question?"]] [["So... what's this game about?"]]

"Rude. Just rude." Reaper sighed. "Does no one teach politeness or etiquette anymore?" [["Your joke just wasn't that funny."]] [["My funny bone is broken."]]

"Yes, of course. The questions. Very important we keep pace, the author wouldn't like us to waste his valuable time." Reaper rested the scythe on his shoulder and pulled a small moleskin notebook out of his sleeve and flipped through the pages. "Let's see here. Names, phone numbers, names... shopping lists, famous people, words that start with the letter 'R' ... ah ha! Here we go. Ahem. How old is your character?" [[12]] [[25]] [[36]] [[65]]

"Oh, we'll get to that in a minute. It's actually quite important that we do these questions in order, for quality assurance. I know that might seem hard to believe, but even reapers have a code of conduct." [["Fine. What's your next question?"->"Uh, did you have another question?"]]

"Not //that// funny?" Reaper huffed. "Well, I'll have you know that, before I became a Reaper, I was a very succesful actor on a number of popular sitcoms." (display: "Creepy Guy")

"That explains a lot," Reaper said. "Well, I'll have you know that, before I became a Reaper, I was a very successful actor on a number of popular sitcoms." (display: "Creepy Guy")

["Oh, yeah? As what? Creepy guy #5?"]<LikeWhat| (Click: ?LikeWhat)[ "Well... sometimes, but, uhm... I did do quite a bit of, you know, improv and stuff." Reaper trails off, lost in thought. [["Uh, did you have another question?"]] [["So... what's this game about?"]] ]

"Ah, so young. When I was your age, I lived in this quaint little cottage by the lake. On hot summer days, I would go down and sit on the dock, dangling my bare feet in the cool water and daydream about-" (display: "Age Continue") (set: $PlayerAge to "12")

"Ah, the perfect age. Mature-ish, sexually active, full of life and optimism..." Reaper trailed off, cackling. "Then you age, and it's all gone. Beauty fades, hope dies, strength wanes-" (display: "Age Continue") (set: $PlayerAge to "25")

"A good age to be sure. Old enough to get away with your disabilities and still pass off as someone who doesn't need blood pressure medication. You know, I got married on my thirty-sixth birthday, and it was just... the best wedding I ever attended. Absolutely everything went wrong, and my fiance took all the blame because it was //her// big day and she planned //everything// and didn't want my advice. No, no, no, she said. I'll handle it, she said. Everyone loves citrus, she said. By the end of the night we-" (display: "Age Continue") (set: $PlayerAge to "36")

Bit old, don't you think? What's your character going to do, exactly? Sit on the porch and drink tea? Watch re-runs of Jeopardy in the middle of the day?" Reaper chuckled. "Well, like my grandmother used to say-" (display: "Age Continue") (set: $PlayerAge to "65")

[["Fascinating, really... but what about the game?"]] [["Sorry to interrupt--but I'm kind of on a schedule."]]

"Yes, yes, yes." Reaper sighed. "I'll tell you all about it after I get just a few more small details. It'll take five minutes, tops. It's just so very important that we completely flesh out your character. The author is very insistent about that, and you really, **really** don't want to... just take my word for it, okay? This is for your own good." [["Fine. What else?"]]

"Oh, I understand. Busy, busy! Well, the rest of the questions should take only five minutes more, tops. It's just so very important that we completely flesh out your character. The author is very insistent about that, and you really, **really** don't want to... just take my word for it, okay? This is for your own good." [["Fine. What else?"]]

"What is your character's profession?" [[Taxidermist]] [[Former Intelligence Officer]] [[Sign Twirler]] [[Pet Stylist]]

"Ah, yes. Fascinating subject, that. Excellent choice for this game, especially. Not something you normally get to roleplay. I wonder if perhaps your character could help me plan out the design I have in mind for your body. Something elegant, you know, that captures your living essence. It's all in the eyes." [["Yes, the game. Are you ready to tell me about it yet?"]] (set: $PlayerOccupation to "taxidermist") (set: $PlayerOccupationUP to "Taxidermist")

"Oh, ho! //Former// you say, how apropo, when you're having a conversation with me." Reaper cackled. "But yes, this is good. Quite good. Your background skills should come in quite handy for this epic journey the author has planned." [["Yes, the game. Are you ready to tell me about it yet?"]] (set: $PlayerOccupation to "ex-CIA officer") (set: $PlayerOccupationUP to "Ex-CIA Officer")

"A sign twirler. Sign... twirler. Um, okay." Reaper scribbles on his notepad. "I have to ask... why?" ["Why not?"]<WhySignTw| (click: ?WhySignTw)[ "Touche. Well, it's a valid option, so I guess there's nothing else to say, but I feel like you might want to reconsider your options. I just, how do I put it... I don't feel like this skillset will be... remotely useful in this game." [["Yes, the game. Are you ready to tell me about it yet?"]] ] (set: $PlayerOccupation to "sign twirler") (set: $PlayerOccupationUP to "Sign Twirler")

"A stylish response, if I don't say so myself." ["Still not funny."]<StilNotFunny| (click: ?StilNotFunny)[ "Well, everyone's a critic. Suffice to say you can put your scissors to good use in this story. It also unlocks some unique gameplay options that--hang on one second." Reaper flips through his notebook. "Yes, yes! You are actually the very first person to choose this option. How exciting for the author! You've just validated all of his time spent on creating these alternative occupations." [["Yes, the game. Are you ready to tell me about it yet?"]] ] (set: $PlayerOccupation to "pet stylist") (set: $PlayerOccupationUP to "Pet Stylist")

"There's just a few more things we need to cover, but... well, I suppose I could tell you a little without spoiling the choice bits." Reaper cleared his throat. "The game takes place in a mortuary, with you taking on the role of a recently deceased $PlayerOccupation. When the game begins, you can't manipulate objects, talk to non-player characters, solve puzzles, or engage in combat until you drink the Frankenelixir. Then, you will rise up like a phoenix from the ashes and take vengeance upon the dastardly villain who-" [[But... how do I drink the thingy if I can't manipulate objects?]]

"Uhm, that's a, a... good question." Reaper flipped through his notebook, muttering. "It's, uh... I don't, h-have anything that--I'll make a note to talk to the author. For now, let's finish building your character." [["Your five minutes is almost up, pal."]] [["Isn't there a template I could use instead?"]]

"It's a prescription medication and muscle relaxant that makes you feel... chill. You're not supposed to take them more than two or three times a day, but I eat them like candy and look at me!" Reaper stretched out his arms wide to show off his ghastly form, bits of muscle hanging limply from hollow bones. "I'm the image of vitality and--//**cuff**// //**coff**//--and youthful vigor. [["Uh... no thanks."]] [["Sure, why not."]]

"That's the spirit," Reaper said, handing you the pills. "I've a little rhyme to help me remember: take one to feel okay, pop two and sleep all day, three makes you question things, take more and feel the Reaper's swing." [["I'll keep that in mind."->Reaper Initiate]] (set: $PlayerTookXanax to true)

Reaper cackled as his scythe materialized from the abyssal smoke. Bony fingers clutched the gnarled wood, light glimmering off an ancient, crusty blade. "Fear... ah, how I do crave it. Alas, you need not be afraid. I am not here for your body. Not yet. No, I am here to ask you questions. Questions I would rather not ask, mind you... but I-" Reaper shuddered uncontrollably, yellow teeth grinding together in pain. "Yes, yes of course. Forgive me, master." Reaper composed himself, brushing off his robes and standing up to his full height, his spine erect. His proud chin pointed up at the sky, hollow sockets looking down on you with contempt. "Authors, am I right? There's no pleasing them. Always complaining about this or that. And don't get them started on Kindle Unlimited royalties or..." The words caught in Reaper's throat, his voice choked to a gurgling rasp much like a drowning man's last breath. "Ahem." Reaper coughed, his breathing ragged, chest heaving from the effort. "Right, then. W-where was I? Ah, yes. Are y-you, uhm, are you [[male]] or [[female]]?"

"We'll breeze through the rest of the character development, don't worry!" Reaper turned a page in the notebook. "All we've got left to do is your character stats and skills, ethnicity, backstory..." Reaper flipped through several more pages. "...height and weight, birthday, social security number, residency, family tree, faction affiliation, alignment, preferred diety, political views, favorite foods-" [["Okay, that's it. Find someone else to play this stupid game."]] [["Are you serious? Who the heck wants to get that deep into character?"]]

"Sadly, no. The author thought templates would ruin the epic, immersive quality of the character building process. Besides, how better to get to know your character on a personal, intimate level?" [["Could you make that sound any creepier?"]]

Reaper gasped. "Y-you must never say that! If the author ever h-heard..." Reaper shuddered as if a chill ran down his spine. Behind him, grey storm clouds billow overhead, churning and roiling in the astral sky. Here and there a flash of lightning illuminates the bleak horizon, and you hear the distant rumble of thunder. "Oh, your magnificence! Mercy for the player, and your humble servant, I beg you! I'm sure $SheHe did not mean to insult your most esteemed penmanship!" [["Please... I'm not afraid of this author guy."]] [["What's the worst that could happen?"]]

"What? You can't leave! This, this is quite possibly the great game I've ever been credited in!" Reaper exclaimed, waving his arms dramatically in the air. "It's an epic love story! A stupendous adventure! A fantastic tale through time and space! Character arcs spanning generations! Villains who turn into heroes! Heroes who turn into villains! Including the latest real-time sleeping simulators and survival needs! Next-generation retro pixel graphics! It's so revolutionary and optimized that you can--wait for it--play it on your smartphone!" [["This game sounds terrible. Or too good to be true. Or both."]]

"Look, I'm just the messenger." Reaper shrugged. "I didn't write the questions. I wish I didn't have to ask them. But wishes are for gypsies and in this our fictional world we are left only with crushed dreams and dashed hopes." [["What does that even have to do with--you know what? I don't care. I'm done."->"Okay, that's it. Find someone else to play this stupid game."]]

"Oh, but you should be. The author has ways and means only few have guessed. His power extends beyond this realm of ours, beyond imagination! His henchmen frighten even the likes of me!" ["Henchmen? What kind of writer has henchmen?"]<HenchVar| (click: ?HenchVar)[ "In truth," Reaper said, averting his gaze. "They are not men, not even beasts, they prey on what the author calls his 'darlings.' They are... no, I dare not speak the name." ["Fine, describe them."]<HenchVar2| (click: ?HenchVar2)[ "I-I once heard them c-called a... program. And their leader is... is a s-search engine!" [["Look, Reap. Can I call you Reap? You need to relax!"]] ] ]

"You have no idea!" Reaper gasped. "The author can mutate your character, give $HerHim diseases or birth defects, stat penalties, and in the most grievous of cases..." Reaper leans in closer, his voice quiet as a whisper. "Deletion!" [["So, what? I'm not scared."->"Please... I'm not afraid of this author guy."]]

"Um," Reaper said, scratching his sun-bleached skull. "No, I don't think so." [["You realize this has already taken more than five minutes, right?"->"Your five minutes is almost up, pal."]]

"You don't understand!" Reaper shouted. "Look, we need to get back on track. Yes. We //must// finish the questions!" (if: $PlayerAge is "12")[(set: $PlayerAge to (either: 25, 36, 65))](elseif: $PlayerAge is "25")[(set: $PlayerAge to (either: 12, 36, 65))](elseif: $PlayerAge is "36")[(set: $PlayerAge to (either: 12, 25, 65))](elseif: $PlayerAge is "65")[(set: $PlayerAge to (either: 12, 25, 36))](if: $PlayerGender is "male")[(set: $PlayerGender to "female")](elseif: $PlayerGender is "female")[(set: $PlayerGender to "male")](if: $PlayerOccupation is "taxidermist")[(set: $PlayerOccupation to "ex-CIA officer")](elseif: $PlayerOccupation is "ex-CIA officer")[(set: $PlayerOccupation to "sign twirler")](elseif: $PlayerOccupation is "sign twirler")[(set: $PlayerOccupation to "pet stylist")](elseif: $PlayerOccupation is "pet stylist")[(set: $PlayerOccupation to "taxidermist")] Reaper opened his moleskin notebook once more, his hands trembling as he scribbled on a new page. "Let's just go over what we've got so far, okay? We must be accurate, yes, every box checked, every option toggled. Let's see. I mean, I can't wait to see what you do with a $PlayerAge year old $PlayerGender $PlayerOccupation in this-" [["Wait... you got every single thing wrong!"]]

"What?" Reaper paused. "Impossible! Computers don't make mistakes. I mean, it's just calling up variables! Unless... do you think? Could it be a bug that somehow made it past quality assurance?" [["Either that, or this game is just messing with me."]]

**ERROR: UNEXPECTED TOKEN ILLEGAL** **ERROR: DATA CORRUPTION** **ERROR: SERVERS OFFLINE** **ERROR: JAVASCRIPT RAN OUT OF CAFFEINE** Debug enabled. Detecting your computer specifications... standby... CPU: AMD Athlon x568 x4 @ 1.21Gigawatts (Great Scott 3DS) GPU: MSI Nvidia GeForce 9001 HDD1: 500TB Maxtor Ultra SSD 3D VR NG TGZ GTX R3 5C 42 RAM: 2x 512GB DDR-3.333333333333333333333333333333~ Sound Card: Not Installed OS: Microsoft Windows XPretending To Be Professional x64 Oops! If you're viewing this screen, something under the hood broke. The support team at Grim Studios™ is here to help you day or night. Call 1-800-123-4567 and enter this convenient support code: **//23487-G23498234-AB35435-129381-AD4598435435-912385-2348GH-JOHN-E5-FGH21374HSDF23-SDFHSDF32434-SDFSDF23-FGH-3//** into our automated messaging system. Have a super day!

**//A Grim-ish Tale//** By Jeremy Wilfinger Embark on a comedic adventure into the abyssal plane where you meet face to face with none other than the Grim Reaper himself, who acts as your guide to creating your character. Estimated gameplay time: 10-15 minutes. [[Begin your adventure.]] [[Contact the author.]]

You can reach Jeremy through any of the following: Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jeremy.wilfinger Twitter: https://twitter.com/jeremywilfinger E-mail: [email protected] To read up on the latest news, check out his blog: http://jeremywilfinger.blogspot.com/ [[Return to Main Menu.->Main Menu]]