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<<fadein 2s>><span class="logo"> <img src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/0/0a/Twine_vector_logo.svg/896px-Twine_vector_logo.svg.png"> </span><</fadein>> <<timed 4s t8n>><span class="game-start-timed"> Click anywhere to continue... </span><</timed>> <<cont>><<goto 'start-menu'>><</cont>>

<<fadein 1s>> <div id="start-title">A Few Hours In The Life</div> <div id="start-subtitle">by Clarissa Shen</div> <<nobr>><div id="start-menu"> <<nobr>><<if Save.autosave.ok() and Save.autosave.has()>><<button "Resume Game">><<run Save.autosave.load()>><</button>><</if>><</nobr>> <<button "New Game" "p_00">><<set $chapter to "Chapter One">><</button>> <<button "Load Game">><<run UI.saves();>><</button>> <<button "Settings">><<run UI.settings();>><</button>> <<button "Credits">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("credits","credits"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("credits").processText()); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</button>> </div><</nobr>> <</fadein>>

<h2>Twine + Sugarcube</h2> <li>Twine by Chris Klimas - <a href="https://twinery.org/cookbook/" target="_blank">Twine Cookbook</a></li> <li>Sugarcube by Thomas Michael Edwards - <a href="https://www.motoslave.net/sugarcube/2/docs/" target="_blank">Sugarcube 2 Documentation</a></li> <li>Custom Macros - <a href="https://github.com/ChapelR/custom-macros-for-sugarcube-2" target="_blank">ChapelR Custom Macros Collection</a></li> <h2>Resources</h2> <li>Icons - <a href="https://fontawesome.com/" target="_blank"> Font Awesome Icons</a></li> <li>Fonts - <a href="https://fonts.google.com/" target="_blank">Google Fonts</a>, <a href="https://opendyslexic.org/" target="_blank">Open Dyslexic</a></li> <li>CSS + HTML Tutorials - <a href="https://www.w3schools.com/">W3Schools</a></li> <li><a href="https://www.iwm.org.uk/history/voices-of-the-first-world-war-trench-life" target="_blank"> Voices of the First World War: Trench Life</a></li> <li><a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/bitesize/articles/z8sssbk#z7rqjsg"> What was life like in a World War One trench?</a></li> <h2>Disclaimer</h2> A FEW HOURS IN THE LIFE is a non-commercial work of non-fiction. It is not meant to be used for profit and was made solely as an AP European History final. Places, incidents, and context are based off of trench warfare during World War One from a French man's perspective. However, names and characters are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.

You wake up. Sike, you’ve been awake. The last time you slept was at one in the morning, only for a few hours. Since then, you’ve been awake: patrolling the grounds, setting up more barbed wire, solidifying the trenches, doing the same things you’ve been doing since you arrived at this No Man’s Land. <<nobr>> A command is issued quickly before daylight, and you make your way to the <<cycle "$thing1" autoselect>> <<option "front.">> <<option "front. //'Stand to,' short fort 'Stand-to-Arms,' was a command issued every day at approximately five am or half an hour before daylight to most every soldier in their respective trench. It meant that they had to be prepared for enemy attack. This usually lasted until thirty minutes after first daylight, and if they were not attacked, they continued on with their day and subsequent breakfast.//">> <</cycle>> <</nobr>> Your steps are <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <div class="choice-item">[[Heavy and uncertain. It’s been three months, but you’re still not used to this amount of sleep. Your head aches and you yearn to wake up after the sunrise|d1]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[[Steady and calm. You have become accustomed to your minimal sleep schedule and what the trenches require of you. You move quickly through the systems, deftly weaving through your comrades.|p_03]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[[Normal? You’re just walking, there’s nothing to it.|p_03]]</div> </div><</nobr>>

<<nobr>><div class="choices"> <div class="choice-item">[[You turn to look at them.|p5]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[[You continue walking. |d2]]</div> </div><</nobr>> <h1>Heading 1</h1> <h2>Heading 2</h2> <h3>Heading 3</h3> <<button "Button">><</button>> <<textbox "$textbox" $textbox>> <<listbox "$listbox">> <<option "Listbox 1">> <<option "Listbox 2">> <<option "Listbox 3">> <</listbox>> <<cycle "$cycle">> <<option "ssdsd.">> <<option "It shouldn't even be your war!! You're French, for goodness sake.">> <<option "Cyclinasdasdg 3">> <</cycle>> <li>[[list|p_03]</li> <li>List Item</li> <li>List Item</li> <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <div class="choice-item">[[Continue|p_00]]</div> <div class="flirt-choice-item">[[Continue|p_00]]</div> <div class="special-choice-item">[[Continue|p_00]]</div> </div><</nobr>>

<<if settings.notifs>><<if tags().includes('autosave')>><<notify 3.5s>>Saving...<</notify>><</if>><</if>> /* autosaving -- the autosave notif needs to be 'present' at all times so is stored in the passageheader, only popping up when you add the [autosave] tag onto one of your passages. this is mainly for aesthetics as the autosave function is currently set up to save on EVERY passage. this can be changed in the javascript settings, e.g. you could configure it to only autosave on passages with the [autosave] tag notify is also a ChapelR macro, not a default sugarcube macro, so make sure to familiarise yourself with the documentation!*/ <script> var myDiv = document.getElementById('passages'); myDiv.scrollTop = 0; </script> /* scroll top -- this script makes the page scroll back to the top every time you move on to the next passage -- do not delete it! */

<h1>Profile</h1> <div id="stat-title"> <span>Friendly ($friendly%)</span> <span>Stoic (<<print 100 - $friendly>>%)</span> </div> <<showmeter 'Friendly' `$friendly/ $max_friendly`>> <div id="stat-title"> <span>Strength ($strength%)</span> <span>Weakness (<<print 100 - $strength>>%)</span> </div> <<showmeter 'Strength' `$strength/ $max_strength`>>

<<set $chapter = "">> <<set $name = "Unknown">> <<set $textbox = "textbox">> <<set $listbox = "listbox">> <<set $cycle = "cycle">> /* ChapelR Meter Macro set up */ /* these stat meter set ups are purely examples and do not need to be used */ <<set $deaths to 0>> <<set $max_deaths = 100>>

<div id="title-container"> <span class="title-item">A Few Hours In The Life</span> <span class="chapter-item">$chapter</span> </div>

<<link '<i class="fa-solid fa-bookmark" alt="saves"></i>'>><<run UI.saves();>><</link>> <<link '<i class="fa-solid fa-gear" alt="settings"></i>'>><<run UI.settings();>><</link>> <<link '<i class="fa-solid fa-user" alt="profile"></i>'>> <<script>> Dialog.setup("profile","profile"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("profile").processText()); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>> <<link '<i class="fa-solid fa-door-open" alt="restart"></i>'>><<run UI.restart();>><</link>>

You make your way to the front lines but trip on your own two feet. A fall by itself wouldn't have been fatal, but you hit your head on a hard metal bottle of rum. ''You die.'' <<set $deaths to $deaths +1>> You are given the option to revive yourself. Do you take it? [[Yes.|life1]] [[There isn't any other option, by the way. The question was just something to make you feel more in control!|life1]]

You navigate through the zig-zagged trench (designed this way to minimize damage from exploding shells) and take your spot at the front. Everyone is silent, and you know this phrase is overused, but you could cut the tension in the room with a knife. You wait, quiet, beside four feet of sandbags filled with dirt, rifle raised close to your chest, waiting for an attack. Your heart is palpitating and your hands sweaty by your side. Through the line, small bottles of rum are being passed out. This practice began long ago, if you recall. They called it "liquid courage" alcohol, since it, well, it provided almost instant courage. It dulled, for lack of a better word, the minds of rational men and allowed them to rush without hesitation into the teeth of enemy fire. XXX told you that a good shot of rum made him feel like he could rip a German soldier in half with his bare teeth. Mildly concerning. You don't drink yours today. It's always present, your heartbeat, the sign that you're still alive. You can hear it in your ears, feel it under your skin when you press two fingers under your chin, etc. You don't understand why it's acting like this. Why can't your heart just calm down instead of acting like a bird trapped in a cage (your ribcage)? It's stressing you out. You hope there isn’t an attack. You don’t want to be attacked. <<cycle "$cycle">> <<option "That’s a lie. You want to be attacked because then you can prove your worth on the battlefield, or more accurately, the trenchfields. Academics and poetry don’t call to you, combat does, and you hope to go down in history as a brave soldier. You’ve been anticipating this war for years ¶Your fingers twitch. You remind yourself that you're not an American stereotype. ¶The political structure of Europe had been unstable for some time-- it was just a matter of time before total war began. Austria and Serbia were just the first falling dominoes.">> <<option "You don’t even want to fight this war. ¶Yes, Paris was attacked, and as a citizen of beloved France, you must reclaim your country's honor. But they can rebuild their capital. Do you even need Alsace-Lorraine? ¶ (//Even before WW1, France and Germany had a long history of rivalry and conflict. Their relationship only worsened during the Franco-Prussian War, after France lost and Germany took Alsace-Lorraine. This loss, fueled by nationalist sentiments, fueled resentment and feelings of vengeance among the French population.//)¶ Shouldn’t everything be over now? With Russia and the United Kingdom by her side, France should've kicked Germany's butt by no. You didn't expect to be away from your family for so long. You know that there is a purpose for this war, probably, but you don’t see it. It’s just horrible and useless in your head, just another example of human brutality. Really stupid. ">> <<option "Yeah, you don’t want to be attacked. However, if you are, you will fight, because that’s your duty to your country. You are a nationalist to the end. You didn’t ask for this war, but you won’t turn it away...You just hope you’ll make it out alive.">> <</cycle>> Soft breathing and muffled footsteps fill the air, but everything seems so much slower because of how wet it is. All noises except for gunfire and bombings are quiet to you because everything else seems so minuscule compared to those noises: conversation is heard like its underwater and laughter like pillows smothered. There’s no conversation or laughter now. It's routine and everyone is still, holding their breath. Even the sun fears to shine on these lands, and when it does, it does so slowly, cowardly, peeking its head from the clouds. Is it over? [[It is.|p_04]]

A wave of relief crashes over everyone and a few people exhale, comforted. Cycle You are one of those people, whether you wanted some action or not. Or maybe you aren't one of those people, because you're a psychopath. <<nobr>> You <<cycle "$walk" autoselect>> <<option "stagger">> <<option "bolt">> <<option "wobble">> <</cycle>> to your feet. <</nobr>> The ground wobbles a bit under your feet and in the distance, you hear shells explode. You can’t see the explosion, but you know it’s there. Fortunately, it’s not near your regiment. You merge with your fellow soldiers and file yourself into a neat, orderly line. The man in front of you smells horrid, of unwashed skin, near-rotting fresh, soaked cloth, and you’re pretty sure there are dead lice on his shoulder. You know you look and probably smell just as bad and that there’s almost nothing one can do about his hygiene here, but you still find yourself a bit disgusted. You enter a wider section of the trench and see a group of men sitting in a line. <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <div class="choice-item">[[You turn to look at them.|p5]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[[You continue walking. |d2]]</div> </div><</nobr>>

Define "stalemate" in regards to WW1 trench warfare. <li>[[Stale mate refers to a dead lock in which neither side can progress.|p_03]]</li> <li>[[Stalemate refers to a stale mate.|fail1]]</li> <li>[[Stalemate refers to a strategy employed by one side to continuously advance and break through enemy lines.|fail1]]</li> <<timed 5s>><<goto [[fail1]]>><</timed>>

Erm. You failed. That was... unexpected. Let's try that [[again.|life1]]

You continue on your way, unable or unwilling to look at your fallen and soon-to-be-fallen comrades. There’s a growing, tingly feeling in your foot, but you ignore it. This is the battlefield. There is no time to waste on your own troubles, not when you’re a part of something so much more. Unfortunately for you, that tingly feeling was trench foot. An infection spreads and your foot is inflamed, red, swollen, and covered in blisters. You let it go untreated for too long, not that saying anything about it would’ve changed much, and you soon developed gangrene. To save your life, an impromptu amputation was performed in the same cold, wet, dirty place you developed the injury. As you thought, war does not waste its time on the individual. Since you are unable to fight as a cripple, you are discharged shortly after you lose your foot. A hot, bitter shame fills you, and despite your protests that you can still be useful, you are sent away, alongside everyone else you once saw before, waiting to die, to a hospital in the south. You tell yourself you're different. You're not weak. You will survive this war. You are not like them. Unfortunately for you, your foot becomes infected, again, and you contract sepsis on the way. ''You die.'' <<set $deaths to $deaths +1>> You are given the option to revive yourself. Do you take it? [[Yes.|life1]] [[There isn't any other option, by the way. The question was just something to make you feel more in control!|life1]]

You shine your gaze on them, their forms huddled together against the demure chill of early morning. <<nobr>>They tremble like leaves in the wind, heads downturn and gazes directed to the patted dirt floor. What little of their faces you can see are shockingly pale and beaded with sweat-- it’s a fever that burns in some of their eyes, a testament to the price trench life <<cycle "$word1">> <<option "requires.">> <<option "requires. //Pyrexia of an unknown origin-- fevers contracted in the WW1 trenches often lacked a substantial cause. However, most common soldiers attributed the illness to the poor conditions of trench life. Additionally, most all soldiers who contracted fevers were sent to hospitals as casualties.//">> <</cycle>> <</nobr>> You try not to flinch or stare too hard, but look at them. You can't look away. Even when you walk to your next station, heart pounding, you can't wrench your eyes off of their bodies. <<nobr>>"Hey, <<cycle "$names" autoselect>> <<option "Cesare">> <<option "Baguette">> <<option "Joseph">> <<option "Eugene">> <<option "Jean">> <</cycle>>! <</nobr>> Someone claps you aggressively on the [[back.|p6]]

<<nobr>> <<if $names is "Cesare">> <<set $name to "Cesare">> <<elseif $names is "Baguette">> <<set $name to "Baguette">> <<elseif $names is "Joseph">> <<set $name to "Joseph">> <<elseif $names is "Eugene">> <<set $name to "Eugene">> <<elseif $names is "Jean">> <<set $name to "Jean">> <</if>> <</nobr>> "Hey, $name !" It's more or less your best friend sneaking up on you, Brioche. (Brioche is a French bread.) Brioche points the bottle in your hand. "You haven't took yours yet? Can I have it?" <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <div class="choice-item">[["Of course not. Back off."|p7]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[["Yeah. Have at it."|p31]]</div> </div><</nobr>>

"You're back to normal," Brioche grins. His front two teeth are a bit crooked, but his smile is comforting nonetheless. Outside of this war, you don't think you would've gotten so close to Brioche. He's one of France's many Golden Boys, and you're... well... if you're in Mr. Henry's AP European History class in Period 1, you're probably not a French Golden Boy. Brioche had a straight nose, a long face, expressive eyes, and wavy dark brown hair-- which he used to have before he, like everyone else here, had to buzz it. From your time with him, you've deduced that he comes from a relatively alright family. He could've made it, you reckon, if the world wasn't busy fighting. However, you guys are in this war, and you're in it together. You're buddies and have formed an especially tight bond between you two and the rest of your regiment. Brioche has always had your back-- in the front lines, under enemy fire, during meals (sharing is caring!) and during naps. And you've helped him in return, too. <<nobr>> You <<cycle "$lip" autoselect>> <<option "click your tongue">> <<option "scoff">> <<option "laugh">> <</cycle>> , though you can't hide the grin that's making your way onto your face. Brioche is right, you were feeling different. Off, somewhat. Maybe seeing the dying so early in the morning was a bad idea. "Yeah, thanks, //~brother~//." <-- camaraderie and bravery. <</nobr>> You <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <div class="choice-item">[[look around.|p8]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[[Eat breakfast.|p9]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[[Continue talking with Brioche. |p10]]</div> </div><</nobr>>

Who created the Schlieffen plan? <li>[[Karl Marx|fail2]]</li> <li>[[General Alfred von Schlieffen.|p5]]</li> <li>[[Adolph Hilter. |fail2]]</li> <<timed 5s>><<goto [[fail2]]>><</timed>>

Erm. You failed. That was... unexpected. Why. You're making this so much harder for me 😭😭😭 Do you know how hard it is to program these revival things? Let's learn about the Schlieffen Plan in DEPTH! What is is: a military strategy developed by the Germans widely accredited to Count Alfred von Schlieffen in the early 20th century during World War One, in response to the perceived threat of countries France and Russia. Objectives <li>Prevent total war.</li> <li>Conquer France within forty days and Russia.</li> <li>Win!!!</li> However, the Schlieffen Plan is known as a flop, because, well, it failed. Causes for Failure <li>Opposition in Belgium = delayed German troops</li> <li>France made a comeback (initial German success was at the First Battle of the Marne (start of the trenches!) and pretty much came to a standstill) with fresh British troops = it was not a swift victory</li> <li>Assumption that Russia would take a long time to arm itself = They did not.</li> Thus, because of this unexpected, drawn-out war, trench warfare became the dominant form of combat for much of World War I. German trenches were widely seen as superior to French and British trenches since they prepared for the long-run. Let's try that [[again.|life2.5]]

Around you, your friends dig in. John scoops up spoonfuls of plum pudding, Pierre lathers his biscuit with margarine (cheap butter) and spam, Alain breaks a chunk of chocolate in half, etc, etc. A commander is issuing letters, probably from family, wives, sisters, siblings, people of the sort. The men around you grab at them greedily like it's their last strand of hope and devour the paper words. There’s a man you don’t know at Alexander’s feet, covering his skin with whale oil. This isn’t anything strange-- it’s to prevent trench foot. The condition is quite easy to contract in the conditions you’re living in… dirty, wet, water-logged places… Perhaps this is why you and Brioche got so close… brotherhood really is different when you’re saving each other from foot amputation. The trench you’re in is about seven feet deep, just enough to protect your head from incoming fire. There are sandbags on all sides-- most of them are filled with dirt since sand is hard to come by and dirt is more compact. Some are ridden with bullet holes and drip brown dirt guts, but it works. <<nobr>> You're pretty sure John has a gambling addiction, because he's just pulled out a deck of weather-beaten <<cycle "$cards">> <<option "cards.">> <<option "cards. //Gambling was a common activity for soldiers in the trenches. They often passed time gambling, playing cards, drawing, writing in their journals or letters, reading, etc.//">> <</cycle>> <</nobr>> <<nobr>>Sometimes, you miss hot food. You miss eating warm meals instead of this pathetic cold soup in front of you. The last time the staff mustered to guts to start their <<cycle "$cook1">> <<option "cookers..">> <<option "cookers. //Most of the time, soldiers ate their meals cold in the trenches, since any sign of smoke would immediately be shelled. However, because of the war’s static nature, some soldiers were able to eat frequent warm meals. Unfortunately, this could not be said for everyone.//">> <</cycle>> was last week, but you supposed to stop heating things up after the trench a mile east of you got bombed. <</nobr>> Oh well. <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <div class="choice-item">[[Talk with Brioche.|p10]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[[Eat breakfast. |p9]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[[Finish looking around and stand up. //(ends game)//|p25]]</div> </div><</nobr>>

“Alright, what’s for breakfast?” You ask. “Same old,” Brioche replies. You and Brioche get to your feet and walk over to the kitchen lines. The staff are already working, doling out the daily tea rations. <<nobr>> Next is a cold, wet boeuf Bourguignon, dumped in your mess kit. //Boeuf Bourguignon is a common French stew made from red wine, beef, carrots, onions, garlic, and small bits of <<cycle "$meatfact" autoselect>> <<option "meat.">> <<option "meat. //More like gristle, which is mostly cartilage, since fresh meat was a rarity in the trenches. As for the mess kit, like the British soldiers, French soldiers were required to eat out of their government-issued mess kits. The French soup thing looks pretty good, actually. I might make an non-alcoholic version later.//">> <</cycle>> <</nobr>> <<nobr>> You are given a few biscuits, which you don’t really look at, because as they are, they’re too hard to actually eat. The ones from a few days ago are edible-- you and Brioche soaked them in some watered-down soup with potatoes and <<cycle "$breadfact" autoselect>> <<option "onions.">> <<option "onions. //This sort of biscuit is called “hard tack” or “Army biscuit.” Hardtack was also used for long sea journeys. It was often made from flour, water, and salt. Most soldiers hated it because it was notoriously hard to chew and sometimes broke their teeth.-- however, it got the job done! Officers were required to give their men more or less four thousand calories a day so that they could always be ready for combat, and however inedible the biscuits were (soldiers often soaked them in water, mixed them with vegetables, cracked them with rocks, etc, to make them chewable,) they subsisted.//">> <</cycle>> <</nobr>> You walk back with Brioche to sit down on a fire step you made a few days ago. <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <div class="choice-item">[[“Here, biscuits--” you jog over to a table, picking up your designated can. It’s been three days since you’ve put your army biscuits under the sweltering sun , and hopefully, with the water, they’ve softened.|p11]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[[“Got them here,” you mutter, digging through your coat pockets to find a bag of soggy biscuits. You replace them with your new, ridiculously hard, biscuits.|p11]]</div> </div><</nobr>>

"Oi, they're passing the letters out," Brioche whispers. <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <div class="choice-item">[[You grunt and don't look up, too concentrated on your soup|d3]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[["Oh?" you turn your head. |p_16]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[["They are?" you furrow your brows. "Didn't we get letters three days ago?" You're not upset about this change, though, you love letters. They're what keeps you going.|p_16]]</div> </div><</nobr>>

<<nobr>>Sometimes, you miss hot food. You miss eating warm meals instead of this pathetic cold soup in front of you. The last time the staff mustered to guts to start their cookers. <<cycle "$cook1">> <<option "cookers..">> <<option "cookers. //Most of the time, soldiers ate their meals cold in the trenches, since any sign of smoke would immediately be shelled. However, because of the war’s static nature, some soldiers were able to eat frequent warm meals. Unfortunately, this could not be said for everyone.//">> <</cycle>> was last week, but you supposed to stop heating things up after the trench a mile east of you got bombed. <</nobr>> “I adore these hard things,” Brioche exclaims, chomping on his __fresh__ hard tack. You look at him, flabbergasted. What the hell? He hasn't even chipped a tooth-- even Achilles would chip a tooth on these little biscuits! "They're just lovely." <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <div class="choice-item">[["Okay." |p12]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[["You monster..."|p12]]</div> </div><</nobr>>

"You," Brioche points a biscuit at you. "just have weak teeth." The stew should’ve tasted good. You could see the gristly bits of meat (there had to be some meat on it. It couldn’t be made out of just cartilage and tendon!) and almost mashed potatoes and cut carrots, celery, etc. You’re pretty sure there’s crabgrass in your soup (because of food shortages, chefs often adapted to their local surroundings, using seasonable produce, weeds, and substituting herbs with nettle in their cooking.) But it just tastes bland, standing around in a wet trench, breathing in the scent of dead bodies… You chew sadly on a piece of potato. You mash the biscuits into your soup and stir it a bit while Brioche downs his tea. You’ve heard tales from the other trenches. Apparently, the Brits had turkey last Christmas-- lucky! When you first came to the front lines, you lived luxuriously like that too. You even had bread… and marmalade…. You love oranges… You miss fresh fruit... You yearn for the fruit... You have three options: <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <div class="choice-item">[[Talk with Brioche.|p10]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[[Look around. |p8]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[[Finish eating and stand up. //(ends game)//|p25]]</div> </div><</nobr>>

"You're so good to me," Brioche laughs, because the author is incapable of writing anything other than Gen-Z slang. He reaches for your pathetically small, but effective, portion of rum, but stops before he takes it. "Nah, save it for later. You could trade it in for something better, like... I don't know! Somethin' better." Outside of this war, you don't think you would've gotten so close to Brioche. He's one of France's many Golden Boys, and you're... well... if you're in Mr. Henry's AP European History class in Period 1, you're probably not a French Golden Boy. Brioche had a straight nose, a long face, expressive eyes, and wavy dark brown hair-- which he used to have before he, like everyone else here, had to buzz it. From your time with him, you've deduced that he comes from a relatively alright family. He could've made it, you reckon, if the world wasn't busy fighting. However, you guys are in this war, and you're in it together. You're buddies and have formed an especially tight bond between you two and the rest of your regiment. Brioche has always had your back-- in the front lines, under enemy fire, during meals (sharing is caring!) and during naps. And you've helped him in return, too. You grin. "Alright then." You <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <div class="choice-item">[[look around.|p8]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[[Eat breakfast.|p9]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[[Continue talking with Brioche. |p10]]</div> </div><</nobr>>

//That's all for now! More passages will be added in the future.//

You neglected to factor in how important family letters can be to one's morale and ignore yours. Depression sets in and you give into post-traumatic-stress-disorder, or more commonly known as shellshock because people don't want to admit something is "permanently wrong" with them, and you soon can't sleep at night. Nightmares haunt you when you dream and in the day, you can only think about your impending doom. Soon, you're fighting a battle in the trenches and in your mind. <<cycle "$suicide" autoselect>> <<option "Click here if you are alright with mentions of suicide.">> <<option "You're unable to bear this struggle and slit your wrists">> <</cycle>> ''You die.'' <<set $deaths to $deaths +1>> You have died $deaths times. You are given the option to revive yourself. Do you take it? [[Yes.|life3]] [[There isn't any other option, by the way. The question was just something to make you feel more in control!|life3]]

The officer passes by you and Brioche and drops a few letters in Brioche's lap. "From my girl and sisters," he grins. "You?" <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <div class="choice-item">[[You receive the letter packet with a smile, holding it tenderly. "From my wife and family."|a few hours in the life]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[[You receive the letter packet with a smile, opening it immediately. "From my family and friends."|a few hours in the life]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[[You stare blankly at him. You have no one waiting for you at home. Your cat is probably dead by now. "No one loves me," you admit sadly. |p18]]</div> </div><</nobr>>

What role did letters play in trench warfare during World War I? Choose the answer that most fits. <li>[[Letters served as a crucial lifeline for soldiers, providing a means of communication with loved ones back home and offering a source of comfort and morale-boosting during the harsh conditions of trench warfare.|p10]]</li> <li>[[ Letters were forbidden in trench warfare due to security concerns, as they could potentially reveal sensitive information to enemy forces. For example, a German troop near Berlin was compromised after a soldier of theirs accidentally exchanged information with their "mother."|fail3]]</li> <li>[[Letters were only permitted for officers and high-ranking officials, while enlisted soldiers were not allowed to correspond with anyone outside of their unit. Lower-ranking soldiers often bribed officers to let them see letters from their family|fail3]]</li> <<timed 5s>><<goto [[fail3]]>><</timed>>

Erm. You failed. Luckily, I am giving you another chance. Let's try that [[again.|life3]]

"Ooh--" Brioche asks you the usual questions. Are your sisters pretty, are they single, how your wife is doing, you don't have a wife? oopsie... how your dad feels about that war, etc, etc. He doesn't shut up. "Well, what's in your letter?" you retort, leaning away from Brioche and holding your papers close to your chest. You are not going to let him read it. "It's from Elise," a smile blooms on his face. "She said she'll wait until I come back. Then we'll get married." You look back at Brioche and Brioche looks like the dumbest man you've ever seen. His lips are slightly parted which is horrible considering the terrible air you're breathing in and his eyes are glazed over. Rose colored glasses. He has a weird, twitchy smile on his face. He's not focusing on you anymore. He really believes he'll come back alive. <div class="choices"> <div class="choice-item">[[You do, too.|p26]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[[You don't. You're smarter than that.|p26]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[[You don't. You know better. You know that even if you do survive, you won't come back the same.|p26]]</div></div>

Brioche's brows soften with sympathy, and he pats you on the back, gently. "It's okay, brother. I love you. I'd write you letters for sure." <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <div class="choice-item">[["Yeah, yeah," you shake your head, though you're grinning.|p21]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[["Oh, shut up," you drawl, whacking him over the head |p22]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[[You stare at him for a long moment. "Thank you, brother." You sniff.//|p23]]</div> </div><</nobr>>

"Ooh--" Brioche asks you the usual questions, Brioche's brows soften with sympathy, and he pats you on the back, gently. "It's okay, brother. I love you. I'd write you letters for sure."

Brioche grins. "I'm serious! If you were my older brother, by blood, I would write you letter all the time! And then I would come over when I come of age and die with you!" You two laugh a little too loudly at that joke. "Here--" he hands you his letter. It smells of flowers and sweet perfume. Soon, it'll be smelling like mold and corpses. Delightful. "This is from Elise. You can pretend it's for you." It's a sweet thing. Elise telling Brioche that she'll wait for him, that she misses him, that his family misses him, her family misses him, and that he'll come back safely, back into her embrace. You look back at Brioche and Brioche looks like the dumbest man you've ever seen. His lips are slightly parted which is horrible considering the terrible air you're breathing in and his eyes are glazed over. Rose colored glasses. He has a weird, twitchy smile on his face. He's not focusing on you anymore. In another place, maybe at college, where you both should be, Brioche would just be another lovesick boy almost man. But not here. <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <div class="choice-item">[["That did not make me feel better at all." |p26]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[["Thanks. I feel a bit better about myself."|p26]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[["She's a keeper. Write her back!." |p26]]</div> </div><</nobr>>

"Oi! I was just trying to be nice!" Brioche yelps, hesitating not for a second before he retaliates. "This is from Elise," he murmurs, though you can't really hear him since you're locked in a chokehold. "She's so sweet, isn't she?" "Yeah, yeah," you paw at his arm. "You never shut up about her." You look up and Brioche looks like a total idiot. His eyes glaze over and his lips twitch into a weird, wobbly smile. He's not focusing on you anymore. His grip on you softens and you slip out of the headlock In another place, maybe at college, where you both should be, Brioche would just be another lovesick boy almost man. But not here. "She's waiting for me," he says. "When I get back." <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <div class="choice-item">[["Yeah, buddy." |p26]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[["That's really sweet."|p26]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[["Shut up.." |p26]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[["I want to fall hopelessly in love too..." |p26]]</div> </div><</nobr>>

"I got your back, brother," Brioche nods reassuringly. "This is from Elise, here, you can pretend it's for you," he gingerly hands his letter to you. It's a sweet thing. Elise telling Brioche that she'll wait for him, that she misses him, that his family misses him, her family misses him, and that he'll come back safely, back into her embrace. You look back at Brioche and Brioche looks like the dumbest man you've ever seen. His lips are slightly parted which is horrible considering the terrible air you're breathing in and his eyes are glazed over. Rose colored glasses. He has a weird, twitchy smile on his face. He's not focusing on you anymore. In another place, maybe at college, where you both should be, Brioche would just be another lovesick boy almost man. But not here. <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <div class="choice-item">[["That did not make me feel better at all." |p26]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[["Thanks. I feel a bit better about myself."|p26]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[["She's a keeper. Write her back!." |p26]]</div> </div><</nobr>>

Brioche laughs, running a hand through his shorn hair. You have three options: <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <div class="choice-item">[[Eat breakfast|p9]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[[Look around. |p8]]</div> <div class="choice-item">[[Stop talking to Brioche and get up. //(ends game)//|p25]]</div> </div><</nobr>>