Do You Remember?

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Your story ends here. The failure, the betrayal, the regret—it's all carved into the immutable timeline of your life. The void waits to consume you, whole. But what if you could rewrite the past? What if this ending wasn't final? A voice whispers softly: <i>"Change the memory, change your fate."</i> You have the power to rewrite your deepest, most tragic memory of failure. Do you dare to try? Type <span style="color: red;">start</span> to begin rewriting your memories. <<textbox "$input" "">> <<button "Submit">> <<set _lowerInput = $input.toLowerCase()>> <<if _lowerInput === "start">> <<goto "MemorySelection">> <<else>> //Type 'start' to begin. <<goto "AlmostEndGame">> <</if>> <</button>> [[Credits ->Credits]] <<set $betrayal = 1>> <<set $fight = 1>> <<set $job = 1>> <<set $love = 1>> <<set $move = 1>> <<set $numKept = 0>> <<set $failure = 0>>

You find yourself standing at a crossroads, not in the physical world, but deep within your mind. The air around you hums with an unnatural stillness, it is charged with the weight of choices yet to be made. Before you, paths stretch out into the different memories, each one lined with flickering fragments of your past. These are moments that have shaped you, defined you, haunted you. You can feel them pulling at you, each one heavy with unseen consequence. Some moments shine brightly, full of warmth and joy, while others pulse with a darker energy, threatening to overwhelm you with their pain. These are not just memories; they are pieces of who you are. Each path represents a decision. The voices of your past call out to you from the shards, faint and distorted, like echoes carried by the wind. Some plead for mercy: "Don’t let me go. I’m part of you." Others whisper temptations: "Erase me, and you can start over." <<if $betrayal == 1>> - Erase the <span style="color: red;">betrayal</span> by your best friend, which set you on this dark path. <</if>> <<if $fight == 1>> - Erase the <span style="color: red;">fight</span> with your family, which shattered your bond with them forever. <</if>> <<if $job == 1>> - Erase the moment you quit your <span style="color: red;">job</span>, changing the course of your career. <</if>> <<if $love == 1>> - Erase the time you fell in <span style="color: red;">love</span>, altering your relationships forever. <</if>> <<if $move == 1>> - Erase the day you decided to <span style="color: red;">move</span> away, abandoning your old life. <</if>> <<if $betrayal == 0 && $fight == 0 && $job == 0 && $love == 0 && $move == 0>> <<set $failure = 1>> - Erase your worst memory of your <span style="color: red;">failure</span>, your inescapable destiny. <</if>> <<textbox "$input" "">> <<button "Submit">> <<set _lowerInput = $input.toLowerCase()>> <<if _lowerInput === "betrayal" && $betrayal == 1>> <<goto "Betrayal">> <<elseif _lowerInput === "fight" && $fight == 1>> <<goto "Fight">> <<elseif _lowerInput === "job" && $job == 1>> <<goto "Job">> <<elseif _lowerInput === "love" && $love == 1>> <<goto "Love">> <<elseif _lowerInput === "move" && $move == 1>> <<goto "Moving Away">> <<elseif _lowerInput === "failure" && $failure == 1>> <<goto "Failure">> <</if>> <</button>>

You have erased the memory of the $memoryErased Suddenly, things feel different. The weight of the past lightens, as though a great burden has been lifted from your shoulders. The air feels crisper, the light softer. It’s a strange sensation—freeing, but disorienting. Your chest expands with a deep breath, unburdened by the usual ache of memory. Yet, as you glance around, you notice it immediately. Something isn’t right. The future, once locked in a tragic loop, is now a path unknown. But the system has noticed your interference. It's aware. Will you: <span style="color: red;">Continue</span> changing your memories and face the consequences? <span style="color: red;">Stop</span> and leave things as they are, accepting your doomed fate? <<textbox "$input" "" >> <<button "Submit">> <<set _lowerInput = $input.toLowerCase()>> <<if _lowerInput === "continue">> <<goto "FurtherMemoryChange">> <<elseif _lowerInput === "stop">> <<goto "EndGame">> <<else>> Please type 1 or 2 to continue. <</if>> <</button>>

You push forward, your resolve unwavering, and erase another memory. It’s a small moment a minor decision. It seemed so insignificant at first, a detail that surely couldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. And yet, as the memory fades, the world around you twists again, the threads of reality unraveling further. The ground beneath your feet feels unsteady, as if the fabric of existence itself is shifting to accommodate the change. Buildings flicker, their shapes warping like reflections in a disturbed pool of water. A park you once loved transforms into a lifeless expanse of gray. The people in your life, no longer look at you the same way. Some disappear entirely, erased. And then, the voice comes. It’s cold and mechanical, yet laced with something unsettlingly human. You hear it not with your ears but in the depths of your mind, a whisper woven into your thoughts: "You have altered too much. The consequences will now unfold." The system knows. It has been watching you, waiting for this moment. You feel its presence everywhere now. It is in the static hum of the lights, in the glitching edges of the sky, in the way time itself seems to stutter. The world is no longer just reacting to your changes. It is fighting back. But you can’t stop. Not now. Not when you’ve come this far. The future—the future you want—is still just out of reach, and the only way forward is through the past. You feel the pull of the Memory Archive, its fractured shards of moments calling to you. There are more memories to change. Will you: Erase the moment you quit your <span style="color: red;">job</span>, changing the course of your career. Erase the time you fell in <span style="color: red;">love</span>, altering your relationships forever. Erase the day you decided to <span style="color: red;">move</span> away, abandoning your old life. <<textbox "$input" "">> <<button "Submit">> <<set _lowerInput = $input.toLowerCase()>> <<if _lowerInput === "job">> <<set $memoryErased = "quitting your job">> <<goto "AfterFurtherMemoryErase">> <<elseif _lowerInput === "love">> <<set $memoryErased = "falling in love">> <<goto "AfterFurtherMemoryErase">> <<elseif _lowerInput === "move">> <<set $memoryErased = "moving away">> <<goto "AfterFurtherMemoryErase">> <<else>> Please type 1, 2, or 3 to choose which memory to erase. <</if>> <</button>>

The game ends here. You have changed your path, but the consequences are unavoidable. No matter what you chose, the system has shaped your destiny in ways that can't be undone. Perhaps there is a lesson in this, perhaps not. In the end, it doesn't matter. The past is gone, and the future remains unknown. [[Restart->Start]]

You have erased the memory of $memoryErased. The world around you quakes, shuddering as though reality itself is fraying at the edges. Every step you take feels like walking on fragile glass, the cracks spidering out beneath you, threatening to collapse at any moment. The air is heavy with an oppressive silence, broken only by faint whispers—echoes of a past you’ve tampered with, voices you no longer recognize. Or are they voices at all? Your mind reels with the weight of infinite possibilities, each one spiraling into the unknown. You’ve rewritten so much, torn apart so many threads, but at what cost? The faces around you blur, flickering between familiarity and utter strangeness. Friends stare through you as if you’re a ghost. Strangers speak your name with an intimacy they shouldn’t have. Even your reflection in the glass is warped, a distorted shadow of the person you once were. Who are you now? The system now speaks more loudly, more aggressively: ''"You have tampered with the past too many times. The future will not be so kind."'' And yet, you press forward, driven by a desperate hope that this unraveling has meaning, that somewhere in the chaos lies the future you’ve been chasing. But deep down, a terrible doubt gnaws at you. What if you’ve already erased it? What if, in trying to change everything, you’ve destroyed the one thing that mattered most? Will you: <span style="color: red;">Continue</span> erasing more memories and defy the system's warnings. <span style="color: red;">Accept</span> the consequences of your actions and stop tampering with your past. <<textbox "$input" "">> <<button "Submit">> <<set _lowerInput = $input.toLowerCase()>> <<if _lowerInput === "continue">> <<goto "FinalMemoryChange">> <<elseif _lowerInput === "accept">> <<goto "EndGame">> <<else>> Please type 1 or 2 to continue. <</if>> <</button>>

You decide to take the ultimate step, erasing the core memory of your existence, the pivotal moment that defined you. As soon as the memory disappears, a wave of distortion crashes over you. You stand in a room that you no longer recognise, living a life devoid of meaning. The final memory you have erased has taken something essential, vital, and of incredible significance to you. Whatever it might have been, you can not recall it. And yet, there’s a lightness in your chest. A weight’s been lifted off your shoulders. But you quickly get the sense that you are the only one who feels this way. Things are fine, right? No, they’re not. They’re not. You think things are fine but you feel wrong. <span class="glitchRed" data-text="GLITCHING TEXT">Why? WHY?</span> It is a question and a feeling that haunts you for the rest of your life. Did you do something wrong? The world won’t give you a straight answer. But it doesn’t have to. The way people look at you with so much hate and vitriol is all you need to know. In the days that follow, you wander through your hollow existence, searching desperately for something to help you fill the void. You try drinking until the world all blur together, allowing yourself to sink into your own self-despair as the world keeps moving. You feel hollow, you try to act out violently, lashing out at the strangers who walk down the streets, hoping that their pain or their cries will anchor you to something real. There is no ground beneath your feet. Eventually, the world responds. The sirens wail. Metal cuffs bite into your wrists. Voices shout commands you barely register. You stand trial in a courtroom you struggle to understand, your crimes laid out before you like a map of a place that you were never meant to visit. Your face is hollow, your eyes distant. You have no excuse, no reason, no plea. You don’t even have a memory to hold up as evidence of who you once were. The last scenes of your life are bathed in the sterile glare of harsh lighting. You’re strapped to a chair colder than your own heart. The straps are tightened. The switch will be flipped. You wait. There is a hum in the air, a tension like a wire drawn taut. You realize, dimly, that you’re about to feel something very real at last–an ending you cannot erase. And as the current surges, as light and agony fill your senses one last time, you look at the reflection of yourself in the glass, realizing too late that you have become something monstrous all for the purpose of filling a void you could not understand. The emptiness inside of you offered no solace or peace, and now at your end neither does the world. <strong>[[The End.....->EndGame]]</strong>

Was that a mistake? Did you willingly choose complicity? Will you let the ink dry upon your story or will you pick up the pen and write it yourself? You are presented with this opportunity once more... Type <span style="color: red;">start</span> to begin rewriting your memories. <<textbox "$input" "">> <<button "Submit">> <<set _lowerInput = $input.toLowerCase()>> <<if _lowerInput === "start">> <<goto "MemorySelection">> <<else>> //Type 'start' to begin. <<goto "EndGame">> <</if>> <</button>>

The label "BIOMEDICAL RESEARCH" is displayed in bold letters at the bottom of your badge. You look up at the clock on the wall and sigh, the day isn't even half over yet. Your name has been all over the news as of late, after the development and release of a system for gene therapy to counter the effects of Neurogenetic Dystrophy Syndrome. After your niece had been diagnosed a couple of years ago, you and your team worked tirelessly, reviewing data and iterating on previous methods of therapy. The people praised you as a savior. Thousands of patients around the world are grateful. You are finally able to start treatment on your beloved niece. Looking down, you continue to write your lab writeup. You need to write about exactly what you did during the day, sparing no detail. <input id="myTextbox" type="text"> <script> document.getElementById("myTextbox").addEventListener("input", function () { const textbox = document.getElementById("myTextbox"); const nextParagraph = document.getElementById("next"); const length = textbox.value.length; // Get the character count const output = document.getElementById("output"); if (length === 15) { nextParagraph.style.display = "block"; } }); </script> <p id="next" style="display: none;">Mid sentence, your mind starts to wander..... What does it mean to be a scientist? [[Helping people?->Doesn't Matter]] [[Improving science?->Doesn't Matter]] [[Saving the world?->Doesn't Matter]]</p>

<<set $timesFailureVisited += 1>> Your thoughts right now couldn't matter less. A voice blares over the intercom: "Dr. Bellek, please report to your lab technician's office, immediately. I repeat, report IMMEDIATELY." Confused, you stand up. This has ''never'' happened. The only time people get called into the main technician's lab is when... [[Dont think, just go]]

As you enter, you see a news article playing on the TV behind the lab tech. Your face, plastered over with a red circle and an X. The lab tech stays quiet, allowing you to process the words you hear the news reporter uttering. "....are being warned ''not'' to undergo the gene therapy process created by Dr. Bellek. Patients are coming forward expressing symptoms including deterioration of motor function and cognitive ability." Still struggling to process this, you fall back into the armchair across from the lab technician, who barely affords you a glance. You start breathing faster, nearing hyperventilation as your thoughts swirl like a storm in your mind. You lower your spinning head into your hands as a crashing roar fills your ears. It keeps going and going and going until........ The shrill alarm of your phone rings. Your heart plummets. [[Pick up the phone]]

On the other end of the line, a shrill voice screams at you. <h1 class="glitchRed" data-text="ITS YOUR FAULT YOU TOOK HER AWAY FROM ME" style="text-align: center; font-size: 100px">"ITS YOUR FAULT, YOU TOOK HER AWAY FROM ME"</h1> In shock, you drop the phone. Emotions come flooding in at once. Pain, anguish, heartbreak tear through you, unyeilding as you curl up into a ball and cry. Tears stream down your face as you lie on the ground. What a pathetic, useless being you are. And all too quickly, your logicial thoughts take over. If only you hadn't rushed the clinical trials. If you had double checked the data before passing it on, your niece would still be running around your living room without a care in the world. You stole that from her. But nothing can bring her back now. You want to stay on the cold, hard floor for as long as possible. As you slowly close your eyes, you begin to drift upwards. Out of your body, you float gracefully towards the harsh lights of the office. High up in the sky, you look down at your hand to find the same device that took you on this journey. It screen light up, presenting you with two options. <<link "Erase the Memory">> <<goto "MiddleGround">> <</link>> <<link "Keep the Memory">> <<set $numKept = $numKept + 1>> <<goto "MiddleGround">> <</link>>

<<if $memoryErased is "betrayal">> You erased the betrayal of your best friend. As a result, you find yourself living in a better place, free from the pain of that event. After years of disastrous relationships, you’ve finally found someone who feels like home. For three years, your love has been seamless—free of drama and full of unconditional affection. But the idea of marriage still lingers as a question, and the future remains unclear. Your apartment is a cramped, noisy wreck in a city that never sleeps. Rent is sky-high, and while you got lucky with this place, it’s hard to ignore the constant mess and the unbearable roommate who never seems to leave. You don’t have any pets. It’s just you, your thoughts, and the occasional passing of a stray animal on the street. You’re scraping by, paycheck to paycheck, with little more than exhaustion to show for it. Your dreams feel distant, and the weight of your financial situation is starting to take its toll. You’ve distanced yourself from your parents, but it was a decision that brought clarity and peace. While the separation stings at times, you know it was the right thing to do for your own well-being. You dread your job. Every day feels like a chore, and you can’t shake the feeling that you were meant for something more. The days drag on, and your spirit withers a little more each time you clock in. You’ve neglected your health for far too long, and now it’s catching up with you. Your energy is low, and your body is showing signs of wear and tear. It feels like you’re running on empty. Writing is your escape, your voice in a world that often feels too noisy. You craft stories and poetry with ease, pouring your heart and mind into words that feel alive. Your past has reshaped you in ways you never expected, but it hasn’t healed the wounds you carry. Even though you’ve moved on in many ways, the sense of sadness lingers, never fully fading. Relationship Status: Single, content Home: Small but perfect home Pets: Cat Financial Situation: Doing okay Family: Distant, occasional contact Job: Indifferent about work Health: In the middle Skills: Cooking Mental Health: Unhappy despite changes <<elseif $memoryErased is "failure">> You erased the failure of your most important project. The burden that destroyed your career is gone, leaving room for new beginnings. After years of disastrous relationships, you’ve finally found someone who feels like home. For three years, your love has been seamless—free of drama and full of unconditional affection. But the idea of marriage still lingers as a question, and the future remains unclear. Your apartment is a cramped, noisy wreck in a city that never sleeps. Rent is sky-high, and while you got lucky with this place, it’s hard to ignore the constant mess and the unbearable roommate who never seems to leave. You don’t have any pets. It’s just you, your thoughts, and the occasional passing of a stray animal on the street. You’re scraping by, paycheck to paycheck, with little more than exhaustion to show for it. Your dreams feel distant, and the weight of your financial situation is starting to take its toll. You’ve distanced yourself from your parents, but it was a decision that brought clarity and peace. While the separation stings at times, you know it was the right thing to do for your own well-being. You dread your job. Every day feels like a chore, and you can’t shake the feeling that you were meant for something more. The days drag on, and your spirit withers a little more each time you clock in. You’ve neglected your health for far too long, and now it’s catching up with you. Your energy is low, and your body is showing signs of wear and tear. It feels like you’re running on empty. Writing is your escape, your voice in a world that often feels too noisy. You craft stories and poetry with ease, pouring your heart and mind into words that feel alive. Your past has reshaped you in ways you never expected, but it hasn’t healed the wounds you carry. Even though you’ve moved on in many ways, the sense of sadness lingers, never fully fading. Relationship Status: 3 years with girlfriend, no marriage yet Home: Cramped apartment in a noisy city Pets: None Financial Situation: Struggling Family: Estranged from parents Job: Hate your job Health: Unhealthy Skills: Writing Mental Health: Unhappy despite changes <<elseif $memoryErased is "fight">> You erased the fight with your family. The rift that once stood between you and your loved ones is gone, leaving a sense of peace in its wake. You’ve been married for ten years, but the bond you once shared has frayed with time. The love that once felt unshakeable now teeters on the edge, and your two young children are caught in the confusion of an uncertain future. You live in a sprawling mansion, but it feels more like an echo than a home. The stark walls, empty spaces, and bland décor give off a sense of isolation, like you’re living in someone else’s dream. You have a fish—something you didn’t ask for but now find yourself reluctantly caring for. It’s a small, quiet companion, but it’s far from the pet you ever imagined having. You’ve climbed the ladder quickly—landing a great job right out of college. Your financial stability feels secure, and the future is bright with opportunities at your feet. You and your family share a deep bond, one built on understanding and growth. Despite the struggles of the past, you’ve found peace and a sense of togetherness that has helped you move forward. Your job is your passion—you wake up every day excited to do what you love. It feels like you’re in the right place, and every challenge only deepens your satisfaction with your career. You’re in great health—your body feels strong, and you’ve cultivated a sense of well-being that lets you move through life with ease and confidence. You’re a master with a paintbrush, creating works of art that capture the soul of whatever you touch. Art is your passion, and it flows through you with every stroke of the brush. Despite the changes and challenges in your past, you can’t shake the feeling of dissatisfaction. Something inside you feels broken, and no matter how much you’ve tried to change, the emptiness persists. Relationship Status: Married for 10 years, but struggling Home: Large, empty house Pets: Fish (didn’t want it) Financial Situation: Well-off Family: Strong bond Job: Passionate about work Health: Very healthy Skills: Painting Mental Health: Unhappy despite changes <<elseif $memoryErased is "job">> meow1 <<elseif $memoryErased is "love">> meow2 <<elseif $memoryErased is "move">> meow3 <<else>> You stand at the crossroads, unsure which memory to erase. Perhaps you need more time to decide. <</if>>

You wake up, and everything feels… different. The house is quieter than you remember. There’s no warmth in the morning chatter, no familiar tension that used to buzz through the walls. It feels like someone has hit the reset button on your life. Your parents smile at you over breakfast, but it’s mechanical, like they’re following a script. There’s a peculiar emptiness in their eyes that you’ve never seen before. They ask about your plans for the day, their voices light, but it doesn’t feel genuine. As the day unfolds, you notice some odd behaviors from your parents. Your mom avoids certain rooms in the house, glancing nervously at the door to your father’s office like it holds something she doesn’t want to confront. Your dad, usually quick to lecture or prod, seems distant, like he’s avoiding you entirely. That night, as you lay in bed, the quiet feels heavier. Your mind churns, trying to grasp the edges of a thought that slips away the moment you reach for it. Then you hear it—a faint buzz, like static from an old radio. It’s coming from your bedside table. You open the drawer and find it: a small device you don’t remember owning. It hums softly, its screen flashing the words: <span style="color: red;">"Protocol Error: Memory Alteration Breach Detected. Action Not Recommended."</span> Your heart skips. You need to look up up how to fix this error on the device to stop it from making the noise on your phone. <input id="myTextbox" type="text"> <script> document.getElementById("myTextbox").addEventListener("input", function () { const textbox = document.getElementById("myTextbox"); const nextParagraph = document.getElementById("next"); const length = textbox.value.length; const output = document.getElementById("output"); if (length === 15) { nextParagraph.style.display = "block"; } }); </script> <p id="next" style="display: none;"> Error 404: Page Not Found Now your phone isn't working and the device gets louder and you see a button that you can click on it. [[Click it->Click it]]</p>

When you press the button, the device emits a sharp, high-pitched whine that makes your ears ring. The hum grows louder and louder until—suddenly—it stops. Everything goes silent. The room feels colder, darker, and the air seems heavy, like it’s pressing against your chest. The device’s screen flashes a new message: <span style="color: red;">"Memory Fragment Reboot Initiated."</span> Before you can react, the device projects a flickering image into the room. It’s like watching a hologram, but it feels more… visceral. The scene that unfolds is familiar yet foreign. You see yourself standing in the living room, your face twisted in anger, shouting words you can’t hear. Your parents are there, too, their expressions raw and hurt. Your mom is crying, your dad’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. But the memory skips and glitches, like a corrupted video file. It rewinds, fast-forwards, and then freezes at a moment where your mother screams, <span style="color: red;">“How could you do this to us?”</span> You don’t hear the exact words, but the weight of the moment crushes you. The hologram collapses, and the device begins to buzz again. This time, the message is different: <span style="color: red;">"Warning: Fragment Recovery Incomplete. Memory Instability Detected. Proceed?"</span> You feel your pulse quicken. Proceed? With what? You don’t know if you can handle more of this unraveling, but you also can’t leave things like this. The device beeps insistently, its glowing button awaiting your input. [[Press the button again and risk recovering more of the memory, even if it could destabilize reality further.->Press Again]] [[Turn the device off and face whatever consequences come from leaving the fragments unrepaired.->Turn it off]]

The room grows darker as you press the glowing button. The device’s screen changes again, this time flashing rapidly: <span style="color: red; font-size: larger;"> "Critical Recovery Protocol Initiated." "Type to Stabilize Memory Fragment: You have 15 Seconds to recover your memory. Why do you want to recover this memory?"</span> The timer starts now. A blank field appears below the timer. Your fingers hover over the device, and panic surges through you. You have no idea what will happen if you fail, but the tension in the air feels like it could crush you. Why do I want to recover your memory? <input id="inputBox" type="text" maxlength="50"> <p id="countdown">Time Remaining: 30 seconds</p> <div id="result" style="display:none;"></div> <div id="goodResult" style="display:none;">[[Be at peace.->MemorySelection]]</div> <div id="badResult" style="display:none;">[[Restart->Fight]]</div> <script> let charCount = 0; let timeLeft = 30; const inputBox = document.getElementById("inputBox"); const countdownElement = document.getElementById("countdown"); const resultElement = document.getElementById("result"); const goodResult = document.getElementById("goodResult"); const badResult = document.getElementById("badResult"); // Update character count on input inputBox.addEventListener("input", function () { charCount = inputBox.value.length; // If the character count is reached early if (charCount >= 25) { clearInterval(timer); resultElement.innerHTML = "The device emits a soft glow, and the vibrations stop. A deep tone resonates through the room, and you suddenly feel lighter—as if the weight of something forgotten has been lifted.<br><br>" + "The world around you begins to shift and reform. The device did more than just show the fragmented memories. The memories flood back into your mind—arguments, laughter, and reconciliation. Your parents' faces come into focus, their smiles warm and genuine. Everything feels right again.<br><br>" + "You have returned to your original reality, whole and unbroken.<br><br>"; resultElement.style.display = "block"; goodResult.style.display = "block"; inputBox.disabled = true; // Disable further input } }); // Timer countdown const timer = setInterval(function () { timeLeft--; countdownElement.innerText = `Time Remaining: ${timeLeft} seconds`; if (timeLeft <= 0) { clearInterval(timer); if (charCount >= 25) { resultElement.innerHTML = "The device emits a soft glow, and the vibrations stop. A deep tone resonates through the room, and you suddenly feel lighter—as if the weight of something forgotten has been lifted.<br><br>" + "The world around you begins to shift and reform. The device did more than just show the fragmented memories. The memories flood back into your mind—arguments, laughter, and reconciliation. Your parents' faces come into focus, their smiles warm and genuine. Everything feels right again.<br><br>" + "You have returned to your original reality, whole and unbroken.<br><br>"; goodResult.style.display = "block"; } else { resultElement.innerHTML = "The device buzzes violently before going dark. A sharp, icy wind whips through the room, and the walls around you shimmer and crack. The fragmented reality you’ve created solidifies, trapping you within its fractured, incomplete state.<br><br>" + "Your parents’ faces flicker, their movements strange and distant. They glance at you but don’t seem to recognize who you are anymore.<br><br>" + "You remain in this broken world, the memory of what you erased forever out of reach.<br><br>"; badResult.style.display = "block"; } resultElement.style.display = "block"; inputBox.disabled = true; // Disable further input } }, 1000); </script> <<set $fight = 0>> <<set $numKept = $numKept + 1>>

The device hums louder as your finger hovers over the power button. Your instincts scream at you to stop, but you press it anyway. The screen goes dark. Silence floods the room. For a moment, you think it’s over. But then, the temperature in the room plummets, and your breath turns to mist. The walls seem to breathe, expanding and contracting ever so slightly, the faint sound of creaking wood filling your ears. A soft whisper emerges from the shadows. It’s faint at first, almost imperceptible, but it grows louder with every passing second. It’s not one voice—it’s many. They weave together, a chaotic murmur of anger, sorrow, and pain. You can’t make out the words, but they echo deep in your chest, as if they’re clawing at your very soul. [[You need to leave.->MemorySelection]] <<set $fight = 0>>

Name: Bellek - turkish Age: 40s Ethnicity: Turkish Job: Bio medical researcher -> Failed to cure niece Love: Complicated/Fiance -> betrayal (cheating? alcholic/stoner who caused his wife to leave) Family: Niece -> two sibilings (middle child) -> moved back with the family because of breakup (the sibiling is who they get a fight with ( the grief of losing child)) Positive: he gives too much, that he forgets to take care of himself (copes with drinking-> negative) He actually does care about his life though and thats why he wants to change the memory.

At the time, it felt like the only option was to return home to your family. And it should have been okay, they should have been accepting. You truly believed that. If nobody else, your family has to be able to look past your mistakes and welcome you and protect you and love you. So, on the day you showed up again on their doorstep, you held onto hope that this would hopefully ease the weight on your shoulders. It wasn’t long before your delusions were shattered. When your mother first opened the door, she hesitated. For a split second, she almost shut the door on you. But, maybe she, too, thought that family has to support each other, especially in this moment, and she let you in. Still, that act of kindness led to further pain. Every interaction felt tense. Even if their words came off as polite, you soon came to realize what their eyes were saying, what their mannerisms were shouting: ''YOU SHOULD HAVE NEVER CAME BACK.'' [[They’re right]]

Waking up each day feeling like you didn’t belong and that you are making matters worse for your family soon became too much. You tried - you really tried - to act like things could go back to normal, but it was your siblings in particular who did not let that happen. The friction you felt from them only exacerbated your own pain and regret. Coming back home was the wrong thing to do. No, this isn’t even the home you once knew. Not anymore. If your siblings won’t let you feel like you belong, then it’s time for you to leave. Will they ever go back to the siblings you remember? Maybe. But you’ve decided that this won’t be something you find out for yourself. You’ll be several hundred kilometers away by then. What things did you pack up and take with you? <input id="myTextbox" type="text"> <script> document.getElementById("myTextbox").addEventListener("input", function () { const textbox = document.getElementById("myTextbox"); const nextParagraph = document.getElementById("next"); const length = textbox.value.length; // Get the character count const output = document.getElementById("output"); if (length === 10) { nextParagraph.style.display = "block"; } }); </script> <p id="next" style="display: none;"> [[Time to go]] </p>

There was no polite and warm farewell. Once you were ready to go, you were gone. Headed out into the cold night and unsure of the next time you’ll hear from your family… This memory, like the rest, is a difficult one. Maybe you should have stayed with your family, trying to show grace and patience, but with the potential of causing a greater rift between you and your siblings. Or maybe leaving was the right thing to do. [[I should have stayed.]] [[Leaving was the right choice.]]

You understood your family was also struggling just as much as you, and you were making things worse. There will come a time when you all can directly support each other, but for now, giving them space may be for what's best for everybody. Maybe the distance apart will remind you all the importance of being together. Maybe. Hopefully. This memory remains intact. [[Return to memory select ->MemorySelection]] <<set $numKept = $numKept + 1>> <<set $move = 0>>

Maybe you gave up too early. And with this opportunity, you can change this memory. And so you never moved away. You stayed at your family’s house for a little while longer. Only time will tell if this is for the best. (Affect a variable to signify that this memory has been changed) [[Return to memory select ->MemorySelection]]

The image of your fiancée and best friend flashes before you, both of them together, betraying your trust. The memory of their actions is clear—your fiancée’s smile as she left with him, the friend you thought would always be there, now standing at her side. The hurt is overwhelming, but if you erase this memory, what would be left? Would you ever trust anyone again? You see them, standing in the hallway, your fiancée’s hand in his. Their laughter rings in your ears, a sound that once brought warmth but now twists like a knife in your chest. You remember the moments before—the ones you cherished, thinking that they were solid, that nothing could ever break them. But now, everything feels like a lie. The anger builds, but so does the sadness, and a crushing weight settles on your heart. The betrayal is not just of love, but of friendship—the two people you thought would never hurt you. They promised you they’d never hurt each other, never let anything come between you. Yet here they are, together, in a way that feels almost too cruel to bear. You were their friend, their confidant, their companion. And yet, they betrayed you in the deepest way. You wonder: if you erase this memory, will it be as if none of it ever happened? Will the emptiness of their absence haunt you less, or would it be replaced by a different kind of loneliness? What does it mean to truly let go of a memory so tangled with pain? Could you ever trust again, or would the weight of this betrayal stay with you, even if you tried to forget? The choice stands before you: erase the betrayal, and with it, the people who once meant everything to you. But in doing so, you risk erasing the part of yourself that trusted, that loved without hesitation. Would you rather live with this pain, a constant reminder of the betrayal, or risk forgetting it all to find peace—or perhaps something even more uncertain? You feel the weight of the choice press upon you. The echoes of their voices still linger in your mind, their betrayal lingering in the air around you, suffocating and unrelenting. What path will you take? <<link "Erase the betrayal">> <<goto "AfterBetrayalErase">> <</link>> <<link "Keep the betrayal">> <<set $numKept = $numKept + 1>> <<goto "AfterBetrayalKeep">> <</link>> <<set $betrayal = 0>>

The memory fades, leaving an empty space where it once lingered. You no longer feel the sharp sting of the betrayal, but is it truly gone, or are you simply ignoring its consequences? There’s a strange emptiness in its absence, as if a part of you has been hollowed out, yet at the same time, a fleeting sense of relief fills the void. You no longer feel the gnawing ache that accompanied that painful moment—no angry thoughts, no tears, no bitter resentment. But could it be that by erasing it, you’ve only buried the pain deeper, pushing it to the back of your mind, where it waits to resurface? As the weight of that memory dissipates, a strange sense of calm begins to take hold. The sharp edges of the past no longer cut at you; the wounds have softened, as if the scar tissue has formed. But in the quiet of the moment, there’s an unsettling realization: what happens when you lose a memory? Do you lose the lessons it taught you? Are you now free of the bitterness, or have you merely chosen to ignore it, hoping that its absence will shield you from the truth? You can feel the pull of other memories surrounding you now, each with its own weight, its own consequences. The paths stretch out before you, offering choices—some more painful than others, some more tempting. But the path before you, the one left behind by the betrayal, now feels lighter. It’s almost as if the burden has been lifted, even if just for a moment, and you wonder if this is what it feels like to truly move on. Yet, you can’t shake the feeling that something is missing. The moments that once defined you, the pain that once shaped your choices, have disappeared into the ether. The question lingers: is it truly gone? Or are you simply avoiding the inevitable reckoning that will come once you face the silence left in its wake? The weight of the other memories pulls at you, but you find yourself standing at the crossroads, contemplating what lies ahead. The road feels easier, the air lighter, but are you running from something you still need to face? The path forward is open, but with it comes the uncertainty of what else you might erase in the process. <<link "Move forward">> <<goto "MemorySelection">> <</link>>

You hold on to the pain of the betrayal, knowing that you can never forget the way they left you. The image of them together, so easily slipping from your life, remains etched in your mind. The sharp sting of their departure never truly fades, no matter how much time passes. You can feel the weight of their choices pressing down on you, a constant reminder that your reality has been irrevocably shaped by their actions, by your decisions. But this is your reality now. You’ve carried it with you for so long, letting it become a part of you in ways that you never expected. The anger, the hurt, the disbelief—they’ve all woven themselves into the fabric of who you are. And yet, even as you stand here, at the crossroads of your past and future, you wonder if it’s possible to find peace with it. You can’t undo the past, no matter how hard you wish you could. You can’t change the moments that led you here, the choices that left you broken and betrayed. But maybe, just maybe, there’s a different path to follow—one that doesn’t require erasing the pain, but instead learning to live with it. You know the scars will always be there. They’re a part of you, just as much as the love you once had for them, the trust you once placed in them. But perhaps you don’t need to bury them. Perhaps you can learn to embrace them—not as a reminder of weakness, but as a testament to your resilience. After all, you survived. You’re still standing. As the memories swirl around you, you can’t help but wonder: what would happen if you stopped trying to run from the pain? What if you allowed yourself to feel it fully, to accept it as part of your journey? The thought is both terrifying and liberating. But maybe, just maybe, learning to live with the betrayal is the key to finally moving forward. <<link "Move forward">> <<goto "MemorySelection">> <</link>>

The next few years are a blur. Only a few bits of remain of your memory. You turned yourself in at the police department, and plead guilty in the courtroom. You spend many self-reflective days thinking. Thinking about what could have gone diifferently. On your release, no research facility lets you within their doors. But one takes you in, offeriing you a chance at redemption. You attend to your research with utmost perfection, making sure no detail is left out. Your clinical trials pass without a hitch, and sooner or later, you have once again gained public trust in your life-saving cures. <strong>[[The End.....->EndGame]]</strong>

You can still feel the emptiness of the apartment that night, the silence pressing in after she is gone. It’s strange how the world can look exactly the same when everything that matters has slipped through your fingers. She was your light—your hope that you could become better than the person you had been. Without her, all you have now are echoes of a life you refused to share, and the suffocating weight of your own failures. Before everything unraveled, you worked together like two halves of a whole. She’d show you her latest painting, speaking softly about how the colors reminded her of some distant memory, and you’d listen, genuinely enchanted, forgetting the sterile lab and its pressures. In return, you’d explain a new procedure you were developing or share a half-formed idea, and she’d tilt her head as if considering a piece of art, never flinching at the complexity or dryness. She made you believe there could be beauty in what you did, too. Together, you balanced each other: her boundless creativity tempering your analytical mind, her patience smoothing your rough edges. You’d never had that before—someone who saw you and accepted what they found. But in the end, you destroyed it all. You retreated deeper into guilt, never speaking a word about the crushing remorse you carried. You thought you were protecting her by not admitting how deeply you’d failed, how you’d let someone you cared about slip away, how you’d turned to a bottle or a pill instead of facing your pain. She begged you to open up, to trust her, and you refused. You drove her away with your silence, your evasions, your self-imposed darkness. You can still see her standing at the door the night she finally left—her eyes red from holding back tears, her voice trembling with a mixture of sorrow and frustration. “Bellek,” she said, voice quiet but firm, “I can’t do this anymore. You don’t tell me where you go. You don’t tell me why you’re hurting. I wake up alone, I see you lost in yourself, and I can’t—” Her voice caught, and she shook her head, as though trying to dispel a terrible thought. “I’m not asking for perfection. I’m asking for honesty. For something real. If you won’t let me in, I have nothing left to hold onto.” You remember just staring at her, your mouth dry, your mind screaming at you to say something—anything. But the words tangled in your throat. You felt the crushing weight of your own cowardice, how you would rather drown in silence than risk her pity. She waited for you to speak, her hand on the doorknob. When no words came, only your hollow gaze, she gave you a final, wounded look. “Fine,” she said, voice cracking. “You win. I’m leaving. I can’t stay here, not like this.” As she opened the door, a familiar figure loomed in the gap, a friend who had come to her aid. But before you could say anything, she closed it softly—somehow worse than if she had slammed it. There was a finality in her quiet exit that told you you’d lost something irreplaceable. Now you are alone with your regrets, a miserable shell of a person who had been offered love and turned it away. She deserved so much more than you gave. She deserved truth, apologies, courage. Instead, you fed her silence until she starved of understanding. You wonder if she’s somewhere now, painting in that soft afternoon light that embraced her so well, finding meaning and warmth in places you never cared to look. You picture her smiling at something gentle and good, and you wish you could have given her that honesty, that safety. But you didn’t, and that knowledge burns. She was the brightest part of your life, and you let that light die out because you were too afraid to let it shine on who you really were. What will you do? <<link "Erase the Memory">> <<goto "LoveMemLost">> <</link>> <<link "Keep the Memory">> <<set $numKept = $numKept + 1>> <<goto "LoveMemKept">> <</link>> <<set $love = 0>>

Ah yes, I remember. Every day. Wake up. Brush my teeth. Make coffee. Catch the train at the last minute. Clock in. <<timed 2s>> The same thing, <</timed>> <<timed 3s>><span id="typewriter1"></span><script>typewriter("typewriter1", "every", 300);</script><</timed>> <<timed 5s>><span id="typewriter2"></span><script>typewriter("typewriter2", "fucking", 300);</script><</timed>> <<timed 7s>><span id="typewriter3"></span><script>typewriter("typewriter3", "day.", 500);</script><</timed>> <<timed 10s>>Its like an endless cycle of misery and agony. And then, and then... oh my god.<</timed>> <<timed 12s>>[[What have I done. ->Quit]] <</timed>>

Every day now, it seems. I've lost track since <span style="color: red;">[ERROR - CAN'T ACCESS THIS PART OF MEMORY]</span>. I don't even bother trying to wake up, I wish I never did. And if I do, I rarely brush my teeth. I no longer drink coffee, its too weak. I'd rather be drinking something stronger, something that could make me forget. I try to catch the train at the last minute, but its been an hour since its left and I'm left stumbling around the streets. I try to clock in, but my hand hesitates as all those god awful memories came back to me. <<timed 10s>>God this is hell, it should've been me. I can't remember the last time I enjoyed being here. What was I even doing again? Oh thats right. I'm a Bio-Medical researcher and I'm trying to find the cure...... the cure........... what was it again? God, get it together Bellek.<</timed>> <<timed 19s>>Oh thats right. The cure for the disease that - no, its best to forget. I don't want to remember this. I wish this drink was strong enough to make me forget. I wish all I could do all day is drown myself if this beautiful carmel like liquor. I remember marching up to my boss, reeking of alcohol and god knows what else, I can't remember the last time I was clean. I quit right on the spot, or at least I think I did? My memory betrays me, but that's not the first time. I just couldn't take it any longer, I wanted to run out of that godforsaken building where <span style="color: red;">[ERROR - CAN'T ACCESS THIS PART OF MEMORY]</span>.<</timed>> <<timed 30s>>But ever since quitting, I have lost everything. I can't even afford the many bottles of alcohol I used to gorge myself on. Did I make the right choice? Have I truly lost my mind? <<link "Erase the Memory">> <<goto "Erase the memory of quitting your job">> <</link>> <<link "Keep the Memory">> <<set $numKept = $numKept + 1>> <<goto "What's done is done, I can't go back now">> <</link>> <<set $job = 0>> <</timed>>

Your memory has been changed. <<timed 2s>>Every day. Wake up. Brush my teeth. Make coffee. Catch the train at the last minute. Clock in.<</timed>> <<timed 5s>>Why won't it let me clock in? Oh well, must be an error in the system. I'll just go talk to HR during my break and hopefully they can fix it for me.<</timed>> <<timed 10s>>You head over to the doors to the lab and use your key card to enter, wait... where did my key card go? I really need to get it together Bellek. Fine, I'll just go to my boss and explain what's going on. You head over to your boss' office and before you can reach it you hear: "Bellek? What are you doing back? I thought you quit last week..."<</timed>> <<timed 20s>>Its your boss. What? I never quit, why would I want to quit? Sure I mean, I haven't been the best employee but I would never quit. You explain your whole situation to your boss and the look on their face was a mix of confusion and concern. They nod along, still confused, and they tell me that I am always welcome back to doing my research but I should consider taking a sick leave to rest as the stress is getting to me. Hey, who am I to say no to a light vacation! [[Return to memory selection ->MemorySelection]] <</timed>>

I have no more money, the eviction notices keep piling up and I frankly do not care. Let them pile up just as the empty bottles do. I think my parents might be able to take me in, they wouldn't leave me in the streets right? No, what an embarrassment I am. My parents worked hard to leave Turkey with no help, and I want to go back to them? No, this is what I deserve, I'm a monster. But it won't hurt to try... Maybe I should call them... [[Return to memory select ->MemorySelection]]

You decide to keep the memory. Every detail—the sound of her voice, the weight of your silence, the pain in her eyes—remains lodged deep inside. In holding onto it, you preserve the truth of what happened. You keep the lesson, the regret, and the distant warmth of what once was. Perhaps carrying this ache will drive you to be better, to face the ghosts you’ve long avoided. Or maybe it will simply hurt, a constant reminder of what you lost. Either way, the memory stays, and with it, the burden of knowing exactly how it all ended. [[Continue|MemorySelection]]

You choose to erase the memory, to let it slip from your mind. The lingering ache, the shame that knotted your insides, the image of her walking out the door, all fade into a dull blur. It’s as if a veil has been drawn over that chapter of your life. Without this memory, the emptiness transforms into a strange void. You no longer recall the details of your greatest regret, but you also lose the clarity it offered. You are free from the pain, yet also free from the lesson it carried. The absence might make breathing a bit easier, but your soul feels oddly weightless, disconnected from what shaped you. [[Continue|MemorySelection]]

In a flash, you rise. Above the buildings, above the clouds, until you can practically touch the stars. You blink, and a magnificent set of scales appear in front of you. <<if $numKept > 0>> The memories you have chosen to keep on one side <</if>> <<if $numKept == 0>> A glitching mess of memories forgotton on one side. <</if>> The device has chosen your fate. <<if $numKept == 6>> <<link "Step on the scale">> <<goto "W Ending">> <</link>> <<else>> <<link "Step on the Scale">> <<goto "L Ending">> <</link>> <</if>>

Game 3 Playable Prototype Hasina Esteqlal, Samina Esteqlal, Kaylee Morales, Isai Rincon, Arjun Krishnan, Pehara Vidanagamachchi 10 Dec 2024 for CMPM 179: Game Design Practicum Instructor: Wes Modes [[Return ->Start]]