(align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[''Welcome to Cuppa Quest!
(Version 1.01)'']
It's National Tea Day, and you're heading for the world-leading tea-making competition in Dewsbury.
The rules are very simple: may the best cuppa win.
You approach the double doors leading inside Dewsbury Town Hall. The anticipation is building as you think of the buzz and excitement undoubtedly brewing inside this building.
A door attendant snaps you back to reality.
"Ey up! You one o' them cuppa judges, or you just 'ere to see t' sights?"
[[Ey up! you're looking at a real-life Cuppa Connoisseur!]]
[[I'm just here to have a cuppa.]]
[[Actually, I'm here to compete.]]
(display: "resetinv")"Crackin'!" says the attendant. "Just show us yer ID card and in tha' goes."
You reflect on the security measures in place these days. Last year, you just waltzed in and judged those cuppas a good'un. There must have been some trouble since then.
[[Has there been some trouble since then?]]
[[Show your ID card]]
[[Refuse to show your ID card]]
[[Distract the attendant and barge through the doors]]"I'm sorry," says the attendant, "but I can't let just anyone in here. You need to have been invited, or at the very least, have booked a ticket in advance. I'm going to have to turn you away."
[[Leave]]
[[Offer your...ticket]](align:"=><=")+(box:"===XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX===")[(text-colour:white)+(bg:black)[(b4r:"double")+(b4r-colour:white)[(font: "monospace")[<span class="shareware-nag">(text-style:"blink")[''Register your copy of Cuppa Quest today!'']
Cuppa Quest is shareware - this means you can freely copy this game and pass it onto your enemies, friends' enemies, and friends!
If you register your game, you'll receive the following benefits:
* Full access to Cuppa Quest, including the exclusive "competition" quest line
* A hint book full of invaluable maps and strategic playing tips
* A full-colour poster
* 26-hour phone support
* A bonus disk with extra games!
Registration costs only $15.00 / 15,- DM
(plus shipping and handling).
So, what are you waiting for...the kettle to boil?
Send cash, cheques, money orders, chocolate coins, or first-borns to:
Cuppa Quest Registration
Behind the Bus Station
Dewsbury
West Yorkshire
We ship worldwide!
(please note: any offer of an expanded version of Cuppa Quest is subject to the author's capacity to complete such a version)]
[[Return to Cuppa Quest->Intro]]</span>]]]"Aye," says the attendant, a solemn look on her face. "A bit o' trouble." Her head lowers slightly, her expression dour. You can tell this is a sensitive topic.
[[Leave it]]
[[Change the subject]]You thought you'd forgotten your card! Turns out it was dangling on a lanyard around your neck. Duh!
The attendant checks your card over. It's taking some time, and you begin to feel a little nervous.
Finally, you're handed your ID card back.
"Looks alreet to me. On you go."
[[Head inside]]
[[Point out that it's fake]]
(set: $inv to $inv + (a: "ID Card"))Why?
[[Forgot to bring it]]
[[Ask why you need it]]The fake ID card was just a ruse to make the attendant think you're sloppy.
...no, actually, you're just sloppy. Sorry to break it to you. Anyway!
You wait a moment, then slyly avert your gaze to the middle distance roughly to the attendant's right. She notices your expression of puzzlement, and quickly steals a glance.
It's enough time for you to ram your way through the doors and into the convention. Hooray! You're in!
...your victory is short-lived as the attendant's already on your tail.
"Get 'ere!" she cries. Time is short - what do you do next?
[[Run into the auditorium]]
[[Run into the basement]]You both stand there in silence. It's a little awkward.
Fortunately, you brought some provisions with you. An adventurer is always prepared for anything, and in your case, the preparation involves a big flask of tea.
[[Pour a cuppa for the attendant]]
[[Pour a cuppa for yourself]]You proffer a nice cuppa to the attendant.
"Good god..."
"This...this is like no cuppa I've ever tasted..." You find yourself confronted with a pair of wild eyes, and an expression you can't describe easily, although given some time, a notepad, and a cup of tea, you might be able to manage it.
[[Good?]]
[[Bad?]]The attendant sees you drinking your tea, and a bitter memory surfaces. The 'Some Trouble' returns full force.
The next thing you know, you're in a hospital bed.
"Oh, good, you're finally up. That was dangerous, going in there without backup!"
Your bleary vision slowly clears to reveal what looks like a police detective. The sort that you've seen on the telly. Your quizzical expression prompts another response from him.
"It must be said, that was some good undercover work. It's a shame you didn't actually get into the convention, but you've managed to expose its filthy underbelly all the same."
[[Return to your desk]]
[[Offer up some tea->Want a cuppa?]]"Dear god," mutters the detective, fear in his eyes. "It's happened. They've turned you."
Before you have chance to unscrew the lid off your flask, the whole room has their guns pointed directly at you. It's quite alarming, to say the least.
"I'm sorry," he stammers, tears in his eyes, "but this is for your own good and for the good of everyone here."
[[Uh-oh...]]The words don't come. Words simply won't suffice. Instead, you're whisked into the convention hall and brought straight in front of the judges.
They're sat at a rather ornate table, although you wouldn't know it from first glance, because it's been covered with a white formica tablecloth, the likes of which you've only seen in the greasiest of spoons.
Upon this table, the attendant proudly plonks your cup of tea. You stand by, clutching your flask for dear life.
"Behold," cries the attendant, "the winner. May as well call off the competition now."
The head judge glances at you. You recognise her - she's judged the cuppa competition since time immemorial, and she's always taken it a little too seriously. Her expression demands some degree of explanation.
[[Ask her to try it]]
[[Offer no explanation]]
[[Run away bravely]]"This is a blight upon humanity. You never should have come here."
The attendant throws the cup at you with full force. It hits you on the head with a sound that would've been satisfying under any other circumstance, and you crash in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.
Looks like you're not getting in after all.
[[Head into town->Walk away]]
[[Head to the train station]]
[[Head to the charity shop->Pop to the charity shop first]]She takes a sip.
Her eyes light up.
She gulps down the rest of the cup, while the other judges look on in amazement.
Feverishly, she grapples the flask from you and downs every drop. Her powdered wig drops onto the floor, revealing a hairstyle that actually really suits her, if only she'd show it every once in a while.
Cuppa-crazed, breathing heavily, she bows her head and attempts to regain her composure. She reseats her wig, then she slowly looks up at you.
You can't tell what she's thinking at all.
(set: $inv to $inv - (a: "flask of tea"))
[[What did you think?]]
[[Fancy another?]]She looks at each of you with suspicion.
"This isn't a wind-up?"
"Absolutely not," claims the attendant. "Hurry up, it's going cold!"
The head judge takes the cup, her eyes still somehow trained on both of you simultaneously, and takes a sip. Then another, and then another. She finishes the cup, and gently pushes it back towards you.
After a moment of consideration, she gives her review.
"...s'alright," she says. "An average cup of tea. Nothing special."
Then she rises to her feet, throws her cloak back, and adjusts her powdered wig. She was always a bit showy.
"We don't go by halves here at the Tea Convention. Nevertheless," she pushes her chair back and walks around the table, "I believe we have a use for such an inoffensive, milquetoast cup of tea."
She bids you follow her, and heads upstairs.
[[Follow her upstairs]]
[[Walk away]]The pressure is just too much! Before anyone can say anything, you've beaten a hasty retreat.
Slamming through the front doors, you're certain you can outrun your responsibilities if you can only make it back to the bus station. You'll change your identity! You'll change your life! Who needs tea??
...this heretic line of thought is quickly interrupted by the 286 bus crawling leisurely towards you as you're crossing the road.
(align:"=><=")+(box:"==XX==")[(text-style:"expand")[(text-rotate-z:337)[''BONK!'']]]
Always follow the Green Cross Code.
''You are defeated.''
[[Play again?->Intro]]After a while, the judge takes a deep breath. She's staring directly into your eyes.
"You've...you've changed my life," she stammers. It looks like she's on the verge of tears.
"I thought I knew tea. I was sure I knew a good cuppa from a bad cuppa. I had it all figured out.
"You've opened my eyes. You've demonstrated to me that a cup of tea can be more, much more." The tears are now flowing freely and unencumbered, but she remains resolute.
"The world has been given a gift." She wipes the tears away, but more come to replace them without a second thought. "I must go home and reflect now."
She pushes herself back from the table, and turns to go. But before she does, she looks back at you one last time.
"Thank you."
And with that, she calmly leaves the premises.
''You are victorious!''
[[Play again?->Intro]]Her eyes widen, and she starts screeching. You rush to the kitchen and put t' kettle on. There are a few other competitors here, some having a chat, some attempting to make something that resembles a cup of tea. One is trying to boil water in a saucepan. Weird!
The kettle boils, and you grab a mug from the cupboard. The first thing you add is...
[[Teabag, water, sugar, milk]]
[[Milk, water, sugar, teabag]]
[[Sugar, sugar, sugar, milk]]
[[Milk]]
[[Monosodium glutamate]](append: ?SideBar)[\
<img src="images/logo.png" alt="Cuppa Quest" class="sidebar-logo">
(align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[[[Quick Restart!->Intro]]]
<span class="inventory-title">Inventory:</span>
(print: (joined: "<br>", ...$inv))
]The feeling hits you as soon as you step through the doors. Never before have you seen such a packed convention. All around, you're greeted by smiling faces, as people partake in cuppa-related activities.
As you stride into the main convention hall, you see rows of stalls set up, consisting of vendors, workshops, and refreshment points. Biscuits are piled high, paper cups even more so. The smell of tea permeates the air.
You're here on business, though. As a Cuppa Connoisseur, you have responsibilities - on your shoulders stands responsibility others could only dream of.
You are to judge this year's cups of tea, and decide which is the best.
[[Find the other judges]]
[[Have a quick look at the stalls]]The attendant smirks.
Then they chuckle.
It grows into a hearty laugh.
"Very good!" they finally respond. At this point, their expression flips. You can //feel// the daggers in their eyes.
"Now get outta here."
They jerk a thumb towards the pavement, away from the town hall. Today, honesty was perhaps //not// the best policy.
[[Leave]]
[[Distract the attendant and barge through the doors]](set: $inv to (a:))
(set: $inv to $inv + (a: "flask of tea", "teaspoon", "box of Yorkshire Gold", "used train ticket"))You try to bring up a different topic of conversation. The weather's alright today, although it's a bit colder than it was. And what a ludicrous display that was last night... Town are always trying to walk it in. You even try to discuss the finer points of tea-making.
The attendant's having none of it.
[[Walk away]]
[[Attempt to go in]]The tea convention is all for show, anyway. You decide it's not worth it, and walk away to find some //real// action.
The trouble with the convention is that there's no innovation. The true tea masters aren't coming to Dewsbury Town Hall, are they? No, not at all.
As you wander down the rain-slick streets, you take a swig from your flask of tea. Delicious!
You don't know how long you've been walking, but you come to your senses outside a humble building. Nestled unassumingly between an RSPCA shop and a bookie's, you stand in awe as you realise just where you are.
The sign reads 'The Pensive Parakeet Tearooms'.
[[Go inside]]
[[Take a moment to drink it in]]Nobody stops you as you push your way through the double doors.
Once you're inside, you notice how barren it is. You expected a flurry of activity, but not a single soul has turned out. Banners hung around the town hall clearly read 'Tea Convention', so you're definitely in the right place at the right time.
But stacks of leaflets remain undisturbed. Paper cups are left unused. Stalls, stocked with merchandise, stand alone and unattended.
Even the panel of judges is nowhere to be seen. Their surprisingly basic table, adorned with only a simple paper tablecloth, is shockingly empty; the chairs are still tucked in, and their personalised mugs are troublingly devoid of tea.
[[Head into the kitchen]]
[[Have some tea]]Ding-a-ling! A little bell rings as you push the door open. As in, really push - it's a bit stiff, as warned by a little scrap of paper taped to the window.
It looks empty - understandable for this time of day. There's nobody behind the counter, but you can hear something from the back. The smells of hot tea and fresh scones fill the air. It's warm and welcoming.
"Just a moment!" calls a disembodied voice. Predictably, a moment later, an older woman in a floral-print salwar pops out. She looks overjoyed to see you.
"Come in, come in! I'm surprised anyone's here today, what with the Tea Convention. Say, aren't you one of the judges?"
[[Explain the situation]]
[[Just get a cuppa]]It's such a modest building! Limestone bearing the requisite Dewsbury grot, a sign above the glass door that looks like it was designed in Print Shop Deluxe, and windows adorned with adorable cartoony parrot decals.
It doesn't look like the café of legend, the whispered name on the lips of every cuppa connoiseur in the field; it just looks like paper cups and dry muffins.
[[Go inside]]There's nothing else for it. The show must go on. You go to the kitchen, pop the kettle on, and grab a mug from the cupboard.
It says 'second best grandad ever' in big red letters. How touching.
The kettle clicks, indicating that the boiling has succeeded and the water is proceeding to cool at an alarming rate. The time to act is now.
You add the ingredients...
[[Teabag, water, milk, sugar]]
[[Milk, teabag, water, sugar]]
[[Sugar, water, milk, teabag]]
[[Teabag]]
[[Battery acid, axle grease, kerosene, red dye no. 2]]You take your flask from your bag, calmly sit down, and pour yourself a little cup of tea. It's not the best, as flask tea seldom is, but it does the job.
So long as you have tea in your mouth, you've solved all problems for the time being; so a wise person once said.
All of the convention guests were gone. What could it mean?
[[Go upstairs]]
[[Go back outside]]There are plenty of staircases in the Town Hall, and you think that perhaps everyone's somehow upstairs? You've been to one or two conventions in your time; and while it's odd that the main convention hall is still packed with stalls, it's //possible// that there's something going on precisely where you're not.
Relieved, you ascend the stairs.
And then panic sets in once you realise it's still empty.
You run up to the second floor - empty.
You head back down to the cellar. Empty!
You even find another set of stairs leading further up, which is really odd because you were certain there were only three main floors. In desperation, you all but sprint up these stairs too. You check every staircase, every floor, every corridor, even every room.
And after all that comes the realisation that you're all alone.
[[Head into the kitchen]]You have the incredible idea to leave immediately. A handful of excuses flow through your mind as you head towards the front doors. A missed dental appointment. Unwashed hair. Forgot that your mother-in-law existed. That sort of thing.
Lost in thought, it takes you several moments to realise that... you don't actually know where the doors are. Or, indeed, you //thought// you knew where they were, but in front of you stands a puzzlingly blank wall. Nothing but grime and magnolia.
You perform several laps of the building before coming to the conclusion that the doors are just //gone//.
The windows are fine... that is, all the ones that are too high to reach and far too high to be safe to escape through. And yet...
[[Attempt to escape through the window]]
[[Go upstairs]]A classic choice, if a rather plain one. Some people like it that way, and you're one of them. Taking from your personal stash of Yorkshire Gold, you brew a delicious cup of tea.
You thoughtfully sip your tea, while reflecting on what could have happened in the town hall. And then you realise, oh no!, that was your last teabag!
Calamitously, there's no tea to be found in the kitchen, either.
And as if matters couldn't get any worse, you hear footsteps at the door.
(set: $inv to $inv - (a: "box of Yorkshire Gold"))
[[Go and see who it is]]
[[Hide in the walk-in fridge]]In goes the teabag! In goes the boiling water! You trawl through the cupboards and manage to procure a slightly rattly mechanical timer, which resembles a chicken and was probably purchased the same day as the Town Hall opened for business, judging by the wear-and-tear.
You set it for two minutes. As you wait, you attempt to take in the smell of the Yorkshire Gold... unfortunately, all you get is a somewhat stale whiff, which if experienced anywhere else, would remind you of a kitchen not unlike this one.
The chicken timer soon chirps out a feeble little ringing sound, indicating that your tea is at optimal strength. Brandishing your trusty spoon, bronze with years of tannin stain, you squeeze out the tea bag and deposit it in the grubby (but mercifully empty) bin under the counter. A dash of milk and a spoon of sugar later, and you've got yourself a lovely cuppa tea.
[[Get tha' tea dahn thee]]
[[Hunt for biscuits->Hunt for biscuits 2]]By applying the milk first, you've concocted a fabled Backwards Cuppa.
The logic being, of course, that if some catastrophic event has caused the Convention to be completely deserted - and it would have to be a seriously unprecented catastrophe to have such an effect - then the Backwards Cuppa of legend can reverse these ill winds. Some whisper that it can even turn back time.
And the only location one can make a Backwards Cuppa just happens to be the kitchen in Dewsbury Town Hall. Coincidence? Probably. You know what Dewsbury folk are like.
Anyhow; you're now the proud owner of a Backwards Cuppa. You're not really sure how to use it, though.
[[Drink it->Drink the Backwards Cuppa]]
[[Take it out to the convention hall]]Now, that's entirely the wrong way to make a cup of tea, and you know it perfectly well. So you reconsider, and decide to make it the correct way, which is...
[[Teabag, water, milk, sugar]]
[[Milk, teabag, water, sugar]]
[[Sugar, water, milk, teabag->Sugar in first]]
[[Teabag]]You cook up an excellent batch of grog: but, predictably, it burns straight through the mug. You quickly throw it in the dishwasher before it dissolves the mug completely. Out of sight, out of mind.
[[Try again...->Head into the kitchen]]You plonk the mug down on the counter - a mug with a strange legend, you notice. On it is printed the following:
* Single
* Taken
* Mentally Dating Olly Murs
The final sentence has a tick next to it. Were it that you had time to ponder this bizarre inscription; but alas, you have tea to make.
The teabag brews for a couple of minutes. You can hear commotion outside, as the other judges struggle to hold the head judge down. You rush to add the sugar and milk, and before you is a textbook cup of tea. The celebrations will have to wait.
(set: $inv to $inv + (a: "cup of tea"))
[[Serve the drink]]
[[Look for biscuits]]
[[Stay in the kitchen]]This is the wrong way to go about making a cuppa, and you know it all too well. But necessity calls - the judge is in a state of frenzy, and there's only one way of getting her out of it: the fabled Backwards Cuppa.
You've heard legends of the Backwards Cuppa, but never made one yourself. It's a dangerous process, and rumour has it that people have disappeared under mysterious circumstances after making one. Others claim that it has an explosive effect, and still others suggest it creates a wormhole into the Coffee Dimension.
But, as you stir the Backwards Cuppa into completion (making sure to stir anti-clockwise), you're surprised to find that it...just looks like a cup of tea. In a hint of irony, the mug is completely plain white. How can this be?
(set: $inv to $inv + (a: "Backwards Cuppa"))
[[Serve the drink]]
[[Stay in the kitchen]]
[[Make another cuppa, just in case->Teabag, water, sugar, milk]]A situation like this calls for something a bit stronger. You hunt around, and to your delight, this kitchen is very well-stocked. Soon you have a fine selection of ingredients: sugar, whole milk, single cream, and you even managed to scrounge up some vanilla pods.
Unfortunately, the utensils are a different story. You've got a spork with a missing prong, a slightly bent spoon, and one of those collectable teaspoons with a picture of Queen Elizabeth II set into the handle. It's faded a bit.
Thankfully, you always carry a high-quality Sheffield stainless steel teaspoon with you. With this, you can approximate a mortar & pestle to crush the vanilla pods; with enough force and technique, you're also able to whip some of the cream.
By the end, you've got a servicable vanilla milkshake. You give it a furious shake, and top it with the cream and a leftover vanilla pod. Hopefully this does the trick!
(set: $inv to $inv + (a: "milkshake"))
[[Serve the drink]]You're overjoyed to find a SodaStream hidden in a dusty corner of the kitchen. And it's still working just fine - all it needs is a quick wipe down, and it's good to go.
You fill the container with a whole bottle of semi-skimmed, and set about making a beverage said to cure all ailments and fix all problems.
//Woooosh!// goes the SodaStream. A good few blasts later, and you have yourself a nice mug of fizzy milk. Delicious!
(set: $inv to $inv + (a: "fizzy milk"))
[[Serve the milk->Serve the drink]]
[[Drink the milk]]It turns out you have no idea how to make a cup of tea. The stuff in the flask, you had no idea the effect it would have...was it even tea? It was already in there when you bought it from Oxfam three years ago!
In desperation, you trawl through the cupboards in the kitchen, and just stick any old ingredients in. There's a bag of something sugary, and it says 'MSG' on the label. Good enough. You liberally pour it into the mug, which incidentally is Mini Eggs-branded.
What's next? You have another rummage. The fridge, there's bound to be something in there.
All you find is a carton of grape juice. That'll do. In it goes!
What else? Oh, the //tea!// Of course! How could you be so careless? You spy a small glass jar filled with what looks like tea leaves...or what you understand tea leaves to look like. In they go!
On closer inspection, the jar is labelled "pizza seasoning". Whoops. Well, it's in the mug now.
You're not sure what to do next. It looks vaguely tea-coloured.
[[Give it a shake]]
[[Give it a whizz]]You peek round the corner, but you don't see anyone at first. And then you feel something brush against your leg. Fear grips you as you slowly look down...but there's nothing there.
What's going on here?
[[Retreat!]]
[[Advance!]]You're surprised to see a big walk-in fridge in Dewsbury Town Hall, but you don't question it. It's somewhere to hide, and there's someone out there you want to hide from; QED, that's where you need to be.
Shutting the door behind you, you now realise how dark fridges can be. And how cold they can be. You didn't bring your big coat, and your flat cap can only do so much.
[[Fumble]]
[[Sit and wait]]Eyes trained on the door, you slink back to the tea-making station until it's out of view. Only then do you turn around, and spy something completely unexpected on the countertop.
You let out a little yelp, which is answered by a similar yelp from the creature sat in front of you.
Coming to your senses, you realise that what you're looking at is a grey striped cat. He sits looking at you, silently judging.
[[Hug the kitty]]
[[Make him a cup of tea]]Screaming at the top of your lungs, you stumble out of the kitchen to find...
...someone else screaming.
Probably because you're screaming at them.
All you can make out before this person runs away (screaming) is that they had the appearance of a postal worker. And in their haste, they've dropped a rather large parcel at your feet.
You stop screaming and take the parcel.
[[Inspect the package]]
[[Return it to the postie]]You fetch a mug from the cupboard. It's a red mug with the words 'Batley Thumb Wrestling Champion 1993' emblazoned upon it in lemon yellow. The stains of a thousand cuppas demonstrate this mug's legendary status. Perfect. And, as luck would have it, there's a teabag in there already!
The kettle is still hot from your previous tea-making exercise, and there's plenty of water left in it. You don't want to burn kitty's tongue, after all.
You place a brimming cup of tea next to your new cat friend, and he starts lapping at it as if he hasn't had anything to drink for weeks.
[[Hunt for biscuits]]
[[Leave the cat in peace->Advance!]]Softly, you approach the cat. He regards you with mild apprehension, which turns to curiosity as you put your hand out.
The cat gives you a cautionary sniff, before going in and rubbing his scent all over you. You allow this to happen: it's best to let the cat go at his own pace.
It doesn't take long before the purring begins. You notice how soft the cat's fur is against your hand, and wonder how a town like Dewsbury could play host to such a well-kept moggy.
Without even thinking about it, you gently gather the cat up and give him a little hug. He seems perplexed, but it doesn't take long for him to ease up and reciprocate. After a moment, you place the cat back onto the counter.
Fastidiously, and with surprising speed and accuracy, the cat licks himself clean. Looks like you've made a new friend!
[[Make him a cup of tea]]
[[Leave the cat in peace->Advance!]]No tea convention is complete without piles and piles of biscuits of all kinds. You rummage through all of the cupboards, and by the time you're done, you've picked out a suitable assortment. Bourbons, rich teas, custard creams, jammie dodgers, and a few BNs adorn your little china plate.
And, after all, who needs a convention? You have everything you need here. You and the cat, you've got your own event and you're enjoying it far more than that stuffy state-sponsored affair. Tickets? ID cards? What's that all about?
As you and your new friend drink your tea, you realise that life doesn't really get any better than this. The cat seems happy to stay right here, and you know what? You are too.
You hand the cat a regulation chocolate digestive, and sit back, contented.
''You are victorious!''
[[Play again?->Intro]]All that's in the fridge, as far as you and your fingers can tell, are rows and rows of milk bottles. Without any light, you can't tell if they're green, red, blue, or even gold. You can't see if they're 1% fat, or Bob milk, or oat milk, or soya milk. They could be UHT, or they could be filtered - you just don't know.
[[Try some milk]]
[[Have a cuppa]]You take a seat on the cold, cold floor of the walk-in fridge. Minutes pass, then hours. Could days have gone by? It's hard to tell.
You realise that being stuck in here could be worse. You could be stuck in here with //someone else//, and that just wouldn't do. You'd have to make conversation - yuck!
Time goes by. You build little sculptures from your pocket lint. You find sustenance in the train ticket you used to get here. You have enough Yorkshire Gold to last you a lifetime, and you drink many, many cups of tea.
Maybe something will happen. Maybe someone will come and open the fridge, and you'll see daylight again. But at this point, does it matter? Could life out there truly be more worth living than life in here?
Contented with your lot, you sit back, smile, and pour yourself another cup of tea.
''You are victorious...?''
[[Play again?->Intro]]
(set: $inv to $inv - (a: "box of Yorkshire Gold"))
(set: $inv to $inv - (a: "used train ticket"))(text-style:"shudder")[Blech!] You take a sip from the nearest bottle you can find, and realise very quickly it was a mistake. The stuff is so old and out-of-date that it's gone all chunky!
Grabbing another bottle, and another, you slowly discover that all the milk in the fridge is long past its use-by date. Even the UHT stuff tastes like cheese - although you're not altogether sure if that's just the way it tastes anyway.
[[Sit and wait]]
[[Continue to fumble]]Tea always helps to clear the mind and think about the next plan of action. You pour yourself a nice cup from your flask, and amazingly, it's still steaming hot. The shivering subsides, and you feel ready for action.
You try the fridge door, but it's locked from the outside. What a stupid bit of design...
...unless some unknown entity outside locked you in. The horror!
[[Continue to fumble]]
[[Sit and wait]]The door's still locked, it's still pretty cold and dark in here, and you think you've just knocked something over. It rattles on the floor.(if:visits >= 5)[
Your increased fumbling has not helped matters, it seems.](if:visits >= 10)[
You fumble and fumble, and you put your hands on something big and wet. Turns out it's a giant icicle.](if:visits >= 20)[
All this fumbling has made you feel like an adept. You start to feel as if you could function reasonably well without being able to see, and a plan begins to formulate. Your dreams are shattered when you manage to bang your head against a shelf, causing a cascade of tins (probably beans) to rain down upon you.](if:visits >= 30)[
You're not sure how much further you can get by simply feeling around the walk-in fridge. But you just keep on trying. You're persistent, if nothing else.](if:visits >= 40)[
Alright, I'll be honest with you. There's not a lot more I can really stretch this one out. I thought I'd do a funny thing and keep adding detail to this section, but frankly, I'm out of ideas! So...maybe it's time to move on, you reckon?](if:visits >= 50)[
I guess not.](if:visits >= 60)[
Listen, I'd be happy to just keep pontificating here. But this is supposed to be a video game, and don't you think that breaking the fourth wall is a little tired as a trope? So maybe we can just move on from this.](if:visits >= 70)[
I get it, you want to see more. But there's really nothing here worth seeing. All that'll happen is that I'll get exasperated at you, The Player, for continuing to fumble around in a walk-in fridge. Because there's really no more material here to work with! What do you want from me?](if:visits >= 80)[
Well, hey, maybe you can come up with more meaningful prose for this section. What hijinks could occur in the walk-in fridge, in your version of this game? A secret door? A hidden cache of materials, just waiting to be found? An wizened old sage who, too, got trapped in the walk-in fridge eons ago and now offers wisdom in these rancid times?](if:visits >= 82)[
Okay, I've got one for you. I just need a bit more time to workshop it - can you give me a moment or two?](if:visits >= 84)[
You eat some cold beans.](if:visits >= 86)[
Okay, maybe that wasn't so good. Lemme have a think.](if:visits >= 88)[
You scrabble around and grab one of the tins off the ground. You're glad to find that it's one of those with a ringpull lid! No tin opener required. Hungrily, you devour the contents - delicious cold baked beans - renewing your strength and allow you to continue your... fumbling.](if:visits >= 90)[
That's all I've got for you. You want more...//get outta the damn walk-in fridge already!//](if:visits >= 95)[
All right, you win.
(font: "monospace")[
` /----\
-------/ \
/ \
/ |
-----------------/ --------\
----------------------------------------------`]](if:visits >= 100)[
What is it? Sorry, you'll have to ask someone else. Now get on with it.]
[[Continue to fumble]](if:visits >= 5)[
[[Attempt to kick the door down]]](if:visits >= 10)[
[[Give it up as a bad job->Sit and wait]]]You make your way upstairs and into a little side room. It smells a bit musty. The dark wooden furniture is a little dinged-up from years of use and abuse, and the various trophies and accolades in the cabinet behind you look like they could use a polish.
As you walk in, you find the other judges having a little natter. They look happy to see you as they approach and shake your hand, laughing. You feel right at home!
...and then you see the Head Judge, a towering figure with an even more towering personality. She looks upon you, adjusts her powdered wig, and simply nods before whisking herself away. As she departs, you notice your special Tea Convention black-and-red cloak lying neatly on a bureau.
Hey, what's a convention without a little convention, right? You quickly slip into it and immediately feel a bit more powerful... like you could take on the world!
(set: $inv to $inv + (a: "cloak"))
[[Find the Head Judge]]
[[Go back downstairs]]Looks like there's a good selection of stuff on sale. As a judge, you're entitled to a modest discount on most wares. However, duty calls, and you only have time to pick up a couple of bits.
You settle on a pack of custard creams, and you also spy an otherwise hard-to-find box of apple and pear green tea. What a great haul!
(set: $inv to $inv + (a: "custard creams"))
(set: $inv to $inv + (a: "apple and pear green tea"))
[[Find the other judges]]You step out of the kitchen. Before you is a scene of pure bedlam. Many of the guests have been evacuated, and the Head Judge is thrashing under the weight of the other judges. They're barely holding her in place.
(if:$inv contains "Backwards Cuppa")[[[Give her the Backwards Cuppa->Give her the Backwards Cuppa]]
](if:$inv contains "cup of tea")[[[Give her a cuppa->Give her a cuppa]]
](if:$inv contains "chocolate hobnobs")[[[Give her a biscuit->Give her a biscuit]]
](if:$inv contains "milkshake")[[[Give her the milkshake->Give her the milkshake]]
](if:$inv contains "fizzy milk")[[[Give her the fizzy milk->Give her the fizzy milk]]
](if:$inv contains "cup of something")[[[Give her the tea->Give her the something]]
](if:$inv contains "cup of soup")[[[Give her the soup->Give her the soup]]
][[Run away heroically]]There are a lot of biscuits out on the convention floor, but...well, they're literally on the floor. And you should never eat floor food.
"What are you //doing// in there?!" you hear someone shout. There are sounds of a struggle outside. Maybe even a fire, you can't exactly tell.
You quickly rifle through the cupboards and drawers, and finally come up with a packet of chocolate hobnobs.
(set: $inv to $inv + (a: "chocolate hobnobs"))
[[Serve the drink]]
[[Stay in the kitchen]]"This is for your own good," grunts one of the judges. It's a shame you didn't have time to learn their names, otherwise this section would've been a lot easier to write. Never mind.
You approach the head judge, and pour the Backwards Cuppa down her throat. It's not the most humane thing you've ever done, but it looks like it's working. She gulps down the tea, and appears to be on the mend. A profound sense of relief ripples across the room.
...actually, that's not relief. The room is literally rippling like water, ever so slightly. As you look closer, you realise the epicentre is the head judge. Soon the ripples are more noticeable. Is this the true cost of brewing up a Backwards Cuppa?(if:$inv contains "cup of tea")[
[[Give her the regular cuppa, maybe it'll balance things out->Give her the regular cuppa, maybe it'll balance things out]]]
[[Swiftly depart before things get worse]]A good brew fixes everything. It's a well-known fact. It's also a well-known fact (at least, among your immediate peers) that you have a good brew in your hand right now.
Moments later, you find that you no longer have the tea; because it's been swiftly administered to the head judge. Slowly, she drinks the whole mug. Slurrrrp!
But her condition scarcely improves. You make another, and bring it out. And another. And still another. But you're getting nowhere. Eventually, you empty out all the teabags you can find into a big Sports Direct mug, and make the strongest brew imaginable.
She drinks it slowly, but still doesn't look to be improving! Her body contorts as if possessed. What the heck was in that flask, anyway?
(set: $inv to $inv - (a: "cup of tea"))(if:$inv contains "chocolate hobnobs")[
[[Give her a biscuit to dunk in her cuppa->Give her a biscuit to dunk in her tea]]]
[[Tactically retreat]]It worked! After gulping down the tea, the ripples come to a stop! They've caused some serious damage to the Town Hall, and possibly everywhere else too; but the important thing is, they've stopped.
Unfortunately, the Head Judge still isn't in great shape, and she continues to flail around as if possessed.(if:$inv contains "chocolate hobnobs")[
[[Give her a biscuit to dunk in her cuppa->Give her a biscuit to dunk in her tea]]]
[[Tactically retreat]] You stand and watch as the head judge overpowers her peers. Her eyes begin to glow yellow. At last, the plan is coming to fruition.
The tea world has never appreciated your power, your knowledge, your vast superiority. They shunned you. They thought you knew too much.
Well, they were right.
Light streams from the head judge, as her body contorts in ways you never thought possible. You gallop up several flights of stairs, and eventually find yourself on the roof of the building just as it catches fire.
You watch the blaze below you. But it's not over yet. Oh, no, it's not over yet.
Cup of tea in(if:$inv contains "chocolate hobnobs")[ one] hand, (if:$inv contains "chocolate hobnobs")[chocolate hobnob in the other, ]you gaze out into the distance. As you begin to drink, you see the culmination of your years of hard work.
A great torrent swells over the horizon. A veritable tsunami of tea approaches rapidly over the hillside. Soon, the town of Dewsbury is submerged. It laps around your feet, not quite reaching high enough to sweep you along. All according to plan.
Dewsbury is just the beginning. But the tea doesn't stop there. You imagine the digestive storms over North America: they would learn what a proper biscuit is. The tea would spread across Europe: that'll teach those coffee-drinking snobs. China and India would soon know the raw might of an English brew.(if:$inv contains "Backwards Cuppa")[
The legends behind the Backwards Cuppa may not be true, but that's not a risk you want to take. At least now you have a sample. You carefully pour it into your flask and seal it tight. Wouldn't want all this to be undone, now, would we?]
As the flood calms down, you spy a deckchair floating past you. You grab it, shake it off, and sit back to see your new world ahead of you.
Contented, you finish your mug of tea and smile.
''You are victorious...but at what cost?''
[[Play again?->Intro]]Poof! A quick flash of light sears your vision for a brief moment.
What happened?
Where are you?
//...who// are you?
You attempt to get your bearings. Okay, you're in a room. There's a grey-and-white chequered floor. Dated-looking countertops. In your hand you have a...receptacle filled with something bubbly.
"Where are you with that cuppa??" someone shouts. Who's that? Who knows.
Is this a cuppa? This thing in your hand? Must be.
[[Take the "cuppa" outside]]
[[Drink the rest of it]]Milk! It heals what ails ya'. So you profess as you hand over the fizzy milk. It bubbles and pops in the mug.
The lesser judge looks less than impressed, but time's a-wastin'. It's now or never. He pours the beverage into the head judge's gaping maw.
She calms down almost immediately. It's as if a magic spell was cast over her. The other judges let go and help her to a seated position. She looks exhausted...and more so, she looks //angry//.
Slowly, she gets to her feet and takes in the situation. Eventually, her gaze falls on you, clutching a plastic SodaStream bottle.
"That," she growls, "was a crime against humanity. Absolutely abysmal."
And with that, she snatches the bottle from your hand and throws the contents in your face.
''You are (shamefully) victorious.''
[[Play again?->Intro]]It's no good. The situation just keeps turning from bad to worse, and your presence is not helping in the slightest. You decide that the best course of action is to get the heck outta there!
You hear a clamour in the town hall, but you're running too fast to hear them. You crash your way through the door, almost knocking the door attendant off her feet, and run in the general direction of the train station. They'll never catch you!
...not until the 262 bus comes hurtling towards you as you're crossing the road.
(align:"=><=")+(box:"==XX==")[(text-style:"expand")[(text-rotate-z:337)[''WHAM!'']]]
Always follow the Green Cross Code.
''You are not victorious, and the Tea Convention will never be the same.''
[[Play again?->Intro]]Storming out of the kitchen, you leap over to the head judge and slam-dunk a biscuit into her gaping maw.
(Actually, it wasn't quite as dramatic as all that, but it's a lot more interesting to write that way, don't you agree?)
Immediately she starts choking. You don't understand. Chocolate hobnobs always go down so smoothly, and they're so moreish! Maybe a Viennese biscuit would've been a better choice, or even a bourbon, but are you to blame for the lack of a Fox's selection pack in the kitchen? We're not in Batley now, tha' knows!
Meanwhile, the head judge coughs with such power and force that the biscuit fires out spectacularly, smashes against the wall, and bounces around the room a few more times before finally lodging itself in a promotional stress ball. You come to a slow, horrifying realisation, and check the packet of hobnobs.
Sure enough, the best before date reads March 1989. While they're still technically edible, they've turned completely solid in the time they've been sat at the back of the cupboard. You thought stale biscuits went soft, but this ancient specimen disagrees.
Your thought process is disrupted by a strange noise, one you've never heard before. Looking around, you notice small deposits of dust and rubble collecting on the ground. To top all that, the building appears to be listing ever so slightly. Seems like Dewsbury's construction trade has finally met its match.
Where the hobnob ricocheted against the walls and surfaces, vast cracks have begun to form. And they're growing.
[[Run!]]
[[Hide!]]Stumbling around the room, you discover a vessel filled with more cuppa. You top up the receptacle in your hand with the fluid, and bring it out towards the shouting person.
A scene of violence and terror unfolds before you. Three people are frantically trying to hold down a lady wearing a black cloak and a powdered wig. It doesn't look great.
[[Proffer your "cuppa"]]
[[Pour it on the ground]]You decide that the only way out of this situation is to drink more cuppa.
Down the hatch it goes. Another flash of white, this time somehow even stronger than the last, fills your eyes.
You notice a larger vessel on one of the counters, filled with cuppa. You down the lot of it.
White. Everything is white.
Have you gone blind? No. You look down and see your hands, your feet. You're stood on nothing, and that nothing is pure white.
You can hear nothing. You can smell nothing. It's all just white.
[[Start walking]]
[[Sit down]]Something's wrong here.
You're not sure what, but there's a nagging feeling deep inside you. An urge for an indescribable quantity. Like that feeling you get when you fancy a game of something, but can't decide what to play.
You try and capture it, try to grab hold of the urge and examine it closely. It's difficult. The scene of chaos before you doesn't help your concentration, but you persevere. All you know is that until you're sure of what it is your consciousness is trying to tell you, that "cuppa" is going nowhere.
Closing your eyes, you try to relax, and allow the urge to surface and make itself known. It takes some time, but slowly, slowly, it draws itself into your third eye's line of sight. What is it? You're keen to find out, but you wait patiently for it to get closer.
Meanwhile, the commotion slowly ceases. You scarcely notice it at first, but welcome the newfound quiet.
Then it hits you, like a kick from a particularly grumpy mule. You're simply flabbergasted that you allowed this to happen, but of course! This is no cuppa! This is naught but a device of evil, and its purpose - as you're now beginning to realise - was to wipe out the Tea Convention once and for all.
Your eyes flicker open. This aggression will not stand. And without a second thought, you pour the fluid directly on the ground.
...right where you're standing.
[[...->Pour it on the ground 2]]The mug is quickly snatched from your hand by one of the holding-down people, and before he has chance to examine its contents, he pours the "cuppa" down the lady's throat.
Poof!
She stops writhing immediately. Her body goes limp, and an expression of profound confusion rests upon her visage. She looks like she, too, has no idea where she is.
Slowly, she gets up.
"Are you okay?" asks one of the holding-down people, no longer engaged in the act of holding down.
After a long pause, she mumbles "...yes, I suppose so." A sigh of relief ripples through the holding-down people.
"Always the case, eh? Cuppas always save the day." Turning to you, the holding-down person asks for a round of cuppas. "We could all do with one, I think," he says. You agree, and nip back into the kitchen to fetch the rest of the "cuppa".
[[...->Fizzy milk ending]]You walk.(if:visits >= 2)[
And walk.](if:visits >= 5)[
Eventually, you wonder if there's anything more out there. You've been walking for a long time, and you're starting to get tired.](if:visits >= 10)[
Undeterred, you just keep going. But your legs are really starting to ache now. Everything around you is still pure white.](if:visits >= 20)[
An intrepid adventurer never gives up. An intrepid adventurer's legs, on the other hand, may eventually fall off at this rate.]
(if:visits <= 30)[[[Keep walking->Start walking]]](if:visits >= 5)[
[[Stop and rest]] ](if:visits >= 5)[
[[Have a brew]] ]The air feels a bit thin around here. You're a little light-headed, and you decide to take a seat. Beneath you, the ground is cold to the touch, and slightly damp. It feels like something you've felt before, but you can't place it right now.
You sit for a long time.
Eventually, you feel an unusual sensation. Movement. Downward, yet also lateral.
Before you realise it, you're sliding down a rather steep slope. Everything is still white. But as you slide further, the surroundings gradually change to blue. Blue! Blue skies! Yes!
Beneath you, it's still all white, and it's getting more and more slick as the air temperature rises around you. This could get messy.
You slide and slide and slide, and the surface beneath you turns more and more slushy. As you descend, more details come into view. Rocky hills, trees covered in red-brown leaves...
Oh no! There's a big rock directly in front of you! You need to decide, quick!
[[Veer to the left!]]
[[Veer to the right!]]You manage to steer yourself to the left, around the big rock. Success! Further, smaller rocks appear in front of you, and you deftly slalom around them. This is so fun that you haven't even noticed your legs are absolutely freezing!
As you slide, you notice something coming up in front of you. Looks like...uh-oh...a cliff edge? Could be bad news. What do you do?
[[Stay the course]]
[[Try to steer around it]]You steer yourself to the right, and narrowly avoid the big rock!
...only to find a huge cliff edge instead.
''You are not victorious.''
[[Play again?->Intro]]You stop.
Looking down, you see nothing but your own feet. You're not sure when you took your shoes and socks off, but it would appear you're now barefoot. You can't even see your own shadow.
Finding a nice soft-looking spot on the ground, you check your belongings. You're still clutching the mug, which incidentally reads "Merry Christmas 2002" in a gaudy red and green colour scheme; and inside is the fluid which has brought about so much calamity.
However, you're also surprised to find a shiny metal canister, with a slight dent on one side. What could this be? You absent-mindedly place the mug down beside you, and inspect the canister. A quick shake indicates that it's full of liquid, and it's a little warm to the touch.
Towards the top there's a lid, which you easily unscrew. Inside that, there's...another lid? Carefully placing the first lid in between your legs for safe-keeping, you quickly unscrew the second lid. Steam rises to greet you from the now-open canister...and oh, the //smell//.
You tip the canister up, decant a measure of the liquid inside, and take a sip.
It's good!
Without even realising, you've drunk the whole lot up.
[[And you remember.]]You stop.
And fall face-down on the floor.
But instead of hitting the ground, you fall forever.
As you fall, you hear a faint voice echoing. Is it real? What's real any more? You can't remember anything at all. This is the only reality you know.
"I'm sorry you couldn't find the answer. It seems you're not a suitable judge after all."
You try to respond, but the words don't come. Responding might not do you many favours anyway.
You fall.
''You are...not victorious.''
[[Play again?->Intro]]Well, you gave it a good go. The ol' college try, as it were. You gave it a bash, you made an attempt, and even after all your efforts, they're not letting you in for free.
Oh well. Not like there's anything else to do in Dewsbury. You sigh, stick your hands in your coat pockets (shame you didn't bring your big coat), and begin the solemn trek back home.
[[Head to the train station]]
[[Pop to the charity shop first]]Knowing full well that it's not going to get you anywhere, you still decide it's a good idea to hand over your train ticket. It's got a bit folded and crumpled in your back pocket, but it's still valid for one (1) trip back to Mirfield.
Not that the attendant cares. She snatches it from your hand, tearing it, before throwing it on the ground and stomping up and down on it. A dangerous move on stairs, but she manages it anyway. The ticket is now nothing but soggy confetti.
Finally, saying nothing, she points away from the building. There's no positive interpretation for this.
[[Distract the attendant and barge through the doors]]
[[Go home]]
(set: $inv to $inv - (a: "used train ticket"))The attendent sighs.
"In that case, //sunshine//, you're not coming in. Goodbye." They point emphatically in a direction away from the Town Hall.
Oh well, nothing else for it. You think about giving the Head Judge a quick bell, but in addition to your ID card, you find you've also left your mobile phone at home. And by the time you've got back to Mirfield via a train that's invariably been delayed or, worse, cancelled, it won't be worth returning. You decide to chalk it up to experience and move on.
[[Head into town->Walk away]]
[[Head to the train station]]"Blimey," says the surprised attendant, "wasn't you 'ere last year? Right ruckus it wor. Nearly knocked dahn t' town 'all!"
You press further, but the attendant isn't keen to elaborate. "I didn't see much of it, tha' knows. I wor out 'ere 'ole time. Whatever t' case, they're wantin' 'em now so I can't let thi' in unless I see one!"
[[Of course you remember!]]
[[Forgot to bring it]]
[[Or maybe you remembered it after all...->Show your ID card]]You put your hand over the top of the mug and shake it up a treat. You're left with...something that looks very similar, only slightly more bubbly.
(set: $inv to $inv + (a: "cup of something"))
[[Serve the drink]]
[[Run away heroically]] Frantically looking around, you spot one of those handheld mixer things. You think you've seen people use these things to make soup. Maybe that's the answer! Maybe tea isn't called for in this situation...and maybe there was soup in the flask all along!
With newfound resolve, you start throwing more ingredients into the mug. Carrots! Black pepper! Bicarbonate of soda! Lime marmalade!
Once you're finished, you fire up the handheld mixer.
//Whizzzzzzzz!!//
Some of it ends up on the countertop, but most of it remains in the mug. One last step: you stick it in the microwave and give it several 30-second blasts until it's heated through.
What a delicious soup! You're excited to give it to the head judge. Then you remember there's a crisis afoot, and necessity calls!
(set: $inv to $inv + (a: "cup of soup"))
[[Serve the...concoction->Serve the drink]]With no time to lose, you dart forward, brandishing your concoction.
But in the commotion and rush, you foolishly trip over a shocking health and safety violation, in the form of a Tea Convention banner that's been knocked over.
Calamity strikes as the drink tumbles from the cup and hits the ground in front of the Head Judge.
Everything stops as the drink bubbles and froths, and you notice after a few moments that it's slowly eating away at the floor!
Your drink has kind of done its job in that the Head Judge has come to her senses - at least enough for her and everyone else to get out of the room, before it gets on someone's clothes. What a disaster that would be!
What you're not aware of is that the sludge you've created is somehow absorbing everything it touches. And it's //growing.//
Soon, the floorboards begin to splinter; and you're not there to witness the acute subsidence that befalls the Town Hall.
It's a beautiful morning in Papatowai, as Kaea heads down to the bay for another great day of surfing. As he emerges from the forest, he's surprised to see a curious... sort of a bump in the sand. It's quite unusual.
As he approaches, the bump grows and begins to tremble. Moments later, a huge geyser bursts out, dissolving the sand and most everything else in its path.
Nobody believes Kaea's story as the settlement, like Dewsbury, slowly turns into a massive sinkhole.
''You lose. Good day!''
[[Play again?->Intro]]You quickly thrust the mug of soup into the head judge's hand, and ruefully furnish her with your teaspoon. It's a nice teaspoon, and you're confident it'll serve well its current purpose.
One moment in the soup says otherwise; it comes out shrivelled and blackened to a crisp. Never mind; the head judge, in a moment of clarity, chugs down the whole lot.
And promptly explodes.
''You are somewhat victorious!''
[[Play again?->Intro]]
(set: $inv to $inv - (a: "teaspoon"))Danger to life! You (and the rest of the judges, by the looks) take this opportunity to hightail it out of there. You run through the convention hall, through the foyer, out the door, and keep running until your legs feel like they're on fire.
Heart pounding, you stop to catch your breath, and have a quick look over your shoulder. The scene is rather alarming.
The sky has turned a deep orange, and a huge cyclone has materialised directly over Dewsbury Town Hall. Here and there, a lightning flash appears.
Slowly, the cyclone widens and pulls away, to reveal a mirror duplicate of the Town Hall suspended in the air, connected spire-to-spire with the original building. Debris and detritus flies around in the wind. A copy of the Dewsbury Reporter slaps you in the face as it passes. It's all a bit chaotic.
Eventually, the wind dies down to a stiff breeze, but the sky doesn't look any less threatening. All you can hear is a maniacal laugh, which booms out over the town and sends a shiver down your spine. It sounds like it could be the Head Judge, or at the very least, an evil doppelgänger!
Having recovered, you set off back towards the town hall...but you're stopped in your tracks by a strong hand. You hear a throat being cleared behind you.
It's one of the other judges: a tall woman who looks like she does nothing but sleep and work out. It's a wonder they could find robes to fit over her frankly insane musculature.
"You've caused enough damage, I think," she growls. "Go home."
And with that, she takes a swig of tea, cracks her knuckles, and runs at top speed towards the town hall.
''You are unvictorious.''
[[Play again?->Intro]]You approach with the milkshake in hand. The head judge stops writhing to look up at you in horror. As you stand over her with your milkshake, she comes to a slow, terrible realisation.
"You're...you're an agent of the milkshake convention?!" she stammers.
A smirk spreads across your face. The other judges reel back.
"I-I trusted you. I respected you. I thought you were one of us..."
She pushes herself back along the floor, struggling to get to her feet.
Turning to one of the others, she implores, "Well? Do something about this!" But to her amazement, he solemnly steps to your side. Each one follows suit.
"We're sorry," he says, "but the tea convention is through."
The head judge's eyes widen in shock.
"Then we are all doomed," she mutters. "Milkshake isn't the answer. Milkshake has never been the answer, and never will be."
"Last chance," advises another judge.
Standing up, dusting herself off, she stops and appears to consider the options ahead of her.
Then she turns, grabs a Tea Convention banner, and holds it aloft.
The rest is too grisly to describe.
''The Milkshake Convention is victorious! Long live the Milkshake Convention!''
[[Play again?->Intro]]"You see," says the Head Judge as she ushers you into her makeshift dressing-room, "great tea is only great tea because of all the mediocre tea."
In response to your puzzled stare, she elaborates.
"If the only tea in the world was the best tea ever made, it'd all be average, right? So, to keep the universe in balance, we need tea like this," she gestures to your flask, "in order for the great tea to truly //shine//."
She picks up a leatherbound diary from a nearby bureau, and asks to take the flask. As she sips, she starts scribbling notes. She swills it around her mouth, she takes in the scent, she takes big gulps and small. Every possible method of experiencing this tea, she explores. You're surprised to see that one can even take tea up their nose and still keep a level of grace and sensibility.
"Incredible. I've come across some good tea. I've come across //bad// tea. But this is so remarkably middling that I think it's precisely what the world needs right now."
[[...->Average tea ending]]To finish your previous line of thought; a good cuppa //and a biccie// fixes everything. Thankfully, you found that pack of hobnobs earlier, and you quickly dunk one in the tea and insert it like a CD-ROM into the Head Judge's gaping maw.
She munches it willingly, and as you go to dunk the remaining biscuit, she's visibly calmed down a bit. The other judges relax their collective grip, and the Head Judge remains on the floor - alive but totally unconscious.
You wipe the sweat that's been agressively beading on your brow, and stand up to find the other judges staring you down. One of them has their hand out towards you.
"The flask, please."
Sheepishly, you hand it over. Under the circumstances, it seems the most sensible approach - you're not even sure what's in there.
The wreckage of the town hall is largely confined to the auditorium. A few stalls have been misplaced in the panic, but thankfully there's no permanent damage. You take the lead on cleanup duty - it's the least you can do after the chaos which you feel responsible for.
A few days later, you receive word that the Head Judge is doing well. You catch the train to the hospital where she's staying, and grab a bouquet of flowers along the way... as well as a nice cup of tea.
[[...->Biscuit ending]]You look around at the others, and a couple of them stand up to join you. But one stays crouched with the head judge, who isn't in a fit state to go anywhere. In fact, she doesn't appear to be moving much at all.
"Go," she says. A single tear rolls down her cheek, in contrast with her stony expression.
[[Get out of there]]
[[Carry the head judge out with you]]You duck back into the kitchen, and frantically start looking around for somewhere you can hide and wait for all this to blow over. Curiously, you notice a big walk-in fridge, something you never expected to see in Dewsbury Town Hall.
Never mind; it's big, it's sturdy, and it'll withstand a bit of wreckage and noise.
Shutting the door behind you, you now realise how dark fridges can be. And how cold they can be. You didn't bring your big coat, and your flat cap can only do so much.
[[Fumble]]
[[Sit and wait]]Obeying her command, you gather the judges, then look back and give one final, solemn nod.
[[Run for it!]]It's not a difficult decision. You're responsible for the stale biscuit, so you're responsible for saving her life. Nobody has to die today.
You quickly swig some tea from your flask, grab the head judge, and carry her over your shoulders. The powdered wig drops to the ground, but you ignore it. When you're done and she regains consciousness, you're going to tell her that her hair looks great, and that she doesn't need to hide it away any more.
Slowly, slowly, you make your way to the building's exit as it crumbles around you, like a custard cream that's been dunked for slightly too long. The weight is a lot to bear, but you can do it. The power of tea compels you.
Plus, the head judge still owes you 20p, and you just can't let that sort of thing slide.
It's getting closer and closer. Chunks of masonry and rebar cascade around you, and sweat drips profusely from your brow just as the plumbing leaks out onto the floor.
You're just a few steps from the exit when you suddenly black out.
[[...]]It's dark. Very dark. And your head hurts.
Did you get beaned on the bonce with a brick? Did you slip and smash your head through a chair?
[[...->Wake up]]It takes some time for you to come round. The sky is noticeably darker than when you last saw it. A cool breeze flutters past your face. Is this heaven?
Your question is quickly answered by someone gently slapping at your face. Vision bleary, you lethargically look around to see the head judge kneeling over you. She smiles, and looks relieved to see you're okay.
This is, you think, the first time you've seen her smile. She's a rather stoic lady.
Eventually, you're able to get to your feet. Someone's wrapped one of those weird foil blankets around you. It's pretty toasty in there. There are blue flashing lights everywhere.
Looking behind you, you're stunned to see that Dewsbury Town Hall has been reduced to a big pile of debris. It looks like nothing has survived. You see firefighters picking their way through, some carrying survivors on their shoulders, others dealing with small pockets of flame which have inevitably erupted as part of the carnage. One is holding a surprisingly intact blue mug, with the words "Batley School of Art" printed upon it; seems like this is the only thing worth salvaging.
All that from a single biscuit.
You're glad to hear from one of them that there were no deaths.
As you study the wreckage and take it all in, you notice that something has made it out in one piece, after all. A single countertop, upon which is a shiny object. You can't make it out at first, but as you approach, you're overjoyed to see a big yellow teapot; behind it, a small basket with packets of sugar and little plastic tubs of milk. It's a miracle.
With your stash of Yorkshire Gold, you're able to achieve one last feat: a round of tea for the survivors.
''You are victorious!''
[[Play again?->Intro]]Once again, you're surprised to catch yourself trying to make a cup of tea all backwards. Making it this way would only make matters worse.
So, one more time...you decide to make a cup of tea, and you make it //the right way.//
//[[Teabag, water, milk, sugar]]//
//[[Milk, teabag, water, sugar]]//
~~[[Sugar, water, milk, teabag->Sugar in first 2]]~~
//[[Teabag]]//I think perhaps I'm not getting through to you particularly well. I've never heard of anybody who would willingly make a cup of tea in this fashion. The options are there to make a more sensible, more enjoyable cuppa, but you're eager to prove me wrong.
I'm not out to get you, I just want you to have a quality tea experience. Here, let's try this one more time.
[[Teabag, water, milk, sugar]]
[[Milk, teabag, water, sugar]]
[[Teabag]]
[[Sugar, water, milk, teabag->Sugar in first 3]]Well, I don't know what you're after here. You want to know what happens when you make your tea in such a fashion? Fine, here you go.
Ahem...
While the kettle's boiling, you throw a spoonful of sugar into your mug. The hot water dissolves it almost immediately, and you add a splash of milk to the mix. Finally, in goes the teabag. Congratulations, you've made some sort of weird slurry.
Are you proud of what you've achieved? Is this what you wanted? Help me out here, because I'm stumped.
[[Drink it]]
[[Pour it away]]//sigh...//Okay, you want to go through with this? Fine.
Ahem.
Bottoms up! Forget the Tea Convention, you want to experience this fine cup of slurry yourself. Better try it first, just in case, right?
...well, you slurp down the tea, the teabag gets caught in your throat, and you choke to death. You monster.
''Congratulations, you are not victorious.''
[[Play again?->Intro]]Oh, good! You've realised the error of your ways - what fortune!
Now, how about we try this again...?
[[Head into the kitchen]]What a waste of a return ticket, you think to yourself as you hop on the train. You've spent all of half an hour in the glorious town of Dewsbury, and nothing to show for it!
As you step off the train and start to head home, you decide that you're going to do //something// while you're out and about. You wanted a cuppa, after all!
On the way home, you pass by a small café. You haven't been to this one before, but it looks welcoming and friendly.
Inside, it's a bit pokey. Most of the tables are full, but in the corner, you spot a little round table. It's slightly wobbly. With a swell of minor excitement, you approach the counter.
"One pot of tea, please."
''You are victorious!''
[[Play again?->Intro]]
(set: $inv to $inv - (a: "used train ticket"))You make a quick detour into the Forget Me Not shop just down the road. Admittedly, there isn't usually much of interest in here, but it's nice to pop in once in a while - you never know what you'll find!
Browsing past the slightly whiffy racks full of clothing nobody in their right mind would wear, and the fifty jigsaw puzzles depicting cats and jelly beans and other such frivolities - invariably each with at least one piece missing - you spot an interesting item.
It's a flamingo mug! The elongated neck of the bird serves as the mug's handle, with the head poking out over the top. It even stands on one skinny leg - you wonder how that's managed to survive all this time.
Then you remember. Wasn't the door attendant wearing a flamingo tie? Could this be your ticket into the tea convention??
[[Buy the mug]]
[[Bribery is wrong - just go home->Head to the train station]]Ten minutes later, and fifty pence shorter, you're now the proud owner of a flamingo mug. It doesn't look like it's even been used!
Confidently, you stroll on back to Dewsbury Town Hall, and are once again greeted by the attendant at the top of the stairs.
"You again? I told you, we can't let just anyone in here. I'm afraid I'll have to turn you away."
[[Proffer the flamingo mug]]
[[You're right - I should just go home->Head to the train station]]
(set: $inv to $inv + (a: "flamingo mug"))You reach into the little Heron Foods carrier bag, which looks like it's been in circulation since the early 90s, and produce an item wrapped in many layers of colourful crêpe paper. The attendant looks puzzled as you hand it over.
"...oh...my goodness!" The flamingo mug is revealed, in all its pink, distorted, fragile glory.
"I LOVE IT!! ...er, I mean, this ID checks out...you can go on through." The attendant winks at you, and looks very pleased about the mug.
[[Head inside->Actually, I'm here to compete.]]
(set: $inv to $inv - (a: "flamingo mug"))What a waste of a return ticket, you think to yourself as you hop on the train. You've spent all of half an hour in the glorious town of Dewsbury, and nothing to show for it!
As you stare out the window, gazing at the unkempt grassy banks and the piles of litter which adorn them, you're taken by surprise by the conductor.
"Tickets please!"
You reach into your back pocket. No ticket. You do a little awkward chuckle, but inside your heart has just dropped to your feet. You search your other back pocket in vain. Both your front pockets, too, are devoid of a train ticket.
Because it's still in tatters on the floor outside Dewsbury town hall. Dang.
The conductor gives you a withering stare...and then promptly grabs you by the lapels and drags you towards one of the exits.
You try to stammer a response, but before you know it, you've been...//escorted// off the train. You roll to a stop on a grassy bank, narrowly avoiding a pile of litter.
Winded, bruised, slightly grazed, and feeling a bit put out, you reflect that today could've gone a little better.
Especially since, as you realise with horror, your bag is still on the train.
With your flask. And your Yorkshire Gold. And your //spoon!!// You have no chance of catching up to it now...but what if...?
[[Run after the train!]]
(set: $inv to $inv - (a: "box of Yorkshire Gold"))
(set: $inv to $inv - (a: "flask of tea"))
(set: $inv to $inv - (a: "teaspoon"))This is tea: the genesis of all being.
You're here, at the start and end.
It's all familiar, and it's yours.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the blinding white environment has begun to turn to a pleasing tan; the colour of your tea.
The fizzy milk was your test, but the real test demonstrated beyond a doubt that a nice cup of tea is imprinted on the collective consciousness of humankind.
As you sit there, sipping your tea, you hear a faint voice echoing. Is it real? What's real any more? Your past feels irrelevant, like it happened to someone else. This is the only reality that matters now.
"I'm so happy you could find the answer. It seems you are a suitable judge after all."
A deep contentment washes over you.
''You are victorious!''
[[Maybe you'll get a less pretentious ending next time?->Intro]]You try to run, but the debris is just too much, and you end up tripping about all over the place.
It's a serious slog, but after pushing past a few broken-down stalls and nearly getting caught up in a shoddily-printed banner, you're almost at the door. Freedom awaits! The other judges have already made it out; one of them has the door held open for you, and is frantically beckoning you.
And then a brick falls and hits you square on the noggin, knocking you out cold.
There's no time for the judge to retrive you before you're flattened by the cascade that once was Dewsbury Town Hall.
The moral of the story: fossilised food is bad news.
''You are decidedly unvictorious.''
[[Play again?->Intro]]Trying to dodge this would be risky at best...
Granted, trying to hit it is risky, too, but you figure you're doomed either way. Why not make your doom a little more enjoyable?
Sliding faster and faster, you sail over what you think is the cliff edge.
You go flying...
...and while you're airborne, you decide to have a little fun.
[[Do a somersault!]]
[[Do a backflip!]]
[[Make a cuppa!]]Oh no! Your understanding of basic geology turns out to be shockingly inadequate, and it's cliff edge all the way round. You attempt to swerve to a stop, but your rear end catches a big rock and sends you flying.
As you roll helplessly, and remarkably quickly, towards the cliff edge, you reflect on the direction this day has taken. What was it all about?
All you wanted was a cuppa.
''You aren't victorious.''
[[Play again?->Intro]]All your primary school gymnastics training has led to this. There was never a snow-covered mountain at school, of course, but that's not going to stop you now. You're gonna use this knowledge if it's the last thing you do!
...which it may well be!
You tuck your legs in and allow yourself to roll forwards a few times, before exuberantly stretching your limbs out and laughing out loud. You're glad that in your final moments, you managed to do something so exhilirating. Your only regret is that you won't get to do it again.
[[Freefall->Land]]You're not really sure how to do this, but by manipulating your arms in the right way (i.e. flailing around and hoping for the best), you're able to successfully flip yourself around backwards. It may not have been the most graceful thing; but with no preparation, no training, and your undies full of snow, you're still proud of what you've accomplished.
You're happy to know that in your final moments, you managed to learn something new; and that's worth celebrating!
[[Close your eyes->Land]]You've seen plenty of cartoons where someone goes off a diving board, spins around a bit, and somehow has enough time to make themselves a nice cup of tea during their descent. Now it's your turn!
Reaching for your bag, you grab your flask. It's really cold on the outside, but unscrewing the lid, you're glad to see that the tea is still piping hot.
Time seems to stop as you pour yourself a drink. You take solace in the fact that your final worldly action was to have a cup of tea - it seems the most fitting way to go. You're not sure you could have foreseen the whole sliding-down-a-mountain bit, but really, you have no complaints.
[[Finish your tea->Land]]''WHUMP!''
As you begin to resign yourself to your inevitable fate, you're surprised to find you've landed! Not only that, but you seem to have stopped sliding.
A sense of relief washes over you...followed by a mild annoyance at the fact that you just did all that and nobody was around to see it. You're deeply, bitterly disappointed. And bloody freezing.
...hmm. Is it your imagination, or can you hear something? You slowly raise your head, but you can't see a great deal. You're covered in snow, after all. But you can definitely hear something!
Pushing yourself off the ground, you shake yourself off. Vaguely, blearily, you can maybe see something? Trees in the distance? And something tall.
Wait...it's a little house! Surrounded by trees! And something tall!
And the thing you heard was the crunchy footsteps of a huge man with a huge beard. He looks like the sort of person who wrestles bears and tosses cabers, maybe even at the same time. He's wearing a fabulous orange snowsuit, a ushanka, and a pair of //very// reflective sunglasses. And he's...clapping?
[[Wait and see]]
[[Confront the man]]"What a display!" laughs the man. He has a loud voice: probably loud enough to fill a concert hall with just a whisper. You find it oddly irritating.
"Well, I should think you need a little break after all that! Come, take some rest." He extends an arm, the breadth of a tree trunk, towards you.
You hesitate, but you realise that you're still very cold - and you could use a nice sit down. Begrudgingly, you follow the man inside the little house.
As you approach, you notice that the tall thing is actually a radio tower!
Moments later, you find yourself on a soft couch, wrapped in a soft blanket, with your feet propped up on a soft buffet.
You pour two cuppas from your flask, and offer one to the man. Graciously, he takes it, looking pleased with the result.
"You're in luck, friend." Somehow, his voice seems quieter indoors - perhaps it's been dampened by the various furs, rugs, and other furnishings which adorn the house. "I'm just about to head out and pick up some bits and pieces. I can drop you off in town!"
Graciously, you accept the offer. You wonder how you're going to get down the mountain; a question that's answered very shortly after you step outside, and behold a bright red skidoo.
"You didn't think I'd make you slide down on your arse, now did you?" chuckles the man. You roll your eyes as you climb aboard.
[[...->Snow town ending]]You're less than pleased with this treatment. You've not gone through all that you have just so some guy with more muscles than sense can have a laugh at you.
Rising to your feet, you shout obscenities at the man. You make it as clear as possible that you're not happy, and maybe you go a little over-the-top. But you're freezing and you've only got your flat cap - not even your big coat! - plus, you're a little hangry. It's not a good mix.
The man slowly stops applauding. His expression is unreadable as you approach him, realising as you get closer that he really is //huge//. Hoo boy.
[[Attempt to hit him]]
[[Reconsider]]Without thinking, you ball up your fist and launch it at the man's stomach - you can't really reach any higher up, so this will have to do.
It feels like you've just punched a brick wall, but for some reason, you instinctively throw another one. And another. Any other man and there'd be nothing left of him, but this guy just looks down at you, stoically.
He waits until you tire yourself out; then he picks you up like a kitten, swings you around like a hammer, and throws you into orbit.
You spend the rest of your days floating meaninglessly around the planet...but hey, at least you still have your tea.
''You are not victorious.''
[[Play again?->Intro]]You're stood in front of him. He's looking down at you, and you up at him. Now you're closer, you're taken aback by just how luscious his beard really is. It's a light brown colour, and it's long enough that he's able to braid it. The design is incredible.
Instinctively, you put your hands on it. It's soft, like the fur of a Maine Coon. This man takes his grooming seriously.
Then you come to your senses, and quickly put your hands behind your back. Studying a little speck in the snow, you mutter an apology...
...and feel a big, warm pair of arms wrap themselves around you.
Moments later, you're being carried back towards the little house. Turns out the tall thing is a radio tower, you notice as you approach. It's the last thing you see before you drift off - it's been a heck of a day, and it's caught up to you.
You wake up in a huge, warm bed. It's definitely bigger than a king size, and the duvet cover appears to be handmade. It's soft, like teddy fleece. There's a hot chocolate on a little bedside table next to you, and a plate of speculoos biscuits alongside.
Then you hear a slight noise. The muscular bearded man has poked his head around the door, asking if you're okay.
[[Answer]]It's another cold winter. You've seen worse during your time here, but the temperature always drops suddenly, and it's always a shock even when you're prepared for it.
Someone's got to get some more firewood, though, and now there's only you left to get it.
You think back to a few decades ago. Life was good, and you were together. That little house contained everything you needed. It still does, for the most part.
It's okay. You had a good time - a wonderful time - and you don't regret any of it. Your chance encounter blossomed into something beautiful. All good things come to an end, but you feel lucky that you were able to experience it at all.
After hauling your bag of firewood back to the house, you light a nice fire and slump in your favourite armchair. He made it for you, long ago. It still carries his scent. In return, you made him a cup of tea.
You do the same now; and as you sit, sipping your beverage, you reflect on a life well lived.
''You are victorious!''
[[Play again?->Intro]]Enough is enough. You're not going to spend the rest of your day locked in a stupid fridge. It's bloody cold, for one thing!
You consider the door. It's probably quite thick, fairly tough...but it's also situated in Dewsbury Town Hall, so you can't imagine it's made of the best possible materials.
[[Fling your foot at the door]]
[[Take a run-up first]](text-style:"rumble")[''CRASH!'']
You shatter the door with your magnificent foot. Or maybe you just shattered your foot. In any case, light comes pouring in, and you notice the remains of the fridge door in front of you, complete with a gruesome display of assorted - slightly wilted - vegetables. Yuck!
You've no idea what happened to the thing you were hiding from in the first place. It's entirely possible that your recent (and rather barbaric) display of strength was enough to scare it off, whatever it was. In any case, the kitchen's now as empty as the rest of the Town Hall.
What could it mean?
[[Go upstairs, maybe you'll find someone->Go upstairs]]
[[Go home, you've obviously got the wrong day->Go back outside]]
[[Stay here->Head into the kitchen]]This is a pretty heavy door, and you don't fancy your chances are getting it open without some serious force behind you. Fortunately, the walk-in fridge is big enough that you can get a decent run-up, which will hopefully be enough.
You begin to step back from the door. It's still too dark to see, and you trip over one or two cans in the process; perhaps it wasn't the wisest move to walk backwards in this circumstance.
Finally, you come to a stop with your back against the... er, shelves. You feel around to ensure that you can't go back any further, and your hand comes to rest on what feels like a half-full Tetra Pak.
It feels like it's stuck, which is a bit odd. Out of minor curiosity, you pull on it, and manage to get it to move a little bit.
Moments later, you feel the floor beneath you moving. Before you have time to react, it's completely given way and you find yourself sliding down a long tunnel! It's still extremely dark, and you're concerned you've got yourself in a spot of trouble here.
After sliding for what feels like several minutes, which was far too long and the designers need to think about the user journey a little more for next time, you emerge and crash-land on a stone floor. Thankfully, aside from a bruised bottom and a slightly dented flask, you're pretty much okay.
As you reposition your flat cap on your head, you take in the surroundings. You find yourself in a huge chamber, lit with evenly-spaced wall sconces higher than you can reach. From either side, you're looked down upon by a giant green parrot statue. There's a heavy green theme in the whole chamber, in fact, with marbled jade pillars breaking up the otherwise very grey stone decor. You're also surprised to find you're standing on a green floral-print rug.
Towards the far end of the room, you can make out an arched wooden bridge, and the sounds of running water echo alongside the crackling flames. Is there an underground river?
[[Head towards the bridge]]
[[Look for an exit]]It's too late. By the time you've picked up yourself, your ego, and your wits, the train's last carriage is waving a hearty goodbye from the horizon.
The only way back home now is your own two feet. Slowly, despondently, and tealessly, you begin the long trek back.
That was a //good// spoon.
''You are incredibly unvictorious!''
[[Play again?->Intro]]Tourists came from far and wide to view the legendary Dewsbury Canyon. Nobody's quite sure where it came from: tectonic activity wasn't high enough in the region for this to happen naturally, but it was simply too vast to have been manmade.
One thing's for sure, though - the town had never been so prosperous as it was following the formation of the Canyon. Certainly, it had been difficult at the start. The cracked seam of earth had torn through the town centre, even going as far as Earlsheaton and almost hitting Ravensthorpe. But a new trade had sprung up amongst the ashes, a cottage industry based entirely on this stunning new geographical feature.
Unfortunately, the once-legendary Tea Convention had to move their operation to Batley, and it was never quite the same.
''You are victorious, and yet?''
[[Play again?->Intro]]It turns out, fizzy milk is such a powerful substance that the mind cannot possibly comprehend it; so in an effort to stay sane, it simply has to drop everything. There's no time for things like repression in a dire situation such as this. Everything has to go. The memory of the taste, smell, the sensations associated with fizzy milk cannot be permitted to remain in a human mind in any capacity.
Now, the concept of a good cuppa is so deeply ingrained in the human psyche that fizzy milk can't touch it. But if you don't know what a "cuppa" is, well, you're out of luck. And if you happen to think a "cuppa" is a mug of fizzy milk, you're //really// out of luck.
Unfortunately, not long after the events of the tea convention, fizzy milk started to spread. The other judges made "cuppas" for their friends and relatives. It was the only cuppa they knew, after all. And soon, it was the only cuppa their immediate circles knew. Shortly after that, their less immediate circles.
It took less than 24 hours for England to forget what a cuppa was. It took just over 72 hours for Europe to forget. The rest of the world followed not long after. Humanity no longer had memory, and it's all because of fizzy milk.
And...it wasn't all that bad, actually.
''You are...victorious. I think. Maybe.''
[[Play again?->Intro]]It takes about 20 minutes to get down the mountain.
The town is a colourful and lively place. It's still very snowy, but there are a few roads and lots more activity. Bunting hangs wildly over the streets, and you realise it's market day, with all the bustle that entails.
You're not entirely sure where you are, exactly. You've never seen a town like this. One thing's for sure - it looks (and smells) much more pleasant than grubby ol' Dewsbury.
It took a some time and no small degree of effort, but you've finally managed to establish your very own Tea Convention in the local town hall. It's not quite as big as you're used to, but that's okay. People come from far and wide, and seldom dress properly for the weather.
A few years later, you decide to take a step back from running the convention. One of the younger members of the team has presented some fresh ideas, and you've decided to relinquish the helm while remaining in an advisory position. It works out great, and the Convention climbs to new heights of tea celebration.
One day, a long time later, you're taking a stroll through the park; and you happen upon a familiar face. You haven't seen the loud, bearded man since that fateful day on the mountain, and aside from his now-white hair, he looks virtually the same.
You take a seat on the bench next to him, and after a brief reminisce about old times, you spend the rest of the day just chatting. It's the sort of conversation where you feel like you could change the world. You spend most of it laughing with each other.
Sometimes you think back to hazy memories of Dewsbury. What's it like now? Is the tea convention still going? Perhaps it would be a good idea to write to the Head Judge and invite her to your town. You make a mental note to grab some postcards on your way back home.
Taking a seat in a nearby café, you order a pot of tea for two. A balloon flies overhead, and on it is printed the legend: "Tea Convention This Weekend".
''You are victorious!''
[[Play again?->Intro]]Having stacked various items to reach a window - a disused convention stall, a folding table that looks like it's been in constant use since 2003, and a wooden crate with the words 'Ossett Brewery' stamped on the side in big red letters - you can see sunny Dewsbury in all its glory.
Salvation is at hand as you break the window open with the butt end of your flask (necessity calls) and snake your way through.
You fall quite a significant distance, and land... on a carpeted floor. With a grime-and-magnolia wall and a door in front of you. Through which you step to see the convention hall. At the other end, another doorway, where you see your haphazard climbing frame and the window you just smashed.
It seems that you've gained nothing except a few splinters and a bruised bottom.
[[Try again]]
[[Go upstairs]]Heckmondwike Cemetery, mid-Autumn, 15:39. Weather: inclement.
A group of people, largely from the Tea Intelligence Taskforce, gather around a plain, freshly-planted grave.
One man, a balding individual with the rank of detective chief inspector, mutters a few platitudes.
"You were a good detective. Damn near the best I ever worked with. It's such a shame this is how it had to end."
He gently places a badge on the grave, alongside a heavily-used coffee mug, which may at one time have been coloured white. Emblazoned on its outer perimeter is the legend //I'm a Detective, Not a Magician.//
"Never forget your roots, old friend."
''Every victory has a taste that's bittersweet.''
[[Play again?->Intro]]Crime doesn't pay. Neither does tea, especially where the Tea Convention is involved.
Its obscene and underhanded misdeeds have given a bad name to a good cuppa for years, so much so that your division has sworn off tea altogether until the Convention is stamped out for good.
You take a quick swig from your flask of coffee as you enter your little office. Sprawled on your desk, a map of Dewsbury Town Hall filled with question marks. Who, where, what? Most importantly, how?
All you know is, it's going to take a lot more than a forged ID card and a pretty face. Next time, you'll be prepared.
And the world of tea will never be the same again, if you have anything to do with it.
''You are... er, on your way to being victorious!''
[[Play again?->Intro]]The Head Judge has always been a woman of few words, but she normally has at least one to spare for you. You decide you're going to try and find her, and have a little chat and a catch up before the ceremony begins.
Eventually, you come across a locked door. Behind it, you can hear... what sounds like... laughing? Could this be problematic?
[[Knock]]
[[Leave her to it]]The clock on the wall indicates that you have a scant few minutes before judging time commences. This part's always so exciting!
"Head Judge'll be dahn in a sec," explains one of the other judges, "she were just sayin' as yer cem in, she'd forgotten 'er teaspoon in t' stower-room." You nod understanding, despite his broad South Yorkshire accent. Together, you trot downstairs and make your way to the auditorium.
On the stage stands the judging table; a grand piece of mahogany they wheeled out for special occasions only. A white cloth had been placed diagonally over it, such that the tasteful gold trim was still visible at each of the table's corners. There were little nameplates for each of the five judges, alongside a fresh Tea Convention coaster, a saucer, and a small plate of chocolate digestives - manufactured to strict regulations.
You take your seat in the second chair from the left, and place your teaspoon delicately next to your saucer.
Moments later, the Head Judge strides in, and the panel is complete.
(if:$inv contains "custard creams")[[[Have a cheeky custard cream->Have a cheeky custard cream]]
][[Wait for the guests to arrive]]Knock knock! The lights are on, but nobody's home. Perhaps the Head Judge doesn't want to be disturbed - after all, there's a lot of mental preparation that goes into this event!
[[Leave her to it]]Maybe she's just remembered a funny story. Maybe she's watching Bill Bailey clips on YouTube. Whatever the case, it's none of your business - she'll undoubtedly be on time for the judging!
As you head downstairs, you begin to notice something. Your shoes are a little wet! Is there a leak? You look down to find the stair-runners are imbued with moisture. Something to report to the council, you think, as you dutifully continue to head downstairs.
One of the other judges emerges from downstairs, and they see you approaching. Their face slowly turns from one of pleasant surprise, to puzzlement, to perturbation. Taking the hint, you turn your head and look upstairs...
...to see that there //is// a leak. A really, really big one. Fluid of some description is dripping down the stairs, and absolutely soaking the carpet. The cleaners are going to have a field day with this one. Taking a closer look, you find the liquid is warm to the touch, and has a distinct sienna colour to it.
[[Investigate]]
[[Hoof it]]It doesn't take long before the swell of guests pours in from the main convention hall. The rows and rows of seats in front of you fill up quicker than a teapot at any one of your famous afternoon tea parties, and as you scan the room, you spot a few familiar faces.
The front row is reserved for competitors. Some nervous, some confident, some nervously confident, and most carrying the industry standard Cuppabasket tea transportation system. These people are prepared, and among them, a winner.
As the last of the guests trickle in, the Head Judge stands up. The whole room is under her command as she introduces the show, the panel, and the rules.
"The competitors," she states, her hands tucked behind her cloak like a 70s schoolmaster, "will each prepare and present their tea creations to us. Five equal portions will be served, which will be rated independently by the panel."
The competition was a simple one, but the prizes - which included a tour of the Taylor's factory in Harrogate, a lifetime supply of Clipper Snore and Peace, and a fortnight in the famous Yangshuo Leisure Tea Lodge - were unmissable. It was any tea fan's dream to even compete, let alone place.
"Let the competition begin!" cries the Head Judge, and amongst the uproarious applause, the first competitor makes their way to the stage.
[[Let's go!]]You figure you have a bit of time before the convention's many guests start pouring in for the main event. You have a pack of custard creams and you're feeling a bit snacky!
You pop a biscuit in. And another. It's not long before you've demolished half the packet, leaving crumbs all over your section of the table.
Then you realise... perhaps it'd be nice to offer the remainder to the other judges. You start on your left, but are met with a visage of pure horror - as if you'd just murdered someone and were eating //their// custard creams instead. The same happens when you look to your right, only threefold.
Then you glance out in front of you, to see a packed auditorium. The people down there have just watched you messily devour your biscuits like some sort of grotty hobgoblin.
A few minutes and a minor tousle later, you find yourself face down on the soggy cobblestones outside Dewsbury Town Hall. The door attendant shakes their head and tuts.
"How could you be so careless? Don't you know that it's against Convention code for a judge to eat non-regulation biscuits??"
You have no arguments, only your dignity and half a pack of custard creams.
[[Go home->Head to the train station]]
[[Go into town->Walk away]]Berry Smythe, the first competitor to present her tea, is a fairly ordinary woman. She runs a small but popular tearoom in rural Norwich; so goes her short introductory speech.
For your delectation, she has prepared her own house blend of raspberry tea. From her teapot, adorned with a green floral design, she decants a cuppa for you and each of your fellow judges.
The initial hit of raspberry gives way to a crisp mint, with a hint of honey and blackcurrant. It's a strong opener, and a refreshing one, too.
[[Next!->Competitor 2]]Florentino Weast, a bronze, rugged gentleman, steps up onto the stage. He introduces himself with a little song in his native Spanish, which is unusual, but the crowd seems to like it. Your knowledge of Spanish is, unfortunately, not strong enough to divine anything useful from this - all you're able to gather is that he likes cake.
He's brought a very utilitarian teapot made of copper, and he pours you what looks like an extremely strong black tea. So strong, in fact, that it's //literally// black - under other circumstances, you might mistake it for coffee.
Before you tuck in, he offers to add a little milk, which you graciously accept. It changes the colour from black to slightly less black.
But what a flavour! It knocks your socks off, almost literally, with its strength. It makes you feel like you could finally finish building that shed you've been putting off for so long. Powerful stuff.
[[Next!->Competitor 3]]Jenice Brothern is a meek individual. She makes tea at the church's coffee morning - a statement which gives you flashbacks - and sometimes helps out at the childrens' centre, putting on an allegedly excellent afternoon tea. You make a note to try and visit at the earliest possible convenience.
The tea is on the weaker side as she fills your teacup, but it's acceptable. She's got potential, but she might not be quite there yet. Instinctively, you dunk a regulation digestive, which doesn't break - a mark in her favour.
[[Next!->End of competition]]It's a tight one. The cups of tea you've witnessed today have each been serious contenders; few other conventions have borne such exciting competition.
But now comes the time to make a decision. Which of these brave champions deserves your vote?
[[Berry Smythe]]
[[Florentino Weast]]
[[Jenice Brothern]]The raspberry tea was the real winner in your eyes. Anyone can make a standard, beige Cup Of Tea, but to masterfully blend such an array of flavours takes a true tea-making hero. The other judges are in agreement as you compare your notes.
You and the other judges stand in a line to each greet the victor, with the Head Judge at the end to present her with an exclusive Tea Convention certificate.
"Our winner today is Berry Smythe!" she proudly proclaims. The applause is thunderous as Berry leaps out of her seat - surprising for such an old lady - and makes her way to the stage.
She slowly makes her way down the line, smiling and shaking hands with each judge. When she gets to you, she subtly slips you a card.
"I've seen you around here before, flower. You want a good cuppa? Try the Pensive Parakeet - you'll see things that this two-bit convention wouldn't even dare to dream of."
She winks at you before moving on, and you're left a little flabbergasted... and intrigued. You make a mental note to visit this unknown, but oddly familiar-sounding venue.
(set: $inv to $inv + (a: "business card"))
[[That's all, folks]]That super-strong drink was exactly the sort of fresh thinking the Convention so desperately needed. Tea didn't have to be just for pleasure - Florentino had proven that a good cuppa can have some utility, too!
His Mediterranean charm certainly didn't hurt, either.
The other judges are largely in agreement, and Florentino takes home the grand prize to rapturous applause! In a final flourish, he produces a red rose out of nowhere and tosses it into the crowd.
[[That's all, folks]]It's a tough call, but you thought Jenice showed some promise. Looking out for the little guys, well, it's important to you! As such, you decide that she gets your vote, in the hope that she uses it as leverage for bigger and better things.
While the votes aren't all in her favour, it's enough for her to clinch the win.
[[That's all, folks]]And thus ends another successful Tea Convention. What a glorious show! You hope to see the other competitors again next year.
As the guests start to filter out, you reflect on how the convention's gone. You had a good time, for sure. But you can't help but wonder what might have been going on elsewhere in the world of tea. It's funny to think that the world keeps going, even during an event which is the absolute centre of your world.
Either way, it seems to you that everyone here has had an excellent time.
As you head back home, you pop into your favourite café and enjoy a nice cup of tea among friends.
''You are victorious!''
[[Play again?->Intro]]You decide that your presence isn't improving matters, and decide to leg it.
As you escape the confines of the town hall, you see that the sky has turned an ominous leaden colour, with occasional flashes of green lightning. It's like nothing you've ever seen. You can still feel the ripples beneath you, which although small, have already had an alarming effect on Dewsbury town centre. It looks even more run-down than it did before.
The glass frontage of the nearby Customer Service Centre has completely shattered. Across the road, patrons stream from the casino and the mini market. Ladbrokes continues to operate as if nothing's happening, while the shingles fall like giant square hailstones from the roof.
The paving stones on the ground have been completely shaken loose, and the road signs are largely horizontal. You can even see one or two flipped cars, with the rest getting some serious air time as their drivers desperately attempt to flee Dewsbury - more so than usual, anyway.
As the ripples continue, you don't see that there's anywhere safe to go; at least, nowhere on the surface. The town hall slowly shakes itself to desolution as the last of the guests evacuate. It's hopeless, yet morbid curiosity forces you to stay and watch.
After several minutes of jumping over these strange ground ripples, you hear the sound of a helicopter behind you. Seems like someone was sensible enough to follow the ripples to their source. You turn to see - as you surmised - a red Yorkshire Air Ambulance helicopter. A much larger vehicle, the sort of thing you'd see in a film about Vietnam, passes overhead carrying a huge glass tank of tea.
You climb aboard the helicopter, and the last thing you see before the door shuts is the town hall being reduced to rubble.
[[...->Backwards cuppa ending]]Life is relatively peaceful here in the sky.
Out of necessity, the world's science poured its efforts into figuring out the source of, and the cure for, the ripples caused by the Backwards Cuppa. You offered what knowledge you could, but ultimately, it's a bit of a lost cause.
So, instead, they switched focus to ways of living with the ripples. For now, they haven't grown any stronger, but they're still big and regular enough that they've completely disrupted the entire planet.
One method was to try and live under the sea. Several startups grew around this cottage industry, and to this day, there are whole societies living //below// the ripples, which are confined to the planet's surface.
Another school of thought focussed on building islands in the sky. They naturally required a lot more power, but it was discovered that the planet now had a constant source of kinetic energy; the breakthrough that led to harvesting this solved the world's many energy crises overnight. Eventually, it was possible to create small sky islands, with populations roughly equal to that of Dewsbury-that-was.
So, while the ripples took with them humanity's past; in a way, they also contributed to humanity's future. You've even heard on the news that the Mars colony could happen by this time next year.
Despite this gloriously solarpunk outcome, there is one major downside; a painful, but necessary, precaution under the circumstances:
Tea is banned. Forever.
''You, however, are victorious!''
[[Play again?->Intro]]Dr. Lofthouse sits at his desk on yet another Monday morning. He's an early starter, and usually gets to the lab before anyone else; sipping his coffee, he attempts once again to tackle the problem of the mysterious flask.
On a molecular level, it's identical to your average cup of tea. Every type of analysis from every angle reveals the same result: it's tea. So, what on Earth could have caused such a reaction?
He thumbs through the files, trying to find if he's missed something, but nothing's forthcoming. He anxiously runs his fingers against the ribbed texture of the coffee cup. He drums his fingers on the desk, and his deep, wrinkled brain works ever faster as the liquid does its work. But the answers remain locked away.
He takes a little walk around the building. Hits the vending machine. Says hello to the receptionist who's just showed up. Calls one of the scientists from another department, who he'd like to ask on a date but hasn't mustered up the courage just yet. Gazes wistfully out the canteen window, and finishes his coffee.
Just as he's about to discard the empty cup... he has a realisation.
They've never checked the //flask//.
He darts back to his lab just as some of his coworkers have begun to file in. They ask what the commotion is, and he explains in extremely short bursts.
A few minutes later, they've settled on a hypothesis. Checking the case files, all his theories match up. Then, he uncovers a horrifying possibility. Removing his glasses, he utters a simple statement.
"...they used a //chocolate hobnob//."
At this moment, the Head Judge sits up and takes her first sip of tea in a long time.
''You are victorious...?''
[[Play again?->Intro]]You climb up, out the window, jump through, and end up in exactly the same spot. The only thing you've achieved is additional confusion.(if:visits >= 2)[
You attempt to climb out a different way, to see if that makes a difference. It doesn't.](if:visits >= 5)[
Might as well try going out head-first, you think as you go out head-first. You now have a sore head.](if:visits >= 15)[
In desperation, you try calling out. But there's nobody outside, either! Are you the last person left on Earth?]
[[Try again]]
[[Go upstairs]]There isn't actually a massive deal to explain, but the shopkeeper offers to sit with you for a bit - not like she's got any other customers to serve, after all. Happily, she brings over a fresh pot of tea and a couple of teacups. A far cry from the expected paper cups. It smells great.
You //are// one of the judges, of course; but during your tenure, you've noticed the Convention becoming more and more strict and exclusive. Teas which would have bowled over the panel only a couple of years ago now aren't even given the time of day. The experimental, almost indie nature of the show has been lost in favour of the same ol' bland cuppas and cardboard biscuits again and again.
It stinks of insular rot, and you don't want to be a part of it any more.
The proprietor is very understanding, and is happy to tell you that the scene is still alive and kicking. She is part of a fun tea club, which meets up every couple of weeks at the Pensive Parakeet and holds a much more exciting - if smaller in scale - get-together all about tea.
It's not really publicised due, mostly, to the Tea Convention; but their members are keen to fight back against their draconian ways. While she's talking, you spot an old man bringing out a fresh batch of scones. He winks at you as he drops a couple off at your table.
Looks like you've finished your tea. The proprietor smiles at you. "I suppose you'll be off, then?"
You consider this... but realise that you haven't really got anywhere else to be. You'd planned to be back home by teatime, but there are still hours left in the day... and the tearoom has a few board games, too.
The rest of your day is spent with good cheer, new friends, and tea - and you ended up having a much better day than if you'd gone to the convention. When you get home, you make a note in your diary for the next meetup at the Pensive Parakeet.
''You are victorious!''
[[Play again?->Intro]]You're feeling a bit too dejected after being turned away from the Convention, and you're in no mood to discuss it. Right now, you just want a nice sit down and a cuppa.
Thankfully, the woman behind the counter is very understanding, and even gives you a pot of tea on the house. How kind!
You're about halfway through your tea, and having a thoughtful and well-spirited debate about biscuits with the proprietor, when the door slams open.
It's the Head Judge, one of the few people in the world with enough self-confidence to stride through Dewsbury town centre in a cloak and a powdered wig.
"There you are," she states, matter-of-factly, in her powerful voice. You sense that she's in a foul mood; then again, she never seems to be in a //good// one.
"I understand you forgot your ID card. I will see to it that you're admitted. The panel convenes in ten minutes. Don't be late."
She stands there, waiting.
[[Go with her]]
[[Refuse]]Finally! You're eager to get to judging - the whole reason you came to Dewsbury in the first place. You make a quick mental note to remember your ID card next year, and you pop a few coins in the tip jar before you go.
As you're leaving, you turn back and notice that Jasmine looks... more than a little perturbed. But that must be just because there's nobody else in the shop, right?
You're taken through a back entrance to the Town Hall, and up a flight of stairs. The other judges are waiting for you in a little side room, and look equal parts relieved and annoyed at your untimely arrival.
The Head Judge, having swiftly escorted you here, just as swiftly whisks herself away. At this moment, you notice your special Tea Convention black-and-red cloak lying neatly on a bureau at the back of the room.
You hastily throw it on, noting its quality stitching and the regal effect it has on your person. Thoughts of a rich, milky brew fill your head, blotting out everything else.
[[Prepare to judge->Go back downstairs]]It's too little, too late. You've made your decision, and the Tea Convention can stuff it as far as you're concerned.
The Head Judge notes your concerns, then speaks once again.
"You're on the panel. The panel convenes in ten minutes. The Convention... //awaits// you," she says in a tone which is somehow much more convincing.
Just as you're about to get up, though, the tea shop owner speaks up.
"Stop right there. I don't care who you are; you're not coming in here and throwing your weight around like that!"
What's going on? You're no closer to understanding when, for the first time in the thirteen years you've known her, the Head Judge has the tiniest mention of a smirk on her lips.
"Oh," she utters, "and what is this? Know your station, woman." She starts walking towards you, holding out a hand. "Come along."
[[...go with her...]]Feebly, and feeling slightly like you're not in control of your actions, you get to your feet and approach the Head Judge.
Yes, judging! It's fun! You've been looking forward to it all year.
And yet...
(text-rotate-z:13)[SPLASH!]
Your thought is interrupted by the sound of... what seems to be a tornado. Because there //is// a tornado. A very small one, localised near the shop's counter, and made primarily of peppermint tea. At the epicentre, a very angry-looking shopkeeper.
Whatever she's done, it's knocked the Head Judge clean off her feet, leaving her sprawled on the ground.
"//RUN!//" yells the tea shop owner. She points to a passageway in the wall, which you could've sworn wasn't there previously. You decide, sensibly, to follow her instruction. As you step over the threshold, the wall slides shut behind you. The last thing you see inside the shop is the Head Judge getting to her feet - and you think her eyes were glowing yellow.
You find yourself in a stone corridor. You think. It's very, very dark.
[[Step forwards]]
[[Try to find a light]]Tentatively, you take a step in the direction which, by your best reckoning, is opposite to where the tearoom was.
You place your foot down, but instead of floor, you find... nothing. Instead, you tumble comedically down a flight of stone stairs. Ouch!
You come to rest in front of a large doorway. You can tell it's a large doorway because there's some light on the other side! The flickery nature of the light suggests fire, or alternatively someone's watching a very old and very damaged television. The stone wall is adorned with vines and shubbery, which on closer inspection, are Camellia sinensis - tea leaves! They're growing remarkably well to say they're underground with no natural light.
You step through the doorway, which once again seals shut behind you. What's //with// that??
You find yourself in a huge chamber, lit with evenly-spaced wall sconces higher than you can reach. From either side, you're looked down upon by a giant green parrot statue. There's a heavy green theme in the whole chamber, in fact, with green pillars breaking up the otherwise very grey stone decor. You're also surprised to find you're standing on a green floral-print rug.
Towards the far end of the room, you can make out an arched wooden bridge, and the sounds of running water echo alongside the crackling flames. Is there an underground river?
[[Head towards the bridge]] Frantically, you fumble frivolously on the floor and... er, walls. The ceiling is low enough that you can reach it, but to your displeasure, you find nothing except a series of torches. Not the sort that takes AA batteries, either; and without a source of fire, they're not going to be much use to you.
[[Move on->Step forwards]]
[[Take one anyway]]No harm in picking one up, you suppose. They're pretty big but relatively lightweight for their size, as you carefully draw one of the torches from the wall.
[[Move on->Step forwards]]
(set: $inv to $inv + (a: "unlit torch"))As you walk carefully towards the bridge, you take in more of what's going in the chamber. In fact, most if it is tea-related. You can see several wooden tables, each adorned with neatly-stacked tea sets and surrounded with soft cushions. Against one wall is what looks like an antique apothecary's cabinet; on closer inspection, each drawer is labelled with a different kind of tea; among them Rooibos, Oolong, Earl Grey, and many different varieties of infused green tea.
There is, indeed, water under the bridge - otherwise why would there be a bridge? - and the running water sound you heard comes from a beautiful water feature in the shape of a giant teapot, pouring water into several cups beneath it.
On the other side of the bridge, you can see what appears to be a shrine to tea: an unassuming wooden table, draped with a velveteen cloth, and adorned with teapots, spoons, and a little wooden box.
It's so magical that you don't immediately notice the person knelt in front of the shrine. You can hear them chanting softly.
[[Loudly clear your throat]]
[[Leave them to it]]There are a couple of doorways in the chamber, but they're all sealed shut as far as you can tell.
[[Head towards the bridge]]In an effort to make your presence known, you attempt the subtle approach of forming a guttural sound in your, er, gullet.
Unfortunately, it has the desired effect, and then some. The person, who was but a moment ago calmly kneeling and chanting, leaps into the air and yells an incantation. Before you have time to make out their features, you're violently ejected with a blast that sends you crashing back through the sealed entrance, up the stone stairs, and out into the soggy streets of Dewsbury.
You come to the conclusion that you made a poor decision.
Looks like the windows to the Pensive Parakeet have been shuttered, too; but through the glass door you can see signs of wreckage. There's cake all over the floor!
[[Try to re-enter]]
[[Give it up as a bad job]]This doesn't look like the sort of thing you want to disrupt, so you decide to get out of there. You wouldn't want some stranger walking around in your surprisingly beautiful tea-themed cave with an adorable little bridge, and you assume that the person so fixated on their chanting wouldn't either.
Before you leave, though, you might as well take a moment to enjoy the scenery. It really is lovely. The sound of the water has a certain purity to it, and the atmosphere is cosy, despite the somewhat spartan decor.
As you're drinking it in, you haven't even noticed that the soft chanting behind you has come to a stop. You're brought back to reality by a small cough behind you, and you turn around to behold an old man; small in stature, but with a very mysterious, inscrutable appearance. Despite that, you feel weirdly welcomed.
"Come, friend! I've been expecting you!" The old man beckons you cheerfully, and bids you follow him through a passage you'd somehow missed before.
[[Follow the old guy]]
[[Ask what his deal is]]You try the door. You push against it. You rattle it around. You knock, tap, and rap against it. You give it a good kick. You take a run-up and shoulder-barge it Wario-style. You yell at it. You shout through the keyhole. You attempt to peer in. You scratch at it like a cat. You fart. You belch. You throw your flask at it. You headbutt it. You ask a passing driver to ram their car into it.
Despite all this effort, the door gallantly refuses to budge.
[[Give it up as a bad job]]What a day it's been! Shame you didn't get to find out what the crack was with the tearoom. You've heard so many rumours, after all... perhaps they're only rumours because nobody's been able to stick around long enough?
Dejectedly, you trudge home. Looks like the weather's turned, and you can see bolts of lightning in the distance. It feels heavy and a little bit muggy. Probably a good time to head back home!
As you're waiting for your train, the weather somehow gets even worse. The wind really picks up and you can hear booms of thunder. Look North said it was going to be sunny all day! Darned weather reporters.
You step onto the train just as the first drops of rain begin to fall, and consider that maybe the altercation at the tea room was something to do with it. But never mind all that - nowt to do with you!
You take a swig from your flask, put your headphones on, and make a mental note to pick up a nice pork pie for tea. Overhead, the clouds begin form a gigantic tannin-coloured cyclone.
(And if you think this is a cop-out ending, it sure is!)
''You are victorious, maybe!!''
[[Play again?->Intro]]You remember, alright. Because you were totally there last year.
In fact, you're the reason the town hall is still in one piece.
Since the attendant wasn't there, you politely explain what happened. You tell them of the Head Judge's curious decision to veto that year's competition winner, which was surprising because it was just a little old person who'd made an excellent green tea. The ensuing argument was catastrophic, but it turned out the Head Judge had made the right call - you were on her side the entire time.
Then, to give a little context, you give the attendant a primer on the ancient tea magicks, and the arcane power behind a good cup of tea.
But, before you can relate all this back to the Tea Convention and the events of last year, you surmise by the attendant's facial expression that she's buying none of it.
"Nice try," she smirks, "but it's going to take more than some fairy tale to convince me."
[[Instigate chaos]]
[[Don't bother]]Time to prove yourself.
You request one more chance from the attendant, and bid her take your hand. You lead her out a little bit from the Town Hall and into the courtyard, and having confirmed your surroundings are clear, begin your super convincing display.
Your opening trick is to extrude a bridge of tea, which you're able to ride like a surfboard. Within moments, both you and the wild-eyed attendant are gliding effortlessly over the streets of Dewsbury. You helix around the Town Hall's spire, glide over the Princess of Wales shopping centre, and land on the roof of the combination library and bingo hall (I'm not making that up).
Next, you conjure a tornado of peppermint tea, and ride it up, up, up into the air. You can see everything from the Fox's Biscuits factory to the Wheelwright Building as you climb ever higher. The attendant looks a little alarmed, but it's okay, because your final act is to construct a bubble tea bubble around you, within which you float safely back down to ground level.
You lead the attendant back to her station by the door.
She looks at you incredulously.
Then she promptly vomits all over the floor.
''Never mind, you can still call this a victory!''
[[Play again?->Intro]]It's actually quite insulting that you single-handedly saved the Tea Convention, and have been rewarded with zero recognition. How can they turn you away?
Well, you know where you're not wanted. Politely, you bid the attendant good day and take your leave.
This convention may not need you right now. But somewhere, somehow, there'll be a tea room in need of a hero. A coffee morning in search of a saviour. A garden centre longing for a protector.
Where there's danger to tea, you'll be there. Sometimes, it's a thankless job - but it's what you do.
''You walk the path of victory.''
[[Play again?->Intro]]Your eyes dart around, and land on the first exit they see - a big wooden door.
Which leads directly into the auditorium.
Where everyone is.
The judges, sat at their table up on the stage, look stunned as you make your entrance. The rows of seats either side of you are packed with guests, each with an obvious ID card on display. Curses!
With the attendant behind you and the Head Judge making her way towards you ahead, there's nowhere left to run. In a commanding voice, she seems to speak to the whole room but addresses you in particular.
"You're a fool to come back here." Her silvery-eyed glare pins you in place. "Now we've got you, and you're going away for a //long// time."
Life in the teanitentiary isn't too bad. The tea showers were a little alarming at first, but you're used to them now, especially the nice tan you seem to have achieved using them. Every mealtime, you're served a plate of rich tea biscuits and some weak decaf tea from a see-through teapot. Milk is a luxury, and even then, it's that dastardly UHT stuff.
At Christmasses, you get to enjoy an afternoon tea with stale scones and what they laughably call "jam".
All you can think is, they'd better be ready for you when you come back.
''You are defeated... for now.''
[[Play again?->Intro]]The basement! What a great idea! There are just //bound// to be plenty of...
...escape routes down here.
Yes.
The attendant very easily catches up to you, knowing these basements better than you know the back of your hand; you find yourself cornered in a manky little room packed high with crates of--
Hang on. That smell! That's not tea. Why, it can only be //coffee!//
This revelation comes too late, as the attendant grabs you easily, lifts you over her head like Mario lifting a giant turnip, and throws you out the door. You slide along the floor and slam your head into the town hall's Good Samaritan statue.
[[Oh well...->Head to the train station]]Tentatively, you head back up the stairs as the flood of tea becomes more and more intense. Tracing it to its source, you follow the sodden carpets which will almost certainly need replacing at this point, and find it's all coming from the Head Judge's little room.
Could that maniacal laughing from earlier be related? It was definitely maniacal, no two ways about it. You prepare for the worst. You bring forth all the spells, incantations, and handy mnemonics in your arsenal... and barge the door open.
The Head Judge is on her hands and knees, facing away from you, ominously. Emerging from her general position, the nigh-unstoppable torrent of tea. As you begin to formulate a plan, you realise... actually, she's moving. And, hang on, is that a teapot? You also notice a small flat-screen TV on the wall. She //was// watching Bill Bailey clips on YouTube!
Quickly, she turns to face you. She looks embarrassed, and her hands are full of paper towels. Oh dear!
[[Help her clean up]]
[[Use those spells you spent ages trying to remember]]Dewsbury Town Hall undergoes a strange metamorphosis. You and the rest of the judges have managed to evacuate everyone, and now you watch the building, as it slowly absorbs more and more fluid.
First, it expands, a bit like a sponge. This dislodges the tiles on the roof, all of which slip off in a matter of minutes, scattering debris everywhere. You can see a pool of liquid flow outwards from its base.
Then it appears to soften. You've never seen a building relax, but if you did, it might look a bit like this. The bloated structure sags into a slouch, like a bouncy castle that's been deflated a little bit.
Finally, it starts to... melt? Or 'dissolve' is perhaps a more accurate way of putting it. Either way, it's hard to describe what you're witnessing. Imagine a building crumbling away, except the wet version of that. It's a slow process, but eventually the building is completely gone, leaving only an ever-growing lake of tea.
At the centre stands the Head Judge. And she's still laughing.
Needless to say, this doesn't end well.
''You are not victorious.''
[[Play again?->Intro]]A few trips up and down the stairs, and you've amassed enough paper towels to dry out the Calder & Hebble canal. It doesn't take long for the two of you to mop up the spilt tea as best you can, and while you're still surprised at the sheer volume of liquid, you manage to make the carpets at least presentable.
And just in time, because the judging is about to start! You and the Head Judge rush downstairs and take your places at the table. Phew!
[[Wait for the guests to arrive]]
(if:$inv contains "custard creams")[[[Have a cheeky custard cream->Have a cheeky custard cream]]You didn't come all this way, run up all those stairs, and witness that deluge of delightful drinkipoos, only to not have an actual use case for your power!
Under your breath, you mutter an incantation. It's a relatively simple combination spell, designed to draw liquids from around the caster, and compress them into a little cube for eventual rehydration elsewhere.
Unfortunately, you're still not very good at this. Your intention was to just pull the tea out of the carpets. What you did instead was pull //all// the liquid out of //everything//.
The seas empty. The clouds dissipate. Fruits wither, trees collapse, soups become extremely dense. Above all, tea simply disappears. Oh, and something happens to all life on Earth as well. Every single drop of liquid on the entire planet is now entirely localised in a 10cm² crystalline cube, sitting in the palm of your hand.
At least you got the tea out of the carpet.
''Woopsy.''
[[Play again?->Intro]]You step off the train. Platform 12, Leeds. It's a bit higher up in the world than the streets of Dewsbury.
A brisk walk towards the canal takes you to the door of One Embankment. Today, you start your brand new job in a brand new office at a brand new company. Your task: to oversee production of tea, to ensure its mediocrity, and to be the backbone that the tea industry - and Britain at large - needs in a chaotic world.
It's what you were destined to do, and to think that it all started that fateful morning, when you were in too much of a hurry to make a proper brew at home.
You fish around in your bag, take a sip of tea, and head inside.
''You are victorious! And probably obscenely wealthy!''
[[Play again?->Intro]]Mug in hand, you venture back out into the main hall.
But, oh no!, you've tripped over a particularly harsh door threshold, dropping the mug on the floor. It shatters into... er, about six or seven pieces, at a guess.
[[Whoopsy!->Backwards cuppa ending]]Maybe the solution is just to sup it dahn thi'sen. Not that you were party to whatever caused... whatever this is.
You take a swig, and...
[[And???]]...nothing immediately seems to happen.
You take a moment, and tentatively step towards the kitchen door. Peeking out, you can see down the corridor...
...and you observe humanity! People are here! The guests have returned!
Looking at them, it's as if nothing has happened at all. They're milling about, looking at the stalls, sampling tea from little polystyrene cups with those weird plastic handles you've only ever seen at that one church Christmas fayre in 2002.
Well, that solves it. Why did this happen in the first place? Who can say? More importantly, who's bothered? Everything's back to normal now, and you can enjoy the Tea Convention in peace again.
Except you can't, because a passing custodian notices your lack of ID badge, and promptly throws you out the nearest window.
''You are victorious, and yet also defeated!''
[[Play again?->Intro]]This ending has been seized under the Postal Services Act 2000.
''You win. I think.''
[[Play again?->Intro]]You follow in the postal worker's footsteps, but they're nowhere to be found.
[[Inspect the package]]Well, nothing solves a problem quite like a good cuppa. Without anywhere to sit, you instead lean back against the counter (it's slightly sticky) - but no sooner have you put ceramic to lip than you notice a the tiniest flicker of a shadow across the kitchen.
For a moment, you think you're just seeing things. But as you approach, you can definitely sense there's something - or someone - knocking about. Normally, you wouldn't be bothered; but the fact that the rest of the Town Hall was so deserted puts the fear in you.
[[Go and see who it is]]
[[Hide in the walk-in fridge]]No tea convention is complete without piles and piles of biscuits of all kinds. You rummage through all of the cupboards, and by the time you're done, you've picked out a suitable assortment. Bourbons, rich teas, custard creams, jammie dodgers, and a few BNs adorn your little china plate.
And, after all, who needs a convention? You have everything you need here. You and the cat, you've got your own event and you're enjoying it far more than that stuffy state-sponsored affair. Tickets? ID cards? What's that all about?
As you drink your tea, you realise that life doesn't really get much better than this. You've achieved what you set out to do, and that's more than you can say for most days!
You take a bite of a stale-but-satisfying Nice biscuit, and sit back, contented.
''You are victorious!''
[[Play again?->Intro]]The entrance to the passage is a bit wee - presumably designed for - or even //by// - the old man, who walks through without issue. You, on the other hand, have to bend down like Gandalf trying to navigate a hobbit hole.
It winds around a bit, and you start to question how this all came together. Maybe the old man has been down here his entire life, and just spends his time digging big passages in caves. Amazing what a good cuppa can do for you.
Just as the constant microaggressions, stemming from having to navigate a dark corridor that's slightly too small for you, causing you to have to repeatedly check your surroundings and dodge past rocks, stalactites, and weird bends in the passage, begin to wear on your mental state, you pass through an exit and find yourself in a much larger chamber.
It looks like... a café? But not the sort you'd pop into at the train station to get a vastly overpriced tea and a croissant on your way to Leeds; this was much more refined.
And, naturally, very... well, cave-ish. Because it's in a cave.
"Hot springs, natural refrigeration, and only the finest hydroponically-grown tea," states the old man, as if giving a guided tour. "The scones are to //die// for, if I may say so myself!" As he speaks, your eye is drawn to a glass display containing a big pyramid stack of scones, with a colourful array of different fruits. It's like looking at a doughy Christmas tree.
"But how rude of me," he chuckles, "Let me get you some refreshment!" He whisks himself away, his white-and-green garment flowing around him. You see him collecting water from the river, which he then takes with him as he disappears off to another chamber.
While he's gone, you take the opportunity to get your bearings. The underground river's found its way here, too, and there's a larger bridge in the same style as the one you saw previously. You can also see some plants dotted around, each of which has its own special lamp; and overhead, the cave's roof is held up by huge jade arches.
Curiously, you note there's only one table and two chairs. Hesitantly, you take a seat. The lighting still isn't great and you're worried you'll trip over an errant plant pot.
As you sit, the old man returns with a tray, bearing a pot of tea, two double-walled glasses, a small jug of milk, and a plate of cheese and crackers. Finally, today is beginning to turn around!
[[Chinwag]]"All in good time. Come along!"
[[Follow the old guy]]You're still a bit hesitant, but you're just so curious! What's the plan with this place? Who built it? Why? When? How???
All these questions, you put upon the old man, who's only too happy to answer to the best of his knowledge. You learn, as you enjoy his home-grown tea, that he's the leader of an ancient tea club. And he's only leader by circumstance, as the other members of the club have slowly disappeared for one reason or another. There are supposedly other chapters all around the country, and maybe even around the world; but communications have broken down and they've no idea if, or where, they're still operating.
It transpires that decades ago, the club was forced to go underground by quite a big, powerful organisation. That organisation seeks to control the world of tea, from the growing of tea leaves to its final production and sale; even down to approved brewing methods and snacks.
Cheese and crackers, he said, is //deeply// frowned upon by this organisation - especially as a complement to a cup of tea.
Anyhow, while they've not quite hit their goal yet, they've gone a long way to quenching any and all opposition. You think it all sounds a bit grim, and you're amazed at the old fella's demeanour.
As he's explaining, it dawns on you that you're aware of the organisation of which he speaks... in fact, you're part of it! The tea convention, the contest, the //judging// - it must all be a part of their approval process!
"Well, well..." A disembodied voice speaks from behind. It's not especially loud, but it's commanding enough that it dominates and echoes around the chamber.
It's a voice you recognise, too.
The old man stands up suddenly. "You...?!" Then he looks back at you in disbelief. You slowly turn around to see the Head Judge, in all her regalia - powdered wig included.
[[Stand up]]
[[Stay sat down]]Calmly, you push back from the table, tuck your chair back in, and cross the chamber over to where the Head Judge is stood.
"Looks like we finally found you," she mocks. "You and your... tea club."
You stand by her side and feel fulfilled. Last time you saw her, she'd given you a job to do - that job was to stamp out this ancient club once and for all. You've been trying for years, but they've always managed to evade your grasp. But listening to the old man's tale, you're convinced this is their last bastion.
The Head Judge wastes no time. Before the old man can speak, she's started to bellow an incantation, while doing some weird, rigid movements with her fingers. You witness as, starting from the back of the room, the jade arches begin to crack and buckle. The far end of the chamber caves in, leaving nothing but rubble and dust.
This continues forward towards you. Arch after arch crumbles to nothing, giving way to a huge amount of weight and pressure. The tea club cafe is soon no more.
You're content in your conviction that the world of tea is a slightly safer place, with one more radical element removed from the picture.
As you arrive back at Dewsbury Town Hall, you pop into the kitchen and flick the kettle on. Out the window, you can see the emergency services heading to a curious new crater that's developed in the centre of Dewsbury... and drink to a productive day.
''You are victorious!''
[[Play again?->Intro]]you and the old man beat up the head judge and go about your merry way, the end
"Oh, you don't know?" mocks the Head Judge. "Someone didn't do a good job at covering their tracks... I was led right to you."
Covering their... oh, dang. She must have found the walk-in fridge! But the tea convention was...
"Empty? Oh yes. That was entirely on purpose." Could she read your thoughts? What a creep!
After thinking this, you thought you saw a slightly pained expression on her face, but... argh! She probably saw that, too! Not thinking was hard.
Either way, you're not happy about how things are going here. You want to help the old man, and he's looking at you as if you've just peed in his pocket. Better try and win back his trust. Defiantly, you stare into the Head Judge's eyes, and deliberately chomp down on a chunk of cheese.
The old man picks up on this. So does the Head Judge, in fact, because her face has changed from the world's most stoic expression to the world's most stoic expression with only the slightest hint of anger. You've known her long enough to understand that she is //furious//.
Wordlessly, you formulate a plan with the old guy. You keep eating cheese and drinking your tea. You pour yourself another mug, eat the cheese, and fill your head with the most nonsensical twaddle you can think of. Carrot spaceships, a snowman with a fish head, Mr. Blobby, the baffling longevity of LinkedIn, the entirety of the film 'The Room'... if the Head Judge truly is reading your thoughts, which she //is//, then this is your method of latching on and not letting go. Because reading thoughts isn't something you do lightly; and while you're not massively versed in the school of telepathy, you're managing to keep her attention on you and you alone. It has the bonus effect of confusing the heck out of her.
Meanwhile, you're drawing her away from the old man, who has taken this time to build up some incantations. At a crucial moment, while you bombard the Head Judge with the bizarre aural landscape of King Crimson's first album, he sets off his attack.
You're a bit disappointed when all that happens is she gets squished by a giant scone.
"Well, I did tell you..."
Despite the anticlimax, you've still managed to remove the most powerful member of the Tea Convention. You still have work to do - starting with getting in contact with anyone and everyone who's still part of the tea club.
But before that - how about a nice cup of tea?
''You are victorious!''
[[Play again?->Intro]]
↶↷
Quick Restart!
Inventory:
flask of tea
teaspoon
box of Yorkshire Gold
used train ticket
Welcome to Cuppa Quest!
(Version 1.01)
It's National Tea Day, and you're heading for the world-leading tea-making competition in Dewsbury.
The rules are very simple: may the best cuppa win.
You approach the double doors leading inside Dewsbury Town Hall. The anticipation is building as you think of the buzz and excitement undoubtedly brewing inside this building.
A door attendant snaps you back to reality.
"Ey up! You one o' them cuppa judges, or you just 'ere to see t' sights?"
Ey up! you're looking at a real-life Cuppa Connoisseur!
I'm just here to have a cuppa.
Actually, I'm here to compete.
