Twine Project

(set: $typewriterText to "The house is warm. Too warm. Sweat clings to your skin, seeping into your threadbare clothes. This house is suffocating.")  {  (set: $typewriterPos to 1)  |typewriterOutput>[]  (live: 20ms)[  (append: ?typewriterOutput)[(print: $typewriterText's $typewriterPos)]  (set: $typewriterPos to it + 1)  (if: $typewriterPos is $typewriterText's length + 1)[ (stop:) ] ] } { (live: 5s)[ (stop:) [[Get up.]] ] }

You sit up, rubbing your eyes and trying to get them to adjust to the dark. There is nothing in this room except for the thin mattress you're sitting on, and a clock on the wall. It's 3 am. Out of the corner of your eye, you see something shifting in the dark. [[You need to leave.]]

You get to your feet. The movement in the corner of the room seems to have stopped. A small window allows very little light to enter the room. You walk over to it, and peer through the blinds. The sky isn't quite pitch black. Although it is nighttime, it still has a dull, dark orange tinge, one that is often found in brightly-lit cities at night. But you don't see any buildings outside the window. There's a heavy fog, obscuring your vision. You can barely make out some sparse trees over an empty field. A surge of unease rushes through your chest. This place doesn't feel real. [[You open the door, and leave the room.]]

You find yourself in a narrow hallway. { (live: 2s)[ (stop:) [A door suddenly slams shut to your right.] ] } { (live: 4s)[ (stop:) [The door to your left remains closed, but you can hear faint sounds coming from inside.] ] } { (live: 6s)[ (stop:) [[Open the right door.]] ] } { (live: 7s)[ (stop:) [[Open the left door.]] ] }

The door seems to be jammed, but still able to be opened. You grab the knob, and push against it. It budges slightly, but not much. You try again, this time with much more force. The door suddenly swings inward with great ease, as though it was never jammed at all. Your momentum sends you forward and you end up sprawled on the floor. The hardwood beneath you is wet. A strong, bitter smell rises from it. Like the rest of the house, the room is dimly lit. There is a singular chair in the middle of the small room, surrounded by a sea of discarded bottles that form a circle around it. There's something sitting on the chair, but you can't quite make out what it is. You slowly get to your feet, careful not to slip in the liquid covering the floor. As you get closer, you see the object sitting in the chair. It's a revolver. [[Pick it up.]] [[Leave it.]]

You gently open the door to investigate the source of the noise. Like the rest of the house, the room is dimly lit. There are scraps of ripped paper scattered all across the floor. They seem to be covered in what appears to be a child's scribbled drawings. You pick up a piece of paper. It's torn badly, but you can make out a crudely drawn eye. You pick up another piece of paper. Another eye. And another piece. Another eye. The floor is covered in eyes. As your gaze is drawn to the floor, something drips from the ceiling, staining the pieces of paper at your feet. It's crimson red. You slowly look to the ceiling. //This wasn't there before.// Suspended from the ceiling are dozens upon dozens of scissors. They dangle from strings, slowly swaying back and forth. Your heartrate quickens, and you take a step back. More red liquid drips down from the swinging blades. You instinctively lift your hand to your mouth to stifle a scream, even though you are incapable of making any noise. [[You run from the room.]]

You pause for a few moments to catch your breath. Your heart won't stop racing. You could check the rooms again. This house is always changing. You don't trust it. [[Go back to the left room.]] [[Go back to the right room.]] [[Go downstairs.]]

Your fingers reach out, wrapping themselves around the cool metal-- { (live: 3s)[ (stop:) [//*BANG*//] ] } { (live: 4s)[ (stop:) [The gun suddenly goes off, firing a bullet into the wall. You instinctively lift your hand to your mouth to stifle a scream, even though you are incapable of making any noise.] ] } { (live: 6s)[ (stop:) [[You run from the room.]] ] }

A man appears in the chair. He flickers in and out of existence. You're not sure if he's really there. His shirt is stained and torn. He reeks of the smell of the liquid that was staining the floor. He has the revolver in his hand. The expression on his face is unreadable. "You can join me, if you want. Give up. You can think about it. Giving up is harder than people say it is, you know." He shrugs, pointing the revolver at you. [[Give up.]] [[Say no.]]

"Sometimes it's better to be nothing than to be anything at all," he says with a knowing nod. He puts his finger on the trigger. { (live: 3s)[ (stop:) [//*BANG*//] ] } { (live: 4s)[ (stop:) [[Wake up.]] ] }

"Suit yourself." He turns the revolver around and points it at his own chest. { (live: 3s)[ (stop:) [//*BANG*//] ] } { (live: 4s)[ (stop:) [The man has disappeared, and the gun clatters to the floor, amongst the bottles. You instinctively lift your hand to your mouth to stifle a scream, even though you are incapable of making any noise. [[You run from the room.]]] ] }

The steps creak beneath your feet. More than anything, you want to get out of this house, get some fresh air. //Something very bad happened in this place...// You reach the main foyer. The front door is just ahead. But you can hear a faint voice coming from another room, which seems to be the kitchen. [[Escape the house.]] [[Investigate the kitchen.]]

In your rush to get out of the house, you stumble over the doorframe, nearly faceplanting into the tall dewey grass. Your vision blurs, and when you turn around, the house is no longer there. [[Keep walking.]]

The kitchen looks as though it was very recently abandoned. There are dishes, empty glasses, and dirty silverware scattered everywhere. As though the occupants sat down to a meal but suddenly vanished into thin air. And tucked away in the corner, nearly hidden by shadows, is a woman sitting on the counter. You jump, taking a few steps back. [[Who are you?]] [[Where am I?]]

"That's for you to decide." Her voice is crackly and broken, as if it was coming out of an old radio rather than a human's mouth. [[Is this real?]]

"I don't think you're anywhere at all." Her voice is crackly and broken, as if it was coming out of an old radio rather than a human's mouth. [[Is this real?]]

"Ooh, now that's the big question, isn't it?" She leans forward, tilting her head at an unnatural angle. "But what are you referring to, exactly? Are you asking if I'm real? If this place is real? Is anything real?" She pauses for a moment. "Are //you// real?" [[...]]

"Maybe this is all in your head. Maybe you're //dreaming//. Maybe you're //already dead!//" Her voice has risen to a shout. Your body is trembling. "Maybe this is all in your head! Maybe you're already dead! Maybe this is all in your head! Maybe you're already dead!" She's rocking back and forth slowly, repeating the words over and over. Your head is spinning. You feel sick to your stomach. [[Escape the house.]]

{ (live: 1s)[ (stop:) [Disoriented, you turn back around.] ] } { (live: 3s)[ (stop:) [You feel sick to your stomach.] ] } { (live: 4s)[ (stop:) [The sky is a sickly greenish hue now, full of dark and churning clouds.] ] } { (live: 6s)[ (stop:) [Maybe this is all just a dream. Maybe you could lay here and wait to wake up.] ] } { (live: 8s)[ (stop:) [[Lay in the grass.]] [[Keep going.]] ] }

Somehow, laying down makes you feel even weaker. The world spins around you. You know you won't last much longer if you keep laying here. [[Stay laying down.]] [[Get back up.]]

Your legs are shaky, but you keep going. Slowly fading into existence in front of you is an old schoolhouse. [[You rub your eyes, and walk in its direction.]]

You weakly get back to your feet. Slowly fading into existence in front of you is an old schoolhouse. [[You rub your eyes, and walk in its direction.]]

{ (live: 1s)[ (stop:) [Now you're too weak to even stand.] ] } { (live: 3s)[ (stop:) [Your body is paralyzed.] ] } { (live: 5s)[ (stop:) [The world starts slowly fading away.] ] } { (live: 7s)[ (stop:) [You don't feel anything except for the damp grass beneath you.] ] } { (live: 9s)[ (stop:) [And eventually, you don't even feel that.] ] } { (live: 11s)[ (stop:) [You feel nothing.] ] } { (live: 14s)[ (stop:) [And everything is gone.] ] } { (live: 17s)[ (stop:) [[Wake up.]] ] }

Upon closer inspection, the two main doors are locked, but one of the windows is adjar. [[You slip inside.]]

A wave of dread envelops you as soon as you step inside. It feels just as hot and suffocating as it did inside the house. You turn around to head back through the front doors and unlock them from the inside, but they still refuse to open. You look for the window that you originally entered, but it's suddenly no where to be found. You're staring at a blank brick wall. [[This place wants you here.]]

Your only choice is to keep going and see what it wants you to see. From here, the only way to go is through a long hallway full of classrooms and lockers. [[Go towards the classrooms.]]

As you walk, looking up and down the empty hallway, you're hit with a wave of nostalgia for a place you've never even been to before. You haven't walked these specific halls before, but ones very similar to them, you think. The hallway seems endless. The only sound you can hear is that of a ticking clock in the distance. Nothing in the hallway sparks your interest until you come upon one with a small piece of paper sticking out of one of the slots. You pick it up, and unfold it. It has your name written on it in small neat handwriting. [[Open the locker.]]

The inside of the locker is crammed floor to ceiling with various objects. Post-it notes with reminders for upcoming tests, torn off posters, an empty book bag, a few textbooks. There's a small cracked magnetic mirrior on the door, with some photographs pinned around it. [[Inspect the photographs.]] [[Inspect the mirror.]]

Giving up is tempting, but you can't bring yourself to do that just yet. There has to be a way out. [[There has to be.]]

The pictures are blurry and out of focus, as though they were developed poorly. You can't make out the faces, but there's a boy and a girl in every single one of the pictures. You think you might recognize one of them, but you're not sure. The longer you stare at the pictures, the more you feel like you knew them. Or maybe you're missing someone you never knew. But nevertheless, you can't stop staring. [[You think you knew the boy.]] [[You think you knew the girl.]]

It's cracked, and covered in dirt and grime. You can't even make out the features of your own face. Do you even remember what you look like? You try wiping the dirt away, but it doesn't budge. You don't remember what you look like, and the mirror refuses to tell you. You try brushing away the dirt one more time, but the second your hand touches the glass, it shatters completely, spraying you with glass. But before your eyes, the pieces rearrange themselves, and fit like puzzle pieces back into the mirror frame. A face appears, but it's not yours. It's hard to tell, but it appears to be a teenage girl. "You know you can't leave this place, right? You're stuck here. And you'll keep reliving these memories over and over again." You don't respond. "I can help you leave, you know. Help you give up." She takes a small shard of glass out of her pocket. "Sometimes it's better to be nothing than to be anything at all." Her face doesn't look malicious. Instead, there's a sad, pitying look to her features. [[Let her help you give up.]] [[Leave the locker.]]

You pick up one of the photographs, studying it more closely. You try desperately to make out his face. It's just blurry enough that you still can't make out his features. You reach for another photograph, hoping to have better luck. Still blurry. And another one. It's infuriating, because the longer you try, the more confident you are that you knew him. You don't remember his name, or his face, but you knew him. You pick up yet another picture. Finally, this one begins to come back into focus. He's sitting by a small pond, with his jeans rolled up, splashing them in the water. He has his head tilted back, mid-laugh. He looks happy. [[He was someone you loved, a long time ago.]]

You pick up one of the photographs, studying it more closely. You try desperately to make out her face. It's just blurry enough that you still can't make out her features. You reach for another photograph, hoping to have better luck. Still blurry. And another one. It's infuriating, because the longer you try, the more confident you are that you knew her. You don't remember her name, or her face, but you knew her. You pick up yet another picture. Finally, this one begins to come back into focus. She's wearing a patterned dress, laying in the shade of a huge oak tree. Her dress is filthy, but she has her head tilted back, mid-laugh. She looks happy. [[She was someone you loved, a long time ago.]]

Suddenly, the picture changes. The background disappears, and all that's left is the girl, who begins to walk towards you. "You know you can't leave this place, right? You're stuck here. And you'll keep reliving these memories over and over again." You don't respond. "I can help you leave, you know. Help you give up." She takes a small shard of glass out of her pocket. "Sometimes it's better to be nothing than to be anything at all." Her face doesn't look malicious. Instead, there's a sad, pitying look to her features. [[Let her help you give up.]] [[Leave the locker.]]

Suddenly, the picture changes. The background disappears, and all that's left is the boy, who begins to walk towards you. "You know you can't leave this place, right? You're stuck here. And you'll keep reliving these memories over and over again." You don't respond. "I can help you leave, you know. Help you give up." He takes a small shard of glass out of her pocket. "Sometimes it's better to be nothing than to be anything at all." His face doesn't look malicious. Instead, there's a sad, pitying look to his features. [[Let him help you give up.]] [[Leave the locker.]]

He nods. { (live: 1s)[ (stop:) [He turns the glass shard over in his hands, and with a kind look on his face, she reaches through the mirror.] ] } { (live: 3s)[ (stop:) [And he slits your throat.] ] } { (live: 4s)[ (stop:) [You stagger back, and hit the floor.] ] } { (live: 5s)[ (stop:) [You're only in pain for a few moments.] ] } { (live: 6s)[ (stop:) [And then it's all over.] ] } { (live: 8s)[ (stop:) [[Wake up.]] ] }

The ticking of the clock is getting louder. You quicken your pace. Maybe the hallway is endless. Faint light emerges from the classrooms you pass by. You turn your head, but don't stop walking. Pressed against the windows of the doors are kids, staring at you intently. They don't have eyes. You pass another classroom door, more kids. They're whispering, but you don't understand the words they're saying. They don't have mouths. You break into a run. There's a light at the end of the hallway. An end to this torment, you hope. [[You reach the light.]]

You can't see, but you crash into two swinging doors, and you shove them open. It takes a few moments for your senses to return. When it does, you see that the school has disappeared. You can hear the faint calls of seagulls and crashing waves in the distance. [[Go towards them.]]

The place you have found yourself in is incredibly foggy. The whole world has been drenched in grey. The fog is thick and almost corporeal, swirling around your feet as you walk through it. Small wooden cottages line the sandy street. The air is still warm and humid. It dulls your mind. You realize just how tired you are. You could just lay here. Let the fog swallow you whole. You could try to reach the water, but you don't know how far away that is. You don't know if you'll make it, or if it's even worth it at all. [[Lay in the fog.]] [[Find the water.]]

Your feet shuffle slowly in the fog. You pass house after house on this abandoned street. Unlike the other places, here, you feel truly alone. Your head is still clouded, but you are calm. The houses become more spread out. Tall swaying grasses and dying shrubs line the ground between them. You find a small sandy path, nearly hidden in the grasses. [[The sound of the waves is getting louder.]]

{ (live: 1s)[ (stop:) [This is all too much.] ] } { (live: 2s)[ (stop:) [And you're so tired.] ] } { (live: 3s)[ (stop:) [You just want this to be over.] ] } { (live: 4s)[ (stop:) [//Sometimes it's better to be nothing than anything at all.//] ] } { (live: 6s)[ (stop:) [You fall to your knees. Then you fall backward.] ] } { (live: 7s)[ (stop:) [You hear a muffled crack as your head hits the ground.] ] } { (live: 8s)[ (stop:) [You stare up at a grey, empty sky.] ] } { (live: 9s)[ (stop:) [And then the fog fills your eyes. Like a child into their blanket, you let it wrap around you.] ] } { (live: 11s)[ (stop:) [You let it suffocate you.] ] } { (live: 3s)[ (stop:) [[Wake up.]] ] }

You follow the path until finally the sea appears before you. Vast, brewing, and endless. The waves violently crash against the shore. The wind sweeps through your hair and across your face. You walk up and down the shore for a little while, before deciding to approach the water. But the second your skin makes contact with the sea-- [[Everything stops.]]

The wind comes to an abrupt halt. The waves now only lap gently across the sand. The world has come to a standstill. Nothing happens, no horrifying figment of the past ever appears. There is nothing but you, the sky, and the sea. [[So you wait.]]

{ (live: 3s)[ (stop:) [And you wait.] ] } { (live: 5s)[ (stop:) [Still, nothing.] ] } { (live: 7s)[ (stop:) [Nothing.] ] } { (live: 7s)[ (stop:) [//Maybe you could walk into the sea. Disappear into the waves.//] ] } { (live: 7s)[ (stop:) [[Go into the ocean.]] [[Keep waiting.]] ] }

(set: $typewriterText to "This is the only way out. There's no more choices to make, no more paths to go down. This is the end. Of this cycle, anyway. Maybe the next time around, you'll learn. Maybe. You walk slowly into the sea. You float on your back, staring up into the unfeeling, empty sky. You float. The salt water fills your lungs. You sink.")  {  (set: $typewriterPos to 1)  |typewriterOutput>[]  (live: 20ms)[  (append: ?typewriterOutput)[(print: $typewriterText's $typewriterPos)]  (set: $typewriterPos to it + 1)  (if: $typewriterPos is $typewriterText's length + 1)[ (stop:) ] ] } { (live: 18s)[ (stop:) [[You fade away.]] ] }

The waves continue to lap at your feet. The sky stays still. [[So you wait.]]

//Thank you for playing Wake Up.// Story, concept, and programming by Daria Boudreau (link: "My Portfolio")[(goto-url: 'https://dariaboudreau.wixsite.com/portfolio')] [[Wake up.]]

She nods. { (live: 1s)[ (stop:) [She turns the glass shard over in her hands, and with a kind look on her face, she reaches through the mirror.] ] } { (live: 3s)[ (stop:) [And she slits your throat.] ] } { (live: 4s)[ (stop:) [You stagger back, and hit the floor.] ] } { (live: 5s)[ (stop:) [You're only in pain for a few moments.] ] } { (live: 6s)[ (stop:) [And then it's all over.] ] } { (live: 8s)[ (stop:) [[Wake up.]] ] }

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what's inside. But to your suprise, as you reach out for the knob, you find it's been locked from the inside. A high pitched, blood curdling scream comes from within. [[You run from the room.]]

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what's inside. [[Open the right door.]]