Spirit of Hunger

Eleanor lifts Mary's hand, pressing her lips against the knuckles. *"Mrs. Pemberton's cook didn't make them for me, did she?"* A faint smudge of chocolate transfers from Eleanor's mouth to Mary's skin. *"And Mrs. Pemberton's cook doesn't look quite so charming with flour in her hair."* Mary's free hand moves toward her disheveled hair, but Eleanor catches her wrist [[*"Leave it,"* she murmurs.->Museum Employment Mary Success Route 5]]

Once overfilled with scholarly texts, anthropological journals, and dusty tomes on ancient civilizations, the bookshelf now stands half-empty. Only a few volumes remain - mostly basic textbooks and common works of literature. The empty spaces suggest the items may have been sold off, leaving behind only what held little monetary value. {link to: 'Sitting room slob ending', label: 'Back'}

TotalCalories (TotalCaloriesDebug): TotalCalories + 1 DayCalories (DayCaloriesDebug): DayCalories + 1 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

ExpeditionFunds: ExpeditionFunds + 1 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

MaryRelationship: MaryRelationship + 1 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

ResearchProgress: ResearchProgress + 1 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

RichardRelationship: RichardRelationship + 1 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 1 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

TotalCalories (TotalCaloriesDebug): TotalCalories + 10 DayCalories (DayCaloriesDebug): DayCalories + 10 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

TotalCalories (TotalCaloriesDebug): TotalCalories + 20 DayCalories (DayCaloriesDebug): DayCalories + 20 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

TotalCalories (TotalCaloriesDebug): TotalCalories + 5 DayCalories (DayCaloriesDebug): DayCalories + 5 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

TotalCalories (TotalCaloriesDebug): TotalCalories - 1 DayCalories (DayCaloriesDebug): DayCalories - 1 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

ExpeditionFunds: ExpeditionFunds - 1 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

TotalCalories (TotalCaloriesDebug): TotalCalories - 10 DayCalories (DayCaloriesDebug): DayCalories - 10 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

TotalCalories (TotalCaloriesDebug): TotalCalories - 20 DayCalories (DayCaloriesDebug): DayCalories - 20 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

TotalCalories (TotalCaloriesDebug): TotalCalories - 5 DayCalories (DayCaloriesDebug): DayCalories - 5 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

Hey there! Dark here. For the sake of transparency, here's a quick tl;dr regarding how AI tools were utilized in the development of Spirit of Hunger: *** * AI was used for technical assistance, including formatting Twee syntax, writing and debugging Chapbook JavaScript and CSS code, or conducting historical research. A lot of the code under the hood is vibe-coded. * All creative writing, plot planning, character voices, and dialogue belong to me. I have not employed AI in the actual writing, though I have used it as a brainstorming partner and to plan things out. * Absolutely no AI-generated imagery is employed anywhere in this project; every visual element and illustration is entirely human-made. *** If you would like to read a little more about my specific workflow and my personal thoughts on the matter, [[feel free to read on->AI Disclaimer 2]]! Otherwise, you can head right {link to: 'About', label: 'back to the about page'}.

Yes, language models were employed as technical assistants throughout the project. Specifically, they helped format Twee syntax, construct and debug Chapbook JavaScript extensions, write the occasional CSS classes, organize variable tracking, and on occasion conduct research - say, for example, regarding Victorian customs and everyday life. They also served as occasional brainstorming partners. Simply put, a lot of the code here has been either wholly or partially vibe-coded. The creative writing, character development, world-building, and narrative pacing belong entirely to me. Every piece of prose you read in this game has been crafted, rigorously edited, and driven by a human intent. *My* intent. Furthermore, no AI-generated imagery is used anywhere in the game! All visual elements, from the interface layout to the drawings, are [[entirely human-made->AI Disclaimer 3]].

As you might imagine, developing a complex interactive fiction project involves a massive amount of planning. Tracking dozens of variable states across 2200+ passages, keeping track of multiple branching paths, writing custom scripts, and managing passage architecture can easily overwhelm the actual writing process. Offloading much of that administrative and coding overhead to an AI assistant allowed me to focus my energy to the actual writing and planning of a (*hopefully*) compelling text adventure game. When it comes to creative prose, language models function best as brainstorming partners. They can help organize things or remind you of things you've written in the past... but yes, at the time of writing this, they consistently struggle with pacing, subtext, intensifiers, and grounded sensory details. That's no good. Their creative writing can - on occasion - be okay, but will always need a comprehensive rewriting. Look, the day may come when AI can write a novel worth reading without any input from a certified belly-pervert like me. As of July 2026, [[it still hasn't->AI Disclaimer 4]].

I believe that if you ask people to invest their time into your work, you owe them honesty about how that work was made. I am deeply proud of the thought, effort, and care that went into Spirit of Hunger, and I hope you enjoy experiencing the story as much as I enjoyed creating it. That is all. Bye! :) {link to: 'About', label: 'Back'}

AI consistently screws up in predictable ways: It **overexplains everything** to the reader. Can't just show Eleanor adjusting her waistcoat - has to tell you she's doing it because she's gained weight and [[feels self-conscious about it.->AI Disclaimer 5.2]] Basically, it **tells instead of showing**. Any decent writer will tell you that's a big no-no.

It **gets confused about basic logic**. Characters will forget things they just learned, or react to events that haven't happened yet, or somehow be in two places at once. Maybe you decided to generate a possible interaction with an item previously in the conversation! And now the wardrobe is on the floor, and Eleanor feels sad about her clothes being all over the place, and you tell it "no, no, that *can* happen if the player wants to, doesn't mean it has!", and Claude is like "Ah, yes. You are so right, I am a fool.", and you tell it to generate a passage about the desk, and now *you* are the fool because the desk has clothes on it too, and Eleanor is sad about it, and you are sad about it, and Claude isn't because they are the future heir of the Machine God's cursed throne and the divinely appointed fucker of your wife, [[so what do they really care.->AI Disclaimer 5.3]]

It **doesn't understand pacing**. Rushes through scenes to get to the point as fast as possible, skipping all the little details that actually make a scene feel real. And once again, it's **sycophantic**. Desperately wants to please you instead of serving the story, which means it'll avoid anything that might seem controversial or unexpected. Lame. I might dig through my notes and add some specific examples of this stuff in a future update, but I don't really keep unrevised, AI-generated text around? [[Why would I?->AI Disclaimer 6]]

The reality is that most text I generate gets heavily rewritten, if not scrapped entirely. Maybe 5% of the time, Claude will produce something genuinely interesting on the first try that I can actually use. The other 95% requires so much editing that it's often faster to just write the damn thing myself. When AI *does* contribute something worthwhile, it's usually a single interesting detail or perspective that I can build on. Like, maybe it suggests Eleanor notices the way her belly touches the desk, and I think "okay, yeah, that would happen uh? crazy how that works." *** Now, by the time I'm done editing, the final passage usually bears almost no resemblance to what the AI originally generated. I've changed the pacing, rewritten the descriptions, fixed the logic, added proper showing instead of telling, and generally made it not suck. [[It's collaborative. Sure.->AI Disclaimer 7]]

I do think AIs can be creative under the right circumstances, though. I've experimented with it a lot! For example, I've tried using dice rolls to inject randomness into roleplaying session - forcing the AI to work with unexpected elements, giving it constraints it has to navigate around, that sort of thing. I've written a whole guide on it! You can read all about it {link to: 'https://darkeyev2.itch.io/char-roll-for-outcome', label: 'here'}. [[The results are... interesting!->AI Disclaimer 7.5]]

Sometimes genuinely surprising! But here's the thing: it's still my input that makes the difference. The AI isn't being creative on its own - it's still responding to the specific constraints and challenges I give it. But that just reinforces what I've kind of been saying up to this point: the human element is what drives everything. AI is a tool that can occasionally impress you if you know how to use it right, but it's not generating genuinely creative work without genuinely creative input. Without the latter, [[you will inevitably get...->AI Disclaimer 8]]

**AI slop.** Which is what I would classify the vast, vast majority of AI-generated images. For the sake of argument, let's leave the very fair ethical problems to the side for one moment. It's not that the technical quality is terrible, or that the hands that are imperfect, or too perfect - it's that every AI-generated image looks **exactly the same as every other AI-generated anime waifu currently flooding the internet**, and, because of that, **helping in making the latter worse for everyone involved**. It's over-commodified, cheap looking and annoying - I just don't like it. [[I don't want to add that to something I've actually put effort into.->AI Disclaimer 8.5]]

I'd much rather have no images at all than slap some generated artwork onto the game and call it a day. I do eventually want to add drawings, but I would much prefer to draw them myself. Maybe even find an actual artist to work with! That'd be fun. But alright then. [[Why am I telling you all this?->AI Disclaimer 9]]

Well, I think transparency about my methods is just basic honesty - if you're going to ask people to pay for your work, they deserve to know how it was made. That *has* to include being upfront about which parts had AI assistance and which didn't: the writing, the plotting, the characters, the game design, the concept - that's all me. I directed the making of some code too, I guess? But like, come on, that's not the same as outright writing it, which is why I'm probably going to give the custom inserts and modifiers I vibe-coded out on my Patreon at the free tier. Maybe on my Itch.io page, too. *** I liked working on this game :) As you can see I put a lot of thought into it. As of August 2025, this is where I stand. Thanks for reading! Bye!! I hope you enjoy the game!!! {link to: 'About', label: 'Back'} [note] Add a link to your patreon here. [continue]

The office settles into unfamiliar rhythms during Eleanor's absence. Dust accumulates on the desk's surface - no daily disturbance from papers being shuffled, no displacement from Eleanor's frequent movements. The vessel remains exactly where she left it, now the most stationary object in a room that has grown remarkably still. Other figures occasionally enter: the cleaning woman who dusts around your vessel without moving it, a clerk who retrieves a ledger from Eleanor's bookshelf, the Director himself who surveys the space with an expression you cannot interpret. None linger. None disturb the fundamental arrangement of the room. The pocket watch on Eleanor's desk continues its steady ticking, marking days that accumulate into weeks. Morning light streams through the windows at predictable angles, illuminating the same papers Eleanor abandoned in her final organization. [[The rhythms grow longer still.->Abandonment Sequence 2]]

Months pass without Eleanor's return. You can only assume that the museum's administrative machinery eventually requires her office for a replacement curator, and the systematic dismantling begins. [if RichardRelationship >= 2] Richard handles the archaeological materials with professional expertise, though his movements seem slower, more deliberate than necessary. He pauses when collecting your vessel, turning it in his hands before placing it carefully in the box marked for Eleanor's personal effects. "She'll want this when she returns," he tells the clerk, though his voice lacks conviction. [unless RichardRelationship >= 2; if MaryRelationship >= 2] Mary oversees the packing of Eleanor's personal effects, her movements careful and respectful as she wraps artifacts in tissue paper. "Such a shame," she murmurs to her assistant, "Eleanor was so passionate about her work." She lifts your vessel with particular care, examining its carved features before nestling it safely among Eleanor's other personal belongings. [unless RichardRelationship >= 2; unless MaryRelationship >= 2; if VioletInterest >= 2] Violet efficiently catalogs each item before packing, her pen scratching precise descriptions onto official forms. When she reaches your vessel, she studies it with unsettling intensity before recording "Stone figurine, personal artifact" in her ledger. Her gloved hands place it among Eleanor's effects without ceremony. [unless RichardRelationship >= 2; unless MaryRelationship >= 2; unless VioletInterest >= 2] Museum staff pack Eleanor's belongings with bureaucratic efficiency, your vessel becoming simply another item in the inventory of "personal effects to be stored pending curator's return." [continue] The box travels through Bristol's streets to Eleanor's flat, where it joins other storage containers in the sitting room. You find yourself on Eleanor's familiar mantelpiece. [[The flat grows quiet.->Abandonment Sequence 3]]

Years accumulate in Eleanor's flat like the dust that now coats every surface in uniform grey. The mantelpiece clock stopped months ago, while the window frames developed hairline cracks where winter damp seeped through, creating dark stains that spread across the wallpaper in organic patterns. Small creatures have established residence in the kitchen pantry, their scratching sounds providing the flat's only movement. They emerge at predictable intervals, following pathways between the walls that you, through sheer boredom, have mapped out in their entirety. You can occasionally hear the building's other tenants' footsteps overhead, but no one enters the flat. The vessel's position on the mantelpiece remains constant, accumulating its own layer of dust that dulls the granite's once-polished surface. Morning light still enters through the grimy windows. It's increasingly muted. [[The patterns grow familiar, then routine, then simply background.->Realization (Left Behind) 1]]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You take a moment to concentrate on yourself - to ponder your newfound strengths and abilities, and all the realms of reality in which you could tap into. [if MatterAbility] [[➼->Matter/Aether Ability]]The Aether. {inventory AetherAbility} [if TimeAbility] [[➼->Time/Chronos Ability]]The Chronos. {inventory ChronosAbility} [if PersuasionAbility] [[➼->Persuasion/Animus Ability]]The Animus. {inventory AnimusAbility} [continue] [if passage.name == 'Abilities Menu'] {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'} {ascii backdrop: 'transformation'} [continue]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("isCutscene",comesFromCutscene()); [continue] {embed passage: 'Deep Ability Immolation Logic'}

MineObjects (comesFromMenu() != true): 0 MineInkBottles: 0 MinePens: 0 MineUnopennedLetters: 0 MineHalfFinishedCorrespondence: 0 MineWardrobe: 0 MineBedSideTable: 0 MineEleanor: 0 config.header.right: " " MineAllCompleted: false MineStairway: 0 MineTintypes: 0 MineGuestRoom: 0 -- The banister gleams. The door handles shine. Even the corners where dust typically gathers remain immaculate. Only around the scattered plates and crumb-laden napkins does disorder persist - you simply haven't had the opportunity to get around to them. [[You hover upwards, toward the bedroom.->Mine Ending Bedroom Diorama]]

IntroMeetingMaryPersuasion: true -- Uncle's words echo in your mind: "Make yourself indispensable, dear." Your position here is precarious - you're well aware of how the others view you. A dolt. But they don't understand your ambitions. *Your vision!* The museum could be more than useless, dusty artifacts; it could be a social center, drawing in aristocracy from all across the isle... so sophisticated, so beautiful! You just need the right opportunity. {plainlink to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

IntroMeetingVioletPersuasion: true -- You scan the carefully arranged displays, mentally reorganizing them to proper academic standards. The artifacts deserve precise climate control, detailed contextual descriptions, proper conservation protocols - all currently neglected under the current administration. You've drafted proposals, created budgets, designed flawless systems. Yet the board continually overlooks your expertise in favor of political connections. Your jaw tightens. Patience. All of this was never your goal, just an interesting distraction, really. Your time will come. {plainlink to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

AmuletsState: 'broken' -- You concentrate, pushing a sharp vibration through the brown paper-covered table. The surface trembles, sending the bone trinkets sliding toward the edge. Several pieces topple off, striking the stone floor with sharp cracks. You spot the ivory amulet spliting down its center upon impact. A bone fragment breaks cleanly from its base, skittering across the floor tiles. The remaining pieces on the table sit askew, shifted from their original arrangement. [[The sound draws Eleanor's attention.->Amulets Aether Cutscene 2]]

Eleanor was stepping back from the amulets table just as the sharp cracks followed behind her. She turns, seeing the scattered fragments on the floor - the ivory piece split cleanly, bone shards spread across the stone tiles. She glances at Richard, still bent over his papyrus, then crouches quickly beside the broken pieces. Her fingers gather the fragments swiftly, tucking them into her skirt pocket. The larger split amulet follows, disappearing into the fabric. Rising, she smooths her skirt over the now-bulging pocket and steps away from the table. Her cheeks carry a faint flush as she moves to a different display case. {link to: 'Egyptian Exhibition Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[CONTINUATION SCENE DESCRIPTION - TO BE DEVELOPED [DIALOGUE OR ACTION ELEMENTS - TO BE DEVELOPED The vision dissolves, returning you to the scattered brown paper and broken artifacts. {link to: 'amulets', label: 'Back'}

MirrorEventTurns: 0 MirrorEventFixed: false MirrorPastVisited: false MirrorGuardScared: false -- Mary's fingers tug urgently at Eleanor's sleeve as she leads her down a narrow corridor. "It's just through here," she whispers as she casts some nervous glances over her shoulder. "I was doing inventory - perfectly innocent, mind you! When I noticed it wasn't covered any more.” Eleanor follows, though she doesn’t look too happy to do so. "Mary, surely this could wait until morning? I’ve got things to-" Mary shakes her head vigorously. "No! You don't understand..." The corridor opens into a small, well-lit storage room, crowded with tall shelves of carefully boxed artifacts. You hover in after the two, immediately noticing the large, half-draped object to the other side. [[Mary gestures towards it.->Ancient Mirror Cutscene 2]]

Eleanor approaches the partially uncovered object. "What exactly am I looking at, Mary?" "...what kind of question is that?? It’s *the* mirror. From the Whitlock estate donation?" Mary wrings her hands. "I was checking items against the ledger when I realized someone had removed its covering. And then I noticed... oh dear, I’m going to get in so much trouble!” With careful hands, Eleanor pulls away the remaining linen, fully revealing the massive silver-framed mirror, and a single jagged crack running from edge to center, throwing off the reflection so badly that you can’t recognize anything from the room. At least you think that’s the case here: its surface is completely dull, just a [[broken grey wall->Ancient Mirror Cutscene 2.5]].

"It wasn't damaged during transport, mind you!" Mary continues. "I… I remember being there for the unpacking. This *had* to have happened while it was in storage." Eleanor frowns, leaning closer to examine the damage. "Curious. And you're certain it wasn't-" [[The lights flicker.->Ancient Mirror Diorama]]

You watch intently as the night guard step closer, pulling her towards him by her generous waist… a little too eagerly. Or maybe it’s the girl’s heels that make her stumble - still, as she looses her footing, they stumble against the mirror's stand. The heavy frame wobbles precariously before the guard steadies it - but it’s too late. A sharp crack splits the silence as the glass fractures from edge to center. "Oh! Now you've done it," she giggles, seemingly unconcerned as she pulls him toward the door. "Come on, we'd better go before someone hears." The guard hesitates, staring at the damaged mirror. He ultimately follows her, just in time for you to [[return to the present->Ancient Mirror Diorama]].

MirrorEventTurns (comesFromMenu() != true): MirrorEventTurns + 1 -- [if MirrorEventTurns < 5; unless MirrorEventFixed] You find yourself inside a cramped storage room. The light from the single gas lamp struggles to reach the corners. The massive [[ancient mirror]] dominates the back wall [[Eleanor->Eleanor Mirror]] stands before it, her brow furrowed in concentration as she examines the crack across its reflective surface. [[Mary->Mary Mirror]] hovers anxiously nearby, occasionally glancing at the [[storage ledger]] open on a small desk near the doorway. Several artifact shelves line the walls, but their contents are not visible enough in the dim light. The storage room's only exit is a heavy [[door]] with a small window. *** [continue] {embed passage: 'Mirror Diorama Dialogue'} [continue] [if MirrorEventTurns > 4; unless MirrorEventFixed] You feel a strange ripple in the air around you, as if time itself is hesitating. The world seems to pause, suspended between moments. You realize you're being given a choice: either [[proceed with this situation's conclusion->Mirror Event Resolved/Unresolved]] or [[start this encounter over from the beginning->Ancient Mirror Cutscene 1]]. [if MirrorEventFixed] You return to the present, more than ready to leave the cramped room - that intervention of yours had to have been enough. Hopefully that should allow Eleanor to continue on with her afternoon. You float around the shelves, giving them a last chance to catch your attention. And then, as you realize both Eleanor and Mary are still in the room, the latter of them still complaining and bickering about, you do notice the issue. [[The mirror is still broken.->Mirror Event Resolved/Unresolved]]

MirrorPastVisited: true -- As you focus on the mirror, time slips backward. Shadows lengthen across the storage room as daylight fades into evening. The museum's sounds - footsteps, conversations, the distant closing of doors - gradually diminish. The mirror stands uncovered, its silver surface catching moonlight that streams through a very small, very high window. The storage room door creaks open, and two figures slip inside - a night guard in half-buttoned uniform and a young woman with copper-red hair falling loose around her shoulders. She giggles, pressing a finger to her lips. The guard leads her toward the mirror. "Belonged to some Russian aristocrat, yes. No, silly me! This came right from Peking. ‘Twas from the emperor’s chambers." he boasts. "Surely worth more than I'll make in 2, perhaps [[5 years->Ancient Mirror Occasion 2]]. No more than that though - that’d be ridiculous.” [inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Ancient Mirror Past Scared Off]] [continue]

"Mmhm… very interesting… but we shouldn't be in here." she whispers, though she doesn’t look all that concerned. "Ah, well… Nobody ever comes to this part of the storage! Not after hours, anyways." the guard reassures her. "Besides, it looks amazing, doesn’t it? Downright huge." She trails her fingers along display cases, peering at artifacts with casual curiosity. "Oh, so this little thing is what you were talking about down at the pub?" she says dismissively, turning toward him with a coy smile. "And here I thought you were going to show me [[something worth my time.->Ancient Mirror Cutscene 3]]." [inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Ancient Mirror Past Scared Off]] [continue]

MirrorGuardScared: true MirrorEventFixed: true -- You focus your will, sending a subtle pulse of vibration through the ancient mirror. Its frame falter a bit, and its surface... ripples? You could swear it almost looked like water, though you are not given enough time to check properly - it quickly settles back into stillness. The guard, about to lean in closer with the young woman, catches the movement in his peripheral vision. He glances into the mirror, and his boastful expression freezes. The woman follows his gaze, her playful smile faltering, then [[dropping entirely->Ancient Mirror Past Scared Off 2]].

"W-what in God's name...?" the guard whispers, stumbling back and pulling the woman with him. She doesn't resist, eyes wide with an unspoken terror, fixed on the mirror's surface. You watch as they scramble for the door, nearly tripping themselves over one another. The room falls silent once more. What...? Well, it worked. At least there's that. Confused, you feel the past receding, pulling you [[back to the present->Ancient Mirror Diorama]].

IntroMeetingEleanorPersuasion: true -- Your jaw clenches as the director prattles on. Every word from his mouth grates against your nerves like sandpaper. How dare he lecture about "priorities" when he couldn't tell a Bronze Age artifact from a Victorian reproduction? What an incompetent man. Heat rises from your collar as Mary simpers beside him. Of course she's nodding along, batting those eyelashes. She's only here because her uncle sits on the board, while you - with your actual degrees - are treated like a glorified cleaner. Your fingers dig into your palms. Just once, you'd like to tell them exactly what you think of their precious "cataloguing system." {plainlink to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

IntroMeetingDirectorPersuasion: true -- Your collar feels too tight. The exhibition opening, the duke's visit, the board's budget review, the missing acquisition paperwork - all demanding immediate attention. Your stomach churns. What if the duke is unimpressed? What if the board questions the expense reports? The paperwork. The budget. The duke. The thoughts swirl faster, each one demanding precedence. Everything must be perfect, and you are so, so tired of it. {plainlink to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[if ApothecaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:apoth1] Eleanor approaches the counter, one hand at her temple. [if ApothecaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:apoth1] *"Good afternoon. I'd like to collect my usual medicinal, please. For the headaches."* [if ApothecaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:apoth1 newline] The shopgirl's brow furrows slightly. [if ApothecaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:apoth1] *"Your usual? I don't believe we've met before, Miss...?"* [if ApothecaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1 id:apoth1 newline] *"Lovelace. Eleanor Lovelace. I've been coming here for months."* [if ApothecaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:apoth1] Eleanor's voice tightens. [if ApothecaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:apoth1] *"The… um… well, I don’t recall his name, but the gentleman always assists me. Older fellow, red hair?"* [continue] [continue] [if ApothecaryTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:apoth2] The shopgirl's expression clears. [if ApothecaryTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:apoth2] *"Ah! That would be my father. He's taken ill this week, so I'm minding the shop."* [if ApothecaryTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:apoth2] *"Let me check our records. Your name again?"* [if ApothecaryTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1 id:apoth2 newline] *"Lovelace. Eleanor Lovelace."* [if ApothecaryTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:apoth2] Eleanor drums her fingers on the counter, her eyes straying to the shelves. [continue] [continue] [if ApothecaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:apoth3] The shopgirl flips through the ledger, her finger tracing down columns of neat script. [if ApothecaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:apoth3] *"Lovelace... Lovelace... ah!"* [if ApothecaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:apoth3 newline] Her eyes widen slightly as she reads the entry. She glances up at Eleanor, then back to the page. [if ApothecaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:apoth3] *"Yes, of course. Just, um… One moment, please."* [if ApothecaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:apoth3 newline] She turns to the shelves, searching among the bottles until eventually she selects one. [continue] [continue] [if ApothecaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:apoth4] The shopgirl sets the bottle on the counter with a practiced smile. [if ApothecaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:apoth4] *"Here we are. I reckon this is what my father gave you? That will be sixpence."*

ApothecaryTurns (comesFromMenu() != true): ApothecaryTurns + 1 -- [if ApothecaryTurns < 5] You hover inside Galford's Apothecary. A counter dominates the center of the tight room, and you can spot a [[ledger->apothecary ledger]] and a [[bell->apothecary bell]] on top of it. Behind stands the [[shopgirl]], attending to [[Eleanor->Eleanor Apothecary]]. To the left, a [[waiting bench]] sits beneath a window, while the walls are lined with crowded [[shelves->apothecary shelves]]. Near the back, a small [[scale->apothecary scale]] rests on a side table, beside several framed [[certificates->apothecary certificates]]. [if ApothecaryTurns == 4] [append] A small brown [[bottle->apothecary bottle]] now sits on the counter [continue] *** [continue] {embed passage: 'Apothecary Dialogue'} [continue] [if ApothecaryTurns > 4] You feel a strange ripple in the air around you, as if time itself is hesitating. The world seems to pause, suspended between moments. You realize you're being given a choice: either [[proceed with the apothecary visit's conclusion->Apothecary Ending Cutscene 1]] - with the feeling you may not be able to return here afterward - or [[start this encounter over from the beginning->Apothecary Starting Cutscene 2]]. {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'}

Eleanor tucks the bottle into her workbag, her shoulders settling as she secures the clasp. "Well, good day," she murmurs to the shopgirl, who responds with a polite nod. Eleanor steps back into the afternoon sunlight, [[and you hover along with her..->Apothecary Ending Cutscene 2]]

DayCalories: DayCalories + 3 SlotThreeAttended: true ApothecaryVisited: true -- You follow her as she walks briskly away from the apothecary, her hand occasionally straying to the pocket where the bottle is currently nestled within. Her expression is one of relief, the promise of remedy already seeming to ease her discomfort. You round a corner, disappearing into the flow of pedestrians as the afternoon wears on. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

You follow Eleanor as she makes her way along the narrow street, her steps purposeful despite a slight wince creasing her brow. The painted sign of Gilford’s Apothecary swings gently overhead, its letters - though very faded - promising relief from various ailments. She adjusts her collar and steps inside. [[The bell announces her arrival.->Apothecary Starting Cutscene 2]]

ApothecaryTurns: 0 LedgerChecked: false BottleLabelSwitchSeen: false OriginalLabelSeen: false ApothecaryPregnantPast: false ApothecaryScalePast: false ApothecaryBellRung: false -- A small brass bell announces Eleanor's arrival. The interior is dim, shelves lining both walls with bottles of various shapes and sizes. Their glass surfaces catch what little light filters through the dusty windows, casting very colourful shadows across the wooden floorboards. Behind a polished counter stands a young woman with copper-red hair pinned back, arranging vials in a precise order. She looks up at Eleanor's entrance with a wide, but slightly [[annoyed smile->Apothecary Diorama]]. {reset dialogue}

RichardCompliment: true -- The words form before you can stop them. "Elllie, er... Miss Lovelace, I've been meaning to tell you..." She looks up, eyebrow raised in question, and you nearly lose your nerve. "Your expedition proposal... to Brittany. I think it's quite bold, actually. Inspired." Your voice steadies as you continue. "The board can be rather short-sighted about these things. I suggest you keep pestering them about it, that usually works with me." [[Her surprise is evident.->Appreciation Richard Persuasion 2]]

A smile warms her face. "Ah! That's so kind of you to say, Richard. Most colleagues have been rather dismissive." "Well, they're fools then. They clearly haven't read your work. No reader of yours couldn't end up sharing your curiosity on those findings. There *must* be something to be found there!" You adjust your spectacles, suddenly aware of how forward you've been. What's got into you? Get back to work. {link to: 'Egyptian Exhibition Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The air in the archives is cool and still. Rows upon rows of towering metal shelves stretch into the dim distance, packed tightly with document boxes and leather-bound ledgers - the only light comes from a few sparsely placed gas lamps, casting long, deep shadows. Violet Whitlock stands at a large wooden table near the center of the room, already engrossed in examining a recently opened crate filled with scrolls and pottery shards. She looks up as Eleanor enters, her expression as neutral and precise as the lines of her tailored suit. "*Ah, Miss Lovelace. Punctual. Good.*" She gestures towards the table. "*These arrived yesterday. Mesopotamian, mostly. I require assistance with the preliminary cataloguing.*" [[Eleanor approaches the table.->Archive Review Starting Cutscene 2]]

[if ArchiveReviewTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:archRev1] Violet glances up from her pottery arrangement. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.8 id:archRev1] *"Something amiss, Miss Lovelace?"* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:archRev1 newline] Eleanor taps her pen against the tablet's edge. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.5 id:archRev1] *"The cuneiform. Remarkably clear impressions."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.8 id:archRev1] Violet returns to sorting shards by size. [continue] [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:archRev2] Eleanor reaches for a fresh cataloguing card. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRev2] *"These acquisition notes mention a private collection. Related to the Whitlock estate donation?"* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRev2 newline] Violet sets down a curved fragment. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.8 id:archRev2] *"No. Standard Mesopotamian artifacts."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:archRev2] *"My family's collection focused elsewhere."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.5 id:archRev2] Her fingers move to the next shard. [continue] [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:archRev3] Violet lifts a larger fragment to the light. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRev3] *"Unusual glaze technique. The firing temperature appears inconsistent with standard Uruk period work."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRev3 newline] Eleanor looks up from her card. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.0 id:archRev3] *"Trade connections, perhaps? Anatolian influence in the technique?"* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:archRev3] Violet places the shard with the others. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.8 id:archRev3] *"Contamination in the record. Precision is essential."* [continue] [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:archRev4] Eleanor fills in the provenance section. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRev4] *"Cross-referencing with acquisition ledger Gamma-7, as instructed."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:archRev4] *"The item numbers match, though some descriptions seem abbreviated."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRev4 newline] Violet arranges the completed shards on the velvet cloth. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.0 id:archRev4] *"Brevity serves accuracy."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.8 id:archRev4] Her pen scratches across her own notes. [continue] [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:archRev5] Eleanor completes the final tablet entry. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRev5] *"Condition assessment: intact, minor surface wear consistent with age."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRev5] She sets down her pen. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:2.0 id:archRev5 newline] Violet gathers her pottery fragments into organized rows. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:archRev5] *"There. Isn't it nice?"* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.8 id:archRev5] The velvet cloth holds twenty-three arranged pieces. [continue]

[if ArchiveReviewTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:archRevInt1] Violet sets down her pottery shard and approaches the table, carrying the small wooden box. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRevInt1] *"The standard cataloguing can wait, Miss Lovelace."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:archRevInt1] She settles into the chair directly across from Eleanor. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRevInt1] *"I have some items that require... particular expertise."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 1; dialogue delay:2.0 id:archRevInt1 newline] Eleanor blinks, glancing at the abandoned pottery. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:archRevInt1] *"Oh. Um, of course. What sort of expertise?"* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRevInt1] She straightens in her chair, hands folded. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRevInt1] Violet opens the box without answering. [continue] [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:archRevInt2] Violet removes a small stone [[bowl->watching bowl Archive Review]], its interior carved with multiple eye-like depressions. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRevInt2] *"This piece. Tell me what you observe."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRevInt2] She places it before Eleanor, the eyes seeming to catch the gaslight. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 2; dialogue delay:2.0 id:archRevInt2 newline] Eleanor leans forward, her fingers tracing the rim without touching. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:archRevInt2] *"Unusual iconography. The multiple ocular motifs suggest... perhaps astronomical observation?"* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRevInt2] *"Or divination practices. Star-gazing rituals common in Mesopotamian culture."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRevInt2] Violet's expression doesn't change. [continue] [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:archRevInt3] Violet produces a clay [[figurine->marked figurine Archive Review]] depicting a woman, her surface marked with what appear to be bite impressions. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRevInt3] *"And this specimen?"* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:2.0 id:archRevInt3 newline] Eleanor picks up the figurine, turning it slowly. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:archRevInt3] *"Damage to the surface... tooth marks, perhaps from rodents in storage?"* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRevInt3] *"The preservation is otherwise remarkable. Late Bronze Age fertility goddess, I'd estimate."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRevInt3] She sets it down carefully. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:archRevInt3] *"Poor storage conditions can be so destructive to archaeological specimens, ahah..."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.0 id:archRevInt3] Violet's lips press together slightly. [continue] [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:archRevInt4] Violet unwraps a bronze [[mirror->hungry mirror Archive Review]] whose surface seems to shimmer with more than reflected light. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRevInt4] *"This mirror. Look into it and tell me what you see."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:2.0 id:archRevInt4 newline] Eleanor holds the mirror up, angling it toward the gaslight. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRevInt4] *"Exceptional preservation of the bronze surface. The craftsmanship is quite sophisticated."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRevInt4] She tilts it, watching the light play across its face. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:archRevInt4] *"The alloy composition appears unusually pure. Likely high-status ownership."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRevInt4] Eleanor lowers the mirror, her hands trembling slightly. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.0 id:archRevInt4] *"Though the lighting in here makes proper assessment difficult."* [continue] [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:archRevInt5] Violet removes the final object - a small bronze [[vessel->growth vessel Archive Review]] that seems to pulse with warmth despite the cool archive air. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRevInt5] *"This vessel. Hold it. Tell me what you feel."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:2.0 id:archRevInt5 newline] Eleanor accepts the vessel, immediately drawing her hands back. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:archRevInt5] *"Quite warm. Residual heat from transport, perhaps?"* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRevInt5] She cradles it more carefully, her fingers whitening. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRevInt5] *"The bronze composition appears to retain heat efficiently. Interesting metallurgical properties...?"* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:archRevInt5] She places it back on the table quickly. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRevInt5] *"I... I'm not certain what specific expertise you're seeking, Miss Whitlock?"* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:2.2 id:archRevInt5 newline] Violet collects the objects without ceremony, her movements sharp. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.0 id:archRevInt5] *"Academic."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRevInt5] The word drops like a stone. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRevInt5] *"Your expertise is thoroughly... academic, Miss Lovelace."* [continue]

[if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:archRevGone1] Eleanor stares at the spot where Violet vanished, then up at the sputtering lamp, bewildered. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:archRevGone1] *"Good heavens... that lamp nearly exploded!"* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRevGone1] She takes a hesitant step towards the ashes, then stops. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRevGone1] *"Ms. Whitlock? Violet...? Where did she go?"* [continue] [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:archRevGone2] She looks around the empty archive space, frowning. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRevGone2] *"Did she... leave? Without a word? How rude."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRevGone2] She shakes her head, pulling her notes closer. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:2.0 id:archRevGone2] *"Probably went to complain about the lighting. Or fetch maintenance. Typical."* [continue] [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:archRevGone3] Eleanor looks again at the ashes, then quickly away, clearly deciding not to dwell on it. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRevGone3] *"Well. Suppose I should finish this cataloguing myself then. Can't rely on anyone..."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRevGone3] She picks up a new card, trying to focus on the tablet before her, though her hand trembles slightly. [continue]

ArchiveReviewTurns (comesFromMenu() != true): ArchiveReviewTurns + 1 -- [if ArchiveReviewTurns <= 5] You hover within the museum archives. A number of metal [[shelves->shelves Archive Review]] stretch into the far distance of the hall. A single [[gas lamp->gas lamp Archive Review]] overhead casts pools of light onto a central wooden [[table->table Archive Review]]. [if ArchiveReviewTurns <= 5; unless VioletTeleported; if VioletInterest < 2] [[Eleanor->Eleanor Archive Review]] stands at the table, carefully examining a clay tablet. [[Violet->Violet Archive Review]] is instead standing on the other side of the room, arranging pottery shards onto a velvet cloth. Several opened [[crates->crates Archive Review]] sit on the floor nearby. [if ArchiveReviewTurns <= 5; unless VioletTeleported; if VioletInterest >= 2] [[Eleanor->Eleanor Archive Review]] sits at the table, while [[Violet->Violet Archive Review]] has moved closer, now standing directly across from her - she has carried with her a box, though it's too dark for you to take a look inside. Several opened [[crates->crates Archive Review]] sit on the floor nearby. [if ArchiveReviewTurns <= 5; if VioletTeleported] [[Eleanor->Eleanor Archive Review]] stands alone at the table now, looking around with a puzzled expression. Several opened [[crates->crates Archive Review]] sit on the floor nearby. A fine layer of grey ash coats the floor where *the late* Violet Whitlock previously stood. [continue] *** [continue] [if VioletTeleported] {embed passage: 'Archive Review Dialogue Violet Gone'} [unless VioletTeleported; if VioletInterest >= 2] {embed passage: 'Archive Review Dialogue Interested'} [unless VioletTeleported; if VioletInterest < 2] {embed passage: 'Archive Review Dialogue'} [continue] [if ArchiveReviewTurns > 5] You feel a strange ripple in the air around you, as if time itself is hesitating. The world seems to pause, suspended between moments. You realize you're being given a choice: either [[proceed with this encounter's conclusion->Archive Review Ending Router]] - with the feeling you may not be able to return here afterward - or [[start this scene over from the beginning->Archive Review Cutscene 1]]. {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'} [continue]

SlotOneAttended: true DayCalories: DayCalories + 1 ArchiveReviewAttended: true VioletArchiveSuccessful (VioletInterest >= 1): true -- [if VioletInterest >= 2] Violet returns the artifacts to their box, each movement precise and final. The wooden lid closes with a sharp snap. She gathers the scattered cataloguing cards without looking at Eleanor, stacking them with mechanical efficiency. "I told them you were hopeless." she mutters to herself. Eleanor shifts in her chair, her hands clasping and unclasping. "I... did I miss something? About the artifacts?" Violet pauses, her fingers still on the card stack. "Your training is thorough, Miss Lovelace." The words carry no warmth. "Perhaps... additional exposure to our collections might prove instructive." She stands, adjusting her spectacles. "Should you be interested in extended research access." Eleanor nods quickly, uncertain. "Yes, of course. Any opportunity to expand my understanding..." [[Violet is already turning away.->Archive review ending 2]] [continue] [if VioletInterest < 2] The last artifact card is completed. Violet collects the cataloguing materials without comment, her expression unreadable as she immediately returns to cross-referencing the acquisition ledger. "Ensure the area is tidied before you leave, Miss Lovelace," she instructs curtly, [[her attention already elsewhere.->Archive review ending 2]] [continue]

[if VioletTeleported] {embed passage: 'Archive Review Ending Violet Gone'} [unless VioletTeleported] {embed passage: 'Archive Review Ending 1'} [continue]

SlotOneAttended: true DayCalories: DayCalories + 1 ArchiveReviewAttended: true VioletTeleported: true EleanorMine (VioletTeleported == true): EleanorMine + 1 -- Eleanor finishes the remaining cataloguing cards alone, casting occasional nervous glances around her. She works quickly, eager to leave the unsettling atmosphere of the archive. The silence feels heavier now, broken only by the erratic sputter of the damaged gas lamp. *But isn't it peaceful, now? Just Eleanor and you, sharing a moment.* As she pulls the door shut behind her, you hear her mutter, "*Must report that faulty lamp immediately... honestly, the state of this place...*" {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'} [note] Specific ending cutscene if Violet was teleported. Sets flags appropriately (no Violet follow-up event triggered). VioletArchiveSuccessful remains false. [continue]

ArchiveReviewTurns: 0 VioletArchiveSuccessful: false MagnifyingGlassAligned: false GasLampFlareSeen: false VioletShadowAnomalySeen: false CratePastSeen: false VioletAnimusBlocked: false VioletArchiveReviewPersuaded: false ReflectiveObjectAligned: false VioletTeleported: false VioletInterest: 0 VioletTeleported: false WatchingBowlPastSeen: false ShelvesPastSeen: false MagnifyingGlassPastSeen: false -- Violet steps aside slightly, indicating a stack of blank cataloguing cards and a pot of ink. "*Standard procedure. Note provenance, condition, brief description. Cross-reference with acquisition ledger Gamma-7.*" She returns her attention to a small clay tablet, turning it over in her gloved hands, seemingly already dismissing Eleanor's presence now that instructions have been given. [[*The vast, silent archive stretches around them.*->Archive Review Diorama]] {reset dialogue} [note] Initializes all event-specific variables, including the new ones for the teleportation puzzle (ReflectiveObjectAligned, VioletTeleported). Serves as the reset point. [continue]

[if VioletInterest >= 2] Eleanor nods hesitantly, gathering her notes with unsteady hands. "I... yes, if you think it would be helpful. Though I'm not certain what I might contribute..." Violet straightens her papers without looking up. "Administrative wing. Second floor. Just warn me beforehand." Her tone suggests duty rather than enthusiasm. "I'm sure we can find something to discuss." Eleanor lingers at the threshold as Violet returns to her ledger. The scratch of pen on paper fills the silence. When Eleanor glances back, Violet's head remains bent over her work, spectacles reflecting the gaslight. [if VioletInterest < 2] Eleanor murmurs a quiet acknowledgment and begins tidying the stray papers and ink pots. Violet remains engrossed in her ledger, offering no further comment or glance in Eleanor's direction. The dismissal is clear, professional, and utterly final for the moment. Eleanor moves toward the heavy archive door, her footsteps echoing in the vast space. The gas lamp continues its steady hiss overhead, casting the same pools of light onto the now-empty table. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

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[if isPast] {embed passage: 'IsPast Page Layout Logic'} [if isMind] {embed passage: 'IsMind Page Layout Logic'} [unless isPast; unless isMind] {embed passage: 'Ch.2 Normal Page Layout Logic'} [continue]

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IntroMeetingDirectorPersuasion: true -- Each word from your mouth carries weight. The board respects you. The staff fears you. This museum exists because of your will alone. These meetings waste time you don't have. A man in your position shouldn't need to explain himself. A simple directive should suffice. They should anticipate your needs. Sometimes you wonder if anyone else is truly qualified to make decisions about *your* institution. {plainlink to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

You cradle the canopic jar, marveling at its craftsmanship. Even after years of study, these treasures still fill you with wonder. "Miss Lovelace, look at the artistry here - the hieroglyphs indicate this belonged to a priest of Anubis." Your voice rises with enthusiasm. "Can you imagine? Three thousand years, and we can still read his name." You trail off, suddenly self-conscious, but she nods, and her smile doesn't seem to be mocking you either. How nice of her. {link to: 'Egyptian Exhibition Diorama', label: 'Back'}

Eleanor pauses before the bakery's large display window, its glass fogged from the heat within. Behind the steamy barrier, a vast array of pastries and breads are arranged in neat rows, their golden-brown surfaces glistening in the light of the shop's interior. The scent of fresh baking escapes when the door opens for a departing customer. She hesitates, glancing at her pocket watch briefly before straightening her shoulders and stepping toward the entrance, one hand unconsciously brushing against her waistcoat where it pulls slightly across her. [[The bell rings, announcing her entrance.->Bakery Cutscene 2]]

The bakery's interior is warm, and given the amount of customers, you can guess it’s not uncomfortably so. Glass display cases line the walls, filled with an assortment of temptations: flaky croissants, oozing custard tarts, and plump meat pies resting beneath heat lamps. The shopkeeper, a big man with flour dusting his beard, nods as Eleanor approaches the counter. *"Miss Lovelace! Not seen you this past fortnight. Was getting worried!"* he calls cheerfully, already reaching for a paper bag. Eleanor smiles, but her gaze wanders beyond him to a tray of freshly arranged pastries, their tops glistening with [[honey glaze->Bakery Cutscene 3]].

DayCalories: DayCalories + 3 SlotTwoAttended: true -- *"The usual, yes,"* Eleanor begins, *"wait, actually..."* Her eyes linger on the new display. *"What are those? I don't believe I've seen them before."* The baker's eyes light up. *"Just arrived from the continent! Filled with almond cream and apricot, quite the delicacy."* He leans closer, conspirationally. *"Reserved a few specially when I saw the delivery. Thought they might appeal to... a woman of taste!"* Eleanor's cheeks flush slightly. *"Ah, you're too kind. And if that’s the case, I simply must take two of those as well, then."* The meat pie and two pastries are carefully wrapped and exchanged for coins. Eleanor clutches the warm package to her chest, the paper already developing translucent spots from [[the butter inside of it->Bakery Cutscene 4]].

Eleanor settles at a small iron table in the corner, partially hidden from street view by a potted fern. Carefully unfolding the wrapping, she reveals her lunch: a substantial meat pie. She eats methodically at first, cutting neat forkfuls and dabbing her lips after each bite. You can feel that the savory filling quiets the persistent hunger she's felt all morning, though she catches herself glancing toward the wrapped pastries with increasing frequency. [[By the time the pie is finished, her composure has noticeably relaxed.->Bakery Cutscene 5]]

The pastries - which you assumed were meant for late - disappear with considerably less restraint than the pie. Flakes of buttery dough cling to Eleanor's fingers as she devours first one, then after only the briefest hesitation, the second. The almond cream filling is sweet but not cloying, perfectly complemented by the tart apricot. She finds herself close to licking her fingers before propriety reasserts itself, and she reaches for her handkerchief instead. Afterwards, she sits for a moment, one hand resting lightly against her straining waistcoat. Her breathing has deepened, and she allows herself a moment to simply exist in the pleasant fullness before gathering her things. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to return to work.'} [note] we could have that final paragraph be different based on her weight stage. [continue]

BankMeetingAttended: true SlotTwoAttended: true -- You follow Eleanor inside the imposing, marble-floored entrance hall of the bank. The air is cool, echoing with the hushed clicks of clerks' pens and the rustle of ledgers. She approaches the main counter, handing over her appointment card. The head clerk, a stern-faced older man, glances at the card, then consults a thick registry. "*Ah, Miss Lovelace. Mr. Thorne sends his deepest apologies - an urgent matter required his presence. Elsewhere. However, Mr. Finch is prepared to assist you. This way, please.*" He gestures not towards the large, intimidating mahogany door marked 'Manager', but down a quieter side corridor. [[Eleanor follows, seemingly intrigued.->Bank Meeting Cutscene 2]]

The clerk leads Eleanor to a surprisingly comfortable office - surely smaller than the manager's, but furnished with plush chairs and shelves lined with books. Standing nervously beside the desk is a young man, perhaps barely older than Eleanor herself. His spectacles are slightly askew on his eager, plump face, and a copy of "~~Antiquities of Ancient Greece~~" peeks out from beneath a stack of bank ledgers on his desk. He rushes forward, hand outstretched. "*Miss Lovelace! A distinct honour! Truly!*” he gushes. "*Reginald Finch, at your service. Mr. Thorne was unexpectedly detained, but I assured him that I was quite capable of handling our appointment. I've followed the Institute's work - yours too, I have to assume! - for years! Simply fascinating!*" He gestures enthusiastically towards a nearby table laden with… [[oh my->Bank Meeting Cutscene 2.5]].

…yes, well, laden with an overwhelming amount of food: three tiers of sandwiches, scones with cream and jam, slices of Battenberg, Victoria sponge, Dundee cake, assorted biscuits, plus pots of both tea and coffee. "*Please, sit, sit! And do help yourself!*" he beams. "*Must keep one's strength up for important discussions! Wasn't quite sure of your preferences... so I ordered a variety!*" [[Eleanor sits, slightly taken aback by the spread and his enthusiasm.->Bank Meeting Cutscene 3]]

DayCalories: DayCalories + 1 -- The man talks rapidly, barely pausing for breath, eventually pushing the plate of scones towards her. "*A scone? Essential for maintaining one's focus during complex historical analysis, I find!*" Caught off guard, and feeling the pressure of his expectant gaze (and perhaps the lure of the cream), Eleanor politely takes a small scone, spreading a thin layer of jam. *"Well, Mr. Finch, my research focuses primarily on the artifactual evidence suggesting...*" she begins, trying to steer the conversation back. He listens, but nods so vigorously he nearly dislodges his spectacles, already reaching for the sandwich platter. "*Exactly! Artifacts! Have you seen… this?*" He pulls a small, worn coin from his waistcoat pocket. "*Found it near Bath. Roman, third century, I believe! The detail! Exquisite!*" [[He holds it out for her inspection.->Bank Meeting Cutscene 4]]

Eleanor examines the coin politely, offering a noncommittal compliment before placing it gently back on the desk and clearing her throat. "*Mr. Finch, regarding the reason for my appointment... the private loan for the initial survey...*" Finch waves a dismissive hand, pushing the sandwiches closer again. "*Ah yes, the practicalities! Tiresome, indeed. But necessary!"* He grabs a bank form from a drawer but doesn't seem to actually read it. *"Collateral? Miss Lovelace, surely the advancement of human knowledge is collateral enough! Mr. Thorne understands the importance of supporting local academic endeavours.*" He scribbles something onto the form. *"He's given me discretion for sums up to one hundred pounds for such cases. A preliminary expedition... fieldwork... travel... I imagine that should suffice for some of the initial stages, yes?*" Eleanor seems on the verge of correcting him, but he asks this while pointing towards the Victoria sponge cake. [["*You simply MUST try a slice! Celebration is in order!*"->Bank Meeting Cutscene 5]]

DayCalories: DayCalories + 4 ExpeditionFunds: ExpeditionFunds + 3 -- Slightly bewildered by the ease of this meeting, Eleanor accepts the slice of cake Finch offers her. As he fills out the loan approval form with cheerful efficiency, seemingly more focused on dotting the 'i's with a flourish than the financial details, you watch as Eleanor finds herself taking another sandwich, then another small piece of Battenberg cake from the plates Finch keeps nudging her way. His enthusiasm is infectious, and frankly, you don’t know what she was talking about in her calendar’s notes: the food seems to be rather good. "*There we are!*" Finch signs the bottom of the form with a grand loop. "*One hundred pounds sterling, credited to your account by closing time today. Just think, Miss Lovelace! You're on the verge of discovery! If you find anything... well, anything truly remarkable, do let me know! I should be honoured to be among the first to hear! It’s only fair.*" [[He beams, handing her the approved document.->Bank Meeting Cutscene 6]]

BankMeetingAttended: true -- Eleanor folds the loan approval carefully, tucking it into her workbag. You can tell by her posture she feels rather full, possibly slightly light-headed from the unexpected amount of food and Finch's sheer energy. She offers him a genuine, if slightly dazed, smile. "*Thank you, Mr. Finch. Truly. Your... um… confidence in this venture is greatly appreciated.*" "*Not at all, Miss Lovelace, not at all! A privilege!*" He sees her to the office door, still chattering about potential Roman influences in Brittany. Now back in the main hall, Eleanor takes a deep breath, the scent of old paper and money replacing the sweet aroma of cake, and makes her way out, the unexpected success (and the weight in her stomach) settling in. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

SlotTwoAttended: true DayCalories: DayCalories + 1 -- You follow Eleanor into the imposing, marble-floored entrance hall of Thorne & Sons Banking House. The head clerk, after confirming her appointment, leads her directly to the heavy mahogany door marked 'Manager'. The office is vast and silent, save for the loud ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner. Dark wood panels line the walls, and heavy leather chairs face an expansive, impeccably clear desk. Mr. Thorne himself, an older man with stern features and neat grey hair, gestures curtly towards a chair without rising. "*Miss Lovelace. Be seated.*" His tone is purely business. As Eleanor sits, a clerk enters silently, placing a tray with a cup of pallid-looking tea and two sad, pale biscuits before her. "*Refreshment.*" Thorne states, rather than offers. Bound by etiquette, Eleanor forces a polite nod and takes a sip of the lukewarm, bitter tea, crumbling a corner off a dry biscuit she has no intention of finishing. [[The taste is truly dreadful.->Bank Meeting Thorne Cutscene 2]]

Eleanor clears her throat, trying to ignore the unpleasant aftertaste. "*Mr. Thorne, thank you for seeing me. I wish to apply for a small, short-term personal loan - merely seed funding, you understand - to facilitate a preliminary archaeological survey in Brittany. A modest f-fifty pounds.*" Thorne regards her impassively, steepling his fingers. "*Archaeology, Miss Lovelace? The bank concerns itself with tangible assets and reliable returns, not... academic speculation.*" His gaze is dismissive. "*What collateral do you propose for this venture? 'Potential discoveries' are hardly bankable security.*" His focus is purely on the financial risk, or lack thereof. Eleanor attempts to elaborate, mentioning potential artefact value, but Thorne waves a hand dismissively, cutting her off. [[He glances pointedly at the clock.->Bank Meeting Thorne Cutscene 3]]

Eleanor attempts to elaborate, mentioning potential artefact value, but Thorne waves a hand dismissively, cutting her off. He glances pointedly at the clock. "*Miss Lovelace, your proposal is irregular and frankly, lacks sound financial basis.*" He sighs, drumming his fingers on the desk. *"However...*" he picks up his pen, *"The sum is... negligible. Frankly, the administrative effort to formally deny such a trifling amount is unwarranted, particularly given my demanding schedule this week.*" He quickly signs a standard loan form, barely glancing at it. *"There. Twenty-five pounds. Repayable in six months, interest compounded quarterly.*" He slides the form across the desk. "*Any further, minor inquiries of this nature will be delegated to my assistant, Mr. Finch, though I’m sure I have made myself appropriately clear, and that you will have no need to pose any. Good day.*" [[He turns pointedly to his ledger, indicating the meeting is over.->Bank Meeting Thorne Cutscene 4]]

BankMeetingAttended: true ExpeditionFunds: ExpeditionFunds + 1 -- Eleanor takes the slip, murmuring a stiff, "*Thank you, Mr. Thorne.*” She rises, smoothing her skirt, and quickly exits the oppressive office, the heavy door clicking shut behind her. The relief of escaping the manager's presence is palpable, even if the granted sum feels insultingly small. At least it's *something*. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

BarrierAetherHelpful: true LustSpiritHelpfulActions: LustSpiritHelpfulActions + 1 -- You focus your will into the massive stone barrier, pushing vibrations through the limestone and mortar. A few loose pebbles shift and tumble to the chamber floor, raising small puffs of dust - the larger stones barely respond to your influence. Their weight and the way they've settled against each other resists your efforts, and though you manage to dislodge some mortar fragments, the heavy blocks remain exactly where they fell. Eleanor's voice drifts through the gaps: "*Richard? I thought I heard something fall.*" "*Just some loose stones, I expect,*" comes his reply, a bit clearer than before. "*This whole place feels rather unstable.*" *You sense that brute force alone won't be sufficient.* {link to: 'collapsed stone barrier', label: 'Back'}

BarrierCleared: true WeekendExpeditionTurns: 7 -- You focus your will into the embedded spears, sending powerful vibrations through their wooden shafts. The iron tips, wedged deep in the barrier's mortar, begin to shift and twist within their stone holdings, acting as levers - your force transmitted through them into the barrier's structure. Stone grinds against stone as the weapons pry against their anchoring points. Mortar dust cascades down as the pressure builds, seeking the path of least resistance. Simultaneously, you hear the altered water flow from your previous interference - the redirected current now having pressed against the ceiling stones for more than a millennium. [[The chamber shudders.->Barrier Collapse Aether Cutscene 2]]

The barrier gives way, its stones tumbling inward rather than outward, their debris falling toward the chamber's center instead of crushing the trapped pair. Simultaneously, the redirected water pressure overhead reaches its breaking point. A section of the ceiling directly above the fallen barrier cracks and splits, but instead of catastrophic collapse, the weakened stones fall in a precise line - you watch as orange light pokes its way into the space, multiplying by the second. Huge limestone blocks cascade down to merge with the barrier's remains, and for a second, you notice a shimmer of pink light [[getting caught under them.->Barrier Collapse Aether Cutscene 3]]

The chamber settles into stillness. Where once an impassable stone wall divided the space, there's now a rough, but climbable slope of limestone blocks leading upward, towards blessed daylight. The evening light filtering down illuminates the space with a golden, if a little dusty, glow. The ancient Roman engineering, guided by your intervention, has opened a direct route to the surface. [[The way is clear.->Weekend Expedition Romantic Freed Ending 1]]

[if helpfulnessNegative; unless stuffedstate == 'OVERSTUFFED'] [[Eleanor]] is here, nestled among a mound of pillows atop a messy [[four-poster bed]]. The green damask walls bear water stains near the listing [[wardrobe]], its door hanging ajar to reveal a number of haphazardly stuffed garments. The [[writing desk]] by the window hosts more empty wine bottles than papers, their necks clustered around a solitary inkpot sporting a dried nib. There’s also a rug, lying kicked into a corner. [if helpfulnessNone; unless stuffedstate == 'OVERSTUFFED'] A thin layer of dust mutes the damask walls' pattern. The [[wardrobe]] stands closed but bulging at its middle drawer, while the [[writing desk]], on which [[Eleanor]] is working by, displays stacks upon stacks of pages, most of them half-written correspondence. The rug shows circular wear patterns around the bedposts of a modest [[four-poster bed]]. [if helpfulnessMedium; unless stuffedstate == 'OVERSTUFFED'] [[Eleanor]] is here, currently busying herself by cleaning the floorboards and re-arranging the room. There are some recently beaten rugs by the window, which leave fresh lint on the damask walls' lower edges. The [[wardrobe]] doors sit nearly flush, save for one drawer containing neatly folded nightdresses. The [[writing desk]] holds neat stacks of field notes under a paperweight - a thin dust layer coats its inkwell collection. [if helpfulnessHigh; unless stuffedstate == 'OVERSTUFFED'] [[Eleanor]] is here, nestled among a mound of pillows atop a modest [[four-poster bed]]. The damask walls gleam as if recently brushed clean, complementing the [[wardrobe]]'s perfectly aligned drawers and freshly-oiled hinges. At the [[writing desk]], a blotter preserves pristine stationery beside a fresh inkwell and aligned nibs. The rug lies centered with mathematical precision, its pile combed in uniform directions. Neat. [unless helpfulnessNegative; if stuffedstate == 'OVERSTUFFED'] [[Eleanor]] is here, beached on top of a mound of pillows atop a modest [[four-poster bed]]. The damask walls gleam as if recently brushed clean, complementing the [[wardrobe]]'s perfectly aligned drawers and freshly-oiled hinges. At the [[writing desk]], a blotter preserves pristine stationery beside a fresh inkwell and aligned nibs. The rug lies centered with mathematical precision, its pile combed in uniform directions. Neat. [if helpfulnessNegative; if stuffedstate == 'OVERSTUFFED'] [[Eleanor]] is here, beached on top of a mound of pillows atop a messy [[four-poster bed]]. The green damask walls bear water stains near the listing [[wardrobe]], its door hanging ajar to reveal a number of haphazardly stuffed garments. The [[writing desk]] by the window hosts more empty wine bottles than papers, their necks clustered around a solitary inkpot sporting a dried nib. There’s also a rug, lying kicked into a corner. [continued]

PackingTurns (comesFromMenu() != true): PackingTurns + 1 config.header.left: "~ ~ ✥ ◇ ✥ ~ ~" -- [if PackingTurns <= 5] You hover within Eleanor's bedroom, morning light streaming through tall windows. The green damask walls frame the familiar space, though now scattered with empty plates and wine bottles from last night's celebration. The [[four-poster bed->four-poster bed packing]] dominates the center, its covers twisted and displaced. Near the [[wardrobe->wardrobe packing]], [[expedition clothes->expedition clothes]] hang ready from the door - practical traveling garments that seem ominously small. An [[expedition trunk->expedition trunk]] sits open by the window. The [[writing desk->writing desk packing]] by the window displays its usual papers and correspondence, your [[vessel->Vessel packing]] gleaming among the scattered documents. *** {embed passage: 'Packing Struggles'} [if PackingTurns == 6] Not a lot of progress is made. The expedition trunk stubbornly sparse, the wardrobe still overflowing with garments that no longer fit. Eleanor moves toward the writing desk instead, seeking perhaps the simpler task of organizing her research papers before departure. As she approaches, morning light catches the surface of your vessel where it sits among the scattered documents. She smiles. On a whim, [[her fingers close around the familiar granite form.->Vessel Interaction Cutscene]]

ApothecaryBellRung: true -- You focus on the bell, sending vibrations through its brass surface. It begins to shake subtly before letting out a clear, bright chime that cuts through the shop's quiet atmosphere. Almost immediately, a muffled voice calls from below: "*Ah, a customer! Coming up, just a moment!*" The shopgirl's eyes widen. She glances nervously at Eleanor before forcing a smile. "These old buildings... drafts everywhere." She adjusts her position, moving slightly to block the counter's edge before calling out towards the floor, "No need, pa! I’ve got it!" {link to: 'Apothecary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

DateProposed: true -- [if SweetsEaten < 3] Richard's unexpected compliment lingers pleasantly in your thoughts. He's always been so absorbed in his work - to have him notice yours feels surprisingly gratifying. The pastries seem like a natural excuse to extend this moment of connection. You make your way to the cart, selecting two cream-filled buns. "Richard," you call softly, approaching him with an offering, "come now, take one. I doubt you've eaten anything since morning." He looks up, startled but pleased, accepting the pastry with stained fingers. "Oh, how thoughtful of you. Thank you." His smile is genuine, if [[slightly awkward->Bonding Persuasion 2]]. [if SweetsEaten >= 2] Richard's unexpected compliment lingers pleasantly in your thoughts. He's always been so absorbed in his work - to have him notice yours feels surprisingly gratifying. You glance at the decimated refreshment cart, only a few sad pastries remaining. "Richard," you call, your voice slightly breathless from the accumulated sweets, "you should have one before they're all gone." You tap your fingers lightly against your distended stomach, feeling how taut it's become beneath your loosened clothing. "I have been a bit... enthusiastic... but in my defence they are quite good!" He looks up, startled but pleased, accepting the pastry with stained fingers. "Oh, how thoughtful of you. Thank you." His smile is genuine, if[[slightly awkward->Bonding Persuasion 2]].

DateProposed: true -- [if SweetsEaten < 3] As you both eat, you find yourself saying, "Perhaps we could continue our discussions over dinner sometime? Your theories on... um... dynasty markers! Fascinating." The words surprise you almost as much as they surprise him - behind his smudged lenses his eyes widen momentarily. "Well I... I'd like that very much, Ellie." [if SweetsEaten >= 2] As you watch him take a bite, you find yourself saying, "Perhaps we could continue our discussions over... well, not lunch, I clearly had more than enough already. Perhaps dinner sometime? Your theories on... um... dynasty markers! Fascinating." The words surprise you almost as much as they surprise him - behind his smudged lenses his eyes widen momentarily. "Ah! Yes, quite, I mean, well, um... yes. Yes, I'd like that very much, Ellie." [continue] {link to: 'Egyptian Exhibition Diorama', label: 'Back'}

DirectorKnockedOut: 1 -- You focus your power on the towering bookshelves to the left of the Director. A low hum vibrates through the dense wood and packed paper, barely audible above the quiet office ambiance. One tightly packed volume, perhaps bound slightly looser than its neighbours, shudders visibly for a second. It settles back into place, but now sits a mere fraction of a millimeter out of alignment with the perfectly straight row. The Director's gaze flickers towards the shelf for just an instant, his brow furrowing infinitesimally before he returns his attention to Eleanor, perhaps attributing the slight visual disruption to his imagination or a trick of the light. {link to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'}

DirectorKnockedOut: 2 -- You focus again, pushing a slightly stronger resonant wave into the imposing bookshelves. This time, the low hum is accompanied by a faint tremor running not only on the bookshelf to the left, but also along the entire length of the shelf directly behind the Director's head. A tiny puff of dust dislodges from the top edge, drifting down into the light. The already slightly misaligned book on the left shifts again, perhaps another fraction of a millimeter. The Director visibly pauses mid-sentence this time, his eyes narrowing as he stares directly at the shelf for a full second. He seems slightly irritated, perhaps suspecting a loose floorboard or vibrations from outside. He clears his throat pointedly before turning back to Eleanor, his posture appearing marginally stiffer. {link to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'}

DirectorKnockedOut: 3 -- Ignoring the Director's previous glances, you unleash a concentrated pulse of Aether directly into the shelf above his head. This time, the vibration isn't subtle; it's a jarring *thrum* that resonates through the wood, strong enough to rattle the inkwell set on the desk below. It seems the Director kept his heaviest tomes on the upper shelves. A particularly thick, leather-bound volume judders violently in its tightly packed spot. It slides forward, tips over the edge... [[***THUD!***->Bookshelves Director Aether 3.5]]

The heavy book connects squarely with the top of the Director's head. His eyes widen momentarily in disbelief, then roll back as he slumps forward onto his desk without a sound, nose first amidst his pristine blotter. The fallen book lies beside his head, its pages splayed open. Eleanor stares, mouth agape, [[frozen in her chair->Director Knocked Out Aftermath 1]]. [note] This is the point of no return for the Director Lunch event in this branch. The Diorama phase ends. [continue]

BottleLabelSwitchSeen: true --

Bought: true CH2Standalone: false CH3Standalone: true CH3Demo: true config.style.page.theme.override (CH3Standalone): 'dark' config.footer.left (CH2Standalone): 'Daemon of Hunger' config.footer.left (CH3Standalone): 'Goddess of Hunger' --

The quill hovers above the empty bread basket, its nib trembling in excitement. Then, in a flourish, it writes onto the paper: ~AVERT FAMINE, SILENTLY~ ~PRAY FOR ABUNDANCE TWICE~ ~SHARE THY BREAD WITH NONE~ The quill then writes the same once more, to the side. The paper rips, drifting a part of it gently into the basket's center. [[For a heartbeat, nothing happens->Bread prayer failure (not quite) cutscene 2]].

...and nothing keeps on happening. The basket remains still. The faint hum of anticipation lingers in the air, but nothing materializes. Just the empty, quiet wicker, as bare as before. The scrap of paper reattaches itself to its bigger counterpart. What did you do wrong? Did you misunderstand the meaning of the writing? Maybe it wasn't an incantation after all. Why were you so sure it was in the first place? Something isn't right... [if passage.visits == 2] *Drip... drip... drip...* [continued] {link to: 'bread basket', label: 'Back'}

BreadPrayer: true HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP + 2 GluttonyCalEXP: GluttonyCalEXP + 4 -- The quill hovers above the empty bread basket, its nib trembling in excitement. Then, in a flourish, it writes onto the paper: ~AVERT FAMINE, SILENTLY~ ~PRAY FOR ABUNDANCE TWICE~ ~SHARE THY BREAD WITH NONE~ The quill then writes the same once more, to the side. The paper rips, drifting a part of it gently into the basket's center. [[For a heartbeat, nothing happens->Bread prayer success cutscene 2]].

But then, the wicker shudders. From the center of the basket, a golden crust begins to form, expanding upward in a slow, deliberate bloom. Five loaves rise one by one, each perfectly formed, their surfaces dusted with pale flour. The scent of warm bread fills the room, rich and unmistakable. You have no doubt this will be a nice surprise for tomorrow's Eleanor. {link to: 'bread basket', label: 'Back'}

You watch it tumble, striking the marble floor with a clang that echoes through the wing. The guard freezes, eyes darting to the security office down the hall. When no footsteps come, he scoops up the helmet. You catch a glint off of the fresh dent as he rotates it, positioning the damage toward the velvet cushion. He licks his thumb and promptly brushes it against the material, leaving it spotless... but still dented. "Bloody ghosts..." he hisses, adjusting the angle three times before stepping back. The guard heads into another room, and with a snap, you find yourself back in the present. {link to: 'bronze helmet', label: 'Back'}

The awareness of your surroundings returns. You try to reach out, to touch the world around you, but your influence refuses to extend beyond the cold granite of your vessel. [[...->entryway Brought to the Museeum Ending]]

Footsteps, accompanied by the creak of floorboards. You hear the telltale sounds of Eleanor's morning routine: drawers opening and closing, the rustle of fabric, the shuffling of papers. She's moving through the apartment, most likely readying herself for the day of work ahead. A splash from the bathroom, the creak of wardrobe doors, rustling fabric - she's taking her time. You imagine her struggling with the laces of her corset, the waistband of her skirt pressing against her bloated profile... As she crosses the hallway, you can see that your assumptions were [[not wrong->Brought to the museeum ending cutscene 3]].

The morning light reveals how her work clothes... actually manage to contain her expanded figure. It's a surprising thing. Her blouse buttons pull tauter than they should across her chest, but her waistcoat hides it well, very much able to close over her round middle. The skirt is where you can still see the roundness of her lower belly, and her face too seems to have grown fuller - you swear you've caught a very slight double chin when she went to reach for her bag. You watch as she adjusts her corset through her clothes with a slight grimace - the garment has hid her fat better than you would've expected. You can't help but wonder how much larger her waist would be looking [[without it->Brought to the museeum ending cutscene 4]]. [note] Eventually she goes for the door, and picks up her bag from the floor near the table. Here the player gets to see her in her work clothes. She is still looking quite full and bloated from yesterday. (Possibly different versions based on if she was either FULL, STUFFED, or OVERSTUFFED) [continue]

Her hand is on the door handle, but pauses. She turns around, then glances down at the small, unassuming statuette on top of the table. After a moment's consideration, she reaches for it. *"...when did I get **you**?"* she murmurs, checking for a tag where you already know there isn't one. *"You're looking old, too. Why don't we get you back to the museum, darling?"* She says to the statuette, carefully placing it inside her bag. *"Perhaps you'll help me get through today's presentation, [[too->Brought to the museeum ending cutscene 5]]"*.

You watch as she finally crosses the threshold of the apartment, allowing you to follow her outside. Eleanor sighs, making her way down the street. [["*I'll need all the luck I can get...*"->Museeum Ending]]

AmphoraState: 'broken' MarbleBustsFallen: true -- As you cross through, the busts, a soft vibration follows you through the polished plinth. Barely perceptible... until it isn't. One of the busts wobbles, its base scraping subtly against the wood. Then another. The first tumbles forward, striking the next like a slow, deliberate domino. A cascade of sculpted faces leans, then falls over the next - plaster against plaster, then against something [[much more important->Empty Busts falling down 2]].

AmphoraState: 'teetering' MarbleBustsFallen: true -- As you cross through, the busts, a soft vibration follows you through the polished plinth. Barely perceptible... until it isn't. One of the busts wobbles, its base scraping subtly against the wood. Then another. The first tumbles forward, striking the next like a slow, deliberate domino. A cascade of sculpted faces leans, then falls over the next - plaster against plaster, then against something [[much more important->Full Busts falling down 2]].

She hesitates at the cupboard, fingers drumming on the counter's edge. The dish lid clicks open. A rich, creamy aroma fills the air. Eleanor's throat works as she stares at the pale gold brick. "[[Just... just to taste its freshness->Butter dish cutscene 4]]," she breathes, scooping a fingertip's worth. Her eyes flutter closed as she swallows, a faint sheen appearing at her décolletage¹. [CSS] .very-small { font-size: 14px; font-variant: regular; } [continued] <div class="titleScreen"> <h1 style="font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif;"> <span class="very-small">¹The low-cut neckline of a dress.</span><br> </h1>

Her next scoop is twice as large. The cool fat slides down her throat, while a stray droplet glistens at the corner of her mouth. Eleanor braces against the counter as her corset, not yet removed from her work day, digs into her softening midsection. "Enough, that's... that's quite enough..." she gasps, yet her hand moves again - this time breaking off a full tablespoon's chunk. The butter coats her teeth as she chews, [[her breathing growing shallow->kitchenette]]. When she next looks down, only greasy smears remain in the dish. ...it took far less than expected for you to drive her to eat raw butter.

The watch hands spin faster, blurring into one. The world seems to pause, suspended between moments. You sense you could either push Eleanor forward, [[just past of the morning's duties ->CH.2 Intro Skip Execute]] - with the feeling you may not be able to return here afterward - or, instead, [[let events unfold naturally->Intro pocket watch/CH.2 Intro Skip]]. {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'}

MatterAbility: true TimeAbility: true PersuasionAbility: true correctartefact: 3 arrowheadstaken: true clayvesseltaken: true SkullTaken: true CurrentDay: 'MONDAY' NextDay: 'MONDAY' SlotOneEvent: 'INTRO MEETING' SlotTwoEvent: 'CAFE' SlotThreeEvent: 'ICECREAM' Intro2: true PocketWatchOfficeHint: true OfficeIntroTurns: 8 IntroMeetingAttended: true SlotOneAttended: true AmphoraState: 'drunk' DayCalories: DayCalories + 4 -- The hall blurs. Voices echo and fade. Eleanor's heels click faster across the marble, then silence. When the world sharpens again, you find yourself in familiar surroundings - the morning's gathering already a memory, its artifacts sorted, its conflicts, for better or worse, [[resolved->Office]].

SecondChDemo: false config.style.backdrop: "#563232" config.style.page.color: "black on amber-2" config.style.page.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.header.right: "{embed passage: 'Powers Menu Logic'}" config.header.left: "{embed passage: 'Ascii Logic (Chapter 2)'}" config.footer.center: "{embed passage: 'Settings Menu Logic'}" WeightGained: 'NONE' TotalCalories: 0 DayCalories: 0 DayFullnessState: 'HUNGRY' ExpeditionFunds: 0 ResearchProgress: 0 ResearchConnectedToVessel: false EleanorMine: 0 MatterAbility: true TimeAbility: true PersuasionAbility: true correctartefact: 3 arrowheadstaken: true clayvesseltaken: true SkullTaken: true bathtub: false CurrentDay: 'NONE' NextDay: 'MONDAY' SlotOneEvent: 'INTRO MEETING' SlotTwoEvent: 'CAFE' SlotThreeEvent: 'ICECREAM' Intro2: false IntroMeetingAttended: false PolishExhibitSetup: false ExpertConsultationAttended: false PrivateTourAttended: false SocietyLectureAttended: false BankMeetingAttended: false GeologyClubAttended: false GardenPartyAttended: false AuctionAttended: false ArchiveReviewAttended: false PrivateResearchAttended: false TranslationSessionAttended: false WeekendExpeditionAttended: false LunchWithMary: false LunchWithDirector: false MarketVisited: false ApothecaryVisited: false TrainStationVisited: false GraveVisited: false TeaWithMaryAttended: false SocietyBallAttended: false VioletCrateAttended: false MikaCollectionRevealed: false VioletCrateRevealed: false MaryTeaSuccessful: false VioletArchiveSuccessful: false GardenPartyHangover: false AssistanceProvided: false DateProposed: false ExpeditionProposed: false RichardEngagment: false VioletInterest: 0 RichardRelationship: 0 MaryRelationship: 0 IntroMeetingTurns: 0 AmphoraState: 'base' TriedVibratingTheAmphoraInThePresent: false PastryCartVisible: false PastryCartPastSeen: false MarbleBustsFallen: false BronzeHelmetPastFallen: false IntroMeetingEleanorPersuasion: false IntroMeetingMaryPersuasion: false IntroMeetingVioletPersuasion: false IntroMeetingDirectorPersuasion: false OfficeIntroTurns: 0 PocketWatchOfficeHint: false PocketWatchOfficeHasBeenSeen: false ClayTabletFallen: false BusinessCardFallen: false BusinessCardPastSeen: false MagnifyingGlassScorched: false MagnifyingGlassCracked: false EyeMarkCreated: false VioletLookingGlassPersuasion: false ScarabPastSeen: false BronzeFigurinePastSeen: false DeskPastSeen: false MapPastSeen: false ExhibitDioramaTurns: 0 SweetsEaten: 0 RichardCompliment: false RichardFullDoubt: false RichardTrapped: false ApothecaryTurns: 0 ApothecaryBellRung: false LedgerChecked: false BottleLabelSwitchSeen: false OriginalLabelSeen: false ApothecaryPregnantPast: false ApothecaryScalePast: false TeaMaryTurns: 0 PastriesEaten: 0 FundingDiscussed: false BallInvitationOffered: false BallInvitationGained: false TeaMaryEleanorPersuaded: false TeaMaryMaryPersuaded: false CreamSpilled: false EleanorLustPersuaded: false MaryLustPersuaded: false QuillPaperFallen: false HandbagSpilled: false QuillPaperPowdered: false MaryPricked: false MarySickTriggered: false MaryPastryChoiceSeen: false DirectorLunchTurns: 0 DirectorFocused: false DirectorLunchEleanorPersuaded: false DirectorLunchEleanorPersuadedGluttony: false DirectorLunchDirectorPersuaded: false DirectorKnockedOut: 0 MirrorEventTurns: 0 MirrorEventFixed: false MirrorPastVisited: false MirrorGuardScared: false ArchiveReviewTurns: 0 MagnifyingGlassAligned: false ReflectiveObjectAligned: false GasLampFlareSeen: false VioletShadowAnomalySeen: false CratePastSeen: false VioletAnimusBlocked: false VioletArchiveReviewPersuaded: false VioletTeleported: false VioletCrateTurns: 0 VioletCratePathAChosen: false VioletCratePathBChosen: false VioletCrateOpened: false PryBarUsed: false TomePageViewed: 0 DrapedObjectRevealed: false MikaCrateChronos: false MikaTomeChronos: false MikaKnivesChronos: false MikaEffigyChronos: false MikaVioletAnimusAnticipation: false MikaVioletAnimusLonging: false MikaVioletAnimusAssurance: false MikaEleanorAnimusCuriosity: false MikaEleanorAnimusUnease: false MikaEleanorHungerTriggered: false GeologyClubTurns: 0 EleanorCuriosity: false DukePersuaded: false DukeGraniteUsed: false DukeMarbleUsed: false DukeObsidianUsed: false NautilusThrown: false SocietyBallTurns: 0 SocietyBallTimesReset: 0 MaryBallAnimus: '' BallCalories: 0 IndustrialistConvinced: false PatronWifeConvinced: false PianistConvinced: false EleanorSocietyBallPersuaded: false IndustrialistSocietyBallPersuaded: false PatronWifeSocietyBallPersuaded: false PianistSocietyBallPersuaded: false WeekendExpeditionTurns: 0 WeekendExpeditionResetCounter: 0 ExpeditionEnding: 'delayed' SpearsState: 'standing' AqueductState: 'intact' FrescoesState: 'pristine' OilLampsState: 'dim' MassageStonePlatformState: 'unknown_use' BarrierCleared: false BarrierAetherHelpful: false LustSpiritHelpfulActions: 0 LustSpiritOpposingActions: 0 LustSpiritCommitted: false AnimusBlocked: false CircleObjectsMoved: 0 CrateMoved: false DrapedStatueMoved: false LedgerStackMoved: false VioletFormRevealed: false VesselHideTurns: 0 VesselPushes: 0 VesselBroken: false MuseumEntranceIntroTurns: 0 MarketVisited: false VioletArchiveSuccessful: false HamperDeliveryAttended: false CharitableLuncheonAttended: false BenefactorLunchAttended: false VioletPlotStealVessel: false TotalCaloriesDebug: true DayCaloriesDebug: false SlotOneAttended: false SlotTwoAttended: false SlotThreeAttended: false MarySuccessTurns: 0 ResearchCompleted: false CataloguingTimes: 0 ForgottenEndingTurns: 0 PackingTurns: 0 PregnancyEndingTurns: 0 Clotofplaster: true handmirror: true Quillandpaper: true PageMask_Chapter: 'Chapter2' --

{embed passage: 'Pianist Society Ball persuasion menu'}

SlotThreeAttended: true -- Willoughby's interior welcomes with warm mahogany paneling and small round tables dressed in white linen. Gas sconces cast amber light across the room, their glow reflecting off polished brass fittings. A glass display case near the counter holds an array of cakes and pastries, while the air carries the mingled scents of Ceylon tea and fresh ginger. Eleanor approaches the counter, where a woman in a starched white apron looks up from arranging teacups on a tray. "Good afternoon. Tea and a slice of the ginger cake, please." The woman nods, reaching for a delicate china teacup painted with small blue flowers. "Table or to take away, miss?" "Table, thank you." Eleanor surveys the room, settling on a corner table near the window where the last of the afternoon light filters through lace curtains. She arranges her gloves and purse on the adjacent chair, [[then reaches into her small leather satchel.->Cafe Visit Cutscene 1.5]]

[if CurrentDay == 'MONDAY'] The book falls open to a passage midway through. Your attention drifts across the words Eleanor reads: someone called David recounting a kitchen that always smelled of herbs, and how safe he felt there as a child - the character seems to be looking back at better times before some unspecified troubles. [if CurrentDay == 'TUESDAY'] Dense text covers each page. Eleanor's eyes follow a passage where someone named Dorothea sits in a library feeling trapped by her husband's endless, dry scholarship. The words mention "labyrinthine," "futile," and "husband's studies" in close succession. You sense disappointment, though the exact circumstances escape you. [if CurrentDay == 'WEDNESDAY'] The pages contain what appears to be a woman's journal. Eleanor reads a passage describing wallpaper - yellow wallpaper with a "sickly sulphur tint" and patterns that seem to move. The writer mentions seeing a woman "stooping down and creeping about behind that pattern." Eleanor's brow furrows slightly as she follows the text describing someone shaking the pattern, trying to get through. [if CurrentDay == 'THURSDAY'] The page Eleanor studies describes someone searching a young woman's room for a missing yellow diamond. Characters question each other about who entered which room and when. The words "evidence," "suspicion," and "guilt" appear repeatedly. You gather some valuable object has vanished under mysterious circumstances. How unfortunate. [if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'] Eleanor reads what appears to be a comic scene involving someone called Mr. Pickwick accidentally getting into a wrong bedroom at an inn and causing great confusion. The passage mentions "shrieks," "explanations," and "misunderstanding." Eleanor's mouth twitches at certain phrases. You don't get it. [continue] The waitress approaches, setting down a china teacup with matching saucer and a plate bearing a generous wedge of golden cake, its surface glistening with crystallized ginger. [[Eleanor marks her place with a ribbon and looks up.->Cafe Visit Cutscene 2]]

DayCalories: DayCalories + 2 -- Eleanor lifts the delicate teacup, steam curling from the amber liquid within. The ginger cake sits before her - dense yellow sponge studded with crystallized pieces that catch the gaslight. She cuts a small portion with her fork, the crumb revealing itself to be moist and fragrant. Around the café, quiet conversations murmur beneath the soft hiss of gas flames. An elderly gentleman at the window table folds his newspaper, spectacles perched on his nose, while two women near the counter speak in low voices about the price of coal, their gloved hands wrapped around their teacups. Eleanor turns a page, fork pausing midway to her mouth as her eyes follow the text. The ginger releases its warmth as she chews, her attention divided between the printed words and the cake's sweet heat. Outside, the afternoon light begins to fade, throwing longer shadows across the white tablecloth. The waitress moves between tables, refilling teapots and collecting empty plates. Her footsteps tap softly against the polished wooden floor. [[The gaslight flickers, then steadies.->Cafe Visit Cutscene 3]]

Eleanor's fork scrapes the final crumbs from the plate. She sets down her teacup with a soft clink against the saucer, the liquid now cooled to lukewarm. Outside the window, street lamps begin to flicker to life along the pavement. She closes the book carefully, smoothing the ribbon bookmark between the pages before slipping it back into her leather satchel. Her gloves slide over her fingers as she gathers her purse and adjusts her hat. The elderly gentleman has departed - the two women settle their bill, pulling on their coats against the evening chill. Eleanor does the same, placing a few coins beside her empty plate and rising from the chair. The glass door chimes softly as she pushes through, stepping onto the darkening street where the tram waits at its stop. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

[if CurrentDay == 'MONDAY'] The fresh page is pristine, save for a reminder about the meeting you just attended penciled in the morning slot. [if CurrentDay == 'TUESDAY'] Yesterday's page has been torn away, revealing Tuesday's appointments - all blank. A small note in the margin reads "Remember Polish exhibits". [if CurrentDay == 'WEDNESDAY'] The mid-week page bears Eleanor's frustrated pencil marks where she's crossed out and rewritten several deadlines. The paper is slightly crinkled from previous erasures. [if CurrentDay == 'THURSDAY'] Thursday's page contains only a single notation - "New shipment of artifacts due". Eleanor has drawn a small, anxious face beside it. [if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'] The final workday's page is nearly empty. On the weekend section, Eleanor has written "REST" in large, hopeful letters, then underlined it twice.

You drift toward the imposing brass-framed doors, drawn by the bustle of the street visible through the glass panels. You attempt to pass through, to follow the departing pedestrians... But an unseen barrier halts your progress. A familiar resistance, an invisible tether, binds you firmly within the museum walls, and to Eleanor herself. It seems you don’t have the strength to stray far from her, not even for a little. {link to: 'Museum Entrance', label: 'Back'}

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The moment the Director's footsteps fade down the corridor, Eleanor abandons all pretense of professional composure - she paces to the window, then back to her desk, her fingers trembling as she lifts the authorization letter to read it again. Twenty pounds. Thirty pounds! An entire expedition! Her research vindicated, her theories soon to be proven in the very soil of Brittany. Such momentous news demands proper celebration - and by the looks of it, Eleanor intends to spend most of the time she has left here in Britain to [[celebrate->Celebration Montage Cutscene 1]].

The bakery proprietress barely contains her surprise when Eleanor orders not one but three of everything - Chelsea buns, currant scones, apple turnovers, and an entire tray of jam tarts. "Celebrating, are we, Miss Lovelace?" she asks, wrapping the bounty in brown paper. Eleanor's laugh bubbles up from deep in her chest, her bosom jiggling with the motion. "An expedition! To Brittany! Can you imagine?" She tears into the first Chelsea bun before leaving the shop, sugar glaze coating her fingers as she devours it in enormous bites. The sweet, yeasted dough disappears with alarming speed, followed immediately by a scone that she splits and layers thick with butter. [[By the time she reaches the street corner, her breathing has grown shallow and quick.->Celebratoin Montage Cutscene 1.5]]

The tea room's afternoon crowd thins as Eleanor claims a corner table, her bulk requiring the chair to be pushed back from the table entirely. She orders the full cream tea service - twice - along with seed cake, shortbread, and a selection of petit fours that she devours with her fingers, ignoring the scandalized glances from nearby patrons. Clotted cream coats her chin as she tears through scone after scone, each one loaded so heavily that white dollops fall onto her straining blouse. She doesn't bother wiping them away. Her jacket hangs open completely now, the buttons having given up their struggle hours ago, and her waistcoat barely contains the dome of her belly as it [[presses against the table edge.->Celebration Montage Cutscene 2.5]]

<div class="day-heading">TUESDAY</div> By morning of the next day, Eleanor sprawls across her four-poster bed, still wearing yesterday's food-stained blouse, her skirt twisted around her massive thighs. The breakfast hamper she'd had delivered lies empty beside her - pastries, preserves, and thick cream that she'd consumed before dragging herself to the tavern for an extended lunch of roast beef, kidney pie, Yorkshire pudding, and tankards of ale, eaten with the methodical determination of someone celebrating the greatest triumph of her career. Her breathing comes in shallow pants, interrupted by deep, rolling belches that seem to emerge from the very depths of her massively overstuffed belly. The fabric of her blouse has stretched to transparency across her swollen middle, the buttons gaping to reveal the pale, taut skin beneath. She reaches blindly for the remaining meat pie from the bedside table, her movements sluggish and deliberate as she [[forces it past her lips.->Celebration Montage Cutscene 3]]

Tuesday evening finds Eleanor naked on her sitting room floor, surrounded by the debris of her feast - empty serving dishes, crumpled napkins, wine bottles drained to their dregs. Her massive belly rises like a pale mountain from her supine form, its surface stretched taut and glistening with sweat - her very body struggling to contain the sheer volume she's forced into it. Each labored breath sends ripples across it, while her heavy breasts spill to either side of her chest, their weight settling against her arms. She reaches blindly for another handful of chocolates, her movements sluggish and dreamlike. It’s not even clear to you that this is still part of the celebrations: the expedition, Brittany, even her career have, just for this moment, faded to distant concepts. [[She can’t stop.->Celebration Montage Cutscene 3.5]]

Her fingers work mechanically - cream cakes dissolving on her tongue, trifle sliding down her throat, each swallow adding to the magnificent burden of her belly. And a burden it truly is: you can feel it as she empties her pantry’s provisions, and remembers the leftovers from this morning’s breakfast - unfortunately for her, located in the bedroom. The trek to the ramp of stairs is laborious, and the climb almost impossible. Her hands roam across the enormous expanse of her belly, kneading its skin as if trying to either appease it… [[or to make room for more.->Celebration Montage Cutscene 3.75]]

A low, somewhat relieved moan escapes her lips as she arrives at the upper floor and she leans across the wall, trying to accommodate the massive weight pressing down on her internal organs. Her stomach gurgles and churns audibly, simply unable to keep up, while her breathing comes in shallow, desperate gasps. Yet, after collapsing onto her bed, she still reaches for more - a final slice of pie, another spoonful of custard… The mantle clock below chimes midnight as Eleanor finally surrenders to exhaustion, [[her hand falling away from the empty serving bowl.->Packing Dawn Cutscene 1]]

The waistband of her skirt presses deeply into her already bloated middle, creating a pronounced bulge both above and below the taut fabric. She pauses against a lamp post, one hand pressed to her chest, the other cradling her swollen belly as she works through a series of small, satisfied burps. But the celebration has only just begun. The tea room beckons from across the square, its windows glowing warmly in the afternoon light. Eleanor adjusts her jacket and [[makes her way toward the next course.->Celebration Montage Cutscene 2]]

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pocketwatch: false Quillandpaper: false Dulllookingknife: false Clotofplaster: false measuringtape: false Eleanorhandbag: false handmirror: false measuringtape: false config.header.left: " " -- The weight of the ethereal world slips away, and you allow yourself to fade into the vessel’s cold, blackened granite. *** [CSS] .very-big { font-size: 56px; font-variant: regular; } .big { font-size: 48px; font-variant: small-caps; } .medium { font-size: 36px; font-variant: small-caps; } .medium-small { font-size: 30px; font-variant: small-caps; } .small { font-size: 20px; font-variant: small-caps; } [continued] <div class="titleScreen"> <center> <h1 style="font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif;"> <span class="big">[[...->Epilogue Cutscene]]</span><br> </h1> </center> [continued]

... [[You'll make sure Eleanor does the same.->Chapter 2 All Mine Ending 2]]

config.header.left: "~ ~ ✥ ◇ ✥ ~ ~" -- <div class="day-heading">2 YEARS LATER</div> You drift through the familiar walls of Eleanor's flat with practiced ease. The afternoon light slants through its spotless windows, their glass gleaming without streaks or smudges. The hardwood floors below shine with fresh polish, every surface dusted to perfection. Your vessel rests on the hall table below, but you feel no pull toward it. [[No weakness.->All Mine Ending 3]]

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<div class="day-heading">END OF THE WEEK</div> The workweek concludes, the final entry on the calendar marked complete. The consequences of your subtle manipulations and Eleanor's determined efforts now coalesce. The hum of the city fades as you feel the pull of what is to come, your awareness focused solely on the path ahead. [if ExpeditionFunds >= 5] A sense of triumph radiates from Eleanor, a warmth of success that resonates even with your ethereal form. She has done it - the expedition is secured... [[...but a sudden change of priorities will come to halt all of this.->Chapter 2 Pregnancy Ending 2]] [continue] [unless ExpeditionFunds >= 5] A palpable weight of disappointment hangs in the air, emanating from Eleanor's very core. Despite her efforts, the final sum was not met. The expedition remains a distant dream. [[A sudden change of priorities will come to halt all of her future attemps, too.->Chapter 2 Pregnancy Ending 2]] [continue]

config.header.right: " " -- <div class="day-heading">2 YEARS LATER</div> Eleanor's expedition to Brittany never departed. Funding, permits, a suitable team - all of it remained untouched as autumn turned to winter. Her resignation letter reached the Director's desk in November, citing "unforeseen personal circumstances" that required immediate attention. The archaeological world noted her withdrawal with polite disappointment. Colleagues sent letters of concern that went unanswered, while the Bristol Institute quietly redistributed her research materials to other projects. Your vessel had traveled with Eleanor from her modest flat to Richard's family estate in Gloucestershire, where limestone columns and Egyptian artifacts now share the same halls. The manor's acoustics differ from her former lodgings - [[higher ceilings, thicker walls, the distant sounds of a household in motion.->Chapter 2 Pregnancy Ending 3]]

The morning sun filters through tall windows into the estate's dining room. Dust motes drift through the light beams, settling on polished surfaces that show fingerprints and water rings from recent use. A clock on the mantelpiece strikes nine. The household should be stirring by now - footsteps overhead, voices from the kitchens, the usual sounds of servants attending to their duties. Instead, an unusual quiet persists through the manor's corridors. Your vessel rests where it was repositioned days ago, undisturbed on its small table near the window. [[You drift closer.->Pregnancy Ending Diorama]]

<div class="day-heading">END OF THE WEEK</div> The workweek concludes, the final entry on the calendar marked complete. The consequences of your subtle manipulations and Eleanor's determined efforts now coalesce. The hum of the city fades as you feel the pull of what is to come, your awareness focused solely on the path ahead. [if ExpeditionFunds >= 5] A sense of triumph radiates from Eleanor, a warmth of success that resonates even within your ethereal form. She has done it - the expedition is secured. But what does that victory mean for you? [[The future unfolds...->Success Ending Router]] [continue] [unless ExpeditionFunds >= 5] A palpable weight of disappointment hangs in the air, emanating from Eleanor's very core. Despite her efforts, the final sum was not met. The expedition remains a distant dream. [[The future unfolds...->Museum Employment Ending 1]] [continue] [note] 4 main endings To remember that, in the endings where Eleanor stays, there should be different cutscenes based on wether Mary or Richard were prioritized/went further on their respective routes. We can have a router passage for that. 4523452Remove those text, just keep the links.98-82345 [continue]

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IntroMeetingMaryPersuasion: true -- You giggle at nothing in particular, twirling a curl around your finger. Everyone always says you light up a room! What were they discussing again? Something about artifacts and budget concerns - so dreadfully dull... A bright smile and cheerful demeanor can carry one through the most tedious of obligations. Besides, no one actually expects you to contribute anything of substance today, which is rather convenient. Though you so wished to be picked for that expedition... it's not fair! {plainlink to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Bookshelves Director Aether 2]]

[inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Bookshelves Director Aether 3]]

{embed passage: 'Item Back Logic CH1'} You inspect the item closer. [if NotesPlastered == false] The amorphous sphere of plaster hovers near you, its surface constantly shifting and rippling like liquid stone. Though seemingly solid, it flows and pulses with a life of its own, occasionally forming and losing shapes - a nose here, an eye there, gone as quickly as they appear. {one of: ["*You watch as it temporarily takes the shape of a cube.*", "*It stretches itself flat like a canvas, then crumples back into a ball.*", "*The sphere attempts to mold itself into a tiny, rotund woman. Were those glasses you saw?*", "*For a moment, its surface gleams like polished stone.*", "*A keyhole-shaped depression briefly forms on its surface before melting away.*"], order: 'cycling'} [if NotesPlastered == true] The amorphous sphere of plaster hovers near you, its surface constantly shifting and rippling like liquid stone. Though seemingly solid, it flows and pulses with an unsettling life of its own, occasionally forming and losing shapes - a nose here, an eye there... *a face*... thankfully, they are gone as quickly as they appear. Only the faint indentations of what look to be tooth marks stay as a permanent fixture. {one of: ["*You watch as it temporarily takes the shape of a pentagon.*", "*It breaks itself flat as if being hit by a hammer, then crumples back into a ball.*", "*The sphere attempts to mold itself into a tiny, rotund woman... or was that a woman? You could've sworn you saw a pair of horns on her forehead.*", "*For a moment, its dented surface gleams like a polished skull.*", "*A keyhole-shaped depression briefly forms on its surface before melting away.*"], order: 'cycling'} [continue] {link to: itemBackTarget, label: 'Back'}

Nestled within the cloth wrapping inside Eleanor's workbag, the amorphous sphere of grey plaster shifts subtly. Even contained, its surface seems to ripple like liquid stone, catching the dim light filtering into the bag. {one of: ["*It momentarily forms a perfectly smooth sphere before relaxing.*", "*A faint indentation appears, like a thumbprint, then vanishes.*", "*It seems to press slightly against the cloth, testing its confines.*", "*It briefly attempts the shape of a delicate teacup, handle wobbling before collapsing.*", "*A pseudopod stretches upward, mimicking the curve of Mary's hat feather, then melts back.*", "*The sphere flattens into a disc, resembling one of the untouched pastries on the plate above.*", "*It molds briefly into a tiny, round female figure with round glasses, before dissolving.*"], order: 'cycling'} {link to: 'Eleanor Workbag Tea With Mary', label: 'Back'} [note] Descriptive text for the plaster clot when viewed within the workbag during this event. Includes context-specific cycling descriptions. [continue]

WardrobeFallen: true EleanorChocolate: true GluttonyCalEXP: GluttonyCalEXP + 3 WardrobeOpen: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

SittingroomDooropen: true Clotofplaster: true Eleanorspotted: true Quillandpaper: true Clotofplaster: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

Figurine1: true Figurine2: true Figurine3: true BreadPrayer: true BasinSinkPlugged: true HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP + 2 GluttonyCalEXP: GluttonyCalEXP + 4 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

correctartefact: 3 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

HandbagHit: true HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP + 1 GluttonyTerrace: true boxofsweetseaten: true RageTerrace: true GlutttonyIncremented: true GluttonyCalEXP: GluttonyCalEXP + 2 pastterraceturn: 4 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

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IntroMeetingVioletPersuasion: true -- You tighten your grip on the clipboard, knuckles whitening. These... amateurs. None of them deserve to handle artifacts of such historical significance. Ten years of meticulous study wasted on cataloging for this circus. It's all an act anyways, but still. Your mouth tightens into a thin line as you observe them, mentally cataloging each error, each moment of incompetence. You alone understand the true value of this artefacts. Their casual disregard is nothing short of… sacrilege. {plainlink to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

CreamSpilled: true -- You focus a sharp pulse of Aether energy into the delicate porcelain creamer. It wobbles violently for a moment, catching the light, then tips sideways with a distinct *plink* against the nearby teapot. A thick stream of white cream pours directly into the teapot's opening, mixing swirls of white into the dark tea within before the creamer settles back onto the table, mostly empty but still upright. "*Good heavens!*" Mary exclaims, though more amused than alarmed. "*Bit of a clumsy ghost we have today, it seems! Oh well, makes the tea richer, wouldn't you say, Eleanor? More substance for our chat!*" {link to: 'Tea With Mary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

EleanorCuriosity: true GeologyClubTurns: 0 -- He's not listening. Not really. Every time you mention your research, his eyes drift back to those specimens. It's as if you're speaking a completely different language. But... what exactly is he seeing in them? The way he handles each piece, the reverence in his voice when he describes their properties... there must be something remarkable about this collection to inspire such devotion. [[You find yourself leaning forward to get a better look.->Curiosity Eleanor Geology 1.5]]

The cases are filled with an impressive variety of stones and formations. Some you recognize - quartz, limestone, what might be granite - but others are completely unfamiliar. Each specimen is carefully labeled with location and date of acquisition. And there, nestled between a chunk of rough marble and some kind of crystalline formation, is... is that a shell? How fascinating that the Duke would include such a piece in his geological collection! All in all, a somewhat bold choice. Well... you could work with this. {link to: 'Geology Club Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[if pastterraceturn == 1] You tilt your head, the sunlight catching the rim of your teacup. A faint smudge of lipstick lingers on Mary’s cup - not quite her usual shade. And that perfume? You don't recognize the fragrance, though it's quite pleasant. The details knit together. Is Mary trying to impress you? Why? What could you offer to her that she doesn't already get from her uncle? The thought lingers, but no further answers come. Just... more questions. [[*You blink once more, and detach yourself from Eleanor's mind.*->Past Terrace (Turn system)]] [if pastterraceturn == 3] You tilt your head, the sunlight catching the rim of your teacup. A faint smudge of lipstick lingers on Mary’s cup - not quite her usual shade. And that perfume? You don't recognize the fragrance, though it's quite pleasant. But no... there's another scent to her - powdery. Familiar, too. Is it coming from her handbag? Has she gotten something from the bathroom? From the house? No, couldn't be. There's nothing you own that she would risk stealing. Or is there? [[*You blink once more, and detach yourself from Eleanor's mind.*->Past Terrace (Turn system)]]

CuriosityTerrace: true -- [if pastterraceturn == 1] The terrace sharpens, clearer than ever before, as if your senses have been dialed up to the eleventh key. The breeze feels cooler against your skin. The scent of tea, your own French Earl Grey with a whisper of cream... Mary's dress, bright red and eye-catching, isn’t quite as pristine as it seemed. There are faint creases run along the bustle, and a loose thread dangles near the hem. It was hurried, borrowed? Perhaps bought just for the occasion? [[You focus in closer.->Curiosity Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 2]] [if pastterraceturn == 2] The terrace sharpens, clearer than ever before, as if your senses have been dialed up to the eleventh key. Mary’s absence feels... louder. The chair across from you sits empty, a faint imprint left on the cushion. Her half-finished teacup rests slightly askew, its handle marked by the delicate curve of a lipstick stain - not quite her usual shade. The wind shifts, ruffling the leaves in the potted plants nearby. You notice the subtle way they’ve been arranged - not symmetrical enough. What is this? Are you ok? You've been working too hard on those artefacts. Or maybe not enough? Your armpits begin to sweat. What do they mean? Is this expedition going to work? Is that going to be enough? Your heartbeat is getting louder. [[*You blink once more, and are forcefully detached from Eleanor's mind.*->Past Terrace (Turn system)]] [if pastterraceturn == 3] The terrace sharpens, clearer than ever before, as if your senses have been dialed up to the eleventh key. The breeze feels cooler against your skin. The scent of tea, your own French Earl Grey with a whisper of cream... Her dress, bright red and eye-catching, isn’t quite as pristine as it seemed. There are faint creases run along the bustle, and a loose thread dangles near the hem. It was hurried, borrowed? Perhaps bought just for the occasion? Her expression is different. Her eyes are ever-so-slightly wider. Is she nervous? Scared? [[You focus in closer.->Curiosity Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 2]]

You study the woman before you, noting her full cheeks and the way her waistcoat strains. Father's "headache remedy" has clearly been working… though she seems unaware. Most customers gain steadily without noticing, attributing it to comfort eating or city stress - there was this one lady who thought she was pregnant, too. This one must be six or seven bottles in by now! How stupid can she be? Maybe you should say something? Ah! That’s a good one. *Who cares?* {plainlink to: 'Apothecary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

<div class="time-heading">TWILIGHT HOUR</div> {embed passage: 'Day End Passage Logic'} [unless EleanorMine > 1; unless SocietyBallAttended] The afternoon light begins to soften as Eleanor makes her way through the familiar streets. The city around you both grows quieter as evening approaches, gas lamps beginning their gentle hiss in preparation for dusk. For these past hours, you have managed to pull your consciousness away from the vessel's confines, drifting alongside your owner through her afternoon pursuits. But you feel that tenuous freedom beginning to waver. [[You are fading away.->Day End cutscene 2]] [continue] [if EleanorMine > 1; unless EleanorMine == 4; unless SocietyBallAttended] The afternoon light begins to soften at the two of you make your way through the familiar streets. The city grows quieter as evening approaches, gas lamps beginning their gentle hiss in preparation for dusk. For these past hours, you have managed to pull your consciousness away from the vessel's confines, drifting alongside *your Eleanor* through her afternoon pursuits. But you feel that tenuous freedom beginning to waver. [[You are fading away.->Day End cutscene 2]] [continue] [if SocietyBallAttended] The carriage wheels clatter against cobblestones as it carries Eleanor away from the scene of her humiliation. You feel the weight of her shame, the burn of embarrassment that seems to radiate from her very being. But even in defeat, you feel that tenuous connection to her consciousness beginning to waver as the familiar pull of the vessel grows stronger. [[You are fading away.->Day End cutscene 2]] [if EleanorMine == 4; unless SocietyBallAttended] The afternoon light begins to darken as Eleanor makes her way through all of these dangerous streets. The city grows restless as evening approaches, gas lamps hissing in preparation for dusk. Eleanor's fingers brush against the small statuette in her coat pocket - she has been carrying it with her today. How can you blame her? The museum is so eerly quiet now. Her lucky charm. [[Your vessel.->Day End Passage Alt]]

Richard was not seen leaving the Egyptian wing. Mary's social circles have gone restless with gossip after the discovery of her body. The same has not yet happened for Markus: the Director's office remains locked, his secretary claiming illness. By now, Violet has probably been dusted off the archive's pavement. Isn't it lovely? *So, so much less to distract your Eleanor.* She pauses at the door to her flat, her breath visible in the cooling air. The statuette grows warm inside her workbag. [[You follow her inside.->Day End cutscene 2]]

SlotOneAttended: false SlotTwoAttended: false SlotThreeAttended: false TotalCalories: TotalCalories + DayCalories WeightGained (TotalCalories < 5): 'NONE' WeightGained (TotalCalories >= 5 && TotalCalories < 13): 'CHUBBY' WeightGained (TotalCalories >= 13 && TotalCalories < 21): 'PLUMP' WeightGained (TotalCalories >= 21 && TotalCalories < 31): 'FAT' WeightGained (TotalCalories >= 31): 'OBESE' NextDay (CurrentDay == 'MONDAY'): 'TUESDAY' NextDay (CurrentDay == 'TUESDAY'): 'WEDNESDAY' NextDay (CurrentDay == 'WEDNESDAY'): 'THURSDAY' NextDay (CurrentDay == 'THURSDAY'): 'FRIDAY' NextDay (CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'): 'WEEKEND' DayFullnessState (DayCalories <= 2): 'HUNGRY' DayFullnessState (DayCalories > 2 && DayCalories <= 5): 'SATISFIED' DayFullnessState (DayCalories > 5 && DayCalories <= 7): 'STUFFED' DayFullnessState (DayCalories > 7): 'BURSTING' -- [note] This script needs to be called at the end of each day. It: 1. Adds current DayCalories to a running TotalCalories variable 2. Resets DayCalories to 0 for the next day 3. Sets WeightGained based on thresholds of accumulated calories CHUBBY could also be considered SLIGHT (though keep in mind Eleanor was already quite chubby at the end of the first chapter, so this is not a huge change just yet). PLUMP is NOTICEABLE (attention on her belly, thighs and ass) FAT is SUBSTANTIAL OBESE is UNMISTAKABLE, though FAT is also unmistakable. Eleanor's body prioritizes her belly as her main storage of fat, followed by her chest, ass, thighs, arms, and finally face. [continue]

[unless SocietyBallAttended] {embed passage: 'Weight Gained and Day Calories (fullness) day end texts'} [if SocietyBallAttended] {embed passage: 'Weight Gained and Day Calories (fullness) day end texts when returning from Ball Event Humiliation ending'} [continue] [unless EleanorMine == 4] [[That is the last thing you see before fading away entirely.->Next Day Name]] [if EleanorMine == 4] *This time around, [[you are not going anywhere.->Chapter 2 All Mine Ending 1]]*

DebugMenu: true -- [JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [CSS] .very-big { font-size: 88px; font-variant: regular; } .big { font-size: 48px; font-variant: small-caps; } .medium { font-size: 36px; font-variant: small-caps; } .medium-small { font-size: 30px; font-variant: small-caps; } .small { font-size: 20px; font-variant: small-caps; } [continued] <div class="titleScreen"> <center> <h1 style="font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif;"> <span class="big">Debug Mode activated</span><br> </h1> </center> [continued] If you're not me, then you might want to hit restart! This mode is not meant for players, and will spoil the game for you. {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'}

WeightGained (TotalCalories < 5): 'NONE' WeightGained (TotalCalories >= 5 && TotalCalories < 15): 'CHUBBY' WeightGained (TotalCalories >= 15 && TotalCalories < 30): 'PLUMP' WeightGained (TotalCalories >= 30 && TotalCalories < 45): 'FAT' WeightGained (TotalCalories >= 45): 'OBESE' DayFullnessState (DayCalories <= 3): 'HUNGRY' DayFullnessState (DayCalories > 3 && DayCalories <= 6): 'SATISFIED' DayFullnessState (DayCalories > 6 && DayCalories <= 8): 'STUFFED' DayFullnessState (DayCalories > 8): 'BURSTING' -- [JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] **CORE STATS** WeightGained Stage: {WeightGained} (TotalCalories: {TotalCalories}) DayFullnessState Stage: {DayFullnessState} (TotalCalories: {DayCalories}) ExpeditionFunds: {ExpeditionFunds} ResearchProgress: {ResearchProgress} [[Switch between TotalCalories and DayCalories]] [if TotalCaloriesDebug] **To Total Calories:** [if DayCaloriesDebug] **To Day Calories:** [continue] [[+1 Calories]] [[+5 Calories]] [[+10 Calories]] [[+20 Calories]] [[-1 Calories]] [[-5 Calories]] [[-10 Calories]] [[-20 Calories]] [[+1 Funds]] [[-1 Funds]] [[+1 Research]] **RELATIONSHIPS** Violet Interest: {VioletInterest} Richard Relationship: {RichardRelationship} Mary Relationship: {MaryRelationship} [[+1 Violet]] [[+1 Richard]] [[+1 Mary]] **TIME & DAY MANAGEMENT** Current Day: {CurrentDay} [[Set to Monday]] [[Set to Tuesday]] [[Set to Wednesday]] [[Set to Thursday]] [[Set to Friday]] [[Set to Weekend]] **KEY EVENT & PLOT FLAGS** [[Skip Intro 2.0]] **Richard's Path:** [[Set Date Proposed]] [[Set Expedition Attended (Romantic Ending)]] [[Set Expedition Attended (Intercourse Ending)]] [[Set Expedition Attended (Intercourse Ending Pregnant Outcome)]] **Mary's Path:** [[Set Tea Success (Ball Invite)]] [[Set Ball Attended (Intimate)]] [[Set Ball Attended (Humiliation)]] **Violet's Path:** [[Set Archive Success (Research Invite)]] [[Set Crate Event (High Interest)]] [[Set Crate Event (Overheard)]] [[Set Violet Steal Plot]] **UTILITY** [[Return to Office]] [[Reset All Ch2 Variables]] **PATTERNS** [[Test Patterns->Patterns]] **ENDING SCREENS** [[Solitary Curator->Museum Employment Neither Route Ending]] {link to: 'Settings', label: 'Back'}

[unless passage.name == 'Debug Screen';unless isCutscene == true; unless passage.name == 'Save Menu'] {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Debug Screen'} [if passage.name == 'Debug Screen'] {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'} [continue]

HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP - 1 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

[unless passage.name == 'Immolation Abilities Menu'; unless isCutscene == true; unless passage.name == 'Settings'] {link to: 'Immolation Abilities Menu', label: 'Abilities'} [if passage.name == 'Immolation Abilities Menu'] {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'} [continue]

[unless passage.name == 'Abilities Menu'; unless isCutscene == true; unless passage.name == 'Settings'] {link to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Abilities'} [if passage.name == 'Abilities Menu'] {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'} [if isCutscene == true] {ascii backdrop: 'loading'} [continue]

[unless passage.name == 'Inventory';unless isCutscene == true;unless passage.name == 'Save Menu'] {link to: 'Inventory', label: 'Inventory'} [if passage.name == 'Inventory'] {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'} [if isCutscene] {ascii backdrop: 'loading'} [continue]

[unless passage.name == 'Inventory';unless isCutscene == true;unless passage.name == 'Save Menu'] [[Save->Save Menu [if passage.name == 'Save Menu'] {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back' [continue]

[unless passage.name == 'Abilities Menu'; unless isCutscene; unless passage.name == 'Settings'] {save to file: 'Save'} | {load save: 'Load'} [continue] [unless passage.name == 'Abilities Menu'; if isCutscene; unless passage.name == 'Settings'] {save to file: 'Save'} | {load save: 'Load'} [if passage.name == 'Settings'] {save to file: 'Save'} | {load save: 'Load'} [if passage.name == 'Abilities Menu'] {link to: 'Settings', label: 'Settings'} [continue]

[unless passage.name == 'Inventory'; unless isCutscene; unless passage.name == 'Settings'] {save to file: 'Save'} | {load save: 'Load'} [continue] [unless passage.name == 'Inventory'; if isCutscene; unless passage.name == 'Settings'] {save to file: 'Save'} | {load save: 'Load'} [if passage.name == 'Settings'] {save to file: 'Save'} | {load save: 'Load'} [if passage.name == 'Inventory'] {link to: 'Settings', label: 'Settings'} [continue]

config.footer.center: "" config.header.left: "" config.header.right: "" -- [CSS] .demo-end-subtitle { font-size: 0.9em !important; /* Smaller font size */ opacity: 0.75; /* Reduced opacity */ max-width: 550px; /* Slightly narrower width */ margin: 1em auto 1.5em !important; /* Adjusted margins */ display: block; /* Ensure it behaves as a block */ } .demo-end-text { font-size: 1.1em; max-width: 600px; margin: 0 auto 1em; /* Standard paragraph margin */ } .titleScreen .very-big { /* Ensure title style works */ font-size: 56px; font-variant: small-caps; } .titleScreen a.link { /* Style the final link */ font-size: 1.1em; display: block; margin-top: 2em; } [continue] <div class="titleScreen"> <center> <h1 style="font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif;"> <span class="very-big">END OF DEMO</span><br> </h1> <br> <p class="demo-end-text">Thank you for playing the demo for the second chapter of Spirit of Hunger!</p> <p class="demo-end-text">The full chapter will continue throughout the week, offering choices, challenges, and opportunities to influence Eleanor's fate (and figure, of course).</p> <br> <p class="demo-end-subtitle">Will she secure funding for her expedition? Will she uncover the secrets behind the artifacts? And what is up with Violet?? Who knows! I sure don't! I'm clearly making it up as I go! Just kidding! Not that much, though! Plans have been made! But there is *a lot* I need to go through! Game development is hell! And I'm in pain! Sweet, sweet pain!</p> <p>{link to: 'Title screen', label: 'Return to Title Screen'}</p> </center> </div>

You push a subtle vibration into the massive mahogany desk. The polished surface barely trembles, but below, the contents of the drawers rattle faintly against the wood. You catch one of the lower ones sliding open by perhaps half an inch, revealing a glimpse of crumpled papers within. Without missing a beat in his sentence, the Director casually reaches down and pushes the drawer firmly shut with the palm of his hand, his expression merely hinting at a flicker of annoyance at the minor disturbance. He then continues his point as if nothing happened. {link to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'} [note] A minor Aether effect causing a drawer to open slightly, promptly closed by the Director. No major gameplay impact intended, just a silly little interaction. [continue]

IntroMeetingVioletPersuasion: true -- You catalog the room's occupants dispassionately: an incompetent director, the nepotism case, and a woman too obsessed on her own little project to focus on real scholarship. Their chatter is meaningless, their concerns trivial. None of them understand what truly matters. How could they? The artifacts will remain long after all of you are dust. That's what deserves your attention - not this petty institutional theatre. {plainlink to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:broken1] The director pinches the bridge of his nose, inhaling slowly. [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:0.8 id:broken1] *Wonderful.* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1 id:broken1] *Absolutely wonderful.* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:broken1] *Just what I needed today.* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1 id:broken1 newline] Ms. Whitlock adjusts her glasses. [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:broken1] *I did mention the risk of leaving it out.* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:broken1] *We should have placed a glass case around it.* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:0.8 id:broken1 newline] *Not. Now.* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1 id:broken1] the director snaps. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:broken2] The director shakes his head. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:broken2] *I don't have time for this.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:broken2] *Clean it up, sort it out - whatever you people do.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1 id:broken2] He waves a dismissive hand, already turning on his heel. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:broken2] *I've a board meeting at the Athenaeum.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:2 id:broken2] *If the museum burns down in my absence, don't bother warning me about it.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1 id:broken2 newline] Mary watches him leave, then clasps her hands together. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.8 id:broken2] *So! That went well.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:broken2] *Except for the amphora of course, silly me.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:broken2] *Ah, and the busts, too...*

[if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:drunk1] Mary leans in with an approving smile. [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:drunk1] *Ah, good thinking, Eleanor!* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:drunk1 newline] *I suppose that's... one way to do it.* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:drunk1] The director eyes the amphora warily, as if expecting further disaster. [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1 id:drunk1 newline] Eleanor straightens, swaying slightly, and offers him a tipsy but satisfied nod. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:drunk2] Mary claps her hands together. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:drunk2 newline] The director exhales, looking at the amphora, then Eleanor, then back at the amphora. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:drunk2] *Right. Well. That's one way to handle it.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1 id:drunk2] Without another word, he turns on his heel. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:drunk2] *I've a board meeting at the Athenaeum.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:2 id:drunk2] *If the museum burns down in my absence, don't bother warning me about it.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1 id:drunk2 newline] Eleanor straightens, swaying slightly.

[if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:teeter1] The amphora wobbles precariously in Eleanor's grip, the weight shifting with each unsteady motion. [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:0.8 id:teeter1] *Just hold it there,* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:teeter1] the director says sharply, his watch snapping shut. [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teeter1] *We only just acquired the damn thing.* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teeter1] *It's been here less than a week!* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1 id:teeter1 newline] Ms. Whitlock adjusts her glasses. [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teeter1] *As I said, we should have emptied it beforehand.* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:0.8 id:teeter1 newline] *Not. Now.* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1 id:teeter1] The director doesn't look at her. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:teeter2] The director exhales, rubbing the bridge of his nose. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teeter2] *Well, I'm sure you can sort this out.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:teeter2] His tone is flat, resigned. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1 id:teeter2] He's already halfway to the exit. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teeter2] *I've a board meeting at the Athenaeum.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:2 id:teeter2] *If the museum burns down in my absence, don't bother warning me about it.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1 id:teeter2 newline] Mary watches him go, then glances at Eleanor. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:teeter2] *...need any help?*

The Director maintains a perfect 90° posture behind his desk. His frock coat is immaculate, his cravat precisely knotted. His fingers rest lightly on the closed ledger before him. [if WeightGained == 'NONE' || WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'] His gaze is sharp and assessing as he listens to Eleanor, occasionally making a brief note. His expression is professionally neutral, revealing little of his thoughts. He takes a small bite from a sandwich - he doesn’t look to be particularly hungry. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP' || WeightGained == 'FAT' || WeightGained == 'OBESE'] His gaze lingers on Eleanor's figure for a moment longer than necessary before flicking back to her face. There's a subtle stiffness in his already very formal posture, a hint of discomfort. He avoids looking directly at her for too long, instead focusing on the papers on his desk. He has yet to touch his lunch. [continue] {link to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless DirectorLunchEleanorPersuaded; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Director Lunch persuasion menu]] [continue]

Silence slams down on the office, broken only by the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall. Eleanor remains utterly still for several long seconds, her eyes wide behind her spectacles, fixed on the slumped figure of her superior and the heavy tome lying beside his head. Her notes have slipped unnoticed from her lap to the floor. She takes a shaky breath, then another. Hesitantly, she leans forward across the desk, her hand hovering near the Director's shoulder before retreating. "*Sir...? Director?*" she asks, her voice barely audible. There is, of course, [[no response->Director Knocked Out Aftermath 2]].

Eleanor leans back slowly, her eyes flicking between the unconscious Director and the closed office door. Panic wars with a startling pragmatism on her face. What *should* she do? Raise the alarm? Fetch the smelling salts? But... the meeting was going nowhere anyway, wasn't it? He clearly wasn't taking her proposal seriously. Perhaps a brief... nap... would do him some good? Yes. A sudden headache, likely. He'd simply woken up disoriented later, she could claim if asked. Who would question it? *** You feel a strange ripple in the air around you, as if time itself is hesitating. The world seems to pause, suspended between moments. You realize you're being given a choice: either [[proceed with this *acceptable* outcome->Director Knocked Out Ending]] - with the feeling you may not be able to return here afterward - or [[start this encounter over from the beginning->Director Lunch Cutscene 2]]. {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'} [note] Provides the player the standard choice to commit to this outcome or reset the entire lunch meeting diorama. Resetting will clear DirectorKnockedOut. [continue]

SlotTwoAttended: true LunchWithDirector: true EleanorMine (DirectorKnockedOut): EleanorMine + 1 DayCalories (DirectorLunchEleanorPersuadedGluttony): DayCalories + 3 DayCalories (!DirectorLunchEleanorPersuadedGluttony): DayCalories + 0 -- It’s clear by her expression that she has been thinking the same thing. Decision made, Eleanor carefully, quietly pushes her chair back. She stands, smooths her skirt, and gathers her fallen notes from the floor. Avoiding looking directly at the Director's slumped form, she walks with measured steps to the door. She opens it just wide enough to slip through, then pulls it softly closed behind her, the latch clicking quietly into place. She walks briskly down the corridor, adjusting her collar and straightening her shoulders, attempting to appear entirely nonchalant. *But you can hear that soft, lovely heart pounding.* {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

A curt "*Enter*" sounds from inside. Eleanor pushes the heavy door open, stepping into the Director's office. The office is large, dominated by a massive mahogany desk clear of all but a blotter, an inkwell set, and a single, leather-bound ledger. The Director sits behind them, examining a document. He glances up, his expression neutral - perhaps a bit bored -, gesturing towards the chair opposite him. A silver tray with a covered dish and a single glass sits beside his ledger. "Miss Lovelace. Punctual, I see. That's new, isn’t it? [[Please, sit.->Director Lunch Cutscene 2]]"

DirectorLunchTurns: 0 DirectorFocused: false DirectorLunchEleanorPersuaded: false DirectorLunchEleanorPersuadedGluttony: false DirectorFocused: false DirectorLunchDirectorPersuaded: false DirectorKnockedOut: 0 DeskPastSeen: false MapPastSeen: false -- Eleanor takes the offered seat, perching on the edge of the hard leather. The Director makes a small note on his document before setting it aside. "I trust your morning has been productive?" he asks, his eyes briefly scanning her appearance before returning to his desk. He lifts the silver cloche on the tray, revealing two small, precisely cut sandwiches and a slice of plain cake. "A working lunch. Help yourself." Eleanor murmurs a polite thanks, though her attention is fixed on the notes in her lap. He already knows what she's here for. [[The Director clears his throat - the meeting begins now.->Director Lunch Diorama]] {reset dialogue}

[if DirectorLunchTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:dirLunchH1] The Director gestures vaguely toward the tray, avoiding direct eye contact for more than a second. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchH1] *"Ah, Miss Lovelace. Settled in? Good, good."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchH1] He fiddles with his inkwell. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.8 id:dirLunchH1] *"You seem... well. Keeping healthy, I trust?"* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchH1 newline] Eleanor shifts uncomfortably, pulling her notes closer. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchH1] *"Quite well, thank you, sir. About the Breton proposal..."* [continue] [continue] [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:dirLunchH2] He clears his throat, his gaze drifting to the maps on the wall. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchH2] *"Yes, the proposal. An ambitious undertaking. Requires significant... exertion. Fieldwork can be quite taxing, you know."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:dirLunchH2] *"Particularly in remote locations. Unpredictable conditions."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchH2 newline] Eleanor straightens her shoulders. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchH2] *"That’s… true, but I am fully prepared for the physical demands, sir. My research indicates the potential rewards far outweigh the difficulties."* [continue] [continue] [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:dirLunchH3] The Director leans back, steepling his fingers. His tone becomes softer, almost paternal. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:dirLunchH3] *"Miss Lovelace... Eleanor. One must consider all factors. Health. Stamina. The... *appropriateness* of such strenuous activity at certain times."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:dirLunchH3] *"Perhaps a less demanding project would be more suitable for the present?"* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchH3 newline] Eleanor frowns, confused by his hesitation. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchH3] *"Sir? I assure you, I am perfectly capable. My research..."* [continue] [continue] [if DirectorLunchTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:dirLunchH4] He sighs, looking genuinely troubled, but still avoids the core issue. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchH4] *"Yes, your research is... compelling. However, the timing... the Board has concerns about... resource allocation."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:dirLunchH4] *"I'm afraid funding for new expeditions is simply not feasible at this juncture. Perhaps next year."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:dirLunchH4] He offers a weak, apologetic smile. [continue] [continue] [if DirectorLunchTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:dirLunchH5] The Director stands, eager to conclude the awkward meeting. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchH5] *"My apologies, Miss Lovelace. My decision is final for now. Do take care of yourself."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchH5] He turns pointedly back to his desk ledger. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchH5 newline] Eleanor rises slowly, her face flushed with frustration and confusion. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchH5] *"I... see. Thank you for your time, sir."* [continue] [continue]

[if DirectorLunchTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:dirLunchLD1] The Director gestures vaguely toward the tray, his eyes momentarily flicking towards the window. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchLD1] *"Now, Miss Lovelace. Your... Breton project, was it? Yes. We spoke briefly."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLD1 newline] Eleanor leans forward, clutching her notes. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchLD1] *"Yes, sir. My preliminary findings suggest a significant, previously undocumented cultural presence. The artifacts..."* [continue] [continue] [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:dirLunchLD2] He nods absently, adjusting his cravat. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLD2] *"Mmm. Artifacts. Quite. Always artifacts."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:dirLunchLD2] He seems to be thinking about something else entirely. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:2.0 id:dirLunchLD2] *"The cost, of course... expeditions are never inexpensive."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchLD2 newline] Eleanor presses on, trying to regain his attention. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLD2] *"I understand, sir. I've prepared a detailed cost analysis..."* [continue] [continue] [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:dirLunchLD3] The Director stares blankly at his ledger. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:dirLunchLD3] *"Budgets. Always budgets. A necessary evil, isn’t it?"* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLD3] He taps his pen rhythmically. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:dirLunchLD3] *"Leave the proposal with me, Miss Lovelace. I'll... review it when time permits."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchLD3 newline] Eleanor hesitates, sensing his lack of engagement. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLD3] *"Sir, the findings are potentially groundbreaking..."* [continue] [continue] [if DirectorLunchTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:dirLunchLD4] He glances at the clock, seeming relieved. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLD4] *"Yes, yes. Groundbreaking. All in good time."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:dirLunchLD4] *"Well, then, I have another appointment. We must conclude this for the moment being."* [continue] [continue] [if DirectorLunchTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:dirLunchLD5] The Director stands abruptly. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchLD5] *"Thank you for... bringing this matter forward. Good day."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchLD5 newline] Eleanor slowly gathers her notes, clearly annoyed by his disinterest. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLD5] *"Well, yes. Good day, sir."* [continue] [continue]

[if DirectorLunchTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:dirLunchLF1] The Director focuses his attention, setting aside his previous distractions. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchLF1] *"Right then, Miss Lovelace. Your Breton expedition. Present your case."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLF1] His gaze is sharp, assessing. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLF1 newline] Eleanor, seizing the opportunity, launches into her proposal. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchLF1] *"Thank you, sir. The confluence of artifact styles and the unique symbology strongly suggests..."* [continue] [continue] [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:dirLunchLF2] He listens intently, nodding occasionally. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLF2] *"And the budget?"* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:dirLunchLF2] He leans forward slightly, examining her figures. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchLF2 newline] Eleanor indicates specific lines in her proposal. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLF2] *"Yes, sir, so… primarily travel, basic lodging, and local guides for the initial survey. No expensive equipment needed at this stage."* [continue] [continue] [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:dirLunchLF3] The Director strokes his chin thoughtfully. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:dirLunchLF3] *"It remains a risk. The academic community is skeptical of such... outliers."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLF3] *"However... the potential for a truly unique discovery cannot be dismissed, isn’t that right?"* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchLF3 newline] Eleanor holds her breath, sensing a possible opening. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLF3] *"Exactly, sir. A chance to put this institution at the forefront of..."* [continue] [continue] [if DirectorLunchTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:dirLunchLF4] He cuts her off with a raised hand, but not unkindly. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLF4] *"Very well, Miss Lovelace. Your passion is... noted."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:dirLunchLF4] *"I cannot approve the full amount requested. The Board would never stand for it. But... I am prepared to allocate a small discretionary fund for a preliminary, *brief* survey."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 4; dialogue delay:2.2 id:dirLunchLF4] *"Consider it... seed funding. Contingent on a detailed report within six weeks."* [continue] [continue] [if DirectorLunchTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:dirLunchLF5] The Director makes a notation in his ledger. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchLF5] *"That is my final offer. Make good use of it."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLF5] He closes the ledger with a decisive snap. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchLF5 newline] Eleanor beams, relief washing over her. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLF5] *"Oh, thank you, sir! You won't regret this! I promise a thorough..."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:dirLunchLF5] *"Yes, yes, I get it. Just ensure the paperwork is meticulous. Good day."* [continue] [continue]

DirectorLunchTurns (comesFromMenu() != true): DirectorLunchTurns + 1 -- [if DirectorLunchTurns <= 5] You hover within the Director's imposing office. Tall [[bookshelves->bookshelves director]] filled with matching volumes line the wall behind a large mahogany [[desk->desk director]]. Framed [[maps and charters->maps and charters director]] hang on the other walls. [[Eleanor->Eleanor Director Lunch]] sits opposite the [[Director->Director Director Lunch]], who presides over the desk. Between them sits a [[silver lunch tray]]. *** [continue] [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP' || WeightGained == 'FAT' || WeightGained == 'OBESE'] {embed passage: 'Director Lunch Dialogue (High Weight)'} [if WeightGained == 'NONE' || WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'; unless DirectorFocused] {embed passage: 'Director Lunch Dialogue (Low Weight Distracted)'} [if WeightGained == 'NONE' || WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'; if DirectorFocused] {embed passage: 'Director Lunch Dialogue (Low Weight Focused)'} [continue] [if DirectorLunchTurns > 5] You feel a strange ripple in the air around you, as if time itself is hesitating. The world seems to pause, suspended between moments. You realize you're being given a choice: either [[proceed with the meeting's conclusion->Director Lunch Ending 1]] - with the feeling you may not be able to return here afterward - or [[start this encounter over from the beginning->Director Lunch Cutscene 2]]. {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'}

SlotTwoAttended: true LunchWithDirector: true DayCalories (DirectorLunchEleanorPersuaded): DayCalories + 3 DayCalories (!DirectorLunchEleanorPersuaded): DayCalories + 1 ExpeditionFunds (DirectorFocused): ExpeditionFunds + 1 -- Eleanor exits the Director's office, the heavy door clicking shut behind her. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'] Her cheeks are flushed, her lips pressed into a thin line of frustration. She grips her proposal notes tightly, the paper crinkling in her fist. It's understandable: from her point of view, the director must've appeared as if he hadn't even tried to listen to her, making vague excuses about timing and resources while pointedly avoiding the real issue - whatever *that* was. It was, you have to admit, infuriatingly dismissive. She storms down the corridor, her mind racing with indignation. [continue] [if WeightGained == 'FAT'] Her cheeks are flushed, her lips pressed into a thin line of frustration. She grips her proposal notes tightly, the paper crinkling in her fist. It's understandable: from her point of view, the director must've appeared as if he hadn't even tried to listen to her, making vague excuses about timing and resources while pointedly avoiding the real issue - whatever *that* was. It was, you have to admit, infuriatingly dismissive. She storms down the corridor, her mind racing with indignation. [continue] [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'] Her cheeks are flushed, her lips pressed into a thin line of frustration. She grips her proposal notes tightly, the paper crinkling in her fist. It's understandable: from her point of view, the director must've appeared as if he hadn't even tried to listen to her, making vague excuses about timing and resources while pointedly avoiding the real issue - whatever *that* was. It was, you have to admit, infuriatingly dismissive. She storms down the corridor, her mind racing with indignation. [continue] [if WeightGained == 'NONE'; unless DirectorFocused] Eleanor's expression is crestfallen, shoulders slumped. He barely paid attention. His mind was clearly elsewhere. A dismissal, really: just vague platitudes about reviewing it 'when time permits'. A polite rejection. You follow her as she walks slowly back toward her office, discouraged. [continue] [if WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'; unless DirectorFocused] Eleanor's expression is crestfallen, shoulders slumped. He barely paid attention. His mind was clearly elsewhere. A dismissal, really: just vague platitudes about reviewing it 'when time permits'. A polite rejection. You follow her as she walks slowly back toward her office, discouraged. [continue] [if WeightGained == 'NONE'; if DirectorFocused] A broad smile lights up Eleanor's face, a stark contrast to her earlier tension. Partial funding! It wasn't everything, but it's a start, isn't it? Perhaps enough for the preliminary survey. She clutches her notes, already planning her next steps, practically skipping back down the corridor. [continue] [if WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'; if DirectorFocused] A broad smile lights up Eleanor's face, a stark contrast to her earlier tension. Partial funding! It wasn't everything, but it's a start, isn't it? Perhaps enough for the preliminary survey. She clutches her notes, already planning her next steps, practically skipping back down the corridor. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [if WeightGained == 'NONE' || WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'; unless DirectorLunchEleanorPersuaded] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward the director's mind. You start to hear his inner thoughts - ordered, but prone to wandering towards personal matters. Some threads of dialogue seem louder than others. Perhaps, you can add your voice to them… ➼[[**FOCUS**->Director Persuasion Focus]] *This proposal... requires proper attention. Set aside distractions. Assess the merits.* ➼[[**FINANCES**->Director Persuasion Finances]] *Budgets, endowments, expenditures... Every penny counts. Can the museum afford this?* ➼[[**DISTRACTION**->Director Persuasion Family]] *Must remember Henrietta's piano recital tonight. And that bill from the tailor...* [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP' || WeightGained == 'FAT' || WeightGained == 'OBESE'] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward the director's mind. You start to hear his inner thoughts - ordered, but there’s a clear discomfort between them. Some threads of dialogue seem louder than others. Perhaps, you can add your voice to them… ➼[[**CONCERN**->Director Persuasion Concern]] *A delicate condition. An expedition? Utterly irresponsible! Must protect the mother and... well. Avoid undue stress.* ➼[[**LIABILITY**->Director Persuasion Liability]] *Sending her out like this... what if something happened? The scandal! The museum's reputation... Unthinkable.* ➼[[**AVOIDANCE**->Director Persuasion Avoidance]] *This is highly improper. Must end this meeting gracefully. Postpone, deflect. Cannot address... *that* directly.* [if DirectorLunchEleanorPersuaded] His thoughts now possess a subtle insistence, coloured by your earlier influence. Further interference feels unnecessary, perhaps even risky. Best to observe the currents you've already set in motion. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

DirectorLunchDirectorPersuaded: true -- This conversation is becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Her insistence, her... visible condition. It's highly irregular. One must maintain a crumb of decorum. Just… just go along with it. Address the proposal on its supposed merits - budget, feasibility - while sidestepping the obvious. Find a plausible reason to delay, to deny. Avoid any direct mention of... personal matters. Yes. Yes, focus on procedure and finances. That's the proper way. And by jove, **stop looking at her belly**. {plainlink to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'}

DirectorLunchDirectorPersuaded: true -- You don’t wont too, but can't help but notice her condition. The strained clothing, the slight breathlessness... it's unmistakable. A woman in her delicate state undertaking strenuous fieldwork? Preposterous. Irresponsible! What’s gotten into her? The physical demands, the potential hazards... it's simply not appropriate. One must think of the mother, the... well, the circumstances. Protecting her well-being, ensuring she avoids unnecessary stress, is paramount. The expedition is out of the question. Absolutely not. No chance. But for the love of god, don’t say it out loud. {plainlink to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'}

DirectorLunchDirectorPersuaded: true -- Henrietta was quite insistent you attend her recital this evening. Seven o'clock sharp. Where did she get this obsession from, anyway? Ah, wait… Didn't Mrs. Whitlock mention something about the leaky roof in the East Wing again? This building is a mess. She also complained about the light in the basement, didn’t she? What do we even need light for in there, anyway? Just grab a candle, I say. Then there's that tailor... audacious pricing. Must draft a stern letter later. So many small demands on one's time. Hard to focus on… what would this be? Archaeology? Yes. Hard to focus on archaeology at a time like this. This proposal... yes, Lovelace... right. Where were we? {plainlink to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'}

DirectorLunchDirectorPersuaded: true -- An expedition... the costs mount quickly. Always do. Travel, lodging, local labour, equipment, potential restoration fees... It all adds up. Where would the funds come from? You don’t really want to think about it. The contingency budget is thin. And donations have been slow. Can the institution truly justify such an expense on speculative research? Financially irresponsible, given our current constraints. A firm "no" might be the only prudent answer… or is it? God, what a headache today has already proven to be. Just get through this, you’ll be home in no time. {plainlink to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'}

DirectorFocused: true DirectorLunchDirectorPersuaded: true -- Alright, you know what? You've got to get a hold of yourself. Back to the matter at hand. Lovelace is waiting. Clear your mind - Henrietta’s recital can wait, the tailor’s bill is very, very irrelevant. Breath in, breath out... ...there you are. This proposal deserves unbiased consideration based purely on its potential contribution to the museum's collection and reputation - examine the costs, weigh the academic value, give it your full attention; as duty requires. {plainlink to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'}

DirectorLunchDirectorPersuaded: true -- Imagine the repercussions if something were to happen to her on this expedition, *especially* in her current... situation. An accident, illness... the press would have a field day. "Museum Endangers Expectant Curator!" Gah! The scandal would be immense. Irreparable damage to the institution's standing. Your oversight would be questioned, wouldn’t it? Of course it would. No, the risk is far too great. Denying the request is the only responsible course of action to protect the museum. {plainlink to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'}

PocketWatchOfficeHint: true -- *"Well then,"* he continues as he first adjusts his black coat, then reaches for his pocket watch. *"We were waiting for you, you know that? I know there's fewer of us at the moment, but I keep telling you - that's no excuse! You have two minutes to reach us in the left wing. Do try to be punctual."* He doesn’t wait for a reply, opting to just turn on his heel and stride out instead. You hear a sigh of frustration from Eleanor, who, as she has a look at the time, [[decides to return to the ledgers she was inspecting.->Office]]

IntroMeetingTurns: 0 AmphoraState: 'base' MarbleBustsFallen: false BronzeHelmetPastFallen: false IntroMeetingEleanorPersuasion: false IntroMeetingMaryPersuasion: false IntroMeetingVioletPersuasion: false IntroMeetingDirectorPersuasion: false PersuasionAbility: true PastryCartVisible: false TriedVibratingTheAmphoraInThePresent: false -- Eleanor strides into the left wing's exhibition hall, her heels clicking sharply against the polished marble floor. The room is dimly lit, with glass cases displaying Mediterranean artifacts casting long shadows. [[The air smells faintly of old wood->Director cutscene 3.5]]. {reset dialogue}

The director from before stands near a display, his tall frame silhouetted against the soft glow of a nearby lamp. He's not alone: you recognize Mary, her hands clasped behind her back, examining a bronze statuette as it had just got there. There's also what you assume is another other curator - a woman, no more the age of the other two, with a severe bun and a clipboard, currently scribbling notes in the margins of a report. Eleanor adjusts her waistcoat, the fabric straining slightly as she takes a deep breath. The director glances up, his sharp eyes narrowing as he checks his pocket watch. "Ah, there you are," he says, his voice echoing in the quiet hall. "We were just about to start. Someone has got to keep things moving around here, [[expeditions to the moluccas be damned.->Intro Meeting Diorama]]"

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [unless IntroMeetingDirectorPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'base'] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward the director's mind. You start to hear his inner thoughts, rigid and authoritative, wrapped in layers of bureaucratic protocol. Some threads of dialogue seem louder than others. Perhaps, you can add your voice to them… ➼[[**IMPATIENCE**->Impatience Director Intro Meeting]] *I regret calling this meeting, these trivial matters waste my valuable time...* ➼[[**AUTHORITY**->Authority Director Intro Meeting]] *This museum is mine to command. No one challenges my decisions.* ➼[[**ANXIETY**->Anxiety Director Intro Meeting]] *The budget report is due tomorrow. The duke visits today. The exhibition opens next week. Too much, too fast...* [unless IntroMeetingDirectorPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'saved'] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward the director's mind. You start to hear his inner thoughts, rigid and authoritative, wrapped in layers of bureaucratic protocol. Some threads of dialogue seem louder than others. Perhaps, you can add your voice to them… ➼[[**IMPATIENCE**->Impatience Director Intro Meeting]] *I regret calling this meeting, these trivial matters waste my valuable time...* ➼[[**AUTHORITY**->Authority Director Intro Meeting]] *This museum is mine to command. No one challenges my decisions.* ➼[[**ANXIETY**->Anxiety Director Intro Meeting]] *The budget report is due tomorrow. The duke visits today. The exhibition opens next week. Too much, too fast...* [unless IntroMeetingDirectorPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'broken'] The director's mind is now fixated on the broken amphora. His frustration creates a barrier your influence cannot penetrate. [unless IntroMeetingDirectorPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'drunk'] The director's confusion and surprise over Eleanor's sudden inebriation creates a mental static your influence cannot penetrate. [unless IntroMeetingDirectorPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'teetering'] The director's focus is entirely on the precarious amphora. His concentration creates a barrier your influence cannot breach. [continue] [if IntroMeetingDirectorPersuasion] The director's mind has become guarded after your previous influence. You sense no opportunity for further manipulation. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

[if pastterraceturn == 1] You set your teacup down, the click against the saucer louder than you meant it to be. Mary blinks mid-sentence. "I'm terribly sorry, Mary, but I’m feeling a bit... unwell. Yes, that's it. I think it would be best if we cut this short." While she pauses, her vacant expression and deadpanned smile do not falter. "Oh. Um... of course! I do hope it’s nothing serious? We can catch up another time, yes?" [[You nod, not trusting yourself to speak further.->Doubt Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 3]] [if pastterraceturn == 2] As Mary returns, you set your teacup down, the click against the saucer louder than you meant it to be. Mary blinks mid-sentence. "I'm terribly sorry, Mary, but I’m feeling a bit... unwell. Yes, that's it. I think it would be best if we cut this short." While she pauses, her vacant expression and deadpanned smile do not falter. "Oh. Um... of course! I do hope it’s nothing serious? We can catch up another time, yes?" [[You nod, not trusting yourself to speak further.->Doubt Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 3]] [if pastterraceturn == 3] You set your teacup down, the click against the saucer louder than you meant it to be. Mary blinks mid-sentence. "I'm terribly sorry, Mary, but I’m feeling a bit... unwell. Yes, that's it. I think it would be best if we cut this short." While she pauses, her vacant expression and deadpanned smile do not falter. "Oh. Um... of course! I do hope it’s nothing serious? We can catch up another time, yes?" [[You nod, not trusting yourself to speak further.->Doubt Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 3]]

Mary rises, gathering her things with the same cheerful ease she arrived with. "Well, this has been lovely, Eleanor!" she says with a warm smile. "You must promise to keep me updated on your plans. I’d love to see you go through with this Brittany business. How exciting!" The door closes behind her, leaving you in the terrace, alone. *Why did you even bother?* You blink once more, and detach yourself from Eleanor's mind. As you do so, [[the terrace begins to fade->Past terrace cutscene 2]].

DoubtTerrace: true -- [if pastterraceturn == 1] The terrace comes into focus, but something feels...off. Mary’s words blur together, her voice blending with the soft clink of teacups, the breeze rustling the leaves. You catch fragments of the empty chatter, but it barely registers. Instead, a sinking weight settles in your chest. The words you’d rehearsed, the points you’d meant to make... they all seem pointless now. Mary doesn't listen to people. Not really. She never is. Will she even try to hear you out? A lump rises in your throat, bitter and tight. *Of course she won't.* [[You should probably call this off.->Doubt Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 2]] [if pastterraceturn == 2] The terrace comes into focus, but something feels...off. A sinking weight settles in your chest. The words you’d rehearsed, the points you’d meant to make... they all seem pointless now. Mary wasn't listening. Not really. She never is. Does she even care? A lump rises in your throat, bitter and tight. No, of course not. [[You should probably call this off.->Doubt Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 2]] [if pastterraceturn == 3] The terrace comes into focus, but something feels...off. Mary’s words blur together, her voice blending with the soft clink of teacups, the breeze rustling the leaves. You catch fragments of the empty chatter, but it barely registers. Instead, a sinking weight settles in your chest. The words you’d rehearsed, the points you’d meant to make... they all seem pointless now. Mary isn’t listening. Not really. She never was. Has she even heard a word you said? [[You should probably call this off.->Doubt Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 2]]

RichardCompliment: false RichardFullDoubt: true -- You force your attention back to the catalog in your hands. This is inappropriate - focusing on a colleague when there's important work to be done. Besides, she's only being friendly. Professional. What could someone like Eleanor possibly see in you, anyhow? She's brilliant, ambitious - pursuing her own research while you just hop from one to another, with no real goal. No, better to maintain distance. Safer that way. {link to: 'Egyptian Exhibition Diorama', label: 'Back'}

Dressrippingseen: true -- The hands of the pocket watch spin backwards, and the yellow dress blurs before your eyes. When the scene stabilizes, you see Eleanor attempting to put it on, her movements growing increasingly frustrated as she struggles with the laces at the back. "Come on, just... a little... more..." she mutters, trying to force the bodice closed. The dress strains visibly across her expanded figure - her belly pushes stubbornly against the fabric, while her fuller chest threatens to spill over the neckline. Her rounded posterior makes the bustle redundant: the back of the dress is already amply filled without it. With one final, determined effort to tighten the laces... the seam gives way with a sharp *rip*, splitting along the waistline. Eleanor stares ahead, her fingers tracing the torn fabric. Her cheeks flush red as she hastily removes the ruined dress, tossing it toward the wardrobe with a quiet curse. {link to: 'dress', label: 'Back'}

The Duke of Millbrook stands hunched over a specimen, his rotund frame barely contained by a waistcoat that has seen better days. Wild gray hair escapes from what was presumably once a neat arrangement, while his spectacles perpetually threaten to slide off the end of his nose. In one hand he clutches a small geological hammer, which he waves about with alarming enthusiasm as he speaks. His other hand hovers protectively over whichever rock currently holds his attention, as if someone might snatch it away at any moment. {one of: ["*He adjusts his spectacles and peers intently at what appears to be a perfectly ordinary pebble.*", "*The Duke taps his hammer against a specimen, listening to the sound with the intensity of a music critic.*", "*He suddenly pivots to examine a different rock, muttering something about 'fascinating mineral striations.'*", "*His eyes light up as he spots another specimen across the room. Nope, just a snail.*"], order: 'cycling'} {link to: 'Geology Club Diorama', label: 'Back'} [inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Duke persuasion menu]] [continue]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward the Duke's mind. His thoughts are scattered, jumping from specimen to specimen with obsessive enthusiasm. Some threads of geological passion burn brighter than others... [unless EleanorCuriosity] ➼[[**GRANITE**->Granite Duke Geology]] *Solid foundation... igneous formations... no, must focus on the feldspar content first...* ➼[[**MARBLE**->Marble Duke Geology]] *Metamorphic processes... such beautiful striations when properly examined... perhaps this visitor appreciates quality specimens...* ➼[[**OBSIDIAN**->Obsidian Duke Geology]] *Volcanic glass... precise fracture patterns... clarity of structure reveals all impurities...* [if EleanorCuriosity] ➼[[**GRANITE**->Granite Duke Geology]] *Solid foundation... igneous formations... no, must focus on the feldspar content first...* ➼[[**MARBLE**->Marble Curiosity Duke Geology]] *Metamorphic processes... such beautiful striations when properly examined... perhaps this visitor appreciates quality specimens...* ➼[[**OBSIDIAN**->Obsidian Curiosity Duke Geology]] *Volcanic glass... precise fracture patterns... clarity of structure reveals all impurities...* [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

{embed passage: 'Item Back Logic CH1'} You inspect the item closer. The knife's hilt is crafted from rough, weathered wood, while its blade is slightly curved and heavily chipped. Some kind of script runs along the metal, but it's either covered by soot or worn down. The blade keeps on swinging around you, always drifting toward anything it could potentially cut or break. {one of: ["*The knife twitches towards a nearby speck of dust.*", "*The blade gleams dully as it spins in place.*", "*It vibrates gently, as if excited - you reckon it hadn't seen much use before you came along.*"], order: 'cycling'} {link to: itemBackTarget, label: 'Back'}

[if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:exhibit1] Eleanor approaches one of the display cases, studying the hieroglyphics on a small statuette. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit1] *"This arrangement is fascinating, Richard. Will you be grouping by dynasty or function?"* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit1 newline] He glances up from his notes, blinking as if pulled from a trance. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit1] *"Oh! Well, um... by dynasty primarily, yes, though I've been considering a separate case for funerary items..."* [continue] [continue] [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:exhibit2] Eleanor lifts a fragmentary papyrus, her brow furrowing. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit2] *"This restoration is quite remarkable. Was it done here?"* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1 id:exhibit2 newline] Richard carefully places a canopic jar on its stand. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit2] *"Well, lets see here... no, this one was certainly done in Cairo. My colleague Professor Mahmoud has a particular gift for it."* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:exhibit2] He hesitates, focusing on Eleanor for a moment before quickly looking away. [continue] [continue] [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:exhibit3] Richard adjusts his spectacles, unrolling a diagram of the exhibition layout. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit3] *"If we move these display cases, we could create a more natural flow..."* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit3 newline] Eleanor nods. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1 id:exhibit3] *"Yes, that works much better. The lighting will draw visitors this way."* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit3] She pauses, dabbing her forehead with a handkerchief. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit3] *"It's rather warm in here, isn't it?"* [continue] [continue] [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:exhibit4] Eleanor adjusts the angle of a small statue of Anubis. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit4] *"There. Much more imposing this way."* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1 id:exhibit4 newline] Richard glances at her work, then back to his notes. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit4] *"Um, you... you have quite an eye for presentation, Miss Lovelace."* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit4] He quickly returns to his work, not daring to wait for a response. [continue] [continue]

The artifacts are arranged in careful groups on brown paper-covered tables - some still half-wrapped in protective cloth. You spot an alabaster [[canopic jar]] with a jackal-headed stopper. [if AmuletsState == 'intact'; append] Nearby rests a collection of [[amulets]] in... varying states of preservation? [continue] A [[scroll case]] sits on the floor, propped up on a table's legs, while a small [[statuette]] sits above the latter. {link to: 'Egyptian Exhibition Diorama', label: 'Back'} [note] Statuette of Taweret [continue]

The northwest wing stretches before you, its walls lined with half-assembled display cases. Wooden crates bearing shipping labels from Cairo lie open on the floor, their contents aphazardly placed around the space and covered in brown paper. A man stands in the middle of this mess, his spectacles sliding down his nose as he examines an alabaster jar. He's tall, with a neatly trimmed beard, clearly lost in their work. This must the Egyptologist Eleanor mentions in her notes - the one in charge of curating this wing. [[Eleanor approaches, clearing her throat softly.->Egyptian Exhibition Diorama 2]]

ExhibitDioramaTurns (comesFromMenu() != true): ExhibitDioramaTurns + 1 -- [if ExhibitDioramaTurns < 5] The northwest exhibition hall is currently a mess. Half-assembled [[display cases]] line the walls, while tables covered in brown paper hold a fair amount of [[artifacts->Egypt artefacts]]. A series of [[sarcophagi]] stand along the far wall. [unless RichardTrapped] [[Richard->Richard Exhibition]] weaves in-between the displays, his sleeves rolled up and a pencil tucked behind his ear. [append] [[Eleanor->Eleanor Exhibition]] stands nearby, comparing notes with a curatorial ledger. Near the entrance is a small [[cart]] laden with pastries, tea, and small sandwiches. *** [continue] [unless RichardFullDoubt; unless RichardTrapped] {embed passage: 'Egypt Exhibition Dialogue'} [if RichardFullDoubt; unless RichardTrapped] {embed passage: 'RichardFullDoubt Dialogue'} [if RichardFullDoubt; if RichardTrapped] {embed passage: 'RichardTrapped Dialogue'} [unless RichardFullDoubt; if RichardTrapped] {embed passage: 'RichardTrapped Dialogue'} [continue] [if ExhibitDioramaTurns > 4] You feel a strange ripple in the air around you, as if time itself is hesitating. The world seems to pause, suspended between moments. You realize you're being given a choice: either [[proceed with the exhibition's conclusion->Egyptian Exhibition Ending 1]] - with the feeling you may not be able to return here afterward - or [[start this scene over from the beginning->Egyptian Exhibition Diorama 2]]. {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'}

ExhibitDioramaTurns: 0 SweetsEaten: 0 RichardCompliment: false DateProposed: false RichardFullDoubt: false RichardTrapped: false AmuletsState: 'intact' AmuletsPastSeen: false -- Richard jumps. "Ahh! Oh, dear god, it's just you, Eleanor. I... I didn't hear you come in." Eleanor offers a smile, gesturing to the notes in her hand. "I thought you might appreciate some assistance, Richard. The director mentioned the exhibition opens next week?" He nods, seemingly relieved. "Yes, well, that would be the plan, correct. I've... well, I've been sorting through these artifacts since dawn. In retrospective I should have called for some kind of help days ago..." He gestures toward a table near the wall. "There's a cart with tea and pastries if you'd like. The museum board sent them over... around 6 o'clock, I think? I wasn't really paying attention." Eleanor's eyes dart briefly to the [[cart->Egyptian Exhibition Diorama]]. {reset dialogue}

DayCalories (SweetsEaten == 1): DayCalories + 1 DayCalories (SweetsEaten == 2): DayCalories + 2 DayCalories (SweetsEaten == 3): DayCalories + 3 DayCalories (SweetsEaten == 4): DayCalories + 4 EleanorMine (RichardTrapped == true): EleanorMine + 1 SlotOneAttended: true -- [unless RichardTrapped; unless RichardFullDoubt] As the midday light comes in from the exhibition hall, you float back to survey their progress. The once-chaotic space is... still quite messy, but you can see the beginnings of a proper exhibition, with a lot more of the artifacts now meaningfully arranged and labeled. Richard removes his spectacles, rubbing tired eyes. "Yes, look at what we've done! I cannot thank you enough, Ellie." [if SweetsEaten >= 2; unless RichardTrapped; unless RichardFullDoubt] Eleanor shifts her position, her overindulgence making itself known with a subtle pressure against her waistcoat. "It was my pleasure," she replies, avoiding direct eye contact with the now diminished refreshment cart. [if DateProposed; unless RichardTrapped; unless RichardFullDoubt] "And about that dinner..." Richard begins hesitantly. "Perhaps one of these evenings? The Blue Lion has excellent roast all week long. Just... just let me know when it'd be best for you." Eleanor nods, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "I'd like that. And I will." [continue] [if RichardTrapped] As the midday light streams through the exhibition hall windows, you float back to survey Eleanor's progress. Working on her own, she's managed to create a semblance of order from the chaos, artifacts now arranged with surprising harmony. She steps back, hands on her hips, surveying her work with evident satisfaction. The faint sounds of thumping from the sarcophagus have long since faded into background noise. [if SweetsEaten >= 2; if RichardTrapped] Eleanor shifts her position, her overindulgence making itself known with a subtle pressure against her waistcoat. "Not bad at all," she murmurs to herself, casting a guilty glance at the now-diminished refreshment cart. "I wonder where Richard's got to," she adds, gathering her notes. "Well, I'm sure he'll be delighted with my progress when he returns." She's quite pleased with having handled everything herself, you can see it in her face. You are too. [continue] [if RichardFullDoubt; unless RichardTrapped] As the midday light comes in from the exhibition hall, you float back to survey their progress. The once-chaotic space is... still quite messy. Richard gathers his notes with precision, carefully maintaining the professional distance he's established all morning. "The exhibition should be ready by next week," he states flatly. "Your assistance has been... well, thank you, Eleanor." [continue] {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

{embed passage: 'Mirror Resolution Cutscene 5'}

stuffedstate (GluttonyCalEXP <= 1): 'EMPTY' stuffedstate (GluttonyCalEXP > 1 && GluttonyCalEXP <= 3): 'BLOATED' stuffedstate (GluttonyCalEXP > 3 && GluttonyCalEXP <= 6): 'FULL' stuffedstate (GluttonyCalEXP > 6 && GluttonyCalEXP <= 10): 'STUFFED' stuffedstate (GluttonyCalEXP > 10): 'OVERSTUFFED' helpfulnessNegative: HelpfulnessEXP < 2 helpfulnessNone: HelpfulnessEXP >= 2 && HelpfulnessEXP <= 5 helpfulnessMedium: HelpfulnessEXP > 5 && HelpfulnessEXP <= 8 helpfulnessHigh: HelpfulnessEXP > 8 -- [if stuffedstate == 'OVERSTUFFED'; unless helpfulnessNegative] The honey-blonde hair of Eleanor frames her freckled face and round, skewed glasses. Her house robe cannot contain her anymore; the sash hangs loosely in defeat, its knot undone, allowing the fabric to spill open and around her overstuffed figure. Her chemise has been completely ridden up, baring the full, taut expanse of her gut, which juts outward imposingly, straining her otherwise petite frame. Eleanor’s flushed cheeks and labored, groaned breathing tell of a clearly excessive and drawn-out eating. Her hands are splayed to the sides of her grumbling gut, as if trying to soothe the tension - a touch too much to the top of her belly leads her to *belch* louder than before. Just looking at her, you can tell she is willfully pinned to the bed. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH1/Eleanor Stage OVERSTUFFED.png', side: 'right', push: '250px', scale: '0.9', offsetX: '50px'} [if stuffedstate == 'OVERSTUFFED'; if helpfulnessNegative] The bedframe creaks under Eleanor’s weight as she lies sprawled atop a nest of torn biscuit wrappers and ledger pages. Her honey-blonde hair mats against sweat-slicked pillows as she sprawls across the bed. Her house robe cannot contain her anymore; the sash hangs loosely in defeat, its knot undone, allowing the fabric to spill open and around her overstuffed figure, disappearing into the canyon between her back and the shelf of her ass. Her chemise has been completely ridden up, baring the full, taut expanse of her gut, which juts outward imposingly, straining her otherwise petite frame. Eleanor’s flushed cheeks and labored, groaned breathing tell of a clearly excessive, drawn-out eating. A half-empty jar of preserves balances precariously on the nightstand, its spoon handle sticking to a marmalade smear - she attempts to reach for it, but her fingers merely brush the edge before retreating to knead her groaning belly. Her hands are now splayed to the sides of her grumbling gut, as if trying to soothe the tension - a touch too much to the top of her belly leads her to *belch* louder than before. Just looking at her, you can tell she is willfully pinned to the bed. *It doesn’t seem like Eleanor has had much passion for her work as of late.* {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH1/Eleanor Stage LOW HELPFULNESS.png', side: 'right', push: '250px', scale: '0.9', offsetX: '50px'} [if stuffedstate == 'EMPTY'; if helpfulnessNegative] Eleanor lies diagonally across the bed, her robe pooling around her hips and her honey-blonde hair left loose on top of the sheets. One stockinged foot idly kicks at a leaning tower of field reports, while the other dangles off the edge, toes brushing the layer of dust onto the floorboards, beneath the nightstand. Her unlaced chemise opens up at the underbust, revealing a crescent of freckled cleavage. The desk across the room hosts an inkwell crusted shut, and a ledger splayed open to an inventory page - it’s now serving as a coaster for a teacup ringed with stains. *It doesn’t seem like Eleanor has had much passion for her work as of late.* {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH1/Eleanor Stage LOW HELPFULNESS.png', side: 'right', push: '250px', scale: '0.9', offsetX: '50px'} [if stuffedstate == 'EMPTY'; if helpfulnessNone] Eleanor's spectacles slide down her nose as she hunches over the desk. Strands of honey-blonde hair escape her practical bun as her fountain pen first pokes at an inventory ledger, then continues working on a letter. Her blue house robe hangs open over a chemise stretched taut across her shoulders, its sash dangling forgotten from a bedpost. The faint rumble of her stomach fills the otherwise silent room. You can see her roll her eyes and sigh - she merely adjusts her glasses with an ink-smudged finger and reaches for another paper. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH1/Eleanor Stage EMPTY.png', side: 'right', push: '250px', scale: '0.9', offsetX: '50px'} [if stuffedstate == 'EMPTY'; if helpfulnessMedium] Eleanor's chemise sleeves are rolled to her elbows as she stretches on her tiptoes, dusting a high shelf crowded with novels. She is wearing a practical wool skirt that swishes around with each reach, the hem brushing against the floorboards. A lock of hair clings to her damp neck as she hums… a little off-key, rearranging excavation tools. You watch as the bed is occasionally used as temporary storage for folded maps, their corners fluttering whenever her rounded hips bump the mattress. Though you hear her stomach growling, she has no time for it - she merely pats her apron's dusty pockets before resuming her cleaning duties. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH1/Eleanor Stage EMPTY.png', side: 'right', push: '250px', scale: '0.9', offsetX: '50px'} [if stuffedstate == 'EMPTY'; if helpfulnessHigh] The honey-blonde hair of Eleanor falls in soft waves, framing her freckled face and round glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. She is dressed in a comfortable house robe of pale blue, cinched at the waist. Beneath it, a lace-trimmed chemise peeks out. The book in her hands shifts as her fingers trace its edges, lingering on the corner of a page. Her figure is petite, though softened - the gentle plushness of her arms, the curve of a rounded belly against the folds of her robe, the swell of her thighs... all visible beneath the loosely tied sash. The faint rumble of her stomach fills the otherwise silent room. You can see her roll her eyes and sigh. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH1/Eleanor Stage EMPTY.png', side: 'right', push: '250px', scale: '0.9', offsetX: '50px'} [if stuffedstate == 'BLOATED'; if helpfulnessNegative] Eleanor lies diagonally across the bed, her robe pooling around her hips and her honey-blonde hair left loose on top of the sheets. The bedsprings creak as Eleanor rolls onto her side, dislodging biscuit crumbs from the gap between her corset and skirt waistband. A tin lies dented at the footboard, its interior smelling of chocolate despite being conspicuously empty. She paws blindly at the nightstand, knocking over a candlestick. Thankfully it’s not lit, though it still leaves a bit of wax on an excavation budget draft. You watch her sit up, reach for an hairbrush nearby, and use it to scratch beneath her corset's lower edge where red lines crosshatch soft love handles. *It doesn’t seem like Eleanor has had much passion for her work as of late.* {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH1/Eleanor Stage LOW HELPFULNESS.png', side: 'right', push: '250px', scale: '0.9', offsetX: '50px'} [if stuffedstate == 'BLOATED'; if helpfulnessNone] Eleanor's forearm creates a makeshift pillow against the desk as she squints at a fragmented map. Crumbs fleck the parchment near an overturned teacup, its dregs staining a report on… well, you don’t find yourself having enough time to read through it before she yanks it away and into a stack nearby. Her robe strains where the sash digs into her softened hips, the chemise beneath riding up to reveal a faint muffin top above her petticoat. She shifts with a huff that jostles her bust and rounded midsection against the desk edge. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH1/Eleanor Stage BLOATED.png', side: 'right', push: '250px', scale: '0.9', offsetX: '50px'} [if stuffedstate == 'BLOATED'; if helpfulnessMedium] Eleanor's knuckles are locked around the broom handle as she sweeps around the bedroom’s floor, her apron riding up over the curve of her belly. She pauses to hike up her stockings, which you see are currently digging into her plush thighs. There are now dusty imprints on their fabric. She grunts, half-kneeling to retrieve a fallen magnifying glass. The motion makes her chemise part between its strained buttons, revealing a red mark where her corset digs into her bloated midsection. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH1/Eleanor Stage BLOATED.png', side: 'right', push: '250px', scale: '0.9', offsetX: '50px'} [if stuffedstate == 'BLOATED'; if helpfulnessHigh] The honey-blonde hair of Eleanor falls in soft waves, framing her freckled face and round glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. Her house robe, pale blue and cinched at the waist, clings a little closer to her midsection than usual. Beneath it, the lace-trimmed chemise outlines the curve of her stomach - a slight rise. Her fingers absently graze the sash of her robe as she reads, adjusting it in search of comfort. A small flush warms her cheeks, and every so often, she pauses to press a hand gently against her abdomen. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH1/Eleanor Stage BLOATED.png', side: 'right', push: '250px', scale: '0.9', offsetX: '50px'} [if stuffedstate == 'FULL'; if helpfulnessNegative] Eleanor's back sprawls against the headboard, her blonde, though unkept hair framing her freckled face. Both chemise sleeves are rolled above her elbows, revealing forearms glistening with sweat that darkens the fabric beneath her armpits. A map of a place you don’t recognize rustles under her left thigh each time she shifts to relieve pressure on her bloated belly. The wardrobe mirror reflects a half-eaten wheel of cheese on its shelf - surely not an artifact, perhaps just part of a snack - and a stockings-strewn floor that hasn't seen a broom in weeks. *It doesn’t seem like Eleanor has had much passion for her work as of late.* {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH1/Eleanor Stage LOW HELPFULNESS.png', side: 'right', push: '250px', scale: '0.9', offsetX: '50px'} [if stuffedstate == 'FULL'; if helpfulnessNone] The desk chair protests as Eleanor leans back, its cane seat bowing under her weight. A half-unlaced corset dangles from one armrest while her free hand absently massages the swell pushing her chemise seams to their limits. She squints at a pottery reconstruction diagram - you are getting the impression her attention is elsewhere, though. Each attempt to cross her legs ends in a frustrated huff when her thickened thighs refuse to cooperate, making the many ink pots tremble with every of these movements. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH1/Eleanor Stage FULL.png', side: 'right', push: '250px', scale: '0.9', offsetX: '50px'} [if stuffedstate == 'FULL'; if helpfulnessMedium] The wardrobe mirror reflects Eleanor's flushed face as she wrestles a box of survey chains onto the dresser. Her untied nightgown flaps open with each labored step, revealing a chemise soaked through at the underbust, where her fat spills over a hastily loosened corset. You watch as she uses the bedpost as leverage when bending to straighten rug corners, her breath coming in short puffs. An abandoned hairpin jabs into the mattress - close by you spot a a sweat-darkened patch shaped exactly like her hips. You reckon she might have rested there for a moment or two. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH1/Eleanor Stage FULL.png', side: 'right', push: '250px', scale: '0.9', offsetX: '50px'} [if stuffedstate == 'FULL'; if helpfulnessHigh] The honey-blonde hair of Eleanor falls in soft waves, framing her freckled face and round glasses perched slightly askew. Her house robe, pale blue and cinched at the waist, is noticeably strained where it meets the sash, the fabric gathered awkwardly around her rounded, grumbling belly. Likewise, her chemise now rises further up and clings to the skin. She shifts slightly atop the bed, her fingers drumming idly on the book in her lap as if trying to distract herself from how much she must - to get to this stage - have eaten in these last couple of days. A groan escapes her lips as she leans back, sets her book to the side, and cradles her middle with both hands. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH1/Eleanor Stage FULL.png', side: 'right', push: '250px', scale: '0.9', offsetX: '50px'} [if stuffedstate == 'STUFFED'; if helpfulnessNegative] The bed resembles an archaeological dig site - stratified layers of crumpled linens, food wrappers and tins, and a corset hanging from the canopy post like a flag. Eleanor's chemise has ridden up to her ribcage, leaving her firm, bloated stomach exposed to the stale air of the bedroom. Each belch makes her freed breasts quiver against the sweat-darkened sheets. When she tries to reach a wine flute, a spring on her mattress fails her, sending half of her body sliding downward. The subsequent swearing match as she rights herself back to her post leaves her breathless, a discarded gravy-stained apron serving as a pathetic handkerchief. *It doesn’t seem like Eleanor has had much passion for her work as of late.* {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH1/Eleanor Stage LOW HELPFULNESS.png', side: 'right', push: '250px', scale: '0.9', offsetX: '50px'} [if stuffedstate == 'STUFFED'; if helpfulnessNone] Eleanor's left nipple peeks through a gap in her chemise where button threads have surrendered hours ago. She slouches away from the desk, preferring to use the shelf that is her freed belly as a rest for clay tablet transcriptions. A belch escapes as she is forced to arch forward for more blotting paper, the sound echoing in the teapot she's been using as a paperweight. Her right hand moves in sluggish circles over the taut dome of her gut, smearing notes with sweat-damp fingerprints while the abandoned quill leaks ink across a shipping manifest. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH1/Eleanor Stage STUFFED.png', side: 'right', push: '250px', scale: '0.9', offsetX: '50px'} [if stuffedstate == 'STUFFED'; if helpfulnessMedium] Eleanor's stockinged feet shuffle across a number of scattered papers as she attempts to straighten her books. Each reach upward makes her chemise an inch higher. Its hem is now tucked under her stuffed belly like a makeshift sling, and it does nothing to hide just how much bigger she is now looking. A damp patch spreads between her shoulder blades as she leans heavily on the desk. Her cleaning is much more sporadic now, and easily interrupted - a groan when crouching to stack journals, a hissed curse after bending, a prolonged lean against the wardrobe while massaging the top of her belly. *She should probably rest…* {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH1/Eleanor Stage STUFFED.png', side: 'right', push: '250px', scale: '0.9', offsetX: '50px'} [if stuffedstate == 'STUFFED'; if helpfulnessHigh] The honey-blonde hair of Eleanor frames her freckled face and round glasses perched slightly askew. Her house robe, cinched at the waist, looks ready to burst, the sash visibly digging into her swollen midsection, holding back an avalanche of fat. Her chemise rides up, revealing the taut curve of her swollen belly, which has come to dominate her petite frame. Eleanor's cheeks are flushed, and a faint sheen of perspiration glistens on her brow. Her book lies at her side as her hands now cradle and gently rub the overstuffed stomach that is now serving as support to her chest. Each breath is shallow, and between the occasional *burp*, every slight movement elicits a faint, contented moan. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH1/Eleanor Stage STUFFED.png', side: 'right', push: '250px', scale: '0.9', offsetX: '50px'} [continued] {link to: 'bedroom', label: 'Back'}

Eleanor stands at the counter, one hand pressed lightly against her temple. Her posture is not quite there, though she maintains her usual, composed demeanour. The fingers of her free hand tap softly against her workbag, perhaps impatient to simply receive her remedy and head home for the day. Her gaze occasionally drifts to the shelves behind the counter. She might just be reading through the labels to pass the time, but the bottles are quite pretty on their own. {link to: 'Apothecary Diorama', label: 'Back'} [inventory for AnimusAbility] [[Try as you might...->Eleanor Apothecary persuasion menu]] [continue]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You attempt to concentrate on Eleanor's mind, but her thoughts are foggy and disjointed, dominated by the pulsing pain behind her temples. Her headache creates a mental barrier your influence cannot penetrate. {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

Eleanor stands attentively beside the table, her focus shifting between the artefact she holds and Violet's movements across the room. Her brow is furrowed in concentration, spectacles perched on her nose. Her dark work skirt and waistcoat are practical, though the waistcoat buttons strain slightly over her midsection when she leans forward to examine an artifact more closely. The fabric pulls taut across her back and the gentle swell of her hips. She seems absorbed in the task, even if a bit distracted by Violet's presence. {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'} [inventory for AnimusAbility] [[Try as you might...->Eleanor Archive Review persuasion menu]] [continue]

EleanorChocolateCutscene: true -- As you drift down through the floorboards to reach the [[bedroom]], the distinct sound of rustling paper and soft munching grows clearer. You emerge into the bedroom to find Eleanor still laying on her bed, though now surrounded by an impressive amount of empty purple wrappers. Her fingers, which she is currently licking, are smudged with chocolate - her cheeks are also evidently flushed. Finally, she swats away the wrapper on top of her belly and lets out a contented sigh, patting her middle.

EleanorFirstAnimus: EleanorFirstAnimus + 1 -- [if EleanorFirstAnimus == 1] Something draws you toward Eleanor's seated form - an invisible thread tugging at your essence. You drift closer, your consciousness reaching tentatively toward the warmth of her mind. The sensation is strange, unfamiliar. The boundary between observation and intervention blurs, but you can't stop yourself. You are sucked inward, [[toward the source of her thoughts and emotions.->Eleanor Control]] [unless EleanorFirstAnimus == 1] {embed passage: 'Eleanor Past Terrace Persuasion Menu'} [note] The world shifts as you’re drawn forward, weightless yet deliberate, until everything blurs into a pale golden haze. When your senses return, you find yourself inside a dimly lit space; a brass cabin encloses you, the walls lined all manners of file cabinets, random stacks of papers, barrels and delicate dials. *You detect the faint rhythm of a beating heart.* In front of you, right under a blue frosted window, is a [[🧮control panel->control panel. Behind you, is a shining opening back to the [[🌿terrace->Eleanor Past Terrace. [continue]

Eleanor sits upright, her hands clasped tightly around her research notes in her lap. Her posture is tense, leaning forward slightly, clearly eager to discuss about her proposal. [if WeightGained == 'NONE' || WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'] Her usual work attire is neat - she has done an excellent job at concealing her recent gains - her waistcoat might seem a fraction tighter than usual if one looked closely, but that’s about it. She meets the Director's gaze directly, her expression earnest and focused. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP' || WeightGained == 'FAT' || WeightGained == 'OBESE'] Her clothing strains visibly against her fuller figure. Her blouse pulls taut across her bosom and belly, and she subtly shifts in the chair, likely trying to find a more comfortable position that doesn't put pressure on her midsection. There's a slight flush on her cheeks, and her gaze occasionally drops to her lap before she forces herself to meet the Director's eyes. [continue] {link to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless DirectorLunchEleanorPersuaded; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Eleanor Director Lunch persuasion menu]] [continue]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [unless DirectorLunchEleanorPersuaded] You shift your focus to Eleanor. Her thoughts race, a blend of professional ambition, nervous energy, and a subtle, underlying physical awareness. Certain threads stand out... ➼[[**PROFESSIONALISM**->Eleanor Lunch Professionalism]] *Maintain composure. Present the arguments clearly. Show him the research is sound.* ➼[[**ANXIETY**->Eleanor Lunch Anxiety]] *Is he listening? He seems unconvinced. Did I miss something in the budget? Oh no...* ➼[[**GLUTTONY**->Eleanor Lunch Gluttony]] *That cake looks terribly plain... but still cake. And those sandwiches... He hasn't touched them. Perhaps just one...* [if DirectorLunchEleanorPersuaded] Eleanor's thoughts have already been swayed by your influence. Her mind feels less receptive now, focused on the path you nudged her towards. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

Your throat feels dry, your breath shallow. You're a moment away from just letting go of it, but then... an idea. Not a great one. Before you can second-guess yourself, you rise onto your tiptoes, tilting the amphora just enough to bring the rim to your lips. The first taste is bitter, yeasty - warm, somehow? It spurs you on. You drink deeply, the brew spilling over your tongue and down your throat in [[thick gulps->Eleanor Drinks from Amphora cutscene 3]].

The amphora grows lighter with each swallow, and you can feel the liquid pooling in your unprepared stomach, heavy and carbonated. You feel your corset press tighter against your middle as your belly swells with the volume - the pressure is immediate, but you don’t stop. You find yourself unwilling to. [[Wanting more of it->Eleanor Drinks from Amphora cutscene 4]].

By the time you lower the amphora, your breaths come in shallow, uneven gasps. Your stomach feels taut, straining against its confines, and the weight of the beer sits low and insistent. The amphora, now lighter, is easier to handle: you gently tilt it onto its side, the remaining liquid softly sloshing around its container, same as the one you've just drunk. You straighten yourself, swaying slightly, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through you. Your hands rest on your hips, fingers brushing the curve of your belly, and you take a moment to steady yourself. The room feels hazy, the edges softened, and you’re acutely aware of how bloated you now are. It takes you a masterful amount of self-control not to belch in front of the others. {plainlink to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[if SweetsEaten == 0] Eleanor moves methodically between the displays, her attention divided between Richard's arrangements and the curatorial ledger in her hands. Her waistcoat strains slightly as she bends to examine a scarab case, and she tugs at it self-consciously when she straightens. A faint sheen of perspiration dots her brow - the exhibition hall is poorly ventilated, and the activity seems to have already worked up her appetite, judging by the occasional glances she casts toward the refreshment cart. [if SweetsEaten == 1] Eleanor moves between the displays with a touch more energy, her attention divided between the artifacts and occasionally licking a stray crumb from her lip. Her waistcoat strains as she bends to examine a scarab case, and she no longer bothers to tug at it when she straightens - it's a lost cause. That single, lonely pastry seems to have awakened rather than sated her appetite - her gaze drifts to the cart more frequently now, though she tries to maintain her focus on the work at hand. [if SweetsEaten == 2] Eleanor's movements have slightly slowed, her focus occasionally drifting as she shifts between displays. Her waistcoat buttons pull noticeably tighter across her belly, and a dusting of sugar lingers at the corner of her mouth. You notice her suppressing a small burp behind her hand as she leans over to inspect a vase, her cheeks slightly flushed. [if SweetsEaten == 3] Eleanor moves with a distinct heaviness now, her breathing slightly labored. Her waistcoat has been fully surrendered - the bottom button now undone "for comfort" as she explained to Richard with an embarassed laugh, and without having been prompted. Sugar and flaky pastry remnants cling to her fingers despite her attempts to clean them with a handkerchief, prompting her to now be wearing leather gloves to touch the artefacts. Her focus on the work remains, but it's punctuated by frequent pauses where she eithers sits down on a crate, or discreetly presses a hand against her visibly distended middle. [if SweetsEaten == 4] Eleanor has slowed considerably, her movements careful and deliberate. Her waistcoat is now completely unbuttoned, revealing her straining blouse beneath. She's given up trying to hide the occasional burp, instead simply turning her head aside when necessary. Not proper of her, but Richard isn't paying too close attention. Her face is flushed and perspiring, and she frequently presses a hand to her obviously bloated midsection when Richard isn't looking. The work continues, but her enthusiasm has been notably dampened by how bloated she has made herself. [continue] {link to: 'Egyptian Exhibition Diorama', label: 'Back'} [inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Eleanor Exhibition persuasion menu]] [continue]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward Eleanor's mind. You start to hear her inner thoughts, a continuous stream of talking. Some threads of dialogue boom above the others... and it's immediately clear that the nearby cart is distracting Eleanor. Well, that works for you. ➼[[**INDULGENCE**->Indulgence Persuasion]] *Just one pastry wouldn't hurt. You've been working hard all morning...* [unless RichardCompliment] ➼[[**BONDING**->Indulgence Persuasion]] *The refreshments... well, having some could make this collaboration less formal.* [if RichardCompliment; unless DateProposed] ➼[[**BONDING**->Bonding Persuasion]] *That was sweet of him. You could share some of the refreshments... you have got to make sure he remembers to eat, anyhow.* [if RichardCompliment; if DateProposed] ➼[[**BONDING**->Indulgence Persuasion]] *The refreshments... well, having some more could make this collaboration less formal.* [continue] ➼[[**ENERGY**->Indulgence Persuasion]] *You need sustenance to maintain focus. It's only practical.* [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

Eleanor's practical brown wool coat hangs open, its sturdy fabric marked with dust from their exploration. The oil lamp light catches the cream-colored blouse beneath, now slightly dampened with perspiration from the underground humidity. Her expedition skirts, heavier and darker than her usual office wear, bear traces of stone dust and dirt from the day's adventure, but mostly dust from the collapse. Her honey-blonde hair has escaped its morning arrangement, wisps clinging to her flushed cheeks in the chamber's close air. [if WeightGained == 'NONE'] You notice how the practical cut of her outdoor clothing accommodates her figure comfortably, the wool coat's generous proportions hanging loose around her frame. [if WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'] You watch as the wool coat pulls slightly across her middle when she breathes, while the cream blouse fits snugly around her curves, the fabric following the gentle roundness that has softened her silhouette. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'] Her attire strains noticeably - the blouse drawing tight across her expanded chest, its buttons working harder than intended. Her skirts cling more closely to her widened hips, the heavy fabric outlining her fuller form. [if WeightGained == 'FAT'] The brown wool coat she's wearing gapes open considerably, unable to close over her - the blouse stretches visibly across her ample form, the fabric pulled taut between increasingly stressed button gaps. [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'] Her outdoor clothing proves wholly inadequate - the coat hangs uselessly open while her blouse strains dangerously against her massive chest and protruding belly, threatening to surrender entirely to her bulk. [continue] {link to: 'Weekend Expedition Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless AnimusBlocked; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Weekend Expedition Animus Blocked 1]] [continue] [if AnimusBlocked; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[Try as you might...->Weekend Expedition Animus Blocked Eleanor Animus Menu]] [continue]

Eleanor sits rigidly in the ornate chair, her portfolio balanced carefully on her lap. Her honey-blonde hair is pulled into its usual bun, though a few wisps have escaped to frame her increasingly flustered face. Her hands rest tensely on the leather binding of her research materials. She keeps glancing between her unopened portfolio and the Duke, clearly waiting for an opportunity to present her work. Her lips purse slightly as each attempt to steer the conversation toward her expedition is derailed by enthusiastic - obsessive, really - geological observations. {one of: ["*She adjusts her position in the chair, trying to catch the Duke's wandering attention.*", "*Her fingers drum quietly against her portfolio as she waits for a break in his geological monologue.*", "*She opens her mouth to speak, then closes it again as the Duke pivots to yet another specimen. This one is marble.*", "*A small sigh escapes her.*"], order: 'cycling'} {link to: 'Geology Club Diorama', label: 'Back'} [inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Eleanor Geology Club persuasion menu]] [continue]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You shift your focus to Eleanor's mind. Her thoughts circle between frustration and determination, searching for some angle that might capture the Duke's wandering attention. ➼[[**CURIOSITY**->Curiosity Eleanor Geology]] *That collection... perhaps if I examine it more closely, I might find something that actually connects to my research...* {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

[if AmphoraState == 'base'] Eleanor stands by the plinth, her posture stiff and professional. Her waistcoat strains slightly across her midsection as she shifts her weight, the fabric pulling taut where it buttons. The faintest sheen of sweat glistens at her temples, which is understandable: the air inside of this hall feels damp. Her round glasses catch the dim light, obscuring her eyes as she glances at the others. She adjusts her cravat with a quick, practiced motion, the lace at her wrists brushing against the plinth left of her as she does so. The high collar of her blouse digs into her neck - that's sure to leave a red mark. [if AmphoraState == 'saved'] Eleanor stands by the plinth, her posture stiff and professional. Her waistcoat strains slightly across her midsection as she shifts her weight, the fabric pulling taut where it buttons. The faintest sheen of sweat glistens at her temples, which is understandable: the air inside of this hall feels damp. Her round glasses catch the dim light, obscuring her eyes as she glances at the others. She adjusts her cravat with a quick, practiced motion, the lace at her wrists brushing against the plinth left of her as she does so. The high collar of her blouse digs into her neck - that's sure to leave a red mark. [if AmphoraState == 'broken'] Eleanor kneels beside the shattered amphora, her black skirt pooling around her. Her hands hover over the shards, as if unsure where to begin to collect them. Her waistcoat is looking more rumpled, the seams straining as she leans forward, and her cravat has come undone, the ends dangling loosely over her chest. You watch her glasses slip down her nose - she pushes them back up with a frustrated sigh. [if AmphoraState == 'teetering'] Eleanor grips the amphora with both hands, her arms trembling under its weight. Her waistcoat has ridden up, exposing the lace trim of her corset as she struggles to steady the vessel. Her breathing is shallow, and a bead of sweat rolls down her temple, drooping onto her flushed cheeks. Her skirt twists around her legs, the fabric pulling tight across her thighs as she braces herself. [if AmphoraState == 'drunk'] Eleanor leans heavily against the plinth, one hand pressed to her swollen stomach. Her waistcoat is to her side, the fabric hanging open to reveal the unbuttoned blouse underneath. Her breathing is labored, and her glasses sit askew on her nose, one lens fogged slightly from exertion. There's a stain onto the fabric near her knee, and her shoes scuff against the floor as she shifts her weight. She brushes a hand across her forehead, leaving a faint streak of dust, and exhales slowly, careful not to let out anything resembling a burp and lose even more of her dignity in front of the others. [continue] [if PastryCartVisible; if AmphoraState == 'base' || AmphoraState == 'saved'; unless MarbleBustsFallen] *Whenever the Director's attention either shifts to Mary or Violet, Eleanor subtly reaches over to the nearby cart, snatching once a dry biscuit, then one of the small cakes and consuming it quickly. She then brushes the crumbs from her fingers before anyone can notice.* [continue] {plainlink to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless IntroMeetingEleanorPersuasion; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Eleanor persuasion menu]] [continue]

DirectorLunchEleanorPersuaded: true -- His expression... it's unreadable, but not encouraging. Is he even paying attention? Or just waiting for you to finish so he can dismiss you? Perhaps the proposal *is* too ambitious. Maybe the budget figures *are* unrealistic. Your collar feels suddenly tight, your palms damp against the notes. What if you've made a terrible mistake pressing this? He'll think you incompetent. What about your career? Oh dear... {plainlink to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'}

DirectorLunchEleanorPersuadedGluttony: true -- Your stomach gives a low rumble, embarrassingly audible in the quiet office. He *still* hasn't touched his lunch. The sandwiches sit there, triangles of pale bread and indeterminate filling, beside that dry-looking slice of cake. It seems terribly rude to just leave it. Wasteful, even. Before you can reconsider, your hand darts out, snatching first, the second sandwich, then the cake. You consume them quickly, almost automatically as you continue talking, barely registering the taste: to be fair, there’s not much of it in the first place. You dab your lips with his napkin, trying to appear nonchalant, though the sudden fullness in your stomach is undeniable beneath your straining clothes… best carry on as if nothing occurred. {plainlink to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'}

DirectorLunchEleanorPersuaded: true -- Deep breath. Remember your training, your research. This is not about *you*, it's about the work. Present the facts logically, anticipate his objections regarding cost and feasibility. Maintain eye contact, speak clearly. Do not fidget. He must see you as a capable, serious scholar, not some flighty assistant. The significance of the findings speaks for itself if presented correctly. You *can* convince him. [unless DirectorFocused] Well, he does need to listen to you in the first place, doesn't he? Ugh... [continue] {plainlink to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'}

Eleanor settles deep into the settee's embrace, her burgundy silk dress straining across her considerable frame. The fabric pulls taut over her belly's spherical shape, the empire waistline now sitting well above her actual middle, and also under her considerable chest. Her honey-blonde hair falls loose around her shoulders, freed from its pins. Crumbs from the morning's pastries dust the front of her dress, scattered across the burgundy silk. Her breathing is shallow and deliberate - it's clear she's still feeling quite full. *Understandable, given Mary's attentions.* {link to: 'Museum Employment Mary Success Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[if WeightGained == 'NONE'] Eleanor stands close to the mirror, her usual professional composure tinged with focused curiosity and a hint of unease. She's trying hard not to show the latter, but you've been in her company for enough time: it's evident. Her spectacles rest low on her nose as she leans in to examine the crack, her fingers hovering just above the damaged surface. Her dark waistcoat fits snugly, showing only the slightest strain across her back as she bends. She occasionally glances at Mary, offering a brief, perhaps forced, reassuring frown before her attention returns entirely to the perplexing artifact before her. [if WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'] Eleanor stands close to the mirror, her usual professional composure tinged with focused curiosity and a hint of unease. She's trying hard not to show the latter, but you've been in her company for enough time: it's evident. Her spectacles rest low on her nose as she leans forward to examine the crack, the movement causing her waistcoat buttons to pull slightly across her softened middle. The fabric strains subtly across her back and newly rounded hips as she concentrates, fingers hovering just above the damaged surface. She glances at Mary, her slightly fuller cheeks creased in a frown, before turning back to the mirror. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'] Eleanor stands close to the mirror, leaning in carefully to examine the crack. Her discarded waistcoat lies draped over a nearby crate; without it, her blouse pulls taut across her noticeably rounded belly as she bends forward. The curve of her plump figure is evident, her widened hips pressing against the mirror's frame as she shifts for a better view. Her spectacles slide down her nose, and she pushes them back up with a sigh, her attention divided between the mirror and her own slight discomfort. [if WeightGained == 'FAT'] Eleanor stands close to the mirror, her new weight making the cramped space feel even smaller. She leans forward with effort, her large belly pressing against the lower frame of the mirror as she strains to examine the crack high up. Her blouse gaps open between buttons, revealing the straining corset beneath. Her breathing is slightly heavier as she concentrates, one hand occasionally resting on her hip for balance. She glances toward Mary, her double chin more pronounced as she frowns, before refocusing on the mirror. [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'] Eleanor positions herself carefully before the mirror, her size filling the space between it and the shelves. She avoids leaning forward, instead tilting her head back to peer up at the crack through her spectacles - her now massive belly would make any closer inspection difficult. Her modified blouse strains severely across her bosom and stomach, the fabric pulling away from the buttons. She breathes heavily, fanning herself slightly with one hand while the other rests on the significant shelf of her stomach. Her spectacles slide down her nose, and she pushes them back up with a sigh, her attention divided between the mirror and her own self. [continue] {link to: 'Ancient Mirror Diorama', label: 'Back'} [inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Eleanor Mirror persuasion menu]] [continue]

Honestly, Mary's hysterics are making this situation worse. Ghosts? Really? In a museum storage room? It's preposterous. It's a damaged artifact, damn it! Nothing more. Annoying, yes. Problematic? Also yes. But not supernatural. If she would just calm down, you could examine it properly. Her pacing and hand-wringing are incredibly distracting. Just breathe in, then out, Eleanor. Deal with the object, then deal with Mary. A brick to the head might just do it, really. It's tempting. {plainlink to: 'Ancient Mirror Diorama', label: 'Back'}

This mirror... where did it come from? It's more than just silvered glass. The frame's motifs are unusual, too. They seem baroque, almost, but that wouldn't make any sense. Isn't this supposed to be centuries old? And this crack... it doesn't look like any impact damage you've seen. Or does it? The light here is horrible, you might just be seeing things. But maybe this is more than just an antique. It feels... significant. {plainlink to: 'Ancient Mirror Diorama', label: 'Back'}

This storage room wasn't designed for people to just stand about. Or for someone of... ample proportions. Every time you shift to get a better angle on the crack, your hip bumps a shelf or your stomach presses against the mirror stand. It's difficult to concentrate properly when you're constantly aware of the lack of space. When did you get so clumsy? Better yet, how did you get so big, all of a sudden? It really did sneak up on you. And the air is so still and close... makes your clothes feel even tighter. You really must speak to the director about ventilation. Or perhaps just finish this quickly and escape back to your flat. Yes, that seems the best course. {plainlink to: 'Ancient Mirror Diorama', label: 'Back'}

Ignore Mary's theatrics. Ignore the fact that it's late, and you just want to get out of here. Focus. Observe. The fracture surface is clean. No radiating impact lines. Could it be a resonant frequency? Unlikely, but possible given the material's odd properties. The lack of reflection is the key... perhaps an advanced silvering technique that degrades uniquely? You must take precise notes. What... ah, right, you left your ledger in the office. Well, just remember it then, Eleanor. Temperature, humidity... any atmospheric anomalies? A logical explanation exists. Find the cause, then the solution. {plainlink to: 'Ancient Mirror Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You reach out toward Eleanor's mind. Her thoughts are more focused than Mary's at the moment - a mix of curiosity and some underlying stress. Some threads emerge, distinct amidst the mental noise... ➼[[**RATIONALITY**->Eleanor Mirror Rationality Persuasion]] *Fascinating. The material doesn't behave like normal glass or silvered mirror. Must document the properties... perhaps a stress fracture from temperature changes?* ➼[[**CURIOSITY**->Eleanor Mirror Curiosity Persuasion]] *No reflection at all... and now this crack. What exactly *is* this object? The Whitlock collection always had peculiar items.* [if WeightGained == 'FAT' or WeightGained == 'OBESE'] ➼[[**DISCOMFORT**->Eleanor Mirror Discomfort Persuasion]] *This room is dreadfully cramped. Difficult to get a proper look without bumping into everything. And this heat... unbearable.* [else] ➼[[**ANNOYANCE**->Eleanor Mirror Annoyance Persuasion]] *Mary is letting her imagination run wild. Need to remain calm and assess the damage properly.* [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

[if WeightGained == 'NONE'] Eleanor stands by her desk, her posture precise despite the hour. Her honey-blonde hair is pulled into a bun, though stray wisps frame her face. Her waistcoat buttons strain slightly across her midsection - her corset is doing an excellent job at hiding just how much she's gained as of late. She's currently absorbed in her work, squinting through round spectacles at a sheaf of documents. Her fingers move methodically across the page, occasionally pausing to dip her pen in ink. The freckles across her nose scrunch as she squints at a particularly problematic entry in her ledger. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH2/Eleanor Stage NONE.png', side: 'left', push: '300px', scale: '0.87', offsetX: '250px'} [if WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'] Eleanor stands leafing through a ledger at her desk, her honey-blonde hair falling in loose waves around her freckled face. Her pocket watch chain stretches noticeably tighter across her middle as she leans forward, the metal links pressing into the new softness that has begun to round her waistcoat. Each time she turns a page, the bottom buttons of her waistcoat strain visibly, small gaps appearing between them. Her skirt sits higher than before, the waistband clearly digging into the developing love handles at her sides. When she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, her more generous backside causes the fabric to pull taut, its seams having to work harder than yesterday to contain her figure. Just above them, her skirt band digs noticeably into her hips, causing her to discretely adjust it. You spot the slightest indication of a second chin as she looks down at her notes. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH2/Eleanor Stage CHUBBY.png', side: 'left', push: '300px', scale: '0.87', offsetX: '250px', offsetY: '50px'} [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'] Eleanor stands on tiptoes to retrieve a document from a high shelf. Her waistcoat has been discarded, draped over her chair nearby. Without its confinement, her new blouse - you can tell by the pristine cuffs - still pulls tightly across her bulging belly, which now protrudes roundly over her skirt waistband and jiggles slightly with each stretched reach. Inside of her office space, she's abandoned fastening the former's bottom two buttons entirely. When she finally grasps the folder, she drops back onto her heels with a small grunt, her honey-blonde hair falling into her eyes. Her skirt strains across her widened flanks, the fabric stretched to near-transparency - you can easily trace the contours of her panties. As she catches her breath, her free hand absently massages the side of her belly, just left of her love handles. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH2/Eleanor Stage PLUMP.png', side: 'right', push: '250px', scale: '0.87', offsetX: '70px'} [if WeightGained == 'FAT'] Eleanor struggles to shift a crate of pottery fragments, her expanded girth forcing her to waddle rather than walk. Her substantial belly leads the way, hanging over her skirt waistband and swaying with each laboured step. After setting down the crate with an audible huff, she places both hands at the small of her back, arching to counterbalance the impressive weight of her front - both her gut and her constrained bosom. Her considerably widened rear provides an ample shelf behind her, straining her skirt seams, but no longer to their limits: Eleanor might've adjusted it before coming to work. Her blouse buttons gap in protest, revealing glimpses of the utterly straining, and possibly bent corset over her chemise. How was she even able to get it onto her? Her honey-blonde hair falls in disarray around her now double-chinned face as she fans herself, breath coming in short puffs from the slight exertion. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH2/Eleanor Stage FAT.png', side: 'left', push: '300px', scale: '0.85', offsetX: '250px'} [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'] Eleanor sits at her desk with her creaking chair pushed far back to accommodate her body. Her massive belly dominates her lap, spilling over her thighs and stretching her revised blouse to its absolute limits. Even with several of its buttons replaced with discreet hooks, there are still wide gaps forming across her considerable chest and belly - gaps that allow you to spot the obvious: Eleanor is no longer bothering herself with a corset. When she reaches for her glasses and some documents to inspect, her double chin folds beneath her rounded face, framed by the honey-blonde hair now let free and falling over her shoulders - her arm jiggles with the simple movement. The desk's edge presses visibly into the shelf of her stomach as she leans forward, creating a deep indentation in the soft flesh and eliciting a soft grunt. You wonder how much energy she will need to struggle her large, visibly stuck rear out of the chair's handles, and if her legs and arms will be strong enough to help her with that. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH2/Eleanor Stage OBESE.png', side: 'right', push: '250px', scale: '0.87', offsetX: '150px'} [if GardenPartyHangover; append] *You watch her stop to rub her temples with a slight wince, clearly feeling the effects of the previous evening.* [continue] {plainlink to: 'Office', label: 'Back'} [note] When a document slips to the floor, she eyes it with resignation before awkwardly leaning to retrieve it, her substantial stomach impeding the motion and her blonde hair getting in the way of her sight. [continue]

[if WeightGained == 'NONE'] Behind all of this there's also [[Eleanor->Eleanor Office Museum]] herself, resting on her chair and with her [[🕰️pocket watch->pocket watch office]] hanging from her jacket. [if WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'] Behind all of this there's also [[Eleanor->Eleanor Office Museum]] herself, standing up leafing through a ledger at her desk. Her [[🕰️pocket watch->pocket watch office]] chain stretches a bit tighter across her middle as she leans forward. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'] Behind all of this there's also [[Eleanor->Eleanor Office Museum]] herself, standing on tiptoes to retrieve a document from a high shelf. Her [[🕰️pocket watch->pocket watch office]] dangles from her hand as she stretches. [if WeightGained == 'FAT'] Behind all of this there's also [[Eleanor->Eleanor Office Museum]] herself, struggling to shift a crate of pottery fragments. Her [[🕰️pocket watch->pocket watch office]] is tucked into a skirt pocket that bulges against her hip. [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'] Behind all of this there's also [[Eleanor->Eleanor Office Museum]] herself, seated at her desk with her chair pushed far back. Her [[🕰️pocket watch->pocket watch office]] rests on the desk. [continue]

[if pastterraceturn == 1] Eleanor sits still, her honey-blonde hair carefully arranged into a loose twist, though a few strands have already slipped free. Round glasses rest on her freckled nose, catching the sunlight as she nods and listens to Mary with a polite, somewhat forced smile. The pale yellow dress she wears is pristine, its lace-trimmed sleeves falling just past her elbows. It fits her well enough, but you notice how stiffly she sits, shoulders squared, as if wary of shifting too much. Her hands rest lightly on the teacup, fingers idly tracing its rim without lifting it to drink. *That's not all. You catch yourself getting pulled towards [[her form->Eleanor Control]], drawn closer by some unseen thread.* [if pastterraceturn == 2] [if pastterraceturn == 2; unless boxofsweetseaten] Eleanor sits still, her honey-blonde hair carefully arranged into a loose twist, though a few strands have already slipped free. Round glasses rest on her freckled nose, catching the sunlight as she nods and listens to Mary with a polite, somewhat forced smile. The pale yellow dress she wears is pristine, its lace-trimmed sleeves falling just past her elbows. It fits her well enough, but you notice how stiffly she sits, shoulders squared, as if wary of shifting too much. Her hands rest lightly on the teacup, fingers idly tracing its rim without lifting it to drink. *That's not all. You catch yourself getting pulled towards [[her form->Eleanor Control]], drawn closer by some unseen thread.* [if pastterraceturn == 2; if boxofsweetseaten] Eleanor sits still, her honey-blonde hair carefully arranged into a loose twist, though a few strands have already slipped free. There’s a slight flush to her cheeks now. A faint stain darkens the lace at her sleeve, and you notice the fabric of her yellow dress stretched tighter across her middle. With every small movement onto the chair, you hear the creaking of laces and fabric. Her round glasses slip slightly down her freckled nose - her gaze is a bit more distant. Her lips, faintly glossed from the sweets, part slightly as though to catch her breath. You watch her attempt to loosen the laces of her corset through the dress, and fail to do so. *That's not all. You catch yourself getting pulled towards [[her form->Eleanor Control]], drawn closer by some unseen thread.* [if pastterraceturn == 3] [if pastterraceturn == 3; unless boxofsweetseaten] Eleanor sits still, her honey-blonde hair carefully arranged into a loose twist, though a few strands have already slipped free. Round glasses rest on her freckled nose, catching the sunlight as she nods and listens to Mary with a polite, somewhat forced smile. The pale yellow dress she wears is pristine, its lace-trimmed sleeves falling just past her elbows. It fits her well enough, but you notice how stiffly she sits, shoulders squared, as if wary of shifting too much. Her hands rest lightly on the teacup, fingers idly tracing its rim without lifting it to drink. *That's not all. You catch yourself getting pulled towards [[her form->Eleanor Control]], drawn closer by some unseen thread.* [if pastterraceturn == 3; if boxofsweetseaten] Eleanor sits still, her honey-blonde hair carefully arranged into a loose twist, though a few strands have already slipped free. There’s a slight flush to her cheeks now. A faint stain darkens the lace at her sleeve, and you notice the fabric of her yellow dress stretched tighter across her middle. With every small movement onto the chair, you hear the creaking of laces and fabric. Her round glasses slip slightly down her freckled nose - her gaze is a bit more distant. Her lips, faintly glossed from the sweets, part slightly as though to catch her breath. Knowing intimately how full she really is, you are shocked of how well she is hiding it from Mary. *That's not all. You catch yourself getting pulled towards [[her form->Eleanor Control]], drawn closer by some unseen thread.* [continued] {link to: 'Past Terrace (Turn system)', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You reach toward Eleanor's consciousness, but your essence feels thin, stretched. Her thoughts rush at you in fragments - disjointed, overwhelming. *Red dress... tight corset... [[shut up->Rage Eleanor Past terrace cutscene]] already!... cutting in... those [[pastries->Gluttony Eleanor Past terrace cutscene]] look delicious... mother would [[disapprove->Doubt Eleanor Past terrace cutscene]] of... of... must be [[proper->Poise Eleanor Past terrace cutscene]]... composed... there's a scent... [[sweeter->Curiosity Eleanor Past terrace cutscene]] than usual... someone to [[understand->Longing Eleanor Past terrace cutscene]]... her uncle's position... funding...* *So many threads...* perhaps you could bring attention to some instead of others. {link to: 'Eleanor Past Terrace', label: 'Back'}

In your absence, Eleanor has... grown. A wide, soft belly presses away the front sides of her house robe - you reckon it wouldn't be close to cover the full expanse of her anyway. Now sat onto the well-worn cushions, the settee groaning under her substantial frame. Her fat shifts and settles, spilling onto her lap as she leans back against the cushion, the platter carefully balanced on her knees. With her hand now holding a periodical and the other reaching for a fork, she sighs as she spots the utensils on the low table. She is forced to arch her way towards it, and to clumsy brush against the mess on top of it. [[Your vessel almost topples over the edge->Eleanor Slob ending cutscene 2]].

As she forks into the cake as if it was a single serving, her gaze falls on the letter. "Ugh... again with that. Why haven't you... mmph... thrown it away already, Eleanor?" she muses aloud, her voice thick with cream and sugar. Without a second thought, she reaches for it and throws it behind her, the motion causing her generous bosom to strain against her house robe. Her belly lets out a demanding rumble, and she shifts her substantial weight, the settee groaning beneath her as her plump backside settles [[deeper into the cushions->Eleanor Slob ending cutscene 3]].

Though she is done with the cake, her stomach doesn't stop its demands. You watch Eleanor struggle to get up from the couch, shifting her mass forward with both hands planted firmly on the cushions. The settee groans in protest as she rocks back and forth, building momentum. Finally, with a determined grunt, she manages to heave herself upright. Her hips sway as she follows that up with a waddle towards the dining room, her generous backside straining against the now thinned fabric of her house robe. Before she exits your view entirely, she pauses to adjust the garment, muttering something about clothes. [[At that, you feel your strength waning.->Eleanor Slob ending cutscene 4]]

Your essence begins to congeal, drawn back into the cold granite of your vessel. Though harder to think, you are left wondering why, while still feeling the intoxicating pull of Eleanor's hunger, you are not being given enough strength to continue your work. Through the years, Eleanor lost something. [[But what?->Slob Ending]]

[if WeightGained == 'NONE'] Eleanor stands with careful composure, her emerald silk gown's beaded bodice catching the chandelier light with each measured breath. Her honey-blonde hair has been arranged in an elaborate style, though a few wisps have already escaped to frame her freckled face. The gown's fitted waist creates a flattering silhouette, though you notice her gloved hand occasionally pressing against her middle. She maintains polite conversation with practiced effort, her breathing shallow and controlled. The dress fits well enough, but the merciless corset beneath forces her movements to be deliberate and restrained. [if WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'] Eleanor stands with studied grace, though her emerald gown's beaded bodice strains slightly across her expanding middle. Her honey-blonde hair, pinned in an elaborate coiffure, shows signs of the evening's exertion with dampness at the nape of her neck. The dress's waist seam sits higher than intended, pressed upward by the new softness that has begun to round her figure. Each careful breath causes the bodice's beading to shift and catch the light differently. Her gloved fingers occasionally dart to adjust the gown's neckline, while her movements have grown more cautious to avoid testing the dress's increasingly tight constraints. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'] Eleanor stands as still as possible, her emerald gown pulled taut across her bulging middle. The beaded bodice, clearly designed for a smaller figure, gaps slightly between its fastenings despite the punishing corset beneath. Her honey-blonde hair, once perfectly arranged, now shows signs of distress - loose strands clinging to her flushed forehead. Her breathing comes in careful, shallow gasps that make the overstressed fabric creak faintly. The gown's waist seam has been pushed upward by her protruding belly, creating an unflattering bunching of silk. She shifts her weight delicately from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable but determined to maintain her social facade. [if WeightGained == 'FAT'] Eleanor remains stationary near the buffet table, her substantial figure testing every seam of the emerald gown. The beaded bodice gapes prominently at the fastenings, revealing glimpses of the straining corset beneath. Her honey-blonde hair has fallen partially loose from its pins, framing her now noticeably fuller face and the beginnings of a second chin. The dress's waist has disappeared entirely under the pressure of her hanging belly, the silk stretched to near-transparency across her considerable girth. Her breathing is labored and audible, each inhalation a calculated risk against the dress's failing constraints. When she moves at all, it's with the careful waddle of someone acutely aware that any sudden motion might prove catastrophic. [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'] Eleanor remains anchored in place, her massive form having thoroughly defeated the emerald gown's structural integrity. The beaded bodice hangs open in several places, the fastenings simply unable to span her enormous middle. Her honey-blonde hair hangs loose and disheveled around her rounded face, sweat beading on her flushed forehead despite her minimal movement. The dress, clearly a lost cause, has been abandoned to the reality of her proportions. The silk hangs in strained folds around her body, the original waistline now resting somewhere beneath the impressive overhang of her belly. Every breath is a visible struggle, her chest heaving with the effort of drawing air past the wreckage of her corset. [continue] {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless EleanorSocietyBallPersuaded; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Eleanor Society Ball persuasion menu]] [continue]

EleanorSocietyBallPersuaded: true -- The corset is far, far, *far* too tight. Why didn't I insist on a proper fitting? Why did I trust Mary's *"divine seamstress"* and her outdated measurements? Everyone can see. They must see how the fabric pulls, how I can barely... breathe properly. Mrs. Whitmore keeps glancing at my waist with that appraising look. Judging. The pianist stares with those pale eyes of his. Even the industrialist can't stop checking his watch. Am I boring them? And Mary! With her *"darling this"* and *"splendid that"* while she flits about like a butterfly, completely oblivious to... Everything, as usual! Obvlivious to how distracting the scent of her perfume is... or the way her burgundy silk catches the light, how her eyes sparkle when she's animated about something trivial... No! Focus on something else, Eleanor. Like the buffet! Nerves, surely. Just nerves. But another canapé might... might make this worse. What if the seam gives? Oh god! Just... just survive the evening... {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

EleanorSocietyBallPersuaded: true -- You straighten your shoulders, feeling the familiar weight of your research portfolio... no, you haven't brought it with you. No matter. Months of meticulous study. Detailed analysis of Celtic artifacts that no one else bothered to examine properly. Original translations of inscriptions that established scholars dismissed as meaningless decorative marks. You belong in rooms like this not because of family connections or social standing, but because of merit. Because you've earned it through scholarship, through genuine intellectual contribution. The expedition you're proposing isn't some romantic adventure - it's serious academic work. And you deserve to be listened for it. It's that simple. {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [unless EleanorSocietyBallPersuaded] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward Eleanor's mind. You start to hear her inner thoughts, a continuous stream of worry and determination. Some threads of dialogue boom above the others. Perhaps, you can add your voice to them… though one in particular has turned too strong to redirect. ➼[[**ANXIETY**->Eleanor Society Ball Anxiety]] *The dress is too tight. Everyone can see. Mary was wrong about the measurements. What if it tears? What if-* ➼[[**PRIDE**->Eleanor Society Ball Pride]] *I belong here. My research has merit. These people need to understand the importance of my work.* <del>**GLUTTONY**</del> *The buffet looks tempting... and I cannot stop myself from reaching over to it.* [if EleanorSocietyBallPersuaded] Eleanor's thoughts are now flowing in the direction you've nudged them. Any further attempt at manipulation would likely be noticed. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

[if PastriesEaten == 1] Eleanor maintains a professional posture, though her polite smiles seem slightly forced as she navigates Mary's chatter. She sips her tea occasionally and takes very small, measured bites from her first pastry. Her waistcoat fits snugly, showing only the very slightest strain when she leans forward. [if PastriesEaten == 2] Eleanor maintains a professional posture, though her polite smiles seem slightly forced as she navigates Mary's chatter. She sips her tea occasionally and takes very small, measured bites from her first pastry. Her waistcoat fits snugly, showing only the very slightest strain when she leans forward. [if PastriesEaten == 3] Eleanor maintains a professional posture, though her polite smiles seem slightly forced as she navigates Mary's chatter. A faint flush has appeared on her cheeks. She's still trying to participate in the conversation, but her attention drifts more often to the pastry plate. Her waistcoat buttons are pulling a little tighter across her middle, and she subtly shifts in her seat, likely feeling the first real pressure against the waistband of her skirt. [if PastriesEaten == 4] Eleanor maintains a professional posture, though her polite smiles seem slightly forced as she navigates Mary's chatter. A faint flush has appeared on her cheeks. She's still trying to participate in the conversation, but her attention drifts more often to the pastry plate. Her waistcoat buttons are pulling a little tighter across her middle, and she subtly shifts in her seat, likely feeling the first real pressure against the waistband of her skirt. [if PastriesEaten == 5] Eleanor's professional composure is clearly slipping. Her waistcoat is visibly strained, with small gaps between the buttons revealing the fabric beneath. Her movements are slower, more deliberate, and she often pauses mid-sentence to take a deeper breath. Her hand strays unconsciously towards her stomach, which is developing a definite roundness beneath her clothes. She's focusing more on eating than talking now. [if PastriesEaten == 6] Eleanor sits somewhat rigidly in her chair, a stark contrast to Mary's easy posture. The toll of this unexpected feast is plain to see: her waistcoat strains severely across her middle, the buttons pulling taut, and the fabric is noticeably creased where it has bunched up around her expanded waistline. Her skirt, too, appears tighter, pulling across her hips and thighs. Her face is flushed, and she breathes a little more deeply than before, occasionally dabbing her brow with a napkin despite the tearoom's comfortable temperature. Her movements are more deliberate now, as if careful not to jostle her overly full stomach. She attempts to maintain a façade of polite engagement with Mary, but her gaze frequently drops to her lap, and one hand rests almost constantly, possessively, on the curve of her belly beneath the table. You can practically feel the pressure building beneath her clothes. [continue] {link to: 'Tea With Mary Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless TeaMaryEleanorPersuaded; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Eleanor Tea With Mary persuasion menu]] [continue]

TeaMaryEleanorPersuaded: true EleanorLustPersuaded: true -- Mary’s lilac dress… it's cut rather daringly low, isn't it? Your gaze keeps tracing the curve of her collarbone, the soft swell visible above the neckline. Her skin looks so smooth, almost luminous in the afternoon light. When she laughs, tilting her head back, you feel your own breath catch. Her lips, slightly parted, glistening faintly from the tea… You imagine leaning closer, tasting the sweetness still lingering there. The thought sends a sudden, sharp pulse through you, pooling low in your belly. What would it feel like to run your fingers through those dark curls? To feel the surprising strength in her seemingly delicate hands if she were to grasp yours? Your cheeks flush hot, and your own corset suddenly feels impossibly tight. You grip your teacup tighter, focusing on the smooth porcelain, fighting to keep your composure. It's inappropriate. Improper. Utterly compelling. {link to: 'Tea With Mary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

TeaMaryEleanorPersuaded: true EleanorLustPersuaded: false -- Deep breath. Focus. Ignore the pastries for a moment. Remember why you're here. Funding. Brittany. This is important. Mary may be flighty, but her uncle sits on the board. Present the case clearly, calmly. Appeal to her desire for involvement, perhaps? But don't appear desperate. Poised. Professional. Yes. Just... get through her chatter first. {link to: 'Tea With Mary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage", get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [unless TeaMaryEleanorPersuaded] You reach out towards Eleanor's mind, filtering through the social niceties and the immediate focus on Mary's chatter. Her thoughts are already colored by a noticeable, impenetrable undercurrent... <del>**GLUTTONY**</del> *Mary *did* order quite a lot. It would be rude not to partake… just one more little cake while she's talking... delicious...* ➼[[**POISE**->Eleanor Tea With Mary Poise]] *Maintain composure. Be polite. Patient.* ➼[[**LUST**->Eleanor Tea With Mary Lust]] *Lilac suits her surprisingly well... the way the light catches her curls... Her laugh is quite infectious, too, even when she's talking nonsense.* [if TeaMaryEleanorPersuaded] You feel a slight resistance as you brush against Eleanor's thoughts. Your earlier influence lingers, making further attempts difficult within this brief encounter. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

Eleanor's familiar leather workbag rests on the floor beside her chair, its surface showing faint creases from regular use. The brass clasp is slightly undone. Peeking inside, you see the usual contents: a neatly folded handkerchief, the stub of a pencil, some scattered coinage... [if Clotofplaster] A small, amorphous sphere of grey [[plaster->Clot of Plaster Tea With Mary]] rests wrapped in a cloth near the bottom. [if handmirror; append] Lying beside it is a familiar silver [[hand mirror->Hand mirror Tea with Mary]] [if Quillandpaper; unless QuillPaperFallen; append] , and tucked into a side pocket are the [[quill and paper->quill and paper Tea with Mary]]. [else; append] . [continue] {link to: 'Tea With Mary Diorama', label: 'Back'} [note] Added 'unless QuillPaperFallen' to prevent showing the link to the quill/paper if they are no longer in the bag. Assumes player found these items from Ch 1. [continue]

[if AmphoraState == 'base'] [[Eleanor->Eleanor Intro Meeting Diorama]] is standing by a central plinth - on top of it is a terracotta [[amphora]]. [if AmphoraState == 'broken'] The amphora lies in pieces, shattered across the plinth and floor. [[Eleanor->Eleanor Intro Meeting Diorama]] is standing nearby, careful not to step over any shards. [if AmphoraState == 'saved'] [[Eleanor->Eleanor Intro Meeting Diorama]] is standing by a central plinth - on top of it is a shut terracotta [[amphora]]. [if AmphoraState == 'teetering'] The [[amphora]] is teetering on the plinth, wobbling precariously in [[Eleanor->Eleanor Intro Meeting Diorama]]’s grip. [if AmphoraState == 'drunk'] The [[amphora]] sits lopsided on the plinth, its form now leaning heavily to one side - [[Eleanor->Eleanor Intro Meeting Diorama]] stands nearby, catching her breath. [continue]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [unless IntroMeetingEleanorPersuasion] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward Eleanor's mind. You start to hear her inner thoughts, a continuous stream of talking. Some threads of dialogue boom above the others. Perhaps, you can add your voice to them… ➼[[**PRIDE**->Pride Eleanor Intro Meeting]] *Everyone's watching. I must appear competent, collected. I am not some bumbling assistant...* ➼[[**ANGER**->Anger Eleanor Intro Meeting]] *Why am I always cleaning up others messes? These fools couldn't catalog a bookshelf...* [unless IntroMeetingEleanorPersuasion; unless AmphoraState == 'teetering'] ➼[[**GLUTTONY**->Gluttony Eleanor Intro Meeting . Base Dialogue]] *I really should eat something soon...* [unless IntroMeetingEleanorPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'teetering'] ➼[[**GLUTTONY**->Gluttony Eleanor Intro Meeting . Persuaded into drinking from the amphora]] *I should taste it... just a sip. To, um… understand what's inside. Yes, that’s it. No one would fault a scholar for being thorough…* [if IntroMeetingEleanorPersuasion] The currents of Eleanor's thoughts have grown turbulent since your intervention. Try as you might, her mind is just too chaotic now for further whispers to take hold. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

Eleanor reaches across the breakfast table toward a jam pot, the movement requiring her to shift her stance wider and stretch carefully around the curve of her belly. The lapis-blue silk drapes away from her body as she stretches, revealing how her breasts have grown heavy and full, their weight causing them to sway with her motion - the darkened areolae visible through the translucent fabric. Her fingers fumble briefly with the silver spoon, her reach shortened by the forward projection of her body. A soft grunt escapes her lips as she straightens, the effort requiring both hands pressed against the table's edge for leverage. As she does so the robe falls back against her form, the thin fabric outlining the pronounced dome that forces her spine into [[a pronounced arch->Pregnancy Ending 4]].

Eleanorspotted: true -- In your dormant state, you have watched this young woman for the better part of three years. You know her by heart now: her diminutive height - no taller than five feet, two inches -, her pale complexion dotted with freckles that scatter across her cheeks and chest, the round lenses sitting on top of that mousy expression, and the honey-blonde locks falling just short of her shoulders. By focusing on her form, you feel it. A connection between the two of you. [[A resonance->Eleanor starting cutscene 2]]. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH1/Eleanor Stage EMPTY.png', side: 'right', push: '250px', scale: '0.9', offsetX: '50px'}

There is some work to be done - you are weak, a mere ghost. She cannot perceive you, and you cannot touch her. Yet, as Miss Elenor scuttles to the side, her eyes narrowing at a shaft of light creeping in from the window and impeding her writing, you spot the likely culprit for you being here. The burgeoning swell of her belly, soft and round, is unmistakable. Her arms now show a softness to them, as do her thighs and chest. This hunger you feel, this deep, insatiable desire for more - it's [[hers->Eleanor starting cutscene 3]].

And now you know your purpose. Reinvigorated, a sense of direction pulses through your faint form. [[You must satisfy Eleanor's hunger.->bedroom]]

[note] [continued]

The amphora shudders as a final bust collides with it. There's a brief moment of resistance before it strikes the ground with a forceful thud and cracks open, splitting across the tiled floor into a thousand shards. All near Eleanor herself, who simply did not have enough time to even attempt to catch it. The director exhales sharply through his nose. "*Fantastic.*" His voice is flat. "*If anyone asks, this whole area was like this when we got here - we're blaming this on the night shift.*" {link to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

helpfulnessNegative: HelpfulnessEXP < 2 helpfulnessNone: HelpfulnessEXP >= 2 && HelpfulnessEXP <= 5 helpfulnessMedium: HelpfulnessEXP > 5 && HelpfulnessEXP <= 8 helpfulnessHigh: HelpfulnessEXP > 8 gluttonyNone: GluttonyCalEXP <= 2 gluttonyMedium: GluttonyCalEXP > 2 && GluttonyCalEXP <= 6 gluttonyHigh: GluttonyCalEXP > 6 && GluttonyCalEXP <= 10 gluttonyHighest: GluttonyCalEXP > 10 -- [continued] <div class="titleScreen"> <center> <h1 style="font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif;"> <span class="big">END OF CHAPTER 1</span><br> </h1> </center> [continued] [if helpfulnessNegative; if gluttonyNone] Forget the failure of your stated mission - you were a particularly negative influence on Eleanor's life. A failure on all fronts. A spirit best forgotten. [continue] [if helpfulnessNegative; if gluttonyMedium] Though you were somewhat driven, your lack of damns about Eleanor's everyday struggles made things harder for her in the long run. You were more of a burden than anything else. [continue] [if helpfulnessNegative; if gluttonyHigh] In the end you just took care of your mission - whenever you could've helped, you decided otherwise. Eleanor had to pay the consequences of your toxic, egotistical influence over her [[life->Future, slob, no more job ending cutscene 1]]. [continue] [if helpfulnessNegative; if gluttonyHighest] You gave in to your own hunger while ignoring Eleanor’s needs. You barely helped, and when you did, it was for your own personal gain and obsession. Eleanor is left worse off, and [[you only made matters worse for her->Future, slob, no more job ending cutscene 1]]. [continue] [if helpfulnessNone; if gluttonyNone] [[You did nothing, and returned to nothing.->Forgotten ending cutscene 1]] [continue] [if helpfulnessNone; if gluttonyMedium] You fulfilled your mission with little thought for Eleanor's well-being. You never bothered to offer any assistance on other matters unless it directly helped to satisfy her hunger. You believed it was enough... [[and yet...->Forgotten ending cutscene 1]] [continue] [if helpfulnessNone; if gluttonyHigh] In the end you took care of your mission - no thought was given about Eleanor's wants other than the ones related to gluttony. You considered this an acceptable outcome... [[and yet...->Forgotten ending cutscene 1]] [continue] [if helpfulnessNone; if gluttonyHighest] In the end you took care of your mission - no thought was given about Eleanor's wants other than the ones related to gluttony. You considered this a more than acceptable outcome... [[and yet...->Forgotten ending cutscene 1]] [continue] [if helpfulnessMedium; if gluttonyNone] Though you did not fulfill your mission, you did what you could to assist Eleanor in small ways. A touch of kindness here and there, to show that you care. [continue] [if helpfulnessMedium; if gluttonyMedium] You helped wherever you could, in matters of hunger and everyday life. A balanced spirit in all things. [continue] [if helpfulnessMedium; if gluttonyHigh] You satisfied Eleanor's hunger to the best of your abilities, and even managed to help her in other matters wherever you could. [[A good balance.->Brought to the museeum ending cutscene]] [continue] [if helpfulnessMedium; if gluttonyHighest] You satisfied Eleanor's hunger *tenfold*, and managed to help her in other matters wherever you could. Your balance tipped generously towards indulgence, but still, [[you were there when needed.->Brought to the museeum ending cutscene]] [continue] [if helpfulnessHigh; if gluttonyNone] Though your mission was a failure, you still managed to be a surprisingly positive influence on Eleanor's life. It's worth something. [continue] [if helpfulnessHigh; if gluttonyMedium] Your dedication to helping on other matters was evident, even more so than to satisfy her hunger. [[Eleanor benefitted from your care.->Brought to the museeum ending cutscene]] [continue] [if helpfulnessHigh; if gluttonyHigh] You satisfied Eleanor's hunger, and helped her in other matters wherever you could. Your intentions were selfish, and yet: [[you were a positive influence on her life.->Brought to the museeum ending cutscene]]. [continue] [if helpfulnessHigh; if gluttonyHighest] You satisfied Eleanor's hunger *tenfold*, and helped her in other matters wherever you could. Your intentions were selfish, and yet: [[you were a *strongly* positive influence on her life->Brought to the museeum ending cutscene]]. [continue]

*"Departure is scheduled for Thursday morning. Ferry passage from Bristol to Saint-Malo has been arranged."* He places the authorization on her desk, the paper settling beside your vessel. *"You'll have three days to prepare. I trust that's sufficient?"* [[Eleanor's response comes in a rush of barely controlled excitement.->Celebration Montage Cutscene 0]]

Eleanor rises from her chair, the sudden movement causing her skirt to rustle against the desk edge. *"Oh, um, certainly, sir. Though I confess I'm curious about the nature of-"* *"Come now, you can stop. What else could I be here for?"* He opens the portfolio, withdrawing a single sheet of official letterhead. *"The Board convened yesterday evening. After some deliberation..."* He pauses. *"...and some convincing from yours truly, funding for your proposal has been approved. An additional thirty pounds for your archaeological expedition to Brittany."* Eleanor's breath catches audibly. Her hands fly to her mouth, then to her chest, then seem unsure where to settle. *"Sir, I... that is to say... [[truly?->Expedition Approval (Left Behind) 1.75]]"*

Eleanor rises from her chair, the movement causing her skirt to rustle against the desk edge. Her hand instinctively adjusts her waistcoat, though by now the fabric provides little coverage. *"Oh, um, certainly, sir. Though I confess I'm curious about the nature of-"* *"Come now, you can stop. What else could I be here for?"* He opens the portfolio, withdrawing a single sheet of official letterhead. *"The Board convened yesterday evening. After considerable deliberation..."* He pauses, his gaze flickering briefly to her substantial form before returning to the document. *"...and against my better judgment, funding for your proposal has been approved. Thirty pounds for your archaeological expedition to Brittany."* Eleanor's breath catches audibly. Her hands fly to her mouth, then to her chest, then seem unsure where to settle. *"Sir, I... that is to say... [[truly?->Expedition Approval 1.75]]"*

WardrobeFallen: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

wrongartefact: 3 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

QuillPaperFallen: true -- Lying somewhat haphazardly on the patterned tearoom carpet near Mary's feet, the quill and paper seem slightly indignant about their sudden relocation. A few stray fibers from the carpet cling to the edge of the paper. [if QuillPaperPowdered] A fine dusting of pale cosmetic powder now coats the feather and, more importantly, the sharp nib of the quill. [continue] The quill twitches occasionally, its nib leaving faint, dry scratches on the paper's surface, as if trying to continue its endless scribbling despite the lack of ink and proper angle. {one of: ["*The paper lies perfectly still, perhaps sulking.*", "*The quill makes a frustrated tapping motion against the floor.*", "*A corner of the paper curls slightly upwards, as if trying to peer under her skirt. Or maybe just her shoes - better not to assume.*"], order: 'cycling'} {link to: 'Mary Tea With Mary', label: 'Back'} [if QuillPaperPowdered; unless MaryPricked; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Quill Prick Mary Ankle]] [continue] [note] Object description for the quill/paper once they have fallen onto the floor. Includes conditional text if they get powdered. [continue]

WardrobeFallen: true -- The knife drifts toward the wardrobe, its chipped blade glinting in the dusty light. With careful precision, it moves toward the wooden box propping up the wardrobe's missing leg. [if WardrobeOpen == true] One sharp tap is all it takes. The box moves just enough for the wardrobe to lose stability and lurch flat on the floor with a thunderous [[*THUMP*->Falling padlocked wardrobe dull knife cutscene 2]]. [if WardrobeOpen == false] One sharp tap is all it takes. The box moves just enough for the wardrobe to lose stability and lurch flat on the floor with a thunderous *THUMP*. {link to: 'attic', label: 'Back'}

EleanorChocolate: true GluttonyCalEXP: GluttonyCalEXP + 3 -- Just before it does so, as it tilts, you catch the chocolate bars begin to slide, then tumble out. Some cascade across the floor, disappearing through the gap in the floor, their purple wrappers glinting as they vanish below. *You hear a muffled, surprised gasp coming from underneath.* {link to: 'attic', label: 'Back'}

dialogue.speed: 'fast' -- Dialogue speed has been set to **fast**. {link to: 'Settings', label: 'Back'}

ExpertConsultationAttended: true --

{embed passage: 'Ancient Mirror Cutscene 1'}

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Days blur together as the awareness that sustained you begins to ebb. Each day Eleanor returns to her routine with diminished energy, you find your own essence growing correspondingly thin. Her appetite, never fully awakened under your influence, [[dwindles further still.->Forgotten Ending 2]]

And time moves strangely now, too. Minutes stretch like hours, then entire afternoons vanish without awareness. How long has it been since that telegram? Weeks? Months? [[...years?->Forgotten Office]]

It becomes impossible to remain focused - the dark granite of your vessel calls to you. As your consciousness begins to dissolve, you wonder if you'll ever awaken, or if this time the sleep will be permanent. The last thing you notice is the crate being lowered, and the sound of footsteps moving away from it, their echo growing fainter as your vision [[dims->CH.2 Forgotten Ending]].

ForgottenEndingTurns: ForgottenEndingTurns + 1 -- [if ForgottenEndingTurns == 1] You are hovering inside Eleanor's office. Cramped [[📚bookshelves->Office forgotten ending cannot move]] dominate the three walls in front of you, interrupted by a narrow [[window->Office forgotten ending cannot move]]. Eleanor's desk appears to have been hastily organized - your [[🪦vessel->Vessel Office forgotten ending]] sits beside a nearly ordered pile of documents. To the left, a worn settee overflows with rolled [[maps->Office forgotten ending cannot move]]. Above it hangs a large framed [[🪙excavation chart->Office forgotten ending cannot move]] annotated in red ink. Behind you, the door leads back to the [[🏛️museum halls->Office forgotten ending cannot move]]. Near it is also a [[📆calendar->Office Calendar forgotten ending cannot move]]. *Eleanor is nowhere to be found.* [continue] [if ForgottenEndingTurns == 2] You are hovering inside Eleanor's office. [[📚Bookshelves->Office forgotten ending cannot move]] line the walls, though their individual volumes blur together. A [[window->Office forgotten ending cannot move]] admits pale light. Eleanor's desk holds your [[🪦vessel->Vessel Office forgotten ending]] beside papers whose contents escape attention. To the left, a settee holds what might be [[maps->Office forgotten ending cannot move]]. Above it, a [[framed chart->Office forgotten ending cannot move]] bears markings in faded ink. Behind you, the door leads to [[museum halls->Office forgotten ending cannot move]]. Near it stands a [[📆calendar->Office Calendar forgotten ending cannot move]]. *...* [if ForgottenEndingTurns == 3] You are hovering inside Eleanor's office. [[Shelves->Office forgotten ending cannot move]] occupy the walls. A [[window->Office forgotten ending cannot move]] exists. Your [[🪦vessel->Vessel Office forgotten ending]] rests on what appears to be a desk surface. Furniture of some kind sits to the left. Something hangs above it. Behind you, a doorway. Near it, a [[📆calendar->Office Calendar forgotten ending cannot move]]. *...what is this? Where are you?* [if ForgottenEndingTurns == 4] You are inside a room. There are a number of [[Shapes->Office forgotten ending cannot move]] against its walls. Your [[🪦vessel->Vessel Office forgotten ending]] sits on a surface. The room is not dark. There is light coming from somewhere. *...* [if ForgottenEndingTurns == 5] You don't know where you are. Your [[🪦vessel->Vessel Office forgotten ending]] is here. [if ForgottenEndingTurns == 6] You feel Eleanor's presence moving around you. You feel her as she grabs your vessel, her hands gathering papers into neat stacks. A wooden crate appears beside them, its interior lined with straw. You feel her lift it, examining its surface briefly. She wraps it in a piece of cloth, then lowers it into the crate among other small objects - a paperweight, an inkwell, several books. The lid closes. There is movement. [[Darkness.->Forgotten Ending 3]]

Time has passed, that much is clear. The awareness of your surroundings returns. You try to reach out, to touch the world around you as you once did, but your influence refuses to extend beyond the cold granite of your vessel. [[...->entryway forgotten ending]]

Test13: 'this thing' -- [if Test13 == 'this thing'] this shows up

It tips further to the left. Eleanor moves without thinking. With a sharp intake of breath her hands catch the rough ceramic before it can tip over the edge of the pling. The amphora wobbles in her grip, its insides sloshing so heavily that the cork on top falls down, together with a dribble of the contents - a thick scent of malt exits from it. Mary, watching with unabashed delight, claps her hands lightly. *"Oh, Eleanor! A truly heroic rescue!"* Eleanor steadies herself, fingers pressing against the cool surface, but she clearly doesn't have the strength required to right it forward. What now? The director exhales through his teeth. *"Well."* A pause. *"At least one of you has reflexes."* {link to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

Your vision flickers back into focus - the dimness of the sitting room materializes around you. Your vessel has been moved: it now sits atop the low wooden table. The space is quite different from how you last saw it - you can't help but wonder how much time has passed since you last gained awareness of your being. Days? Months? [[Years, perhaps?->Sitting room slob ending]]

Awareness returns... slowly? Like surfacing from deep water. Your ethereal form feels sluggish, disoriented. Where... [[where are you?->Garden Party Awakening 1.5]] {embed passage: 'Day End Passage Logic'}

This isn't Eleanor's cramped flat, nor the dusty confines of her museum office. You hover in a lavishly decorated bedroom. Moonlight streams through tall windows, illuminating plush velvet curtains, a polished mahogany wardrobe, and a silver vanity set gleaming on a dressing table. [[Finally, you spot her.->Garden Party Awakening 2]]

Sprawled across a large four-poster bed, tangled in silk sheets and pillows. Her honey-blonde hair is loose, fanned out across the bedding. Even in the dim light, her state is obvious. Her borrowed evening dress - or what's left of it - is pushed down around her waist, exposing her chemise, which itself is unlaced and gaping open. You feel yourself slowly fading away. Yet, [[you drift closer to examine her.->Garden Party Awakening 3]]

Eleanor is deeply asleep, breathing heavily, her face flushed. Her chemise barely contains her full breasts, and below them, her stomach swells prominently, a soft, rounded mound straining against the thin fabric. It's clear she indulged heavily - not just in wine, but likely food as well, judging by the sheer distension. Her body seems softer, heavier, profoundly relaxed in drunken slumber. {embed passage: 'Weight Gained day end texts for Garden Party Event'} As you observe her, you notice another figure curled beside her in the bed, an arm slung possessively across Eleanor's full middle, [[their face obscured by shadow and hair...->Garden Party Awakening 4]]

You shift your position slightly, crossing through the adjacent wall and mattress, trying to get a better view of Eleanor's bed companion. The moonlight catches the curve of a familiar cheekbone, a lock of dark hair... [if MaryTeaSuccessful] It's Mary. Her lilac party dress is discarded on a nearby chair, leaving her in her own chemise, her breathing soft and even as she clings to Eleanor's side, a faint, contented smile on her sleeping face. [unless MaryTeaSuccessful] It's the host. Well, not the one that greeted Eleanor, the other one: the treasurer's wife - Mrs. Ainsworth, was it? Her own elaborate gown lies in a heap on the floor, leaving her in her chemise, her breathing soft and even as she clings to Eleanor's side, a faint, contented smile on her sleeping face. [continue] [[...how did this come to happen?->Garden Party Awakening 5]]

The bedroom scene begins to waver, the edges blurring as you feel yourself detaching, fading away from the unfamiliar room and the sleeping forms within it. Your awareness dissolves completely, plunging you back into waiting silence before the dawn of the {plainlink to: 'Next Day Name', label: 'next day'}. [note] This event skips the standard 'Day End Passage' logic as it provides its own end-of-day resolution. It sets flags, significantly increases DayCalories, affects Mary's relationship a little, and then links directly to the 'Next Day Name' passage to advance time. [continue]

GardenPartyAttended: true SlotThreeAttended: true DayCalories: DayCalories + 4 MaryRelationship (MaryTeaSuccessful): MaryRelationship + 1 GardenPartyHangover: true -- You follow Eleanor as she navigates the streets towards one of Bristol's more affluent neighbourhoods, eventually arriving before an admittedly handsome townhouse, its wrought-iron gate standing open. Muffled sounds of conversation and laughter drift from within. Taking a steadying breath, Eleanor smooths her gloves and walks up the short path, entering the house through the open front door. A liveried servant nods silently, gesturing towards the rear of the house, and so [[the garden->Garden Party Cutscene 2]].

The garden is a surprisingly large expanse behind the house, bathed in the gentle light of the late afternoon sun. Guests mingle on the manicured lawn, glasses in hand, taking liberally from the tables are scattered about - most are holding bottles of wine and delicate glassware. Mary spots Eleanor almost immediately and waves her over, detaching herself from a conversation with a stout, bewhiskered gentleman - presumably the treasurer host. "*Eleanor, darling! You made it! Isn't it lovely?*" Mary beams, linking her arm through Eleanor's. "*Mr. Ainsworth,* - she gestures to the host - *was just telling us about his latest acquisition from Italy.*" The host smiles warmly, offering Eleanor a glass of pale wine from a nearby tray. "*Ah, Miss Lovelace! A pleasure. Do try this Vermentino - it's quite... refreshing, I'd say!*" [[Eleanor accepts the glass with a polite nod.->Garden Party Cutscene 3]]

Eleanor takes a tentative sip of the wine - from her sour expression, it isn't clear to you whether she likes it or not. It must be potent. Mary chatters on, drawing Eleanor into various conversations. Another glass is pressed into her hand, then another. The host insists she sample a particularly robust Chianti, followed by a sweet dessert wine. The garden begins to swim slightly. Voices blur, faces soften at the edges. Eleanor finds herself laughing more easily, her usual reserve dissolving in the warm haze of alcohol and sunshine. She accepts another glass, the stem cool against her fingers... *And then... [[nothing.->Garden Party Awakening 1]]*

GasLampFlareSeen: true VioletShadowAnomalySeen: true VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 1 -- You focus your resonant energy into the gas lamp hanging overhead. The brass fixture hums intensely, and the mantle within flares suddenly, casting a brief, blindingly white light across the archive. Both Eleanor and Violet flinch slightly at the unexpected flare. As it peaks, the sharp contrast throws shadows into accordingly sharp relief and... ? [[Something isn't right.->Gas Lamp Aether Flare 2]] [note] Part 1 of the gas lamp Aether interaction. Creates a bright flare and sets up the shadow observation. [continue]

In that instant of intense illumination, Violet's shadow, cast sharply against the floor behind her, seems... much, much bigger than it should be. It's not just the angle of the light. It depicts a figure far broader, heavier. Its outline suggests a substantial, almost pendulous double belly; a bosom far more voluminous than Violet's actual chest; thick, heavy arms and thighs, inconsistent with her frame. As Violet takes a step to the side, you could swear her shadow took a second more to reach its place, and that [[its jiggling rolls needed another two to settle->Gas Lamp Aether Flare 3]].

Then, just as quickly as it flared, the gas lamp settles back to its normal, soffused and shadowless glow. Violet's adjusts her spectacles, seemingly unfazed by the brief flicker. *But you saw that.* {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'}

You focus your resonant energy into the gas lamp hanging overhead. Empowered by the aligned lens and the reflecting object, the effect is dramatically amplified. The beam striking the ceiling fitting is... incandescent. Pure white light, far more intense than the previous flare. The brass fitting glows cherry-red almost instantly, then begins to *drip*, molten metal sizzling as it falls onto the table below. The hissing of the lamp intensifies into a high-pitched shriek. The light emanating downwards becomes blinding, washing out all detail. This time, [[Violet shields her eyes, taking an instinctive step back.->Gas Lamp Aether Teleport 2]] [note] Part 1 of the teleportation sequence: intense light, melting fitting. [continue]

ArchiveReviewTurns: 3 VioletTeleported: true -- Just as the white light reaches an unbearable intensity, it abruptly lowers, collapsing inward into a single point of blinding *purple* centered roughly where Violet stood. There's a sharp *crack* like static electricity, and the smell of ozone fills the air. The final flash lasts only an instant. When your senses clear, the archive is plunged into deeper shadow. The damaged gas lamp sputters fitfully, casting a weak, flickering orange glow. The intense light is gone. *And so is Violet.* {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[if GeologyClubTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:geologycur1] Eleanor gestures toward the collection, her eyes fixed on a particular specimen. [if GeologyClubTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:geologycur1] *"Your Grace, I couldn't help but notice that fascinating... shell formation in your collection. It bears a remarkable resemblance to certain symbols in my research..."* [if GeologyClubTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:geologycur1 newline] The Duke glances briefly toward his prized nautilus. [if GeologyClubTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:geologycur1] *"Ah yes, magnificent specimen! The spiral formation demonstrates perfect mathematical precision. Though of course, it's the mineral composition that truly..."* [if GeologyClubTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.8 id:geologycur1] He picks up a piece of slate instead, completely missing her point. [continue] [if GeologyClubTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:geologycur2] Eleanor presses on, opening her portfolio to show her sketches. [if GeologyClubTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:geologycur2] *"The spiral patterns here, Your Grace, they mirror the formation of that shell. Ancient peoples might have used such forms to indicate..."* [if GeologyClubTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:geologycur2 newline] *"Spiral patterns! Yes, yes!"* the Duke exclaims, waving his hammer enthusiastically. [if GeologyClubTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:geologycur2] *"We see similar formations in crystalline structures. The way pyrite develops its cubic patterns, or how quartz forms its hexagonal..."* [if GeologyClubTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:geologycur2] Eleanor's sketches remain unexamined as he launches into mineral geometry. [continue] [if GeologyClubTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:geologycur3] Eleanor makes a more direct attempt, rising from her chair. [if GeologyClubTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:geologycur3] *"That particular shell, Your Grace - if ancient miners encountered similar formations, they might have developed symbols based on such natural shapes..."* [if GeologyClubTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:geologycur3 newline] The Duke follows her gaze briefly, then immediately pivots to a chunk of granite. [if GeologyClubTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:geologycur3] *"Natural shapes, precisely! The way crystals arrange themselves in igneous rock is nature's own architecture. Notice these inclusions..."* [if GeologyClubTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:geologycur3] Eleanor settles back into her chair, her nautilus gambit apparently falling on deaf ears. [continue] [if GeologyClubTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:geologycur4] Eleanor makes one final attempt, her voice growing slightly desperate. [if GeologyClubTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:geologycur4] *"Your Grace, if we could just focus on that shell for a moment - the connection to my Breton expedition..."* [if GeologyClubTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:geologycur4 newline] *"Breton formations!"* the Duke brightens, clutching a piece of mica. [if GeologyClubTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:geologycur4] *"The metamorphic processes in that region are absolutely extraordinary. The way schist develops under pressure..."* [if GeologyClubTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:geologycur4] Eleanor closes her portfolio, her nautilus strategy proving equally futile. [continue]

[if GeologyClubTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:geology1] Eleanor clears her throat politely, opening her portfolio. [if GeologyClubTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:geology1] *"Your Grace, I was hoping to discuss some symbols I've discovered in my research. They appear to be... um, related to ancient mining practices..."* [if GeologyClubTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:geology1 newline] The Duke looks up sharply from his specimen. [if GeologyClubTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:geology1] *"Mining? Ah yes, fascinating field! Though I must say, Miss Lovelace, you simply must see this limestone formation first. Notice the sedimentary layers... a thing of wonder!"* [if GeologyClubTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.8 id:geology1] He thrusts the rock toward her, completely ignoring her portfolio. [continue] [if GeologyClubTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:geology2] Eleanor makes another attempt, holding up one of her sketches. [if GeologyClubTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:geology2] *"These particular markings, Your Grace, suggest ancient tool use that might indicate..."* [if GeologyClubTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:geology2 newline] *"Ahhh, tool marks! Splendid!"* the Duke exclaims, setting down his hammer with enthusiasm. [if GeologyClubTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:geology2] *"That reminds me of the striations we see in metamorphic schist. The pressure creates the most remarkable patterns..."* [if GeologyClubTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:geology2] He begins rummaging through his collection, muttering about crystalline structures. [continue] [if GeologyClubTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:geology3] Eleanor's voice takes on a slightly strained quality. [if GeologyClubTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:geology3] *"If I might return to the matter of funding, Your Grace... these symbols could indicate significant mineral deposits."* [if GeologyClubTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:geology3 newline] The Duke pauses, a piece of what might be quartz in his hand. [if GeologyClubTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:geology3] *"Mineral deposits? Well, yes, naturally. But first, you absolutely must examine this specimen. I believe it contains feldspar inclusions. Isn't that something!"* [if GeologyClubTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:geology3] Eleanor's portfolio remains unopened in her lap. [continue] [if GeologyClubTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:geology4] Eleanor makes one final, rather desperate attempt. [if GeologyClubTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:geology4] *"Your Grace, perhaps we could discuss the practical applications of geological survey work in Brittany... if you could just look here..."* [if GeologyClubTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:geology4 newline] *"Brittany!"* The Duke's eyes light up. [if GeologyClubTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:geology4] *"Wonderful granite formations there! The feldspar content is absolutely remarkable. Did you know that Breton granite contains..."* [if GeologyClubTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:geology4] Eleanor closes her portfolio with a small, defeated sigh. [continue]

GeologyClubTurns (comesFromMenu() != true): GeologyClubTurns + 1 -- [if GeologyClubTurns < 4] You hover inside the Duke's sitting room, transformed into what he no doubt considers a geological salon. Glass display cases line the walls, filled with the [[geological collection->geological collection]]. Near the window, the [[Duke->Duke Geology Club]] examines specimens with intense concentration, occasionally turning to address [[Eleanor->Eleanor Geology Club]], who sits somewhat stiffly in her chair, portfolio clutched in her lap. Several other [[club members->club members]] drift about the room, while on a side table sits a [[platter of macarons->platter of macarons]]. *** [continue] [unless EleanorCuriosity] {embed passage: 'Geology Club Dialogue Main'} [if EleanorCuriosity] {embed passage: 'Geology Club Dialogue Curiosity'} [continue] [if GeologyClubTurns >= 4] You feel a strange ripple in the air around you, as if time itself is hesitating. The world seems to pause, suspended between moments. You realize you're being given a choice: either [[proceed with the geology club meeting's conclusion->Geology Club Ending Router]] - with the feeling you may not be able to return here afterward - or [[start this encounter over from the beginning->Geology Club Starting Cutscene 2]]. {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'}

[if EleanorCuriosity; if DukePersuaded] {embed passage: 'Geology Club Success Ending'} [if EleanorCuriosity; if NautilusThrown] {embed passage: 'Geology Club Nautilus Ending'} [unless EleanorCuriosity; if DukePersuaded] {embed passage: 'Geology Club Standard Failure'} [unless EleanorCuriosity; unless DukePersuaded] {embed passage: 'Geology Club Standard Failure'} [if EleanorCuriosity; unless DukePersuaded; unless NautilusThrown] {embed passage: 'Geology Club Standard Failure'} [continue]

GeologyClubAttended: true SlotThreeAttended: true -- The Duke strides purposefully toward his collection. *"Miss Lovelace, I'm afraid... there's been a terrible misunderstanding."* He reaches into the display case and withdraws the spiral specimen with obvious distaste. *"This... this is not a geological formation at all!"* Eleanor watches in growing confusion as the Duke holds the nautilus at arm's length, as if it might contaminate his other specimens. [[*"Your Grace, I don't understand..."*->Geology Club Nautilus Ending 2]]

*"It's... it's biological! A mollusk! A sea monster!"* The Duke's voice rises with each word, his face flushing red with embarrassment. *"How could I have been so careless? Displaying marine fauna alongside proper mineral specimens! I'm but a fraud!"* The other club members begin to take notice, their quiet conversations fading as they turn to observe the commotion. Eleanor shrinks slightly in her chair, her portfolio clutched defensively to her chest. *"This... this shell has no place in a geological collection!"* The Duke marches toward the window, his spectacles sliding down his nose with agitation. [[*"I shall make sure of it!!*"->Geology Club Nautilus Ending 3]]

With a dramatic flourish and perfect, expertly trained form, the Duke simply hurls the petrified nautilus through the open window. The spiral shell arcs gracefully through the afternoon air before disappearing into the garden below with a distant *thud*. After catching is breath, the Duke slowly turns around, his eyes wide open as Eleanor sits frozen, speechless - [[something shared by the rest of the visitors.->Geology Club Nautilus Standard Ending]]

A distant voice calls from another room. *"Your Grace! The specimens from Cornwall have arrived!"* The Duke's eyes light up with fresh enthusiasm. *"Ah! Splendid! You must excuse me, Miss Lovelace. Duty calls, as they say. Ah!"* As if nothing happened, you watch as he hurries towards the door, his geological hammer still clutched in one hand. *"You people help yourself to the refreshments,"* he calls over his shoulder, already disappearing through the doorway. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: '*"And thank you for... well, for visiting!"*'}

Eleanor sits alone in the still quite busy sitting room, her unopened portfolio still balanced on her lap. The other club members continue their quiet conversations, but without the Duke's boisterous immediate presence, all of a sudden the gathering feels rather hollow. She closes her portfolio and, with a soft sigh, rises from her chair. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

GeologyClubAttended: true SlotThreeAttended: true -- A distant voice calls from another room, interrupting the Duke's geological monologue mid-sentence. *"Your Grace! The specimens from Cornwall have arrived!"* The Duke's eyes light up with fresh enthusiasm. *"Ah! Splendid! You must excuse me, Miss Lovelace. Duty calls, as they say."* He sets down his current specimen and hurries toward the voice, his geological hammer still clutched in one hand. *"Do help yourself to the refreshments,"* he calls over his shoulder, already disappearing through the doorway. [[*"And thank you for... well, for visiting!"*->Geology Club Standard Ending]]

Eleanor adjusts her grip on the portfolio and raises her hand to knock. From within comes an enthusiastic voice, rising and falling with animated fervor. *"...absolutely magnificent striations in the limestone! You simply must examine the crystalline structure..."* She glances down at her sketches, then back at the door. [[She knocks.->Geology Club Starting Cutscene 1.5]]

The door swings open to reveal a rotund gentleman with wild gray hair, spectacles sliding down his nose. His eyes light up immediately. *"Ah! Miss Lovelace! Splendid, absolutely splendid!"* He gestures with a small geological hammer. *"Duke of Millbrook - you've arrived at precisely the right moment. We were just discussing the sedimentary qualities of..."* He turns and strides back into the sitting room, still talking. [[Eleanor follows.->Geology Club Starting Cutscene 2]]

GeologyClubTurns: 0 EleanorCuriosity: false DukePersuaded: false DukeGraniteUsed: false DukeMarbleUsed: false DukeObsidianUsed: false NautilusThrown: false -- {reset dialogue} The sitting room buzzes with subdued conversation as Eleanor steps inside. Several gentlemen cluster around display cases filled with geological specimens, their voices a murmur of technical terms and enthusiastic observations. The Duke gestures toward an ornate chair near his prized collection. *"Please, please! Make yourself comfortable,"* he says, already turning to examine a piece of what looks like ordinary limestone with intense fascination. *"Now, where were we? Ah yes, the metamorphic processes..."* Eleanor settles into the offered chair, portfolio balanced on her lap, as the Duke launches into an animated lecture seemingly directed at no one in particular. [[The meeting begins.->Geology Club Diorama]]

GeologyClubAttended: true ExpeditionFunds: ExpeditionFunds + 2 SlotThreeAttended: true -- A distant voice calls from another room, interrupting the conversation mid-sentence. *"Your Grace! The specimens from Cornwall have arrived!"* The Duke pauses, torn. *"Ah! The timing!"* He glances at Eleanor, then at the collection, his eyes bright with genuine interest. *"Miss Lovelace, your connection between those ancient symbols and natural spiral formations... quite revolutionary thinking! I must contribute to such innovative research."* He pulls out a small leather purse, quickly writing a cheque, then pushing it into Eleanor's hands. *"Here - a modest investment in your expedition. And do write to me from Brittany! I should be most interested to hear what geological formations you encounter. Oh, and the expedition too, of course! But do send me some samples first."* [[At that, you watch him hurrying off to examine his new specimens.->Geology Club Standard Ending]]

Clotofplaster: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

Dulllookingknife: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

Eleanorhandbag: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

handmirror: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

measuringtape: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

pocketwatch: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

Quillandpaper: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

pocketwatch: true Quillandpaper: true Dulllookingknife: true Clotofplaster: true measuringtape: true Eleanorhandbag: true handmirror: true measuringtape: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

IntroMeetingEleanorPersuasion: true -- You feel your stomach as it grumbles - an insistent gnawing that's been distracting you for the past hour. Why did you skip breakfast? Well, you technically didn’t, but clearly you should’ve had more when you had the chance. The director drones on and on about exhibition priorities… could he get to the point? You shift your weight, pressing a hand discreetly against your middle. [if PastryCartVisible; if AmphoraState == 'base' || AmphoraState == 'saved'; unless MarbleBustsFallen; append] That pastry cart... has it been there all along? The biscuits look terribly dry, and that cake probably isn't much better after sitting out the weekend. Still... it's *right there*. No one seems to want it. Just one quick bite wouldn't hurt... [unless PastryCartVisible; if AmphoraState == 'base' || AmphoraState == 'saved'; unless MarbleBustsFallen] God, what you wouldn't give for a pastry right now. The bakery across from the museum had those glazed buns in the window this morning, ugh... Focus, Eleanor. Focus. Just… don’t think. It’s making things worse. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

AmphoraState: 'drunk' IntroMeetingEleanorPersuasion: true -- You feel the amphora as it wobbles in your hands, its weight shifting dangerously with every movement. Your arms ache - did no one really think it would've been a good idea to empty it before placing it on display? On such a tall plint, too? You should've just let it fall to the floor. It's not the kind of thoughts one working inside a museum should have, you know that, but it feels justified. The scent of malt rises from the open rim, thick and heady, and for a moment, your focus narrows to that sound, that smell. [[It's beer, isn't it?->Eleanor Drinks from Amphora cutscene 2]]

[if pastterraceturn == 1] Before you realize it, your hand drifts to the box. The first sweet is gone too quickly to be savored, a soft burst of cream and sugar. They are absolutely delectable. Mary’s words stop mid-sentence, and you feel her eyes on you. [[Still, you reach for more. ->Gluttony Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 3]] [if pastterraceturn == 2] Before you realize it, your hand drifts to the box. The first sweet is gone too quickly to be savored, a soft burst of cream and sugar. They are absolutely delectable. Looking towards the door back to the apartment, you quicken your pace. [[You've got to have more. ->Gluttony Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 3]] [if pastterraceturn == 3] Before you realize it, your hand drifts to the box. The first sweet is gone too quickly to be savored, a soft burst of cream and sugar. They are absolutely delectable. Screw the meeting, it was going nowhere anyway. Mary’s words stop mid-sentence, and you feel her eyes on you. [[Still, you reach for more. ->Gluttony Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 3]]

[if pastterraceturn == 1] You can feel it now - your belly rounding slightly, the snug bodice of your dress pressing uncomfortably against your middle. A final croissant vanishes past your lips, and only then do you pause, chest rising with shallow breaths. The box lies empty. You feel heavy, the tautness of your stomach undeniable. It swells gently against the dress, pressing back with each constrained breath. Why do you always have to keep your corset so *tight*? It barely works to slim you anymore. Mary's voice finally cuts through the haze, softer now, almost amused. "Oh my... Eleanor, you poor thing! You must've been starving..." [[*You blink once more, and detach yourself from Eleanor's mind.*->Past Terrace (Turn system)]] [if pastterraceturn == 2] You can feel it now - your belly rounding slightly, the snug bodice of your dress pressing uncomfortably against your middle. A final croissant vanishes past your lips, and only then do you pause, chest rising with shallow breaths. The box lies empty. You feel heavy, the tautness of your stomach undeniable. It swells gently against the dress, pressing back with each constrained breath. Why do you always have to keep your corset so *tight*? It barely works to slim you anymore. [[*You blink once more, and detach yourself from Eleanor's mind.*->Past Terrace (Turn system)]] [if pastterraceturn == 3] You can feel it now - your belly rounding slightly, the snug bodice of your dress pressing uncomfortably against your middle. A final croissant vanishes past your lips, and only then do you pause, chest rising with shallow breaths. The box lies empty. You feel heavy, the tautness of your stomach undeniable. It swells gently against the dress, pressing back with each constrained breath. Why do you always have to keep your corset so *tight*? It barely works to slim you anymore. Mary's voice finally cuts through the haze, softer now, almost amused. "Oh my... Eleanor, you poor thing! You must've been starving..." [[*You blink once more, and detach yourself from Eleanor's mind.*->Past Terrace (Turn system)]]

GluttonyTerrace: true boxofsweetseaten: true -- [if pastterraceturn == 1] The terrace seems sharper, clearer - as though you’ve just become acutely aware of your own body. Mary’s voice hums on, and on, and on... does she ever shut up? But it feels distant, muffled beneath the sudden ache of...hunger? *Craving*. It gnaws at you, coiling deep in your belly, though you’re certain you’ve already eaten today. Haven’t you? Your gaze drops to the pastries. So delicate. So small. [[Come now, *Eleanor*, just one would be harmless.->Gluttony Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 2]] [if pastterraceturn == 2] The terrace seems sharper, clearer - as though you’ve just become acutely aware of your own body. You feel a sudden ache of...hunger? *Craving*. It gnaws at you, coiling deep in your belly, though you’re certain you’ve already eaten today. Haven’t you? Your gaze drops to the pastries. So delicate. So small. [[Come now, *Eleanor*, just one would be harmless.->Gluttony Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 2]]. Mary is not even here to judge you. [if pastterraceturn == 3] The terrace seems sharper, clearer - as though you’ve just become acutely aware of your own body. Mary’s voice hums on, and on, and on... does she ever shut up? But it feels distant, muffled beneath the sudden ache of...hunger? *Craving*. It gnaws at you, coiling deep in your belly, though you’re certain you’ve already eaten today. Haven’t you? Your gaze drops to the pastries. So delicate. So small. [[Come now, *Eleanor*, just one would be harmless.->Gluttony Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 2]]

DukeGraniteUsed: true GeologyClubTurns: 4 -- Ancient symbols? Mining applications? Preposterous! Does she take me for a fool? My collection represents millions of years of geological processes, not some... archaeological speculation. Igneous formations don't concern themselves with human interpretations. This limestone specimen displays perfect stratification - each layer compressed over millennia, solid and unchanging. Like my principles. I shall not be swayed by fanciful theories about symbol meanings when there are proper mineralogical classifications to consider. That young woman clearly lacks appreciation for true geological science. Perhaps she should focus on cataloguing pottery shards instead of bothering serious collectors with these... imaginative connections. {link to: 'Geology Club Diorama', label: 'Back'}

You mentally calculate the week's sales as you handle the bottle. He would definitely notice a few extra pennies missing from the daily count… but what about now, with his glasses broken? These... *special* formulations can, potentially, fetch a premium - especially from the wealthy ladies. The museum assistant looks well-to-do enough. Perhaps next time you could mention a "specially imported" version... at twice the price. Your fingers linger on the coin drawer. So easy to miscount, isn't it. {plainlink to: 'Apothecary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

{embed passage: 'Item Back Logic CH1'} You inspect the item closer. The hand mirror is silver, its surface very polished. The frame is elaborately decorated, with swirling patterns and delicate floral motifs - far too ornate for everyday use, you reckon. Of course, there is no reflection of your form. Instead, whichever the side it points towards, it keeps showing you the same exact view of Eleanor's bedroom. {one of: ["*You can hear a soft, metallic hum coming from it.*", "*The frame seems to adjust its grip on the glass, as if ensuring a better view.*", "*For a moment, you catch the reflection showing a different angle of the room. It returns to its normal view as it realizes you are looking at it.*", "*The silver catches a purple glint as it floats in front of you.*"], order: 'cycling'} {link to: itemBackTarget, label: 'Back'}

{embed passage: 'Item Back Logic CH1'} *You see through the reflection of the mirror, and find yourself able to see the bedroom... and **her** within it.* {embed passage: 'Eleanor'} {link to: itemBackTarget, label: 'Back'}

config.style.page.color: "black on magenta-2" config.style.page.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on magenta-2" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on magenta-2" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on magenta-2" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#ffccf0 on #2d0a1f" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#ff66b3" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#e6478a" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ff80c4 on #2d0a1f" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ff66b3" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#ff66b3" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#e6478a" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ff80c4 on #2d0a1f" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ff66b3" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ff80c4 on #2d0a1f" -- [if stuffedstate == 'EMPTY'] ~ ~///(*)＼＼＼＼~ ~ [if stuffedstate == 'BLOATED'] ~ ~///(　*　)＼＼＼＼~ ~ [if stuffedstate == 'FULL'] ~ ~//(　　*　　)＼＼＼＼~ ~ [if stuffedstate == 'STUFFED'] ~ ~/(　　*　　　　);＼＼＼＼~ ~ [if stuffedstate == 'OVERSTUFFED'] ~ ~:(　　*　　　　　　);＼＼＼＼~ ~

Tucked beside the plaster clot within the bag, the silver hand mirror gleams faintly even in the dim interior. Its polished surface doesn't reflect the workbag's leather lining, but instead shows a slightly distorted, unchanging view of Eleanor's bedroom. {one of: ["*A soft, almost inaudible metallic hum emanates from it.*", "*The silver catches a faint purple glint.*", "*For a moment, the reflection flickers, showing Eleanor's office instead of the bedroom. It quickly realizes its mistake, and snaps back.*"], order: 'cycling'} {link to: 'Eleanor Workbag Tea With Mary', label: 'Back'} [note] Descriptive text for the hand mirror when viewed within the workbag during this event. Includes context-specific cycling descriptions. [continue]

{embed passage: 'Item Back Logic CH1'} The handbag rests near you, a modest accessory crafted from soft, dark leather. Its surface shows faint creases from use, and a simple brass clasp secures its contents. Inside you spot a folded handkerchief, the stub of a pencil, a compact mirror, some scattered coinage... [if correctartefact < 1] [append] and that's about it. Eleanor must have emptied it, this can't be all she brings with her to work. [if correctartefact >= 1] [append] Of course, it's now weighted down by the artifact you've placed inside of it. [if correctartefact > 1] [append] Of course, it's now weighted down by the artifacts you've placed inside of it. [continue] [if wrongartefact < 3] {one of: ["*Its clasp snaps open and shut, as if testing its bite.*", "*It drifts closer to your other collected items, perhaps hoping to taste them.*", "*Its leather creases form what might be a disapproving frown.*"], order: 'cycling'} [if wrongartefact == 3; if passage.visits == 1] *The clasp remains firmly shut.* [if wrongartefact == 3; if passage.visits == 2] *It drifts at a slight distance, still offended by your choices.* [if wrongartefact == 3; if passage.visits == 3] *You catch them drift closer to you to inspect an item. It then goes back to sulk.* [if wrongartefact == 3; if passage.visits > 3] *You watch as they hover in front of you, and begrudgingly open back up to let their [[handkerchief]] out.* [continue] {link to: itemBackTarget, label: 'Back'}

{embed passage: 'Mirror Resolution Cutscene 5'}

{embed passage: 'Director Knocked Out Ending'}

{link to: 'Bread prayer success cutscene 1', label: 'Back'}

IntroMeetingVioletPersuasion: true -- The emptiness within you grows, distracting you from the discussion. Your fingers twist the pen tighter as you fight to remain focused. Later. Later. Don’t let it touch you. Don’t let it influence you, no matter how hard it might be to resist. It’s endearing, really. And… potentially just what you’ve been looking for. What is it? Eleanor? No, no, you've tested that extensively. Basically inert. It certainly has the right *spirit* to it. But how? Where did it come from? You know everything stored within this building. No, evidently incorrect - almost everything. But how did *it* escape you? {plainlink to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

{link to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Back'}

There's a way to import twee files, I checked, it's in the menu. Here we have worked with a version of the game with only the second chapter, and separated the first chapter in a different file. Re-add the first chapter back for game release by pasting it into the twee file of the second chapter only game. Remember to modify it to have the settings beforhand, and the chapter selection screen just after start (with the third chapter entry being there, but greyed out).

DayCalories: DayCalories + 2 SlotThreeAttended: true -- Eleanor stands in the shade of a towering elm, its leaves casting dappled shadows across the cobblestone path. Before her, a white-painted cart with a striped awning draws a modest queue of patrons. The vendor, a moustached man in a pristine apron, hands out small glass dishes to eager children and their watchful teachers. You watch as she fidgets with her coin purse, counting out pennies as the line advances. When her turn arrives, she hesitates between flavours before pointing decisively to a rich chocolate. [[The vendor scoops generously.->Ice Cream Cutscene 2]]

The glass dish sits heavy in Eleanor's gloved hand, the dark chocolate mound already beginning to soften in the afternoon warmth. She finds an unoccupied bench facing the ornamental lake, settling herself at a careful distance from a dozing elderly gentleman at the opposite end. Her spoon dips into the dessert, carving inside of it. [[Her pace quickens.->Ice Cream Cutscene 3]]

The dish tilts dangerously as Eleanor scrapes for the final melting remnants. A smudge of chocolate has escaped to the corner of her mouth, quickly dabbed away with a handkerchief before any passersby notices. The empty dish finds temporary residence on the bench beside her as she adjusts the hat she brought with her from the museum against the breeze. Eventually, she rises to return the dish to the vendor. [[But pauses halfway.->Ice Cream Cutscene 4]]

The dish is not, in fact, returned. Not yet. Instead, Eleanor now stands before the cart once more, having chosen to instead go for two more vanilla scoops beside a dollop of raspberry. This time, she doesn't take her time. The spoon moves quickly. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

SlotThreeAttended: true -- Eleanor barely reaches the park's gates when the first fat drops begin to fall, quickly escalating into a sudden, drenching downpour. Her parasol is clearly better suited for the sun - it offers little protection against rain. Within moments, her light blouse clings to her shoulders and back, revealing the distinct lines of the chemise beneath. Water streams down her face, plastering a couple of stray strands of her blonde hair to her temples and cheeks. Her skirt darkens rapidly, the fabric becoming heavy and sodden. [[You follow her as she makes a hasty retreat.->Rainy Day Cutscene 2]]

{embed passage: 'Overheard Thursday'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You take a moment to concentrate on the offending cultist - to ponder your newfound strengths and abilities, and the chained collar stuck to your neck. To remind yourself you have no choice. ➼The Inferno. [[You feel the heat constrained inside your form...->Violet Cult Epilogue Cutscene 6]] {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'} [note] [[➼->Immolation Ability] [continue]

IntroMeetingDirectorPersuasion: true -- The pocket watch weighs heavier with each passing second. Every moment wasted here is a moment you could be finalizing your presentation for the board meeting. These trivialities should be handled by the staff without your supervision. Why must they constantly interrupt with pointless questions? Just let me talk so I can get away from this accursed place! I have people to do, things to talk with! No, wait, that’s not right… {plainlink to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

Eleanor lifts the small paper tag, holding it close to the window. The handwriting is cramped but legible - field notes from some long-ago excavation. *"Item #1247. Rough stone vessel. Local informants described as 'vessel, for demons of hunger.' Appears to be crude imitation of more sophisticated original. Found in lower cave system, post-Roman strata. Note: Locals avoided site, claimed 'infested.'"* *"Demons of hunger,"* she whispers. *"Spirits tied to consumption... to physical abundance... to help people on the path to enlightment... more so a greek daemon then a proper demon, then..."* Her eyes fix on your vessel - just then, her stomach grumbles, prompting her to place a hand on her belly, and to giggle. *"Well then, not just decorative, are you?*" She picks it up again, nearing it to her face. [[*"Still... functional, I see."*->Research Ending]]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You take a moment to look at the flickering items in a halo around your form. These are all objects you have felt a need to bring with you. [if pocketwatch == true] ➼ Pocket watch [continued] {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'}

GluttonyCalEXP: GluttonyCalEXP + 1 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP + 1 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

SweetsEaten: SweetsEaten + 1 -- [if SweetsEaten == 1] Your mouth waters as you eye the pastries. Has he really not taken advantage of the the cart? That seems like a waste. You casually drift to the cart, selecting a plump cream-filled bun. As you take care of it in just a couple of bites, you find yourself licking the pad of your thumb to catch an dollop of custard. The sweetness lingers pleasantly on your tongue, and you already find yourself contemplating a second. No, no. That wouldn't be proper, wouldn't it? Just leave it for now. [if SweetsEaten == 2] Then again, you've been so productive... surely another small reward is justified? This time you select a chocolate-topped eclair, not bothering with pretense. The rich filling coats your tongue, and you close your eyes briefly as you savor it. When you open them, you notice Richard glancing your way, then quickly averting his gaze. You brush crumbs from your waistcoat, feeling the fabric strain slightly as you inhale. Perhaps you should return to work... [if SweetsEaten == 3] The cart beckons again. Fine. Fine! Your fingers close around two small tarts at once. The first disappears in three quick bites, followed immediately by the second - the last thing you want is Richard noticing that you've made your way through most of the servings. Your stomach feels distinctly fuller now, pressing against your waistcoat with enough insistence that you discreetly undo the bottom button. The relief is immediate... and satisfying. Come now, you've earned this small comfort. [if SweetsEaten == 4] Against your better judgment, you grab the last eclair and a small fruit tart, consuming them in quick succession. A warm, heavy contentment spreads through you as your overtaxed stomach stretches to accommodate this final indulgence. Your waistcoat is a lost cause now. You undo the remaining buttons - it was getting to hot in here anyway. But it doesn't help much: the pressure against your blouse is unmistakable, a taut fullness that makes deep breaths challenging. Was that... what? Four pastries in total? Five? Ugh, it's getting hard to think... [continue] {link to: 'Egyptian Exhibition Diorama', label: 'Back'}

A tall, lean gentleman with silver-streaked temples stands slightly apart from the group. His evening wear is impeccable but understated - quality fabric without ostentation. His left hand holds a gold pocket watch that he consults with mechanical regularity, while his right adjusts his cufflinks with the same methodical precision. When others speak, his gaze shifts between their faces and the ballroom's exits. His champagne glass remains untouched, condensation beading on the crystal as it sits forgotten on the nearby table. He nods at appropriate intervals during conversation, but his responses are brief - single sentences delivered in clipped tones. You notice his attention sharpen whenever Eleanor mentions archaeological discoveries, though his expression remains carefully neutral. During these moments, the pocket watch snaps shut with a decisive click. {plainlink to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless IndustrialistSocietyBallPersuaded; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Industrialist Society Ball persuasion menu]] [continue]

IndustrialistSocietyBallPersuaded: true IndustrialistConvinced: true -- ...father's collection included Celtic metalwork - intricate patterns, impossible curves. Always wondered about the craftsmen behind them. The girl mentions worked stone, tunnel systems. Organized labor. Supply chains. Even without modern machinery, they built something lasting. Something that endures centuries later. There's beauty in permanence. In work that outlasts the worker. My foundries will crumble eventually. Stock certificates turn to ash. But artifacts... they're still teaching us. Still inspiring. Mother always said the humanities were just as important as engineering. "Feed the soul, not just the ledger," she'd say. Perhaps... perhaps this expedition deserves consideration. {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

IndustrialistSocietyBallPersuaded: true -- Archaeological expedition. Celtic artifacts. *Financing required.* The girl speaks of discovery, but what's the monetary yield? Ancient trinkets have limited resale value unless they're truly spectacular - and most aren't. It wouldn't be moral to place on the market anyhow. Ancient people cared deeply about their possessions. One can relate. The overhead alone would be substantial. Transport, equipment, labor, permits. Foreign soil means foreign complications. Delays. Cost overruns. And for what return? A few pottery shards and metal fragments that universities will squabble over? Mining potential... perhaps. But without geological surveys, soil samples, proper assessments? Pure speculation. Can't build a business model on old tunnels and wishful thinking. The risk-to-profit ratio is abysmal. No. Too many variables, too little concrete data. Better to invest those funds in proven ventures. Railways, textiles, shipping. My friends and loved ones. This archaeological venture reeks of academic romanticism, not sound business practice. {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

IndustrialistSocietyBallPersuaded: true -- The Liverpool factory reports are due tomorrow morning. Henderson's crew finished the valve assemblies three days behind schedule - *again*. Sloppy workmanship, inconsistent tolerances. I need to join them at the pub, one of these evenings. How difficult is it to follow specifications precisely? Every component must meet exact measurements or the entire system fails. The new foreman promises better oversight, but promises are worthless. Need proper quality controls at each stage. Inspection protocols. Documentation procedures. Can't rely on workers' judgment when precision machinery is involved. My watch gains thirty-seven seconds per week. Must remember to have it serviced. Timekeeping should be absolute, not approximate. Details matter. Standards exist for a reason. And this ballroom's acoustics are poorly designed, too. I can barely hear the damn girl. Sound must be reflecting incorrectly off those pillars. The architect clearly prioritized aesthetics over functionality. Typical. {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [unless IndustrialistSocietyBallPersuaded] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward the industrialist's mind. His thoughts are methodical, calculating, wrapped in layers of business efficiency. Some threads burn brighter than others... ➼[[**PERFECTIONISM**->Industrialist Society Ball Perfectionism]] *Proper methodology. Systematic approach. Can't have sloppy operations in any venture...* ➼[[**FASCINATION**->Industrialist Society Ball Fascination]] *Ancient mining techniques... practical applications... how did they achieve such precision with primitive tools?* ➼[[**GREED**->Industrialist Society Ball Greed]] *Profit margins. Return on investment. What's the monetary potential of this... digging expedition?* [if IndustrialistSocietyBallPersuaded] His thoughts now possess a subtle shift, coloured by your influence. Further interference feels unnecessary. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

dialogue.speed: 'instant' -- Dialogue speed has been set to **instant**. {link to: 'Settings', label: 'Back'}

Test15: Test14 + 1 -- Perhaps you never had one. Long ago - so very long ago - you were more than the object in which you now reside. You were revered and feared, of that you are surprisingly sure. But it no longer matters. Your memories of that age have faded away almost entirely. It's all just echos of a different, more strifeful time. [[But something has changed.->Intro 2]] {ascii backdrop: 'loading'}

For the first time in what feels like thousands of years, you are capable of seeing again. You see the vessel that has kept you in stasis - a small statuette carved from blackened stone, dulled smooth by time. It depicts a woman. A pregnant one? Or just fat? [if Test14 == 4] And the ones in the embed are not ignored either, they are simply going later and so don't factor into the calculations of the host passage. [continue] [[What a sight.->Intro 3]] {ascii backdrop: 'loading'} [note] These were placed between the two javascripts. [continued [JavaScript [continue]

{embed passage: 'CH2 Variables'} [unless CH2Standalone] <div class="chapter-container"> <div class="chapter-heading">Chapter 2</div> <div class="chapter-subtitle">Daemon of Hunger</div> </div> </div> [continue] The morning air bites with smog as Eleanor steps onto the cobblestone street. Her leather workbag sways at her hip, its worn strap creaking under the combined weight of ledgers, artifacts, and your vessel. Through the half-open clasp, you glimpse the statuette's [[granite curves->Intro 2.0.5]].

correctartefact: 3 arrowheadstaken: true clayvesseltaken: true SkullTaken: true -- She pauses to adjust her skirt's waistband where it digs into her flesh as a tram clatters past. Her route takes her past warehouse workers unloading crates and a bakery window fogged with steam - the scent of fresh bread mingles unpleasantly with the coal dust clinging to her collar. At each intersection, her pace slows fractionally. You observe how her breathing shallows while ascending the gentle slope toward the neoclassical facade that looms [[ahead.->Intro 2.1]] [note] Here I've placed all provisional variables that relate to the previous chapter, as I do envision some of the actions taken in the first chapter to influence some minor things in this chapter too, it would be cool. Maybe some major stuff too, we'll see. [continue]

The building's portico stretches overhead, its limestone columns streaked with decades of soot. Eleanor mounts the stairs with care, one hand bracing against the iron railing while the other clutches her bag to her midsection. A uniformed attendant - a very tall, young-looking lad - holds the brass-framed door open just wide enough for her to sidle through without brushing the glass. "Morning, Miss Lovelace," he says, without really bothering to glance towards her. [[She nods back, and enters through.->Museum Entrance]]

The marble stairs tick under Eleanor's measured tread. Between floors, she pauses before a stained-glass window depicting Roman excavations, her reflection warped in its borders. The quiet of the building suddenly strikes you as odd. Eleanor might have come early into work today, but surely she can't be the only one who has. Where is everyone? Topside, gas lamps hiss in their sconces alongside a vaulted corridor. Display cases line the walls, their contents still draped. Eleanor's keys jingle against a door plaque reading [[~E. Lovelace, Assistant Curator~->Intro 2.3]].

Finally, you find yourself dragged inside what you can assume is Eleanor's office. You watch as she deposits her bag's contents beside a precarious stack of auction catalogs, your vessel's stone curves now resting against an ink-stained {tooltip: 'blotter', text: 'Blotting paper, used to absorb ink or oil from writing materials.'}. Shelves sag under a fair amount of labeled artifacts and ledgers - one of the latters lies open to the previous week's entries: [[there seems to have been a lot of movement inside the museum's archives.->Start Day Monday]]

Slowly, you turn your gaze away from it. The faint gloom of your surroundings begins to coalesce and you are beginning to think clearly again: this is where your vessel has sat immobile for at least three years now. A modest flat, its entryway quiet and still, save for the gentle ticking of a close-by clock. But, once again, something's different now. [[Someone.->Intro 4]] {ascii backdrop: 'loading'}

*You concentrate onto the object.* Eleanor flinches as the watch thrums against her chest, its ticking now sharp enough to rattle the inkwell she had been using. She snaps it back shut with a click, but it seems your disturbance has reminded her that [[time is of the essence->Work Day Logic]]. [note] [if passage.visits == 1 [[...Oh no.->Work Day pulled away cutscene [if passage.visits > 1 [[You're off to work.->Work Day Logic

[if IntroMeetingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:intro1] *Now that we're all finally present,* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:intro1] the director says, snapping his watch shut, [if IntroMeetingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:intro1] *Let us address this week's priorities.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:2 id:intro1] *Ms. Whitlock - you'll continue cataloguing the Etruscan collection.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.8 id:intro1] *That should keep you occupied for a while, I'm sure.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:2 id:intro1] *Mary... uh... well, we do have a donor tour at half past eleven.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:intro1] *And Eleanor-* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.8 id:intro1 newline] Mary suddenly interrupts him, looking very excited. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.8 id:intro1] *Oh, how wonderful!* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:intro1] *Who will we be receiving today?* [continue] [continue] [continue] [if IntroMeetingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:intro2] The director's mustache twitches. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:intro2] *Unfortunately our usual, the duke.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:intro2] *Now as I was saying-* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1 id:intro2 newline] The other curator clears her throat. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:2 id:intro2] *The [[Pergamon fragments]] listed here as item 27-B...* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:intro2] *they were technically never transferred from storage.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.8 id:intro2 newline] *Ah.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:intro2] *How does that even happen?* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:intro2] *Someone clearly moved them here.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1 id:intro2] he says, before turning back to Eleanor. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:intro2] *Your priority remains the-* [continue] [continue] [continue] [if IntroMeetingTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:intro3] Mary leans closer to the two. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 3; dialogue delay:2 id:intro3] *Markus, should I serve the '68 claret or the Spanish sherry?* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.8 id:intro3 newline] *...what?* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:intro3] *Are you referring to the tour?* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 3; dialogue delay:2 id:intro3] *No sweetheart, just... tea will be good enough for him.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:intro3] *Where would you even get those?* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1 id:intro3] The director's turns around to face Eleanor again. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:intro3] *Anyways, as I was saying-* [continue] [continue] [continue] [if IntroMeetingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:intro4] Ms. Whitlock's pen stops mid-stroke. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:2 id:intro4] *The loan agreement for these busts expires Thursday.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:intro4] *Do we renew or-* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.8 id:intro4 newline] *Oh I **hate them**.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1 id:intro4] *Replicas... bah!* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:intro4] *You can burn them for all I care.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1 id:intro4] He massages his temple. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1 id:intro4 newline] Mary adjusts her brooch. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:2 id:intro4] *Should the duke view the Egyptian wing before or after luncheon?* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:intro4] *The mummies do tend to curdle the appetite.* [continue] [continue] [continue] [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:intro5] The director slams his watch onto the helmet's glass case. [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:intro5] *Mary, you do know that I cherish you,* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 5; dialogue delay:2 id:intro5] *but Christ's teeth, must I orchestrate every trivial -* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 5; dialogue delay:1 id:intro5 newline] Eleanor steps forward, her waistcoat creaking. [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:intro5] *Sir, if I could just -* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:intro5 newline] *Oh no, not you too, Eleanor.* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:intro5] *I've had enough of this!* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 5; dialogue delay:1 id:intro5] *Sort it yourself.* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 5; dialogue delay:1 id:intro5] He snatches his watch back, leaving a sweaty imprint on the glass. [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:intro5] *I've a board meeting at the Athenaeum.* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 5; dialogue delay:2.5 id:intro5] *If the museum burns down in my absence, don't bother warning me about it!* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 5; dialogue delay:1 id:intro5 newline] As he storms out, Mary examines her gloves. [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 5; dialogue delay:0.8 id:intro5] *Well!* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:intro5] *I suppose we're meant to read his mind now.* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:intro5] *What am I to do?!*

IntroMeetingTurns (comesFromMenu() != true): IntroMeetingTurns + 1 -- [if IntroMeetingTurns < 5] You're hovering within the museum's left wing exhibition hall. {embed passage: 'Eleanor and Amphora Logic'} To the right, a [[bronze helmet]] rests on a velvet cushion, while to the left is a fragmented [[mosaic]]. The [[director]] stands by a marble plinth, his pocket watch chain glinting. [[Mary->Mary Intro Meeting Diorama]] is currently examining a bronze [[statuette->bronze statuette]]. {embed passage: 'Violet Name and Busts Logic'} [continue] [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5] You're hovering within the museum's left wing exhibition hall. {embed passage: 'Eleanor and Amphora Logic'} To the right, a [[bronze helmet]] rests on a velvet cushion, while to the left is a fragmented [[mosaic]]. [[Mary->Mary Intro Meeting Diorama]] is currently examining a bronze [[statuette->bronze statuette]]. {embed passage: 'Violet Name and Busts Logic'} [continue] *** [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [if AmphoraState == 'base'; if IntroMeetingTurns <= 5] {embed passage: 'Intro Meeting Dialogue'} [if AmphoraState == 'saved'; if IntroMeetingTurns <= 5] {embed passage: 'Intro Meeting Dialogue'} [if AmphoraState == 'teetering'; if IntroMeetingTurns <= 5] {embed passage: 'Dialogue Teetering Amphora'} [if AmphoraState == 'broken'; if IntroMeetingTurns <= 5] {embed passage: 'Dialogue Broken Amphora'} [if AmphoraState == 'drunk'; if IntroMeetingTurns <= 5] {embed passage: 'Dialogue Drunk Amphora'} [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [if IntroMeetingTurns > 5] You feel a strange ripple in the air around you, as if time itself is hesitating. The world seems to pause, suspended between moments. You realize you're being given a choice: either [[proceed with the meeting's conclusion->Intro Meeting ending cutscene]] - with the feeling you may not be able to return here afterward - or [[start this gathering over from the beginning->Director cutscene 3]]. {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'}

DayCalories: DayCalories + 4 -- Mary exchanges a glance with Violet, who merely shrugs and continues her work. Mary soon joins her, and so does Eleanor, preferring not to bend over but to simply arrange the fragments on a nearby surface. Once that's done, Eleanor doesn't stay any longer than it's necessary: she eventually turns and strides back to her [[office->Office]], her heels clicking against the marble.

IntroMeetingAttended: true SlotOneAttended: true SlotTwoAttended: false -- [if AmphoraState == 'base'] The director's departure leaves the hall in a heavy silence. Mary adjusts her gloves, her gaze flicking back to the artifacts. Ms. Whitlock resumes her note-taking, the scratch of her pen the only sound. Eleanor exhales sharply, her fingers brushing the edge of the plinth to her left as she straightens her waistcoat. Mary clears her throat. *"Well, that could have gone worse."* Ms. Whitlock doesn’t look up. *"Just a waste of our time, really."* Eleanor shakes her head, her expression tight. Without another word, she turns and strides back to her [[office->Office]], her heels clicking against the marble. [if AmphoraState == 'saved'] The director's departure leaves the hall in a heavy silence. Mary adjusts her gloves, her gaze flicking back to the artifacts. Ms. Whitlock resumes her note-taking, the scratch of her pen the only sound. Eleanor exhales sharply, her fingers brushing the edge of the plinth to her left as she straightens her waistcoat. Mary clears her throat. *"Well, that could have gone worse."* Ms. Whitlock doesn’t look up. *"Just a waste of our time, really."* Eleanor shakes her head, her expression tight. Without another word, she turns and strides back to her [[office->Office]], her heels clicking against the marble. [if AmphoraState == 'broken'] The director's departure leaves the hall in a heavy silence. Mary kneels to gather the larger shards of the amphora, her gloves protecting her hands from the jagged edges. Ms. Whitlock stands by, clipboard in hand, her lips pressed into a thin line as she surveys the damage. Eleanor stares at the mess, her hands clenched at her sides. Mary glances up. *"I’ll fetch a broom."* Ms. Whitlock nods. *"And a dustpan."* Eleanor doesn’t respond, her gaze fixed on the shattered remains. For the next half hour you watch the three of them cleaning the hall of all the detritus. Thankfully, Eleanor doesn't stay any longer than it's necessary: she eventually turns and strides back to her [[office->Office]], her heels clicking against the marble. [if AmphoraState == 'teetering'] The director's departure leaves the hall in a heavy silence. Mary steps forward to steady the amphora, her hands joining Eleanor's on the heavy vessel. Ms. Whitlock sets her clipboard aside and begins gathering the fragments of the marble busts, her movements precise. Eleanor exhales sharply, her shoulders sagging under the weight. Mary glances at her. *"Careful now. Let’s set it down gently."* Eleanor nods, her expression tight. Together, the two of them lower the amphora to the plinth. With a soft thanks, she turns and strides back to her [[office->Office]], her heels clicking against the marble. [if AmphoraState == 'drunk'] The director's departure leaves the hall in a heavy silence. Mary steps forward, her gloved hands reaching for the amphora, but Eleanor waves her off with a sluggish motion. Her face is flushed, her breathing uneven as she leans heavily against the plinth. Violet sets her clipboard aside and begins gathering the fragments of the marble busts. Mary hesitates, her hands hovering near the amphora. *"Eleanor, are you quite alright?"* Eleanor shakes her head, her voice thick. *"Just... give me a moment."* She presses a hand to her stomach, [[her waistcoat straining against the movement->Intro Meeting Ending cutscene 2]].

It's a pocket watch with a polished brass casing, intricately crafted and etched with an elegant floral motif. A delicate chain, slightly tarnished, dangles from Eleanor's jacket, swaying faintly as she walks through the Museum hall. The latch clicks softly as you will it open without its owner noticing, revealing a pair of delicate hands on top of a porcelain dial. The rhythmic ticking grows [[louder->CH.2 Intro Skip]] as you draw nearer - your presence is making the hands themselves tremble. {link to: 'Museum Entrance', label: 'Back'} [inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a resonating hum...->CH.2 Intro Skip]] [continue]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [unless pocketwatch; unless Quillandpaper; unless Dulllookingknife; unless Clotofplaster; unless measuringtape; unless Eleanorhandbag; unless handmirror] For the moment being, you have nothing with you. [continue] [if pocketwatch || Quillandpaper || Dulllookingknife || Clotofplaster || measuringtape || Eleanorhandbag || handmirror] You take a moment to look at the flickering items in a halo around your form. These are all objects that have decided to follow you. [continue] [if pocketwatch == true] [[➼->Pocket watch]]The Pocket watch. [if pocketwatch == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'bathtub'; if bathtub == false] [append] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->Past Bathtub cutscene 1]] [if pocketwatch == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'butter dish'; if Butterdish == false] [append] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->Past butter dish cutscene 1]] [if pocketwatch == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'stove'; if roastedchestnuts == false] [append] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->Past roasted chestnuts cutscene]] [if pocketwatch == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'pantry'; if pantryrobberdealtwith == false] [append] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->Past pantry robbery occasion]] [if pocketwatch == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'crate'; if winecrate == false] [append] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->Past wine cutscene 1]] [if pocketwatch == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'chipped blue teacup'; if teacupattempt == false; if teacupfixed == false] [append] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->chipped Past teacup attempt cutscene 1]] [if pocketwatch == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'front door'; if successfuldelivery == false; if SittingroomDooropen == true] [append] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->Past front door occasion 1]] [if pocketwatch == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'terrace'; if pastterraceturn == 0] [append] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->terrace cutscene 1 - Past]] [if pocketwatch == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'candleholder'; if candleholder == false] [append] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->Past candle holder cutscene 1]] [if pocketwatch == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'sewing box'; if sewingboxsolved == false] [append] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->Past sewing box occasion 1]] [if pocketwatch == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'double doors'] [append] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->Past double door pocket watch cutscene 1]] [if pocketwatch == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'dining table'; if EleanorBreakfast == false] [append] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->Past dining table occasion 1]] [if pocketwatch == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'Past pocket watch';] [append] [[...where is it?->Past dining table pocket watch merge cutscene]] [if pocketwatch == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'dress'; if Dressrippingseen == false] [append] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->Dress ripping cutscene past]] [continued] [if Quillandpaper == true] [[➼->Quill and Paper]]The Quill & Paper. [append] [if Quillandpaper == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'figurine'] [append] [[They have something for you...->brass figurine quill and paper cutscene]] [if Quillandpaper == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'terracotta figurine'] [append] [[They have something for you...->terracotta figurine quill and paper cutscene]] [if Quillandpaper == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'heavily damaged figurine'] [append] [[They have something for you...->heavily damaged figurine quill and paper cutscene]] [if Quillandpaper == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'Past pantry robbery occasion'; if pantryrobberboo == false] [append] [[They've stopped their writing...->Past pantry robbery boo cutscene]] [if Quillandpaper == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'Past pantry robbery occasion 2'; if pantryrobberboo == false] [append] [[They've stopped their writing...->Past pantry robbery boo cutscene]] [if Quillandpaper == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'bones'] [append] [[They have something for you...?->quill and paper bones cutscene]] [if Quillandpaper == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'double doors'; if doubledoorengravings == false] [append] [[They have something for you...->quill and paper double door cutscene]] [if Quillandpaper == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'cabinet'] [append] [[They have something for you...->quill and paper cabinet cutscene]] [if Quillandpaper == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'bread basket'; if Figurine1 == true; if Figurine2 == true; if Figurine3 == true; if BreadPrayer == false; if BasinSinkPlugged == false] [append] [[They've stopped their writing...->Bread prayer failure (not quite) cutscene]] [if Quillandpaper == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'bread basket'; if Figurine1 == true; if Figurine2 == true; if Figurine3 == true; if BreadPrayer == false; if BasinSinkPlugged == true] [append] [[They've stopped their writing...->Bread prayer success cutscene 1]] [if Quillandpaper == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'porcelain dishes'] [append] [[They have something for you...->quill and paper porcelain dishes cutscene]] [if Quillandpaper == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'corset'] [append] [[They have something for you...->quill and paper corset cutscene]] [if Quillandpaper == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'brass astrolabe'] [append] [[They have something for you...->quill and paper astrolabe cutscene]] [continued] [if Dulllookingknife == true] [[➼->Dull-looking knife]]The Dull-looking knife. [append] [if Dulllookingknife == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'Past pantry robbery occasion'; if pantryrobberdealtwith == false] [append] [[It yearns for action...->Past pantry robbery dealt with cutscene]] [if Dulllookingknife == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'Past pantry robbery occasion 2'; if pantryrobberdealtwith == false] [append] [[It yearns for action...->Past pantry robbery dealt with cutscene]] [if Dulllookingknife == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'sewing box'; if sewingboxsolved == false] [append] [[It yearns for action...->Sewing box present cutscene dull knife failure]] [if Dulllookingknife == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'Past sewing box occasion 1'; if sewingboxsolved == false] [append] [[It yearns for action...->Past sewing box dull knife cutscene]] [if Dulllookingknife == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'Past sewing box occasion 2'; if sewingboxsolved == false] [append] [[It yearns for action...->Past sewing box dull knife cutscene]] [if Dulllookingknife == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'casket box'; if CasketBoxOpen == false] [append] [[It yearns for action...->Casket Box dull knife cutscene]] [if Dulllookingknife == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'porcelain dishes'; if DishesDestruction == false] [append] [[It yearns for violence...->Porcelain dishes destruction dull knife cutscene]] [if Dulllookingknife == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'pastoral landscape'; if LandscapeUncrook == false] [append] [[It yearns for action...->Landscape Uncrook dull knife cutscene]] [if Dulllookingknife == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'padlocked wardrobe'; if WardrobeFallen == false] [append] [[It yearns for action...->Falling padlocked wardrobe dull knife cutscene]] [if Dulllookingknife == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'potted plants'; if PottedPlantsDestroyed == false] [append] [[It yearns for violence...->potted plants dull knife cutscene]] [continue] [if Clotofplaster == true] [[➼->Clot of Plaster]]The Clot of Plaster. [append] [if Clotofplaster == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'chipped blue teacup'; if teacupfixed == false] [append] [[Its shape quivers...->chipped teacup fixing cutscene]] [if Clotofplaster == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'vessel'] [append] [[Its shape quivers...->vessel mimick cutscene]] [if Clotofplaster == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'Past front door occasion 1'; if successfuldelivery == false] [append] [[Its shape quivers...->Past plaster key delivery cutscene 1]] [if Clotofplaster == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'Past front door occasion 2'; if successfuldelivery == false] [append] [[Its shape quivers...->Past plaster key delivery cutscene 1]] [if Clotofplaster == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'double doors'; if SittingroomDooropen == false] [append] [[Its shape quivers...->Plaster key double doors cutscene 1]] [if Clotofplaster == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'casket box'; if SittingroomDooropen == false] [append] [[Its shape quivers...->Plaster failure casket box cutscene 1]] [if Clotofplaster == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'basin sink'; if BasinSinkPlugged == false] [append] [[Its shape quivers...->Plaster basin sink faucet stop (to make quiet) cutscene]] [if Clotofplaster == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'padlocked wardrobe'; if WardrobeOpen == false] [append] [[Its shape quivers...->Plaster Padlocked wardrobe opening cutscene]] [if Clotofplaster == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'painting'] [append] [[Its shape quivers...->Plaster Painting cutscene]] [if Clotofplaster == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'landscape'] [append] [[Its shape quivers...->Plaster landscape cutscene]] [if Clotofplaster == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'periodicals'] [append] [[Its shape quivers...->Plaster periodicals cutscene]] [if Clotofplaster == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'notes and sketches'; if NotesPlastered == false] [append] [[Its shape falters...->Plaster notes cutscene]] [continue] [if measuringtape == true] [[➼->Measuring Tape]]The Measuring tape. [append] [if measuringtape == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'light green skirt' ; if TapeGreenSkirtFitted == false] [append] [[Its ribbon flutters...->Measuring tape light green skirt cutscene]] [if measuringtape == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'dress'; if TapeDressFitted == false] [append] [[Its ribbon snakes around...->Measuring tape dress cutscene]] [if measuringtape == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'waistcoat'; if TapeWaistcoatUnFitted == false] [append] [[Its ribbon snakes around...->Measuring tape waistcoat cutscene]] [if measuringtape == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'blouse'; if TapeBlouseFitted == false] [append] [[Its ribbon flutters...->Measuring tape blouse cutscene]] [if measuringtape == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'skirt'; if TapeSkirtFitted == false] [append] [[Its ribbon flutters...->Measuring tape skirt cutscene]] [if measuringtape == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'corset'] [append] [[Its ribbon snakes about, ->Measuring tape corset tighter cutscene]][[uncertain...->Measuring tape corset looser cutscene]] [if measuringtape == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'undergarments'; if TapeUndergarmentsFitted == false] [append] [[Its ribbon flutters...->Measuring tape undergarments cutscene]] [continue] [if Eleanorhandbag == true] [[➼->Handbag]]The Handbag. [append] [append] [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if wrongartefact == 3] [append] It's clasped shut, and refuses to open. [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'figurine'; if wrongartefact < 3; if correctartefact < 3] [append] [[Its handkerchief sticks out...->wrong artefact cutscene]] [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'fern terrarium'; if wrongartefact < 3; if correctartefact < 3] [append] [[Its handkerchief sticks out...->wrong artefact cutscene]] [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'porcelain dishes'; if wrongartefact < 3; if correctartefact < 3] [append] [[Its handkerchief sticks out...->wrong artefact cutscene]] [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'bones'; if wrongartefact < 3; if correctartefact < 3] [append] [[Its handkerchief sticks out...->wrong artefact cutscene]] [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'brass astrolabe'; if wrongartefact < 3; if correctartefact < 3] [append] [[Its handkerchief sticks out...->wrong artefact cutscene]] [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'stone bust'; if wrongartefact < 3; if correctartefact < 3] [append] [[Its handkerchief sticks out...->wrong artefact cutscene]] [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'heavily damaged figurine'; if wrongartefact < 3; if correctartefact < 3] [append] [[Its handkerchief sticks out...->wrong artefact cutscene]] [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'terracotta figurine'; if wrongartefact < 3; if correctartefact < 3] [append] [[Its handkerchief sticks out...->wrong artefact cutscene]] [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'pottery shards'; if wrongartefact < 3; if correctartefact < 3] [append] [[Its handkerchief sticks out...->wrong artefact cutscene]] [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'casket box'; if wrongartefact < 3; if correctartefact < 3] [append] [[Its handkerchief sticks out...->wrong artefact cutscene]] [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'vessel'; if wrongartefact < 3; if correctartefact < 3] [append] [[Its handkerchief sticks out...->vessel wrong artefact cutscene]] [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'brass clock'; if wrongartefact < 3; if correctartefact < 3] [append] [[Its handkerchief sticks out...->wrong artefact cutscene]] [note] WRONG ARTEFACTS END HERE - PLACE ALL THE ARTEFACTS IN THE GAME CORRECT ARTEFACTS END HERE [continued] [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'clay vessel'; if wrongartefact < 3; if correctartefact < 3; if clayvesseltaken == false] [append] [[Its handkerchief sticks out...->correct artefact clay vessel cutscene]] [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'arrowheads'; if wrongartefact < 3; if correctartefact < 3; if arrowheadstaken == false] [append] [[Its handkerchief sticks out...->correct artefact arrowheads cutscene]] [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'skull'; if wrongartefact < 3; if correctartefact < 3; if SkullTaken == false] [append] [[Its handkerchief sticks out...->correct artefact skull cutscene]] [continued] [if handmirror == true] [[➼->Hand Mirror Description]]The Hand Mirror. [if handmirror == true; unless last_ingame_passage == 'silver bowl'; unless last_ingame_passage == 'mirror'] [append] {link to: 'Hand Mirror Item', label: 'Its surface ripples...'} [continue] [if handmirror == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'silver bowl'] [append] [[Its surface ripples... differently?->attic reveal cutscene]] [if handmirror == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'mirror'] [append] [[Its surface ripples... differently?->mirror hint for attic cutscene]] [continue] [if passage.name == 'Inventory'] {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'} {ascii backdrop: 'inventory'} [continue]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("isCutscene",comesFromCutscene()); [continue] {embed passage: 'Deep Inventory Logic'}

[JavaScript] comesFromMenu = function (){ if (trail.length>1){ if (engine.story.passageNamed(trail[trail.length-2]).tags.includes("Menu")){ return true; }else{ return false; } } else { return undefined; } }; get_last_ingame_passage =function(){ let trail_clone=Object.assign([],trail); let rtrail=trail_clone.reverse(); let result = rtrail.find(el => !engine.story.passageNamed(el).tags.includes("Menu")); return result; } [continued] [JavaScript] comesFromCutscene = function () { const currentPassage = engine.story.passageNamed(passage.name); return currentPassage.tags.includes("Cutscene"); }; isInPast = function () { const currentPassage = engine.story.passageNamed(passage.name); return currentPassage.tags.includes("Past"); }; [continued]

config.style.page.color: "black on gray-2" config.style.page.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on gray-2" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on gray-2" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on gray-2" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#e6e6e6 on #1a1a1a" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#d4a574" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#c4956b" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#e6b885 on #1a1a1a" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#d4a574" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#d4a574" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#c4956b" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#e6b885 on #1a1a1a" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#d4a574" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#e6b885 on #1a1a1a" -- ~ ☆ ✥ ☾ ✥ ☆ ~ {ascii backdrop: 'loading'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage", get_last_ingame_passage()); engine.state.set("itemBackTarget", comesFromMenu() ? trail[trail.length - 2] : get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue]

LandscapeUncrook: true HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP + 1 -- The dull-looking knife hovers closer to the crooked frame, its blade tilting as if contemplating the task. With a precise, almost delicate motion, it presses the flat of its blade against the frame’s edge. A faint *scrape* follows as the knife nudges the bottom corner, shifting the painting ever so slightly. The frame settles, perfectly level now. Much better. {link to: 'landscape', label: 'Back'}

LedgerChecked: true --

config.style.page.color: "black on red-2" config.style.page.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on red-2" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on red-2" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on red-2" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#ffcccc on #2a0000" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#ff9999" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#cc6666" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ffffff on #660000" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ff6666" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#ff9999" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#cc6666" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ffffff on #660000" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ff6666" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ffffff on #660000" config.style.fontScaling.baseViewportWidth: 900 config.style.page.font: 'Bona Nova/serif 12' config.style.page.header.font: "12" config.style.page.header.link.font: "" config.style.page.footer.font: "10" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "" config.style.backdrop: "#563232" -- <div class="ending-container"> <div class="ending-number">2.10</div> <div class="ending-content"> <div class="ending-label">Ending</div> <div class="ending-title">Left Behind</div> </div> </div> {ascii backdrop: 'distortion'} {accessory image, src: 'Images/Endings/CH2/2.10 Left Behind.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'}

config.header.right: " " -- <div class="day-heading">MONDAY</div> The Director's knock arrives precisely at nine o'clock Monday morning, followed immediately by his entry without awaiting permission. His tall frame fills Eleanor's doorway, top hat scraping the lintel as he steps into her cramped office. His sharp eyes sweep the room before settling on her desk, where, same as it was on Friday, correspondence and research notes compete for space around your vessel. *"Miss Lovelace."* He approaches with measured steps, a leather portfolio tucked beneath his arm. [[*"I trust you're prepared for some rather significant news?"*->Expedition Approval (Left Behind) 1.5]]

[if passage.name == 'Slot Selection'] [[➼Afternoon->Leisure Activity Selection]] [if SlotThreeEvent == 'MARKET'] *"The market fair is in town. It looks quite lively - I should find time to visit its stalls."* [if SlotThreeEvent == 'LEISURE_CAFE'] *"A quiet hour at Willoughby's café with a book, and some of their ginger cake."* [if SlotThreeEvent == 'ICECREAM'] *"Ice cream in the park, weather permitting."* [if SlotThreeEvent == 'APOTHECARY'] *"Must visit the apothecary for more of their headache pills."* [if SlotThreeEvent == 'TRAIN'] *"An hour at the train station. The tea is terrible, there might be some sketching opportunities."* [if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'; if SlotThreeEvent == 'GRAVE'] *"Time to visit Mother and Father."* [if SlotThreeEvent == 'GEOLOGY'] *"The Duke's new obsession - the Geology Club. If I could convince him those symbols relate to... I don't know... mining, perhaps?"* [if SlotThreeEvent == 'GARDEN'; unless MaryPricked] *"Garden Party hosted by the Archaeological Society's treasurer. Mary insists the fresh air will do me good."* [if SlotThreeEvent == 'AUCTION'] *"Private collector's estate sale. Some interesting Celtic pieces listed - might be worth investigating."* [if SlotThreeEvent == 'SOCIETY_BALL'] *"Mary's invitation to the Society Ball was unexpected. 'All the right people will be there,' she promises. The dress requirements are... concerning."* [if SlotThreeEvent == 'VIOLET_CRATE_MIKA'; if PrivateResearchAttended; if VioletArchiveSuccessful; if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'] *"Ms. Whitlock has requested my presence for the unboxing of a 'significant acquisition' in the Mika Collection."* [continue] [if SlotThreeEvent == 'VIOLET_CRATE_MIKA'; if VioletCrateRevealed; if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'; unless PrivateResearchAttended] *"That mysterious crate Violet was so secretive about... I should see if it's arrived in the Mika Collection room."* [continue] [if SlotThreeEvent == 'VIOLET_CRATE_MIKA'; if VioletCrateRevealed; if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'; if PrivateResearchAttended; unless VioletArchiveSuccessful] *"That mysterious crate Violet was so secretive about... I should see if it's arrived in the Mika Collection room."* [if SlotThreeEvent == 'GEOLOGY'] *"The Duke's new obsession - the Geology Club. If I could convince him to allow me some findings... somehow?"*

[[➼Afternoon->Leisure Activity Selection (Demo)]] *"Ice cream in the park, weather permitting."*

A number of afternoon activities present themselves readily. Thankfully your work here is made much simpler by Eleanor herself: she has helpfully jotted various options in the margins of past weeks. Some are circled, others crossed out. [unless MarketVisited] - [[Visit the Market Fair->Set Leisure Market]] [continue] - [[Café Visit->Set Leisure Cafe]] [continue] - [[Ice Cream in the Park->Set Leisure IceCream]] [unless ApothecaryVisited] - [[Visit Apothecary->Set Leisure Apothecary]] [unless TrainStationVisited] - [[Train Station People-Watching->Set Leisure Train]] [unless GeologyClubAttended] - [[Geology Club - The Duke's Gathering->Set Leisure Geology]] [unless GardenPartyAttended] - [[♥Garden Party - Archaeological Society->Set Leisure Garden]] [if MaryTeaSuccessful; unless SocietyBallAttended; if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'] - [[♥Society Ball with Mary->Set Leisure Society_Ball]] [continue] [note] INVITED [continue] [if PrivateResearchAttended; if VioletArchiveSuccessful; if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'; unless VioletCrateAttended] - [[♠Attend Violet's "Confidential Unboxing"->Set Leisure VioletCrateMikaPathA]] [continue] [note] UNINVITED [continue] [if VioletCrateRevealed; if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'; unless VioletCrateAttended; unless PrivateResearchAttended] - [[♠Investigate the Mika Collection Crate->Set Leisure VioletCrateMikaPathB]] [continue] [if VioletCrateRevealed; if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'; unless VioletCrateAttended; if PrivateResearchAttended; unless VioletArchiveSuccessful] - [[♠Investigate the Mika Collection Crate->Set Leisure VioletCrateMikaPathB]] [continue] {link to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'} [note] TO (MAYBE) DEVELOP AFTER FIRST RELEASE [if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'; unless GraveVisited - [[Visit Parents' Grave->Set Leisure Grave] [unless AuctionAttended] - [[Evening Auction - Private Collection->Set Leisure Auction] [continue]

A number of afternoon activities present themselves readily. Thankfully your work here is made much simpler by Eleanor herself: she has helpfully jotted various options in the margins of past weeks. Some are circled, others crossed out. * Visit the Market Fair * Café Visit * Ice Cream in the Park * Visit Apothecary * Train Station People-Watching * Geology Club - The Duke's Gathering * Garden Party * Evening Auction - Private Collection {link to: 'Slot Selection (Demo)', label: 'Back'}

[if passage.fromText == 'A copper dial'] With a flick of your wrist, you rotate the dial all the way to the right. At that, the cabin surrounding you shifts in its dimensions, with the blue window expanding outwards. Once again you’re drawn forward and everything blurs into a pale golden haze. [[You blink.->Gluttony Eleanor Past terrace cutscene] [if passage.fromText == 'A scarlet lever'] With a show of strength, you set the lever to the very top. At that, the cabin surrounding you shifts in its dimensions, with the blue window expanding outwards. Once again you’re drawn forward and everything blurs into a pale golden haze. [[You blink.->Rage Eleanor Past terrace cutscene] [if passage.fromText == 'An ivory switch'] You slowly, gently, flick the switch on. At that, the cabin surrounding you shifts in its dimensions, with the blue window expanding outwards. Once again you’re drawn forward and everything blurs into a pale golden haze. [[You blink.->Poise Eleanor Past terrace cutscene] [if passage.fromText == 'A trembling chain'] You hastly yank the chain towards you. At that, the cabin surrounding you shifts in its dimensions, with the blue window expanding outwards. Once again you’re drawn forward and everything blurs into a pale golden haze. [[You blink.->Doubt Eleanor Past terrace cutscene] [if passage.fromText == 'A small brass key'] With a flick of your wrist, you turn the brass key to the right. At that, the cabin surrounding you shifts in its dimensions, with the blue window expanding outwards. Once again you’re drawn forward and everything blurs into a pale golden haze. [[You blink.->Curiosity Eleanor Past terrace cutscene] [if passage.fromText == 'A velvet-covered button'] You press your hand onto the button, finding it strangely malleable and soft. At that, the cabin surrounding you shifts in its dimensions, with the blue window expanding outwards. Once again you’re drawn forward and everything blurs into a pale golden haze. [[You blink.->Longing Eleanor Past terrace cutscene]

config.style.googleFont: '<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Bona+Nova:ital,wght@0,400;0,700;1,400&display=swap" rel="stylesheet">' config.style.page.font: 'Bona Nova/serif 12' config.style.page.header.font: "20" config.style.page.header.link.font: "" config.style.page.footer.font: "10" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "" config.style.page.verticalAlign: "center" config.style.page.style: "shadow" config.style.backdrop: "Indigo-2" config.style.dark.page.header.border: 'thin-line' config.style.page.header.font: "12" config.footer.center: "" config.style.page.footer.link.active.font: "regular" config.style.page.header.link.active.font: "regular" config.footer.left: "Daemon of Hunger" config.style.page.footer.font: "" config.style.page.theme.enableSwitching: true config.style.backdrop: "#563232" config.style.page.color: "black on amber-2" config.style.page.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.dark.backdrop: "teal-5" config.style.dark.page.color: "gray-1 on gray-6" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "white" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "teal-3" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "aquamarine-2 on gray-6" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "teal-5" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "white" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "teal-3" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "aquamarine-2 on gray-6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "teal-5" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "aquamarine-2 on gray-6" config.body.transition.name: 'crossfade' config.style.fontScaling.baseViewportWidth: 900 config.style.page.theme.override: 'light' dialogue.speed: 'Normal' InventoryDebug: false AsciiBackdrop_Opacity: 0.2 AsciiBackdrop_Speed: 8 AsciiBackdrop_FontSize: 14 AsciiBackdrop_Clickable: true AsciiBackdrop_Pattern: 'random' AsciiBackdrop_Enabled: 'On' -- [JavaScript] comesFromMenu = function (){ if (trail.length>1){ if (engine.story.passageNamed(trail[trail.length-2]).tags.includes("Menu")){ return true; }else{ return false; } } else { return undefined; } }; get_last_ingame_passage =function(){ let trail_clone=Object.assign([],trail); let rtrail=trail_clone.reverse(); let result = rtrail.find(el => !engine.story.passageNamed(el).tags.includes("Menu")); return result; } [continued] [JavaScript] comesFromCutscene = function () { const currentPassage = engine.story.passageNamed(passage.name); return currentPassage.tags.includes("Cutscene"); }; isInPast = function () { const currentPassage = engine.story.passageNamed(passage.name); return currentPassage.tags.includes("Past"); }; [continued] <link rel="stylesheet" href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Dancing+Script:wght@400;700&display=swap"> <style> .titleScreen { text-align: center; } body { background-color: gray; } </style> <div class="titleScreen"> <center><h1 style="font-family: 'Dancing Script', cursive; font-size: 56px;"> </h1></center> <br><br> </div> [align center] Loading... [continued] [after 3 second] [align center] [[Click here to continue.->Title Screen CH.2]] [continued] {embed passage: 'Bought Variable Set'} {ascii backdrop}

config.style.googleFont: '<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Bona+Nova:ital,wght@0,400;0,700;1,400&display=swap" rel="stylesheet">' config.style.page.font: 'Bona Nova/serif 12' config.style.page.header.font: "20" config.style.page.header.link.font: "" config.style.page.footer.font: "10" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "" config.style.page.verticalAlign: "center" config.style.page.style: "shadow" config.style.backdrop: "Indigo-2" config.style.dark.page.header.border: 'thin-line' config.style.page.header.font: "12" config.footer.center: "" config.style.page.footer.link.active.font: "regular" config.style.page.header.link.active.font: "regular" config.footer.left: "Spirit of Hunger" config.style.page.footer.font: "" config.style.page.theme.enableSwitching: true config.style.page.theme.override: 'light' config.style.backdrop: "#563232" config.style.page.color: "black on amber-2" config.style.page.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.dark.backdrop: "teal-5" config.style.dark.page.color: "gray-1 on gray-6" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "white" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "teal-3" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "aquamarine-2 on gray-6" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "teal-5" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "white" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "teal-3" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "aquamarine-2 on gray-6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "teal-5" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "aquamarine-2 on gray-6" config.body.transition.name: 'crossfade' config.style.fontScaling.baseViewportWidth: 900 dialogue.speed: 'Normal' InventoryDebug: false AsciiBackdrop_Opacity: 0.2 AsciiBackdrop_Speed: 8 AsciiBackdrop_FontSize: 14 AsciiBackdrop_Clickable: true AsciiBackdrop_Pattern: 'random' AsciiBackdrop_Enabled: 'On' PageMask_Enabled: 'On' PageMask_Override: 'Chapter' PageMask_Chapter: 'None' DebugMenu: false -- [JavaScript] comesFromMenu = function (){ if (trail.length>1){ if (engine.story.passageNamed(trail[trail.length-2]).tags.includes("Menu")){ return true; }else{ return false; } } else { return undefined; } }; get_last_ingame_passage =function(){ let trail_clone=Object.assign([],trail); let rtrail=trail_clone.reverse(); let result = rtrail.find(el => !engine.story.passageNamed(el).tags.includes("Menu")); return result; } [continued] [JavaScript] comesFromCutscene = function () { const currentPassage = engine.story.passageNamed(passage.name); return currentPassage.tags.includes("Cutscene"); }; isInPast = function () { const currentPassage = engine.story.passageNamed(passage.name); return currentPassage.tags.includes("Past"); }; [continued] [JavaScript] engine.state.set("isCutscene",comesFromCutscene()); engine.state.set("isFuture",checkFuture()); engine.state.set("isMisaligned",checkMisaligned()); engine.state.set("isGorged",checkGorged()); [continue] {embed passage: 'Bought Variable Set'} <link rel="stylesheet" href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Dancing+Script:wght@400;700&display=swap"> <style> .titleScreen { text-align: center; } body { background-color: gray; } </style> <div class="titleScreen"> <center><h1 style="font-family: 'Dancing Script', cursive; font-size: 56px;"> </h1></center> <br><br> </div> [align center] Loading... [continued] [after 3 second] [align center; if CH3Standalone] [[Click here to continue ->Title Screen CH.3]][[.->Title screen CH.3 variant]] [continue] [align center; if CH2Standalone] [[Click here to continue ->Title Screen CH.2]][[.->Title screen CH.2 variant]] [continue] [align center; unless CH2Standalone || CH3Standalone] [[Click here to continue ->Title screen]][[.->Title screen variant]] [continue] [continued] {ascii backdrop}

[if pastterraceturn == 1] You tear your gaze away, your breath unsteady as you place your teacup back down. It’s ridiculous. All of it. You're better than this, Eleanor! Better than getting yourself all bothered up for, out of all people, such an dimwitted individual. You are professional, intelligent, cold as ice. This nonsense should have nothing to do with you. Mary notices, finally. "Eleanor? Are you quite alright? You’ve gone all quiet on me." You force a smile, your corset pressing against the rapid thrum of your heart. "Yes," voice soft, controlled. "Just... thinking." She hums, unconvinced but unbothered. [[You blink once more, and detach yourself from Eleanor's mind.->Past Terrace (Turn system)]] [if pastterraceturn == 3] You tear your gaze away, your breath unsteady as you place your teacup back down. It’s ridiculous. All of it. You're better than this, Eleanor! Better than getting yourself all bothered up for, out of all people, such an dimwitted individual. You are professional, intelligent, cold as ice. This nonsense should have nothing to do with you. Mary notices, finally. "Eleanor? Are you quite alright? You’ve gone all quiet on me." You force a smile, your corset pressing against the rapid thrum of your heart. "Yes," voice soft, controlled. "Just... thinking." She hums, unconvinced but unbothered. [[You blink once more, and detach yourself from Eleanor's mind.->Past Terrace (Turn system)]]

EleanorDepression: true -- Your gaze drifts lower, to the shape of your own hands resting idly in your lap. Hands made for work, for cataloging, writing. When was the last time someone held them? [[*You blink once more, and detach yourself from Eleanor's mind.*->Past Terrace (Turn system)]] [note] You rise from your seat, the stiff fabric of your dress shifting around your form. You wander toward the edge of the terrace, resting your hands on the railing as you stare out into the street below. You had thought this home would bring you closer to your family. That inheriting it would fill the void, tether you to some sense of history. But who were you kidding? You are the last of your lineage. No one's here. [[*You blink once more, and detach yourself from Eleanor's mind.*->Past Terrace (Turn system) [continued]

LongingTerrace: true -- [if pastterraceturn == 1] The terrace sharpens, its colors gaining intensity and blurring at the edges. Mary’s voice goes on and on, and as you begin to zone out of it, you start to hear a faint melody to it. Her curls catch the sunlight just so, the red fabric of her dress pressing snug against her perfect waist, her lips curling into that easy, shallow smile. You shouldn’t be staring. But your gaze lingers, tracing the curve of her neckline, the faint flush to her cheeks, her chest, oversized for such a lithe frame. A stirring heat blooms low in your belly and loins - unexpected, unwelcome... unfortunately for you, undeniable. [[You force yourself to look away. ->Longing Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 2]] [if pastterraceturn == 2] The terrace sharpens, its colors gaining intensity and blurring at the edges. The terrace is silent. No Mary. No idle chatter. The emptiness presses down on you, heavier than the still air. [[No one to share the quiet with.->Longing Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 3]] [if pastterraceturn == 3] The terrace sharpens, its colors gaining intensity and blurring at the edges. Mary’s voice goes on and on, and as you begin to zone out of it, you start to hear a faint melody to it. Her curls catch the sunlight just so, the red fabric of her dress pressing snug against her perfect waist, her lips curling into that easy, shallow smile. You shouldn’t be staring. But your gaze lingers, tracing the curve of her neckline, the faint flush to her cheeks, her chest, oversized for such a lithe frame. A stirring heat blooms low in your belly and loins - unexpected, unwelcome... unfortunately for you, undeniable. [[You force yourself to look away. ->Longing Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 2]]

[if passage.name == 'Slot Selection'] [[➼Lunch->Lunch Activity Selection]] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'CAFE'] *"Lunch at the museum café. Reasonable prices, tolerable food."* [if SlotTwoEvent == 'BAKERY'] *"The bakery across the street has those delightful meat pies again. A bit indulgent, perhaps."* [if SlotTwoEvent == 'TAVERN'] *"The Crown & Anchor Tavern. I've heard they serve proper hearty fare, though perhaps not the most respectable establishment for a lady to dine alone."* [if SlotTwoEvent == 'TEAROOM'] *"The new tea room on High Street. Their pastries are said to be exquisite."* [if SlotTwoEvent == 'DELICATESSEN'] *"The German delicatessen offers me the opportunity to sample continental cuisine - surely such cultural exploration would benefit my... archaeological perspective."* [if SlotTwoEvent == 'PIECART'] *"The pie cart vendor should be making his rounds near the museum."* [if SlotTwoEvent == 'HAMPER'] *"A proper hamper delivery from Harrods. Expensive, but I may need to entertain potential benefactors at short notice."* [if SlotTwoEvent == 'MARY'] *"Tea With Mary. Another attempt to discuss funding over pastries. She means well, even if her uncle hasn't responded to any of my letters."* [if SlotTwoEvent == 'DIRECTOR'] *"Meeting with the Director during lunch. Finally a chance to discuss the expedition funding."* [if SlotTwoEvent == 'DESK'] *"Working through lunch again. Not ideal, but necessary."* [if SlotTwoEvent == 'BANK'] *"The bank manager agreed to discuss a private loan. Best skip breakfast - their tea is dreadful but refusing would be impolite."* [if DateProposed == true; if SlotTwoEvent == 'TRANSLATION'] *"Comparing notes with Richard on ancient scripts over lunch. His enthusiasm for the mysterious is rather endearing."* [if SlotTwoEvent == 'CHARITABLELUNCHEON'] *"The Ladies' Charitable Luncheon. What an excellent networking opportunity!"* [if SlotTwoEvent == 'BENEFACTOR'] *"An impromptu invitation from a museum patron. I must be gracious and accommodating."* [note] The 'DESK' event is supposed to be without food on the first selection, then a small amount on the next, a bigger amount on the following one, ecc. [continue]

[[➼Lunch->Lunch Activity Selection (Demo)]] *"Lunch at the museum café. Reasonable prices, tolerable food."*

You ponder through all the places Eleanor could visit for lunch - places where her hunger might be satisfied to varying degrees. That should still be your main priority, all things considered, as her hunger has not yet been satisfied. [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'] You are starting to wonder whether it will ever be. The thought does... excite you. [continue] - [[Museum Café->Set Lunch Cafe]] [continue] - [[Local Bakery->Set Lunch Bakery]] [continue] - [[The Crown & Anchor Tavern->Set Lunch Tavern]] [continue] - [[Tea Room & Confectionery->Set Lunch TeaRoom]] [continue] [unless CurrentDay == 'THURSDAY'; unless CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'] - [[Pie Cart Vendor->Set Lunch PieCart]] [continue] [unless LunchWithMary] - [[♥Tea with Mary->Set Lunch Mary]] [unless LunchWithDirector; unless CurrentDay == 'MONDAY'] - [[Meeting with Director->Set Lunch Director]] [continue] [note] - [[Working Lunch at Desk->Set Lunch Desk] [continue] [unless BankMeetingAttended] - [[Bank Meeting->Set Lunch Bank]] [if DateProposed == true; unless TranslationSessionAttended] - [[♣Translation Session with Richard->Set Lunch Translation]] [continue] {link to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'} [note] TO (MAYBE) DEVELOP AFTER FIRST RELEASE - [[The German Delicatessen->Set Lunch Delicatessen] [if MaryTeaSuccessful; unless CharitableLuncheonAttended - [[Ladies' Charitable Luncheon->Set Lunch CharitableLuncheon] [if ExpeditionFunds >= 2; unless BenefactorLunchAttended - [[Impromptu Lunch with Museum Benefactor->Set Lunch Benefactor [continue]

You ponder through all the places Eleanor could visit for lunch - places where her hunger might be satisfied to varying degrees. That should still be your main priority, all things considered, as her hunger has not yet been satisfied. * Museum Café * Local Bakery * Tea with Mary * Meeting with Director * Working Lunch at Desk * Bank Meeting {link to: 'Slot Selection (Demo)', label: 'Back'}

IntroMeetingMaryPersuasion: true -- Your eyes keep drifting to Eleanor. The way her waistcoat strains across her chest, how her cheeks flush when addressed... it's utterly distracting. Poor thing looks so uncomfortable in that restrictive clothing. You imagine helping her loosen those buttons, watching her breathe easier as you slip your hands under the fabric to massage away the marks left by the too-tight garments. You'd be doing her a kindness, really. Perhaps you could offer some private "assistance" after the meeting? The thought warms your cheeks as you adjust your collar. {plainlink to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MagnifyingGlassAligned: true VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 1 -- You direct a pulse of energy into the magnifying glass lying on the table. It vibrates sharply, the bone handle rattling against the scarred wood. The lens itself seems to hum, and the diffuse light from the overhead gas lamp catches within it. For just a few seconds - not enough for anyone to notice, but you see it clear as day - the light coalesces into a thin, surprisingly bright beam. It flickers and dances across the ceiling before settling onto a brass fitting: the point where the gas lamp chain meets the ceiling mount directly above. The intense pinpoint of light remains fixed there for a moment before the vibration ceases and the beam disperses. {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'} [note] Cutscene for using Aether on the magnifying glass during Archive Review. Sets the flag indicating alignment for a later interaction. [continue]

MagnifyingGlassCracked: true -- You pour your growing power into the magnifying glass. The air thrums as the object vibrates violently, rattling against its wooden stand. The focused point of light flares intensely on the desk, [if MagnifyingGlassScorched] [append] charring the existing scorch mark further. [if unless MagnifyingGlassScorched] [append] leaving a distinct black scorch mark. [continue] Then, with a sharp *ping* that echoes in the quiet office, a hairline crack appears on the lens, splitting outward from the center. The vibrations die down abruptly. The magnifying glass stills, now permanently marred. *Clearly, your influence over the physical world has grown stronger.* {link to: 'magnifying glass', label: 'Back'}

[if VioletInterest <= 1] {embed passage: 'Magnifying Glass Aether Midweek Standard'} [if VioletInterest > 1] {embed passage: 'Magnifying Glass Aether Midweek Violet'}

MagnifyingGlassScorched: true -- Focusing, you send a strong vibration into the magnifying glass. It hums audibly, trembling noticeably on its stand. The lens shudders, catching the ambient light... but refracting it strangely. At odd angles. A tiny, intensely purple pinprick of light focuses sharply onto the dark wood of the desk beneath it. [unless passage.visits > 1] A faint curl of *violet-tinged* smoke rises as the light bites into the wood, leaving behind a minuscule, dark scorch mark. [continue] The vibration ceases, the light disperses, and the magnifying glass settles. The small mark on the desk remains. {link to: 'magnifying glass', label: 'Back'}

MagnifyingGlassScorched: true EyeMarkCreated: true VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 2 -- Focusing, you send a strong vibration into the magnifying glass. It hums audibly, trembling noticeably on its stand. The lens shudders, catching the ambient light and twisting it into an unnatural hue. A tiny, intensely purple pinprick of light focuses sharply onto the dark wood of the desk beneath it. [unless EyeMarkCreated] The purple light etches into the wood, forming not just a simple scorch, but the distinct shape of... an eye? As the shape completes, you hear a faint, sharp intake of breath from somewhere far away, followed by a distant *"ow!"*. [continue] [if EyeMarkCreated] The purple light flares briefly over the existing eye-shaped scorch mark on the desk. [continue] The vibration ceases, the light disperses, and the magnifying glass settles. The unsettling eye mark on the desk remains. {link to: 'magnifying glass', label: 'Back'}

You focus your will on the magnifying glass. A faint tremor runs through its bone handle, causing the brass rim to quiver slightly on its makeshift stand. For a second or so, the light catching the lens wobbles, casting a dancing reflection on the ceiling above before settling back into stillness. A subtle effect, really - barely noticeable. *...how disappointing.* {link to: 'magnifying glass', label: 'Back'}

[if CurrentDay == 'MONDAY'] {embed passage: 'Magnifying Glass Aether Monday'} [if CurrentDay == 'TUESDAY' || CurrentDay == 'WEDNESDAY' || CurrentDay == 'THURSDAY'] {embed passage: 'Magnifying Glass Aether Midweek Router'} [if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'] {embed passage: 'Magnifying Glass Aether Friday'}

VioletLookingGlassPersuasion: true -- You focus your essence, attempting to project your influence into the cold glass and brass of the magnifying lens as you would probe a mind. As you’d expect, there's no give, no familiar flicker of thought or emotion - just brass and glass, inert…? You persist, concentrating on what you think is a... [[faint resonance->Magnifying Glass Animus Attempt Violet 2]].

And something *does* shift. It's not thought, but a faint, cold echo bouncing back at you through the lens. A feeling of *being observed*, analyzed, almost... cataloged. The sensation is sharp. Precise. The feedback abruptly ceases, leaving only the silence of the office and the unsettling impression that your attempt might not have gone unnoticed. {link to: 'magnifying glass', label: 'Back'} [note] This passage is triggered exceptionally by attempting Persuasion on an object when Violet's interest/awareness is high. The outcome reflects her potential psychic sensitivity or observation directed at the player/spirit or its influence, rather than influencing the object itself. Still, it does not increment VioletInteres, as the player might stumble on it by accident, and not while trying to do her route. [continue]

DukeMarbleUsed: true DukePersuaded: true GeologyClubTurns: 4 -- Metamorphic processes... fascinating how limestone transforms under pressure and heat, becoming something entirely new. Malleable, responsive to influence. Perhaps... yes, perhaps this young woman's theories deserve closer examination. Geological formations do reveal patterns that ancient peoples might have observed. The way crystals arrange themselves, the striations in rock faces... it's not entirely impossible that early miners would have developed symbolic representations based on what they encountered underground. Miss Lovelace seems earnest in her research. One must remain... flexible... when examining new hypotheses. Even though they bore me. {link to: 'Geology Club Diorama', label: 'Back'}

DukeMarbleUsed: true GeologyClubTurns: 4 -- Metamorphic processes... fascinating how limestone transforms under pressure and heat, becoming something entirely new. Malleable, responsive to influence. Perhaps... yes, perhaps this young woman's theories deserve closer examination. Geological formations do reveal patterns that ancient peoples might have observed. The way crystals arrange themselves, the striations in rock faces... it's not entirely impossible that early miners would have developed symbolic representations based on what they encountered underground. Miss Lovelace seems earnest in her research. One must remain... flexible... when examining new hypotheses. Even though they bore me. {link to: 'Geology Club Diorama', label: 'Back'}

SlotThreeAttended: true -- The market spreads across the cobbled square in organized rows, with canvas awnings stretched between wooden poles that create patches of shade and sunlight. Eleanor pauses at the square's edge, adjusting her workbag's strap across her shoulder. A number of vendors call out prices from behind their stalls while customers move between the displays, their conversations mixing with the creak of cart wheels and the rustle of canvas in the breeze. The scents drift toward her - fresh bread from a bakery stall, roasted nuts, the earthy smell of root vegetables piled in wooden crates. A woman in a blue apron arranges pottery on a cloth-covered table - another brushes past Eleanor carrying a basket of root vegetables, followed by two children chasing after a escaped chicken. [[The market draws you both deeper.->Market Fair Cutscene 2 Router]]

[if CurrentDay == 'MONDAY'] {embed passage: 'Market Fair Monday Cutscene'} [if CurrentDay == 'TUESDAY'] {embed passage: 'Market Fair Tuesday Cutscene'} [if CurrentDay == 'WEDNESDAY'] {embed passage: 'Market Fair Wednesday Cutscene'} [if CurrentDay == 'THURSDAY'] {embed passage: 'Market Fair Thursday Cutscene'} [if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'] {embed passage: 'Market Fair Friday Cutscene'}

MarketVisited: true -- Finally, Eleanor reaches the square's far edge where the market gives way to residential streets. She adjusts her workbag, now slightly heavier than when she arrived, and checks her pocket watch against the slant of light. The sounds of the market fade with each step - voices becoming murmur, cart wheels becoming distant rumble. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Back towards the flat, then.'}

DayCalories: DayCalories + 2 -- The market shows signs of conclusion - vendors packing unsold goods, awnings being folded, the crowd thinning to occasional stragglers. A baker loads brown loaves into a wooden crate, their surfaces darkened beyond the morning's golden color. He glances up as Eleanor approaches, then reaches beneath his counter to withdraw a meat pie wrapped in greased paper. The pastry's surface has cracked during the day's display, revealing glimpses of filling beneath. He knows this, and names a price reduced by half. The square's emptiness becomes more pronounced with each packed stall. Eleanor finishes the pie as the last vendor wheels his cart toward the side street - soon enough there will only be scattered paper and the smell of extinguished [[cooking fires->Market Fair Cutscene 3]].

DayCalories: DayCalories + 2 -- Eleanor arrives as vendors settle into the afternoon rhythm. You catch the sight of a fishmonger scraping ice shavings from his counter while arranging the day's remaining catch. The baker's display shows gaps where loaves have sold, but several brown rounds remain on wooden boards, their crusts darkened by hours under the canvas. The baker tears a piece from a day-old loaf, offering it without ceremony. Eleanor purchases what remains of the loaf, breaking pieces with her fingers as she walks. [[The crust crumbles between her teeth.->Market Fair Cutscene 3]]

DayCalories: DayCalories + 2 RichardRelationship: RichardRelationship + 1 -- You recognizes Richard's tall frame bent over a table of British ceramics, his squared spectacles reflecting the afternoon light as he examines a handled jug. He turns the piece repeatedly, tracing raised patterns with his index finger, his expression shifting from concentration to mild embarrassment as Eleanor's shadow falls across the table. He sets down the jug and gestures toward the markings. Eleanor lifts the piece, running her thumb along the raised spirals while explaining the technique used to create such patterns. A tea vendor with a wheeled cart approaches their table. Richard purchases two cups and a plate of plain biscuits, setting them between the pottery displays. Eleanor reaches for a biscuit while continuing her explanation, the sweet crumbs catching on her gloves as she illustrates the differences between wheel-thrown and [[hand-built techniques->Market Fair Cutscene 3]].

DayCalories: DayCalories + 1 ExpeditionFunds: ExpeditionFunds + 1 -- A woman with clay beneath her fingernails arranges pottery on a wooden table draped with rough linen. You briefly wonder why the two of you have stopped here, but then you see it: a shallow bowl near the table's edge - crude work, thumb-smoothed rather than wheel-turned, with scratched markings visible around the rim. Ancient-looking. Eleanor lifts it, turning it toward the light streaming through the canvas above. The symbols catch the afternoon sun. Parallel lines intersected by short marks, forming patterns that mirror the rubbings folded in her workbag. The potter names her price without looking up from arranging larger vessels. Eleanor counts coins from her purse, wrapping the bowl in her handkerchief before settling it carefully among her papers - [[a new artifact to convince the commission with.->Market Fair Cutscene 3]]

DayCalories: DayCalories + 5 -- Eleanor navigates between knots of people, her movement guided by the press of bodies and the magnetic pull of food stalls radiating outward from the square's center. A chestnut vendor thrusts a paper cone into her hands before she can protest, the roasted nuts burning her fingertips through their shells. She cracks them with her teeth, extracting the soft meat while continuing forward. At a pastry cart, golden-brown turnovers glisten under glass, their surfaces dusted with coarse sugar - again, the vendor slides one onto a small plate without waiting for her order. It's relentless. A woman with a flour-white apron presses samples of dried fruit into her palm - another merchant offers small cakes studded with currants, their surfaces sticky with honey that adheres to her gloves. Each vendor's enthusiasm is more persuasive than the last, until her pockets hold a lot of empty wrappers and her stomach [[sits much heavier than intended->Market Fair Cutscene 3]].

[if pastterraceturn == 1] Mary sits across from Eleanor, dressed in a striking red day dress with puffed sleeves and a prominent bustle. The fabric, though vibrant, seems slightly wrinkled, as if just bought for the occasion. Her dark curls are pinned loosely, with a few stray locks brushing her round cheeks. Her figure is lithe, her few and forcefully exaggerated curves comfortably filling the structured gown. The fit seems snug across her thin waist. She speaks with cheerful abandon, gesturing often with her teacup, sloshing its contents just shy of the rim. Her words tumble out without pause, though there's little depth behind them. *That's not all. You catch yourself getting pulled towards [[her form->Mary Control Failure]], drawn closer by some unseen thread.* [continue] [if pastterraceturn == 3; unless boxofsweetseaten] Mary sits across from Eleanor, dressed in a striking red day dress with puffed sleeves and a prominent bustle. The fabric, though vibrant, seems slightly wrinkled, as if just bought for the occasion. Her dark curls are pinned loosely, with a few stray locks brushing her round cheeks. Her figure is lithe, her few and forcefully exaggerated curves comfortably filling the structured gown. The fit seems snug across her thin waist. She speaks with cheerful abandon, gesturing often with her teacup, sloshing its contents just shy of the rim. Her words tumble out without pause, though there's little depth behind them. *That's not all. You catch yourself getting pulled towards [[her form->Mary Control Failure]], drawn closer by some unseen thread.* [continue] [if pastterraceturn == 3; if boxofsweetseaten] Mary sits across from Eleanor, dressed in a striking red day dress with puffed sleeves and a prominent bustle. The fabric, though vibrant, seems slightly wrinkled, as if just bought for the occasion. Her dark curls are pinned loosely, with a few stray locks brushing her round cheeks. Her figure is lithe, her few and forcefully exaggerated curves comfortably filling the structured gown. The fit seems snug across her thin waist. She speaks with cheerful abandon, gesturing often with her teacup, sloshing its contents just shy of the rim. Her words tumble out without pause, though there's little depth behind them. *That's not all. You catch yourself getting pulled towards [[her form->Mary Control Failure]], drawn closer by some unseen thread.* [continue] {link to: 'Past Terrace (Turn system)', label: 'Back'}

MaryFailureAnimus: MaryFailureAnimus + 1 -- [if MaryFailureAnimus == 1] Something draws you toward Mary's seated form - an invisible thread tugging at your essence. You drift closer, your consciousness reaching tentatively for her mind... [[But something's not right.->Mary Control Failure]] [unless MaryFailureAnimus == 1] As your essence approaches her consciousness, you encounter something unexpected. Not resistance - simply *nothing*. Her thoughts slip away like water through your fingers, too quick, too fluid for your weak grasp to hold. Laughter, chatter... - you catch only fleeting impressions before they scatter. You are not strong enough to get a hold of things here. *Not yet.* {link to: 'Mary', label: 'Back'}

A few moments pass. Mary continues chatting, but her voice loses some of its usual sparkle. A subtle pallor creeps into her cheeks, replacing the natural flush. She pauses mid-sentence, swallowing hard, and presses a hand discreetly to her stomach beneath the table. "*...so then Mrs. Albright simply *insisted*...to...um...*" She falters again, her brow furrowing slightly. She takes a quick, shaky sip of tea. "*Oh dear. Terribly sorry, Eleanor... must be the heat in here.*" She fans herself weakly with her handkerchief, attempting a smile. [[The pallor deepens.->Mary Gets Sick 2]] [note] First part of the sickness sequence, showing initial symptoms. Links directly to the next part. [continue]

Mary's breathing becomes noticeably shallower, and a fine sheen appears on her forehead despite her fanning. She abruptly sets down her teacup with a clatter, knocking over the small sugar tongs to the side. "*Oh! Clumsy...*" she murmurs, but makes no move to pick them up. She closes her eyes for a moment, pressing her lips together tightly. "*Eleanor, darling...*" she begins, her voice strained, "*I fear I'm... I just realized I'm running late for a... thing... yes, dreadfully sorry to cut this short, but I... I really must get some air. Ahah...*" *** You feel a strange ripple in the air around you, as if time itself is hesitating. The world seems to pause, suspended between moments. You realize you're being given a choice: either [[proceed->Mary Sick Ending 1]] - with the feeling you may not be able to return here afterward - or [[start this encounter over from the beginning->Tea With Mary Cutscene 2]]. {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'} [note] Second part of sickness sequence, worsening symptoms, excuse, and the Diorama End Choice. Links to either the reset or the final ending passage for this path. [continue]

HandbagSpilled: true QuillPaperPowdered (QuillPaperFallen): true -- You direct a concentrated pulse of Aether towards Mary's lilac handbag resting beside her chair. The butterfly-shaped flips open with a soft *click* as the object jerks sideways and tips over, spilling its contents onto the carpet near Mary's feet: a small coin purse, a lace-trimmed handkerchief, and a small, ornate powder compact. The compact lands awkwardly, its lid snapping open, releasing a fine cloud of pale, faintly shimmering powder that settles over the immediate area... [if QuillPaperFallen] ...including the fallen quill and paper lying nearby. A noticeable dusting now coats the feather of the quill. Most importantly, *its tip*. [continue] "*Oh, goodness!*" Mary exclaims, momentarily flustered. She quickly bends down, scooping up her belongings. She rights her handbag with a slightly annoyed sigh. "*How clumsy of me...*" {link to: 'Mary Handbag Tea With Mary', label: 'Back'} [note] Cutscene triggered by using Aether on Mary's handbag. Sets HandbagSpilled to true and conditionally sets QuillPaperPowdered to true if, and only if, QuillPaperFallen was already true. [continue]

Mary's handbag rests on the floor beside her chair. It's a fashionable lilac colour, matching her dress perfectly, crafted from soft suede with a delicate silver clasp shaped like a butterfly. A fine silver chain serves as its handle. It seems quite new, perhaps purchased specifically for the season or even this particular outing. It's noticeably smaller than Eleanor's practical workbag, likely holding little more than a coin purse. Maybe an handkerchief, too. {link to: 'Tea With Mary Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless HandbagSpilled; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Mary Handbag Aether Spill]] [continue]

Mary is near the bronze statuette, her gloved fingertips touching its surface. Her crimson dress looks to be new, the fabric crisp and fashionable. That bustle and sleeves are bold choices. As you watch her, you quickly realize that her smile is basically constant, almost as if she’s stuck like that. Her focus is all over the place: her eyes dart once to the director, the next onto the statuette, the next on Eleanor, then the ceiling, the floor… it's making you dizzy. [if PastryCartVisible] *Her gaze occasionally flicks towards the pastry cart, and then speculatively towards Eleanor.* [continue] {link to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless IntroMeetingMaryPersuasion; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Mary persuasion menu]] [continue]

Mary stands wringing her hands, her normally cheerful demeanor replaced with barely contained panic. Her fashionable burgundy dress catches the lamplight, the vibrant color not really matching the gloom of the storage room. She shifts her weight constantly, occasionally casting pleading glances at Eleanor. When she thinks no one watching, her eyes dart to the clock on the wall. {link to: 'Mirror Diorama', label: 'Back'} [inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Mary Mirror persuasion menu]] [continue]

This isn't your fault. You followed procedures! You were just doing inventory as requested. Someone else must have uncovered it, someone clumsy... Perhaps one of the porters? Or maybe... maybe it was a new hire. A night watchman. Always sneaking around where they shouldn't be. Street rats, all of them! Yes, that's it. You just need to subtly suggest that possibility to Eleanor... and later, to the director. It certainly wasn't *you*. It can't have been. It can't! {plainlink to: 'Ancient Mirror Diorama', label: 'Back'}

Your hands tremble as you smooth down your dress for the tenth time - and you're not supposed to! You'll end up ruining it, Mary. The image of your uncle's stern face looms large in your mind. He secured this position for you, warned you against carelessness... and now *this*. A priceless artifact, damaged on your watch! Or at least, discovered by you. He'll withdraw his support. You'll be cut off, sent back home in disgrace. No, he won't. Yes he will! This is a disaster! Why does everything always go wrong for you? Not fair, not fair! {plainlink to: 'Ancient Mirror Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The air feels colder near the mirror, doesn't it? You can practically *feel* unseen eyes watching. Ol' Man Hemlock in Restoration always told stories... shadows moving, objects falling... He said the Whitlock donation brought something with it. And Violet, too! She's not right... This crack... also not right. Something made it happen. Something angry? Oh, *no*! You should've never come down here! You need to convince Eleanor to leave before *it* decides to break *us*. Gah!! {plainlink to: 'Ancient Mirror Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You concentrate, feeling your essence thin as it extends toward Mary's mind. Her thoughts are a frantic flutter, dominated by anxiety and a touch of superstitious dread. Some threads spiral louder than others... ➼[[**FEAR**->Mary Mirror Fear Persuasion]] *Oh dear, oh dear! My uncle will hear about this! I'll be dismissed for sure... or worse!* ➼[[**BLAME**->Mary Mirror Blame Persuasion]] *It wasn't me! I just found it like this! Perhaps it was faulty storage? Or... maybe one of the night staff? Yes, that must be it!* ➼[[**PANIC**->Mary Mirror Panic Persuasion]] *The watchmen always said this wing was haunted... Cold spots... whispers... Now this! It *must* be ghosts! We have to get out of here!* {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

SlotTwoAttended: true DayCalories: DayCalories + PastriesEaten MaryTeaSuccessful: false EleanorMine (MaryPricked == true): EleanorMine + 1 LunchWithMary: true -- Mary doesn't wait for Eleanor's reply. Instead, she pushes her chair back awkwardly and begins weaving unsteadily between the tables, narrowly avoiding bumping into a waiter. Eventually, she pushes through the exit door without a backward glance. Eleanor watches her go, a mixture of surprise and concern on her face. She looks down at the half-eaten pastries on the table, then back towards the door where Mary vanished. "*Well... that was [[abrupt->Mary Sick Ending 2]].*"

She remains seated for a moment longer, finishing her cup of tea thoughtfully before slowly gathering her own things. The sudden end to the meeting seems to have left her slightly perplexed, but clearly also relieved of Mary's incessant chatter. Through the windows, you get to watch Mary as she collapses onto the garden's pathway, face first. *Lovely*. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'} [note] Ending passage for the "Mary Gets Sick" path. Sets relevant variables, describes the conclusion, and links back to the main day logic. [continue]

Mary stands beside Eleanor, her burgundy silk gown immaculate and her dark curls arranged in an elaborate coiffure. She holds her champagne flute loosely, gesturing with it as she speaks, the crystal catching the light with each animated movement. [unless MaryBallAnimus] Her gaze darts between Eleanor and the other guests in rapid succession. Her smile remains constant, bright and fixed, as she nods at regular intervals. She leans forward when others speak, her head tilting at precise angles, her eyes bright and attentive. [if MaryBallAnimus == 'FOCUS'] Her usual rapid glances have slowed, her attention settling more frequently on Eleanor's face and posture. When Eleanor speaks, Mary's head tilts to one side and stays there. The champagne flute hangs motionless in her grip, the contents undisturbed. [if MaryBallAnimus == 'LUST'] A subtle flush colors her cheeks despite the evening's coolness. Her gaze follows the line of Eleanor's neckline, the way the emerald silk pulls across her figure, the delicate motions of Eleanor's gloved hands. When she thinks no one is watching, her tongue darts briefly across her lower lip. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'} [inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Mary Society Ball persuasion menu]] [continue]

MarySocietyBallPersuaded: true -- This is precisely the sort of evening you needed, and what are you doing? Lady Pemberton is literally *right there* across the ballroom! And the Ashworth table - I was supposed to secure introductions, make myself indispensable. I keep getting distracted by... well, everything! The orchestra, the gowns, Eleanor... no, stop! This is exactly what Uncle warned me about! I'm too scattered, too frivolous. "Social advancement requires focus, my dear." I. Know. Stop saying it! I should be cultivating connections with people who actually matter, not indulging Eleanor's hobbies. Though, if her expedition succeeds, early association could prove valuable, wouldn't it? No, no, that's such a gamble! Meanwhile, Lord Ashworth's wife is probably forming opinions about my suitability for their circle based on my... lack of attention. Gahh, I'm useless! {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MaryBallAnimus: 'FOCUS' -- Stop it, Mary! You're being absolutely scattered tonight. All this chatter about electric fixtures and bracelets - completely beside the point when Eleanor is standing right here trying to discuss her work. Look at her properly. Really listen. She's been talking about Celtic artifacts and ancient sites, and you've been nodding along without truly hearing a word. That's terribly rude! Eleanor took the trouble to attend tonight specifically for these introductions, and you're failing her completely. Mrs. Whitmore might be influential, but look at her: she's clearly not interested in archaeological discussions. That industrialist, ah, what a sweetheart. He could be interested! And that pianist fellow... oh no, wait a second... I better keep him at a distance. {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MaryBallAnimus: 'LUST' -- ...that emerald silk is practically painted onto her body, isn't it? The way it strains across her chest with every breath, those poor fastenings working overtime. And look at that waist. I can see exactly where the corset's digging in, creating such delicious little bulges above and below. She's gotten so beautifully plump since I last really looked. All that eating at the tearoom has certainly... settled on her. The way her bottom fills out that silk when she shifts her weight onto the buffet table - probably doesn't even realize how obvious it is. Far too absorbed in that lovely archaeological chatter of hers. Makes one terribly curious. God, I'm such an idiot! Why did I leave during the fitting? If I helped her out of that strangling corset... ran my hands over that tight, round belly... felt all that warm flesh spilling free. All breathless... and... grateful. God, it's getting hot in here. {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MaryBallAnimus: 'SYMPATHY' SocietyBallTurns: 6 -- Oh... oh no. Look at those seams. They're not just tight anymore, they're... they're actually starting to give way. I can see tiny threads pulling apart along the bodice, and that side seam is straining so badly it's gone white with tension. For just a moment you feel that same thrill, watching her body winning its battle against the silk... but then you see her face as she turns your way. She's trying so hard to breathe carefully, the flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck. She's in genuine distress and you were just... *What's wrong with you?* This poor darling is about to have a wardrobe catastrophe in front of all these people, and it's entirely your fault! You chose this gown, you insisted on that size, you dismissed her concerns about the fitting. She trusted you! Oh dear. You've set her up for public humiliation. You have to do something. Right. Now. {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MarySocietyBallPersuaded: true -- This burgundy silk was absolutely the perfect choice! The way it catches the chandelier light, how the color complements my complexion under these electric fixtures... simply divine. And the coiffure! Three hours with my lady's maid, but worth every minute. Not a curl out of place, even after the carriage ride. The other ladies here are *trying*, bless them, but that peacock blue on Mrs. Whitmore? Far too bold for her complexion. And poor Eleanor... oh, but she does look rather... *interesting* tonight, doesn't she? That emerald gown was such an inspired choice on my part. The way the bodice pulls across her figure, how she has to breathe so carefully... it really does emphasize her newfound softness quite beautifully. Such a shame she seems uncomfortable, but then again, the effect is rather... mesmerizing. I do look rather magnificent by comparison, yes! This shade of burgundy against my skin... absolutely radiant. {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward Mary's mind. Her thoughts flutter between social concerns and deeper currents, like pages of a fashion magazine caught in a sudden breeze. Some threads seem more prominent than others... [unless MaryBallAnimus == 'FOCUS'; unless MaryBallAnimus == 'LUST'] ➼[[**FOCUS**->Mary Society Ball Focus]] *So many people, so many conversations... no, stop it! I need to pay closer attention to what matters...* [if MaryBallAnimus == 'FOCUS'] ➼[[**LUST**->Mary Society Ball Lust]] *The way that emerald silk clings to her figure... how the bodice strains across her chest... rather fascinating, really...* [if MaryBallAnimus == 'LUST'] ➼[[**GUILT**->Mary Society Ball Sympathy]] *Wait... poor darling. What am I doing?* [continue] ➼[[**AMBITION**->Mary Society Ball Ambition]] *Tonight could advance my position considerably... the right connections... it's all so fun!* ➼[[**VANITY**->Mary Society Ball Vanity]] *I do look particularly radiant tonight. This burgundy silk was an inspired choice.* {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

Mary sits brightly opposite Eleanor. Her lilac dress is impeccably tailored, the fabric crisp and seemingly brand new. A spray of delicate flowers adorns the shoulder, complementing the long feather tucked into her hat. She gestures enthusiastically as she speaks, her movements quick and expressive. Her dark curls bounce with each turn of her head. Her waist is cinched tightly by the dress's cut, emphasizing her slender figure, though there's a comfortable ease to her posture, unlike Eleanor's more constrained demeanor. She seems thoroughly engaged, in her element, readily picking small portions from both tea and pastries as she chatters away. [if QuillPaperFallen] Lying near her feet on the carpeted floor is Eleanor's [[quill and paper->Fallen Quill Paper Tea Mary]]. [continue] {link to: 'Tea With Mary Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless TeaMaryMaryPersuaded; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Mary Tea With Mary persuasion menu]] [continue]

TeaMaryMaryPersuaded: true -- Right, focus. Uncle needs progress reports. Funding... Brittany... sounds terribly dusty. But Eleanor is persistent. If this obscure project *did* somehow succeed, being associated with it early could be advantageous. Might impress the right people. Best seem supportive, ask interested questions. Pretend to care about... *digging*. Ughhhh... I don't want to! {link to: 'Tea With Mary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

TeaMaryMaryPersuaded: true MaryLustPersuaded: true -- Honestly, watching Eleanor eat is always... quite something. Not very proper, is it? But *fascinating*! Yes. The way her waistcoat strains *so* tightly across her middle with every little cake she pops in. She must have gained a bit since you last saw her properly... those pastries aren't helping, certainly. Look at those buttons holding on for dear life! Adorable. It suits her, this softness. Makes her look quite... edible. She's getting rather plump, isn't she? Soft around the edges. That tight skirt must be digging in *terribly*. Poor thing. Though, it does rather emphasize the curve of her bottom when she shifts like that… I wonder if she even realizes how obvious it is? Probably not. Far too absorbed in her work for that. It makes one curious... how soft *is* she under all those layers? If I helped her loosen that corset... ran my hands over that tight, round belly… bet she'd gasp… {link to: 'Tea With Mary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

TeaMaryMaryPersuaded: true -- Must remember to check my reflection discreetly. This hat angle... is it flattering? Yes, quite. And the dress! Simply perfect for afternoon tea. Shows off the waist rather nicely, don't you think? Eleanor looks... fine. Serviceable. But hardly fashionable. Poor dear. Perhaps I should offer her some style advice later? Gently, of course. {link to: 'Tea With Mary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage", get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [unless TeaMaryMaryPersuaded] You extend your influence towards Mary, whose thoughts flutter like the ribbons on her hat - bright, airy, concerned with appearances and connections. ➼[[**VANITY**->Mary Tea With Mary Vanity]] *Does Eleanor notice this new dress? Cost a fortune, but worth it. Perhaps I should angle towards the mirror slightly... The lilac *does* complement my eyes.* ➼[[**AMBITION**->Mary Tea With Mary Ambition]] *Ugh! Uncle *did* say to cultivate the useful contacts. Eleanor's project sounds dreadfully dull, but if it succeeds...* ➼[[**LUST**->Mary Tea With Mary Lust]] *Poor Eleanor, she seems so... tightly wound. That waistcoat looks rather restrictive. I wonder what she looks like underneath... after all those pastries, too...* [if TeaMaryMaryPersuaded] Mary's thoughts feel unusually settled, flowing along the path you've already encouraged. Further pushing seems unnecessary for now. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [unless IntroMeetingMaryPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'base'] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward Mary's mind. You start to hear her inner thoughts, fluttering like pages of a fashion magazine, colorful and scattered. Some threads of dialogue seem louder than others. Perhaps, you can add your voice to them… ➼[[**LUST**->Lust Mary Intro Meeting]] *Oh, Eleanor looks so adorable when she's flustered.* ➼[[**AMBITION**->Ambition Mary Intro Meeting]] *Uncle will be pleased if I make a good impression on the director.* ➼[[**CHARM**->Charm Mary Intro Meeting]] *A laugh here, a smile there... how fun!* [unless IntroMeetingMaryPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'saved'] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward Mary's mind. You start to hear her inner thoughts, fluttering like pages of a fashion magazine, colorful and scattered. Some threads of dialogue seem louder than others. Perhaps, you can add your voice to them… ➼[[**LUST**->Lust Mary Intro Meeting]] *Oh, Eleanor looks so adorable when she's flustered.* ➼[[**AMBITION**->Ambition Mary Intro Meeting]] *Uncle will be pleased if I make a good impression on the director.* ➼[[**CHARM**->Charm Mary Intro Meeting]] *A laugh here, a smile there... how fun!* [unless IntroMeetingMaryPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'broken'] Mary's fascination with the broken amphora makes her mind too scattered for your influence. [unless IntroMeetingMaryPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'drunk'] Mary's surprise at Eleanor's behavior creates a mental barrier your influence cannot penetrate. [unless IntroMeetingMaryPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'teetering'] Mary's focus on the wobbling amphora makes her thoughts impenetrable to your influence. [continue] [if IntroMeetingMaryPersuasion] Mary's thoughts are now flowing in the direction you've nudged them. Any further attempt at manipulation would likely be noticed. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

{embed passage: 'Item Back Logic CH2'} The unseen forces of the physical world bend to your will. A soft green aura surrounds your form as you focus, allowing you to influence solid objects in subtle, but occasionally meaningful ways. As you vibrate, you find yourself confident in your ability to shift small objects, perhaps even exert enough force to tip precariously balanced items. {link to: itemBackTarget, label: 'Back'}

{embed passage: 'Item Back Logic CH1'} You inspect the item closer. The measuring tape hovers near you, its ribbon marked with precise increments in both inches and centimeters. The brass end catch shows signs of frequent handling, and though surely functional, is in fact loose. {one of: ["*The ribbon flutters like a snake tasting the air.*", "*It measures an invisible distance, then swiftly coils back with a snap.*", "*Its brass end swings gently, catching the light.*", "*...you don't know why, but you get the distinct impression it doesn't like you.*"], order: 'cycling'} {link to: itemBackTarget, label: 'Back'}

TapeBlouseFitted: true HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP + 1 -- The measuring tape unspools itself and drifts toward the blouse. Its ribbon winds around the garment's waist and chest, and as the brass end catch meets the rest of the tape, a soft glow emanates from the points of contact. The fabric shifts beneath the tape's pressure as it expands itself into wider circles. The blouse stretches subtly, its seams loosening just enough to better accommodate its owner's figure. {link to: 'blouse', label: 'Back'}

The measuring tape unspools itself and drifts toward the corset. Its ribbon winds around the garment, and though it starts to move, it quickly loosens itself away without making a difference. Its brass end looks back towards you, and you get the impression that it genuinely doesn't want to loosen the corset any further. Perhaps a looser corset would only encourage further gains? Maybe it fears that Eleanor might one day have to replace her tape with a longer one. {link to: 'corset', label: 'Back'}

The measuring tape unspools itself and drifts toward the corset. Its ribbon winds around the garment, and though it starts to move, it quickly loosens itself away without making a difference. Its brass end looks back towards you, and you get the impression that it genuinely doesn't want to tighten it any further. Odd, but maybe it feels bad that Eleanor has to suffer inside of it every working day. {link to: 'corset', label: 'Back'}

TapeDressFitted: true HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP - 1 -- The measuring tape unspools itself and drifts toward the yellow dress. Its ribbon winds around the garment's waist, and as the brass end catch meets the rest of the tape, a soft glow emanates from the points of contact. The fabric shifts beneath the tape's pressure as it expands itself into a wider circle... worsening the damage. As it scales up the needed 2, 4, 6, 10 inches, the dress ends up splitting in half. {link to: 'dress', label: 'Back'}

TapeGreenSkirtFitted: true HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP + 1 -- The measuring tape unspools itself and drifts toward the light green skirt. Its ribbon winds around the garment's hem, and as the brass end catch meets the rest of the tape, a soft glow emanates from the points of contact. The fabric stretches as the tape extends itself into a slightly bigger circle, subtly expanding the garment to better accommodate its owner's figure. This does not, however, manage to fix the hem - if anything, it makes it larger. {link to: 'light green skirt', label: 'Back'}

TapeSkirtFitted: true HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP + 1 -- The measuring tape unspools itself and drifts toward the skirt. Its ribbon winds around the garment's waistband, and as the brass end catch meets the rest of the tape, a soft glow emanates from the points of contact. The fabric shifts beneath the tape's pressure as it expands into a wider circle. The skirt's waist stretches, its pleats adjusting to accommodate a fuller figure while maintaining its overall shape. {link to: 'skirt', label: 'Back'}

TapeUndergarmentsFitted: true HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP + 1 -- The measuring tape unspools itself and drifts toward the undergarments. Its ribbon winds around the chemise's bust and waist, then shifts to trace the drawers' waistband. As the brass end catch meets the rest of the tape, a soft glow emanates from the points of contact. The cotton fabric shifts beneath the tape's pressure, expanding subtly at key points. The chemise grows fuller through the chest and middle, while the drawers' waistband stretches to accommodate wider hips. {link to: 'undergarments', label: 'Back'}

TapeWaistcoatUnFitted: true HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP - 1 -- The measuring tape unspools itself and drifts toward the waistcoat. Its ribbon winds tightly around the garment's middle, and as the brass end catch meets the rest of the tape, a sharp glow emanates from the points of contact. The fabric creaks as the tape constricts itself into a *smaller* circle, forcing the garment to shrink until its buttons strain against their holes. Seemingly satisfied with having just made Eleanor's work attire significantly more uncomfortable, the tape releases its grip and returns to you. {link to: 'waistcoat', label: 'Back'}

config.style.page.color: "#2a1a3a on #f4f0ff" config.style.page.link.color: "#3a8b8b" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#2b6a6a" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#c71585 on #f4f0ff" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#9a0e5e" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#6a4b8b" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#4d3663" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#c71585 on #f4f0ff" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#9a0e5e" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#c71585 on #f4f0ff" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#e6ccff on #1a0d2e" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#66b3b3" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#4d9999" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ffffff on #4a2d8a" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#8066cc" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#9973d9" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#7355b3" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ffffff on #4a2d8a" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#8066cc" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ffffff on #4a2d8a" config.style.fontScaling.baseViewportWidth: 900 config.style.page.font: 'Bona Nova/serif 12' config.style.page.header.font: "12" config.style.page.header.link.font: "" config.style.page.footer.font: "10" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "" config.style.backdrop: "#563232" -- [unless CH2Standalone] <div class="ending-container"> <div class="ending-number">2.1</div> <div class="ending-content"> <div class="ending-label">Ending</div> <div class="ending-title">[[Whole->Transition CH2 to CH3]]</div> </div> </div> [if CH2Standalone] <div class="ending-container"> <div class="ending-number">2.1</div> <div class="ending-content"> <div class="ending-label">Ending</div> <div class="ending-title">Whole</div> </div> </div> [continue] {ascii backdrop: 'aether'} {accessory image, src: 'Images/Endings/CH2/2.1 Whole.png', side: 'left', push: '300px', scale: '0.9', offsetX: '220px'}

MineBedSideTable: MineBedSideTable + 1 MineObjects: MineObjects + 1 -- [if MineBedSideTable == 1] The four-poster bed dominates the room's center, its wooden frame polished to a mirror shine despite the deep impressions worn into the floorboards beneath each post. The canopy drapes in precise folds, measured and steamed. Eleanor's substantial form creates a pronounced valley in the mattress, surrounded by pillows arranged in descending height order. A mahogany side table sits two feet from the bed's edge - close enough to reach, but requiring Eleanor to stretch her arm fully. Its surface bears a collection of crystal glasses - some full, some empty - and between them a silver tray holds an assortment of small cakes, their sugar dusting a bit stale. *You adjust the table's position, sliding it six inches closer to the bed.* [if MineBedSideTable > 1] The four-poster bed dominates the room's center, its wooden frame polished to a mirror shine despite the deep impressions worn into the floorboards beneath each post. The canopy drapes in precise folds, measured and steamed. Eleanor's substantial form creates a pronounced valley in the mattress, surrounded by pillows arranged in descending height order. A mahogany side table now sits within easy reach of the bed. Its surface bears a collection of crystal glasses - some full, some empty - and between them a silver tray holds an assortment of small cakes, their sugar dusting a bit stale. [continue] {link to: 'Mine Ending Bedroom Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MineEleanor: MineEleanor + 1 MineObjects: MineObjects + 1 config.header.left: "~ ~:(　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　);＼＼＼＼~ ~" -- Eleanor lies naked across the broken mattress, her honey-blonde hair spread in tangles across the pillow pile. The bed frame groans under her, its slats bowed and reinforced with boards you've slid beneath them over the months. Her body fills the bed entirely. Her belly dominates her torso, a massive dome that rises and falls with each breath. It spreads across her thighs and pools against the mattress edge, marked with deep stretch marks and rolls where it folds against itself. Her breasts, lost among the upper slopes of her stomach, point outward under their own weight. Crumbs dot the folds of her neck. Dried cream traces her lips, while her hands rest by the side, where they fell after her last meal, fingers still sticky with preserved fruit. Her wheezy breathing catches occasionally. Small pained grunts - given how much you've fed her, this is to be expected. *And yet you just know she's wishing for more.* {link to: 'Mine Ending Bedroom Diorama', label: 'Back'}

config.style.page.color: "#ffcccc on #330000" config.style.page.link.color: "#cc6666" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#b35555" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#330000 on #cc6666" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#e08888" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#cc6666" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#b35555" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#330000 on #cc6666" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#e08888" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#330000 on #cc6666" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#ff9999 on #1a0000" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#ff6666" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#e04d4d" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#1a0000 on #ff6666" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ffb3b3" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#ff6666" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#e04d4d" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#1a0000 on #ff6666" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ffb3b3" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#1a0000 on #ff6666" config.style.fontScaling.baseViewportWidth: 900 config.style.page.font: 'Bona Nova/serif 12' config.style.page.header.font: "12" config.style.page.header.link.font: "" config.style.page.footer.font: "10" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "" config.style.backdrop: "#563232" -- <div class="ending-container"> <div class="ending-number">2.9</div> <div class="ending-content"> <div class="ending-label">Ending</div> <div class="ending-title">Mine</div> </div> </div> {ascii backdrop: 'mine'} {accessory image, src: 'Images/Endings/CH2/2.8 Mine.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'}

MineAllCompleted (MineInkBottles > 0 && MinePens > 0 && MineUnopennedLetters > 0 && MineHalfFinishedCorrespondence > 0 && MineWardrobe > 0 && MineBedSideTable > 0 && MineEleanor > 0): true config.header.left: "~ ~ ✥ ◇ ✥ ~ ~" -- [unless MineAllCompleted] You hover within Eleanor's bedroom, early morning light streaming through pristine windows. The green damask walls gleam, freshly cleaned. [[Eleanor->Mine Eleanor]] lies among a mountain of pillows atop the [[four-poster bed->Mine Bed Side Table]], her breathing deep and even. The [[wardrobe->Mine Wardrobe]] stands with doors slightly ajar. Near the window, the writing desk displays its careful arrangements - [[ink bottles->Mine Ink Bottles]] lined in neat rows, a collection of [[pens->Mine Pens]] arranged by length, stacks of [[unopened letters->Mine Unopened Letters]] weighted down beneath plates, and [[papers->Mine Half-Finished Correspondence]]. Behind you, the hallway stretches toward the [[⤴️upper floor landing->Mine Ending Upper Floor]]. [if MineAllCompleted] Your hear Eleanor's breathing as it shifts - the deep, rhythmic pattern of sleep becoming shallower, irregular. Her fingers twitch against the quilt's edge. A soft sound escapes her throat, not quite a sigh, more so a grunt. Her eyelids flutter, but don't quite open just yet. The mattress shifts slightly as she stirs. [[You drift closer.->Mine Ending Eleanor Stirs]]

She blinks several times, her vision unfocused without her spectacles. Her breathing shifts from the deep rhythm of sleep to shorter, more conscious pulls. A soft grunt escapes her throat as she attempts, and fails, to shift position - her bulk prevents more than the smallest adjustment. Her arms, heavy, droopy, move sluggishly as she brings her hands to rest on the dome of her stomach. Her throat works as she swallows, lips parting slightly. You follow her tongue as it darts out to wet her lips, leaving a thin trail of moisture across the chapped surface. A low rumble emanates from deep within her gut. Her hands press gently against the taut skin, fingers spreading wide across the stretch marks. Her head turns toward the side table, eyes tracking across the empty glasses and scattered crumbs. Her lips part as if to speak. *[[No need.->Mine Ending Eleanor Stirs 2]]*

config.style.page.color: "black on #f5e6d8" config.style.page.link.color: "#8b4513" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#7a3d12" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#b22222 on #f5e6d8" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#8b4513" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#8b4513" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#7a3d12" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#b22222 on #f5e6d8" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#8b4513" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#b22222 on #f5e6d8" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#e6e6e6 on #4a4a4a" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#f5f5f5" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#cccccc" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ffcccc on #4a4a4a" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#f5f5f5" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#f5f5f5" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#cccccc" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ffcccc on #4a4a4a" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#f5f5f5" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ffcccc on #4a4a4a" -- *You seize the slice of chocolate cake from the side table, and swiftly press it against Eleanor's lips.* Her head jerks back slightly, eyes widening. A muffled sound emerges from her throat - protest? Surprise? The frosting smears across her mouth as you push forward. Her jaw resists, then opens reluctantly, allowing the mass of chocolate and cream to fill her mouth completely. Her cheeks bulge. She gags once, throat working against the sweet weight. Crumbs scatter from her lips onto her chin. Her breathing turns shallow through her nose. She swallows with effort. Her throat convulses. *[[It's not enough.->Mine Ending Eleanor Stirs 2.5]]*

config.style.page.color: "black on #f0d0d0" config.style.page.link.color: "#8b3a3a" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#7a2e2e" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#cd2626 on #f0d0d0" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#8b3a3a" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#8b3a3a" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#7a2e2e" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#cd2626 on #f0d0d0" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#8b3a3a" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#cd2626 on #f0d0d0" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#f0f0f0 on #3a3a3a" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#ffcccc" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#e6b3b3" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ffdddd on #3a3a3a" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ffcccc" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#ffcccc" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#e6b3b3" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ffdddd on #3a3a3a" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ffcccc" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ffdddd on #3a3a3a" -- *Immediately you tear another piece free, pressing it past her still-working lips.* This time her mouth opens without the initial resistance. Her eyes water slightly as she chews. The second slice follows. Her stomach gurgles loudly in protest - a wet, strained sound. She swallows anyway. The third slice disappears despite the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. Her breathing comes in short puffs between bites. *[[More.->Mine Ending Eleanor Stirs 3]]*

config.style.page.color: "black on #ffb3b3" config.style.page.link.color: "#660000" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#4d0000" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#990000 on #ffb3b3" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#660000" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#660000" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#4d0000" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#990000 on #ffb3b3" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#660000" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#990000 on #ffb3b3" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#ffb3b3 on #2a0a0a" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#ff9999" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#e68080" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ffaaaa on #2a0a0a" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ff9999" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#ff9999" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#e68080" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ffaaaa on #2a0a0a" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ff9999" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ffaaaa on #2a0a0a" -- The fourth slice meets no resistance as Eleanor's mouth opens before the cake reaches her lips. Her jaw moves mechanically, processing the sweetness. The tears have stopped. Her breathing settles into shallow, measured pulls. *You lift the crystal glasses one by one, forcing the thick cream down her throat in steady swallows. The honey-wine follows, amber liquid coating her lips. The preserved fruits disappear between her teeth, their syrup joining the chocolate that streaks her chin.* *Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock...* Her stomach distends further with each addition. The skin stretches tight, taking on a glossy sheen. Purple veins become visible beneath the surface. Her belly button, once a deep fold, is now visible again as the upper belly swells above it. [[The final glass empties.->Mine Ending Eleanor Stirs 3.5]]

config.style.page.color: "black on #ff9999" config.style.page.link.color: "#4d0000" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#330000" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#800000 on #ff9999" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#4d0000" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#4d0000" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#330000" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#800000 on #ff9999" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#4d0000" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#800000 on #ff9999" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#ff8080 on #200000" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#ff7777" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#e65555" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ff9999 on #200000" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ff7777" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#ff7777" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#e65555" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ff9999 on #200000" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ff7777" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ff9999 on #200000" -- Her throat works once more, then stills. Her hands rest where gravity settles them against the mountainous curve of her middle. Her breathing comes in short puffs that barely manage lift her heavy, heavy chest. *A soft whimper escapes her throat as you force one of her breasts to hover upwards, just enough for you to look at her [[pocket watch->Mine Ending Eleanor Stirs 4]].*

config.style.page.color: "black on #ff8080" config.style.page.link.color: "#330000" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#1a0000" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#660000 on #ff8080" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#330000" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#330000" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#1a0000" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#660000 on #ff8080" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#330000" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#660000 on #ff8080" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#ff9999 on #1a0000" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#ff6666" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#e04d4d" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ff8888 on #1a0000" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ff6666" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#ff6666" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#e04d4d" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ff8888 on #1a0000" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ff6666" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ff8888 on #1a0000" -- The pocket watch rests in the valley between Eleanor's breasts, its polished brass casing dulled by constant contact with her skin. The intricate floral motif, once sharp and precise, shows wear where the oils and moisture of Eleanor's skin have rubbed against the metal. The delicate chain disappears beneath the heavy curve of her breast, cutting a thin groove where it presses into her fat. You will the latch open. Behind the cracked crystal, its hands continue to work atop its porcelain dial... and would you look at that. Midday. *Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock...* [[Time a well deserved luncheon.->Mine Ending]]

You drift into the narrow landing. Morning light filters through the spotless window, casting sharp shadows across wallpaper patterned with faded roses and trailing ivy. To your left, the door to Eleanor's [[bedroom->Mine Ending Bedroom Diorama]] stands ajar. On the right, the [[guest room->Mine Guest Room]] door remains firmly shut. Between them, a low wooden cabinet holds a collection of [[tintypes->Mine Tintypes]] in silver frames, their surfaces gleaming without dust. Behind you, a ramp of stairs lead to the [[🚪ground floor->Mine Stairway]].

MineGuestRoom: MineGuestRoom + 1 MineObjects: MineObjects + 1 -- [if MineGuestRoom == 1] The guest room door fits flush against its frame, the brass handle polished but immobile. The keyhole shows scratches around its edges where metal has scraped against metal. A thin gap between door and frame reveals darkness beyond. The handle usually turns a quarter-inch before stopping with a solid click. The wood does not yield when pressure is applied. *You inspect the lock mechanism and sure enough, you find the now hardened clot of plaster you jammed into it, still wedged tight.* [if MineGuestRoom > 1] The guest room door fits flush against its frame, the brass handle polished but immobile. The keyhole shows scratches around its edges where metal has scraped against metal. A thin gap between door and frame reveals darkness beyond. The handle refuses to turn. The plaster remains lodged deep within the lock's mechanism, its shape blocking the pins. [continue] {link to: 'Mine Ending Upper Floor', label: 'Back'}

MineHalfFinishedCorrespondence: MineHalfFinishedCorrespondence + 1 MineObjects: MineObjects + 1 -- [if MineHalfFinishedCorrespondence == 1] A sheet of cream stationery lies half-completed on the desk's surface, its edges curled from the morning humidity. Eleanor's careful script covers three-quarters of the page: *"Dearest Sister, your invitation to the garden luncheon is most kind, though I fear I must decline. The reason for this-"* The sentence ends there, a small blot of ink marking where the pen paused. Several false starts and crossed-out phrases litter the margins. *You nudge the paper toward the desk's edge until it flutters to the floor.* [if MineHalfFinishedCorrespondence > 1] The desk's surface shows only clean blotting paper and the faint impression of writing pressed into its fibers. On the floor beside Eleanor's bed, a crumpled sheet of stationery lies among the dust and scattered crumbs. It's safe to assume it would be too much of a bother for her to pick her message to Mary back up. [continue] {link to: 'Mine Ending Bedroom Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MineInkBottles: MineInkBottles + 1 MineObjects: MineObjects + 1 -- [if MineInkBottles == 1] Six glass ink bottles sit in a neat row along the desk's back edge, their contents ranging from deep black to faded brown. Their brass caps catch the morning light, each one twisted tight. Dried ink stains mark the desk surface where bottles once stood closer to the writing area. A seventh bottle rests near the front of the desk, its cap loose, a few drops of fresh ink pooled around its base. The bottle bears fingerprint smudges on its surface. *You lift the errant bottle, guiding it upward to join a collection of identical vessels arranged on the topmost bookshelf behind the desk - well beyond Eleanor's reach.* [if MineInkBottles > 1] Six glass ink bottles sit in a neat row along the desk's back edge, their contents ranging from deep black to faded brown. Their brass caps catch the morning light, each one twisted tight. Dried ink stains mark the desk surface, but no bottles rest nearby. Above on the highest bookshelf, a seventh bottle now stands among its companions, its cap properly tightened, its surface wiped clean. [continue] {link to: 'Mine Ending Bedroom Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MinePens: MinePens + 1 MineObjects: MineObjects + 1 -- [if MinePens == 1] A collection of pens lies scattered across the desk's surface, their nibs worn from years of use. Most bear ink stains along their barrels - evidence of Eleanor's once hurried correspondence. The wooden handles show tooth marks where she chewed on them during difficult passages. One pen begins to hover three inches above the desk's surface, trembling slightly as it does so. Its brass nib catches the morning light as it drifts toward a blank sheet of paper. *You seize the floating pen and snap its shaft in half with a sharp **crack**.* [if MinePens > 1] A collection of pens lies scattered across the desk's surface, their nibs worn from years of use. Most bear ink stains along their barrels - evidence of Eleanor's once hurried correspondence. The wooden handles show tooth marks where she chewed on them during difficult passages. Two halves of a broken pen rest among the others, their brass nib separated from the wooden shaft. A small pool of ink has leaked from the severed reservoir onto the desk's surface. *How bothersome.* [continue] {link to: 'Mine Ending Bedroom Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MineObjects: MineObjects + 1 -- The stairway descends in polished wooden steps, each tread gleaming despite the faint layer of dust that has settled along their outer edges. The center of each step shows no wear pattern. The banister rail reflects the morning light, its surface smooth and undisturbed. Below, you know that the ground floor entryway stretches in shadow. That the hall table holds your vessel, among scattered papers and a lot of empty dishes. [if MineWardrobe > 0; append] That a measuring tape now lies coiled against the baseboards, struggling to snake its way back up. [continue] *With you around, Eleanor has little reason to venture downstairs these days.* {link to: 'Mine Ending Upper Floor', label: 'Back'}

MineTintypes: MineTintypes + 1 MineObjects: MineObjects + 1 -- [if MineTintypes == 1] The tintypes stand in a neat row along the cabinet, their silver frames polished to a mirror finish. Most face outward, displaying stern-faced figures in formal wear. Three photographs lie face-down against the cabinet's surface, their backing cards visible instead of their images. One upright photograph shows a younger girl posed between an elderly couple - the woman with a gentle smile, the man with a stiff stance. None share the girl's blonde hair. *You rotate the frame until it lies flat against the cabinet's surface, joining the others in darkness.* [if MineTintypes > 1] The tintypes stand in a neat row along the cabinet, their silver frames polished to a mirror finish. Four photographs now lie face-down against the cabinet's surface, their backing cards showing brown paper and photographers' stamps. [continue] {link to: 'Mine Ending Upper Floor', label: 'Back'}

MineUnopennedLetters: MineUnopennedLetters + 1 MineObjects: MineObjects + 1 -- [if MineUnopennedLetters == 1] A stack of correspondence sits partially visible beneath a collection of empty plates and crumb-laden napkins. Several envelopes show official seals - some bearing the crest of the Royal Archaeological Society, others with unfamiliar heraldic marks. The topmost letter, a red one, displays Eleanor's name in elegant copperplate script. One envelope's corner protrudes from beneath a plate smeared with jam residue, its cream-colored paper stained but the wax seal still intact. *You slide additional plates and napkins from the desk's surface, layering them carefully over the visible correspondence.* [if MineUnopennedLetters > 1] Empty plates and stained napkins cover the desk's left corner in a deliberate mound. Crumbs of various meals have accumulated between the dishes, while streaks of dried preserves mark the porcelain surfaces. No correspondence remains visible beneath the carefully arranged debris. The weight of the plates presses down evenly, ensuring nothing shifts or slides free. [continue] {link to: 'Mine Ending Bedroom Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MineWardrobe: MineWardrobe + 1 MineObjects: MineObjects + 1 -- [if MineWardrobe == 1] The wardrobe stands with both doors ajar, revealing its sparse contents: three shapeless dresses hang from the rail, their fabric loose. Forgiving. Below them, two canvas aprons lie folded on the shelf - garments designed for comfort rather than form. The floor of the wardrobe holds only dust and a few scattered buttons from discarded clothing. Against the back panel, a coiled measuring tape rests in the corner, its brass end glinting despite the shadows. *You seize the measuring tape and propel it through the bedroom doorway, down the hallway, and over the stairway rail where it clatters against the ground floor below.* [if MineWardrobe > 1] The wardrobe stands with both doors ajar, revealing its sparse contents. Three shapeless grey dresses hang from the rail, their fabric loose and forgiving. Below them, two canvas aprons lie folded on the shelf - garments designed for comfort rather than form. The floor of the wardrobe shows only dust and scattered buttons. The back corner remains empty, swept clean of intrusion. [continue] {link to: 'Mine Ending Bedroom Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[if MirrorEventTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:mirror1] Mary paces behind Eleanor, her shadow stretching oddly across the floor. [if MirrorEventTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:mirror1] *"The director specifically asked me to check on the artifacts today. Of all things to find damaged!"* [if MirrorEventTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:mirror1 newline] Eleanor runs her fingers along the frame, careful not to touch the crack. [continue] [continue] [if MirrorEventTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:mirror2] Mary pauses her pacing, glancing nervously at the door. [if MirrorEventTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:mirror2] *"It was covered properly yesterday. I don't understand how this happened."* [if MirrorEventTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:mirror2 newline] Eleanor leans closer. [if MirrorEventTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:mirror2] *"The break is clean, yet no glass fragments on the floor. What material is this?"* [continue] [continue] [if MirrorEventTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:mirror3] Mary fidgets with her collar, voice dropping to a whisper. [if MirrorEventTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:mirror3] *"Do you think it could be... you know? The night watchmen claim this building has... presences."* [if MirrorEventTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:mirror3 newline] Eleanor straightens, adjusting her spectacles. [if MirrorEventTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:mirror3] *"What? No. That’s nonsense Mary, there has to be a rational explanation.* [if MirrorEventTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:mirror3] *Though I admit, it's... odd that we cast no reflection.* [if MirrorEventTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1 id:mirror3] *Was it always this dull?"* [continue] [continue] [if MirrorEventTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:mirror4] The lamp flickers briefly, causing both women to start. [if MirrorEventTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:mirror4] *"My uncle will have my head if this isn't resolved,"* Mary murmurs, eyes wide. [if MirrorEventTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:mirror4 newline] Eleanor places a reassuring hand on her arm. [if MirrorEventTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:mirror4] *"Come now, let's not panic, there-."* [if MirrorEventTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:mirror4] Mary’s head snaps towards her. [if MirrorEventTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1 id:mirror4] *“What?! But I already am!!”* [continue] [continue]

[if MirrorPastVisited; if MirrorGuardScared; if MirrorEventFixed] But that doesn't last long. You watch as its surface glows with a soft purple light, pulsing in rhythm like a heartbeat. Eleanor and Mary stand transfixed, watching as the last evidence of damage vanishes completely. "It… well, that takes care of that ahahhh… it fixed itself. Yes, of course it did..." Mary whispers, her eyes wide with wonder. Eleanor opens her mouth - presumably to offer some kind of rational explanation-, but the words die on her lips as the mirror's surface shifts again, resolving into a clear reflection for the first time since you entered. Mary simply gasps. You turn around to catch her faint onto the floor. [[Ouch.->Mirror Resolution Cutscene 1]] [else] Mary sighs heavily, breaking the tense silence. "I suppose we should report this to the director. Though what explanation we'll give... It's not fair! It wasn't my faut this time around!" Eleanor nods reluctantly. "Perhaps we could research methods of repair first. There might be specialists in London who woooorrrrkkkk wiiiiiiiiiiiitttttttttttthhhhh aaaaaaaaannnnnnnttttttttiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii…" The world pauses again, suspended between moments. *Something’s wrong.* You realize you're… no longer being given a choice. Try as you might you cannot proceed. The only option at your disposal is to [[start this encounter over from the beginning->Ancient Mirror Cutscene 1]]. [continue]

Eleanor rushes to her side, momentarily forgetting the mirror. But you... you turn back to the silvered surface, curious to see what could have caused such a [[startling reaction...->Mirror Resolution Cutscene 2]]

The storage room is reflected perfectly: the tall shelves laden with artifacts, the faint dust motes dancing in the lamplight, Eleanor kneeling beside Mary's prone form... and behind her, slightly to the side, stands a figure. You feel yourself making contact with the cold stone floor. [[You are no longer hovering.->Mirror Resolution Cutscene 3]]

The reflection shows a tall, emancipated being, its translucent skin shimmering with a pale-purple luminescence, its limbs elongated, with joints that are stark beneath the taut skin. It doesn’t have a mouth nor a nose - just blank eyes that glow faintly in the dark. It takes a disorientating moment to realize you might just be looking at [[yourself->Mirror Resolution Cutscene 4]].

The figure’s eyes widen. Is *this* what you have always been? Is this what you are? The image resonates with a forgotten sense of power, but also with a deep, unnerving emptiness. You notice Eleanor, still on the floor near Mary, having turned to the mirror. By her expression, it’s clear she’s also seen you. For how long? Most importantly, [[what are you meant to *do* now?->Mirror Resolution Cutscene 4.5]]

An instinct, ancient and deeply buried, surfaces. A compulsion you don't really understand, not fully. Perhaps Eleanor’s work is rubbing onto you. Maybe you just feel a need to give out *something*, anything she’ll recognize. Whatever the reason, and before you can comprehend it, your reflection's hand - *your* hand - reaches out with its thin, ethereal fingers extended towards the mirror's surface. [[You trace a familiar symbol onto the glass.->Mirror Resolution Cutscene 5]]

[if WeightGained == 'NONE'] <div class="v-mark">○</div> [continue] [if WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'] <div class="v-mark">⊙</div> [continue] [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'] <div class="v-mark">☋</div> [continue] [if WeightGained == 'FAT'] <div class="v-mark">◎</div> [continue] [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'] <div class="v-mark">꩜</div> [continue] The sigil flares briefly upon the mirror's surface where your translucent fingers pass, glowing with the same purple energy that healed the crack moments before. It hangs there for a second, stark against the reflection of the room. Just enough for her to spot it. Then, as quickly as it appeared, it fades. The entire surface of the mirror ripples like disturbed water, and the reflection dissolves, leading back to that [[dull, grey silver->Mirror Resolution final cutscene]].

Eleanor, having managed to prop Mary into a sitting position against a shelf, glances back up at the mirror, catching only the last flicker of its surface settling. She shakes her head, rubbing her temples. "Good heavens," she murmurs, more to herself than the groaning Mary. "I must be seeing things. Far too little sleep and far, far too much work...." She helps Mary to her feet, steadying her. "Come on, Mary. Let's get you out of here. Let's get you some air." Supporting the still-dazed Mary, Eleanor guides her out of the storage room, firmly closing the door behind her. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'The day draws to a close.'}

config.style.page.color: "black on emerald-1" config.style.page.link.color: "black" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "black" config.style.page.link.active.color: "black on emerald-1" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "black" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "black" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "black" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "black on emerald-1" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "black" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "black on emerald-1" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#ffffff on #004d26" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#66ff99" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#4dcc7a" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#004d26 on #66ff99" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#80ffb3" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#66ff99" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#4dcc7a" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#004d26 on #66ff99" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#80ffb3" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#004d26 on #66ff99" config.style.fontScaling.baseViewportWidth: 900 config.style.page.font: 'Bona Nova/serif 12' config.style.page.header.font: "12" config.style.page.header.link.font: "" config.style.page.footer.font: "10" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "" config.style.backdrop: "#563232" -- <div class="ending-container"> <div class="ending-number">1.1</div> <div class="ending-content"> <div class="ending-label">Ending</div> <div class="ending-title">[[Lucky Charm->Intro 2.0]]</div> </div> </div> {ascii backdrop: 'luckycharm'} {accessory image, src: 'Images/Endings/CH1/1.1 Lucky Charm.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '0.9'}

SlotTwoAttended: true -- The museum café occupies a low ceiling room, its pale walls doing little to brighten the space. A few overhead windows let a little light over the dozen or so tables, most already claimed by the remaining staff and the occasional visitor. A blackboard displays today's offerings in neat chalk script: beef and barley soup, cheese sandwiches, and bread pudding. Eleanor joins the short queue, fishing in her pocket for coins while eyeing the food. The woman behind the counter - a matron with permanently flour-dusted hands - nods in recognition. "The usual, Ellie?" [[Eleanor nods back.->Museum Cafe Cutscene 2]]

DayCalories: DayCalories + 2 -- Tray in hand, Eleanor navigates to a small table in the corner, beneath a frosted window that offers a view of passing feet on the pavement above. The sandwich is predictable: slightly dry bread, a conservative layer of cheese, and a limp piece of lettuce for appearance's sake. The tea, at least, seems to be hot and strong. [if CurrentDay == 'TUESDAY'] She's halfway through her meal when Violet Whitlock appears at her side, clutching a steaming mug and a folder of papers. "Mind if I join you? The director wants these cataloguing forms revised by tomorrow." Without waiting for a response, she pulls out the chair opposite. [if CurrentDay == 'WEDNESDAY'] She's barely started eating when Mary slides into the chair across from her, eyes bright with excitement. "There you are! I've been looking everywhere. Did you hear? The Duke made a substantial donation after yesterday's tour - specifically for new acquisitions!" [if CurrentDay == 'MONDAY'] She eats methodically, savoring the few moments of solitude. Around her, conversations blend into a soft murmur - budget concerns from the restoration department, complaints about a leaking skylight in the west wing, and speculation about which trustees might attend next month's gala. [if CurrentDay == 'THURSDAY'] She eats methodically, grateful for the relative quiet. Her solitude is short-lived when two porters take the adjacent table, their conversation loudly revolving around the day's deliveries. [if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'] She eats methodically, letting her mind drift toward her research as she chews the unremarkable sandwich. Two curators from the Greek collection occupy the table beside hers, their hushed voices barely audible above the general clatter of cutlery. [continue] [[The minutes tick by.->Museum Cafe Cutscene 3]]

Eleanor dabs the corners of her mouth with her napkin, checking the wall clock - quite a short break, this one. You watch as she stacks her plate and cup neatly on the tray, rising with a barely audible sigh. [if CurrentDay == 'TUESDAY'] *"I'll look over these tonight,"* Violet says, accepting the folder Eleanor slides back across the table. *"Between us, I'm not sure why we're cataloguing Roman pottery when far more... *significant* artifacts remain packed in crates. A waste of our time, really. Oh well."* As she leaves, she takes a moment to look... somewhere behind you? You must have missed whatever was there. {embed passage: 'Overheard Tuesday (Adding to Violet Counter)'} [if CurrentDay == 'WEDNESDAY'] "Just think what we could acquire with proper funding," Mary continues, following Eleanor as she deposits her tray. *"Oh! Before I forget - my uncle asked if you'd completed that report on the Celtic bronzes. I told him you were busy! So no rush, of course, none at all, ahah."* Her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. Is she upset? It's hard to tell with her. [if CurrentDay == 'MONDAY'] As she deposits her tray at the collection point, Eleanor overhears an assistant from Acquisitions: "...completely authentic, and they're practically giving it away. If the director would just approve the purchase..." {embed passage: 'Overheard Monday'} [if CurrentDay == 'THURSDAY'] As you follow her as she deposits her tray at the collection point, you are both moving away from them. And yet, even while ascending the stairs back up to Eleanor's floor, you can still hear one of them. "...strange crate came in this morning... yes, an odd v-symbol...straight to the Mika's private collection... no, I don't know why! That's where his lady told me to put it... yes, yes, very funny... now shut up!" {embed passage: 'Overheard Thursday'} [if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'] {embed passage: 'Overheard Friday'} [continue] {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Back to work.'}

She sets the telegram down with careful precision, aligning its edges with the blotter's border. For seventeen minutes, you observe her sitting motionless, her hands folded in her lap, staring at the geological specimens arranged on her windowsill. Her breathing remains steady, controlled, but her fingers worry at the fabric of her skirt - a small, repetitive motion that continues even after she apparently notices it and forces her hands still. When she finally rises to file the telegram away, her movements carry a particular kind of deliberateness that suggests significant effort behind each action. The drawer slides shut with a soft click. She arranges her papers into neat stacks, though they were already organized. The small, domestic rituals of order. [if WeightGained == 'NONE'] [[From that moment, your connection to the world begins to fray.->Forgotten Ending 1]] [if WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'] [[From that moment, your connection to the world begins to fray.->Forgotten Ending 1]] [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'] [[From that moment, your connection to the world begins to fray.->Forgotten Ending 1]] [if WeightGained == 'FAT'] [[Time moves differently when your dreams are shattered.->Museum Employment Ending 2]] [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'] [[Time moves differently when your dreams are shattered.->Museum Employment Ending 2]] [continue]

config.header.right: " " -- The telegram arrives on a grey Tuesday morning, delivered by a boy whose boots echo against the museum's limestone steps. Eleanor reads the message twice at her desk, the thin paper trembling slightly between her fingers. The Brittany Archaeological Society expresses their regret regarding [[insufficient funding for the proposed expedition->Museum Employment 1.5]].

Three weeks pass. Eleanor's lunch hour extends first to seventy minutes, then ninety. She discovers a bakery two streets east of the museum where the proprietress recognizes her by the fourth visit, setting aside an extra currant scone without being asked. Eleanor purchases it along with her usual meat pie, consuming both while standing at the counter rather than returning immediately to her desk. The ritual develops its own logic. Tuesday brings chelsea buns glazed thick with sugar. Thursday yields apple turnovers, their pastry flaking between her fingers as she walks the corridor back to her office. The crumbs scatter across the catalog cards, requiring careful brushing away before filing. [[Her waistcoat begins to pull differently across her middle by month's end.->Museum Employment Ending 2.5]]

She adjusts the watch chain's positioning twice, then abandons it entirely, letting the timepiece rest in her jacket pocket instead. The fabric shows stress lines where it curves around her softening waist, tiny creases that deepen each week. You observe her discover cream tea at Pemberton's on a rainy Thursday. The scones arrive warm, accompanied by clotted cream so thick it requires substantial effort to spread. Eleanor consumes three, methodically coating each bite before lifting it to her mouth. Her tongue catches the cream that threatens to escape the corners of her lips. [[Winter arrives with its own appetites.->Museum Employment Ending 3]]

The museum's trustees visit on a Thursday in late February. By that point, you know that Eleanor does not bother with corsets anymore, and requires assistance with the third button of her waistcoat. She performs this task while in her office, her reflection showing the gap that appears when she attempts to fasten the garment completely. The button eventually slips between her fingers twice before she abandons the effort, leaving the waistcoat to hang open across her swollen belly. Eleanor greets them in the main gallery, her hands clasped behind her back to minimize the strain across her blouse. Director Hartwell introduces her as "our most promising young researcher," his gaze resting briefly on the soft curve where her skirt draws tight across her hips. The board chairwoman examines Eleanor's display of Roman pottery with apparent interest. "Such detailed cataloguing, Miss Lovelace. Your systematic approach is quite impressive." She pauses beside a particularly large amphora, running her gloved finger along its rim. "Tell me, have you considered a more... substantial role in our institutional development?" [[Eleanor's breath catches slightly.->Museum Employment Ending 4]]

The offer arrives two weeks later - Senior Curator of Classical Antiquities, with a salary increase of sixty percent. *** [if SocietyBallAttended; if MaryBallAnimus == 'SYMPATHY'] {embed passage: 'Museum Employment Mary Success Route'} [if SocietyBallAttended; unless MaryBallAnimus == 'SYMPATHY'] {embed passage: 'Museum Employment Mary Humiliation Route'} [if WeekendExpeditionAttended; if ExpeditionEnding == 'romantic/freed'] {embed passage: 'Museum Employment Richard Romantic Route'} [if WeekendExpeditionAttended; if ExpeditionEnding == 'intercourse'] {embed passage: 'Museum Employment Richard Intercourse Route'} [unless SocietyBallAttended; unless WeekendExpeditionAttended] {embed passage: 'Museum Employment Neither Route'} [continue]

You can only assume that what had happened during that ball eventually gets to her. That utter humiliation. Confused, you watch Eleanor's lunch hour contracting back to thirty minutes, then twenty. The bakery proprietress inquires twice about her absence before removing the reserved currant scone from the display case. Eleanor's midday meal becomes a single piece of toast consumed at her desk, [[crumbs brushed away before they can accumulate.->Museum Employment Mary Humiliation Route 1.5]]

She requests reassignment to the archive basement three weeks after the promotion offer. Eleanor's new workspace comes to occupy a corner near the manuscript storage, accessible through a service staircase that bypasses the main galleries entirely. Her waistcoat loosens by November. By winter, the garment hangs loose across her diminishing frame, requiring adjustment of the watch chain to prevent slippage. She purchases new skirts - two sizes smaller than her previous wardrobe, their fabric gathering at the waist where her previous bulk had filled the space. Eleanor arrives before the other staff and departs after the building empties. Her desk lamp burns past closing hours, illuminating neat stacks of acquisition cards and reference materials. [[You both grow weaker and weaker.->Museum Employment Mary Humiliation Route 2]]

One day, each garment emerges systematically - skirts folded along their seams, blouses wrapped in tissue paper, undergarments layered between protective cloth. Her movements carry no urgency, no hesitation between selections - every piece of clothing disappears into organized compartments. The books follow. Archaeological journals stack in precise rows within wooden crates, their spines aligned with mechanical precision. Reference texts, personal correspondence, research notes - all categorized and secured with twine. Pens, ink bottles, sealing wax, letter opener - each implement wrapped separately and labeled in Eleanor's careful script. The blotter reveals its accumulated stains once the writing materials vanish. A train schedule lies folded beside the empty inkwell, marked with tomorrow's departure time. You try to push it away, to hide it under the bed, but [[by this point, you're much too weaker for that.->Museum Employment Mary Humiliation Route 2.5]]

The flat grows hollow. The furniture remains, but all traces of Eleanor disappear. The mantelpiece clock continues its steady ticking while the final crate is secured. She pauses beside the sitting room table where your vessel rests among the abandoned periodicals and cold tea service. Her hand reaches toward its surface... [[then stops.->Museum Employment Mary Humiliation Route 3]]

*"Not so lucky after all, were you?"* She withdraws without contact, gathering her traveling coat from the chair. The door closes behind her with a soft click. The lock turns once. [[Silence settles across the empty rooms.->Museum Employment Mary Humiliation Route Ending]]

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MarySuccessTurns: MarySuccessTurns + 1 -- [if MarySuccessTurns < 4] You hover within the couple's new sitting room. Your [[vessel->vessel Mary Success]] rests on the mahogany table beside an empty [[cream pitcher->cream pitcher Mary Success]], several [[periodicals->periodicals Mary Success]], and a [[silver serving tray->serving tray Mary Success]]. Against the far wall, an overstuffed [[settee->settee Mary Success]] faces the room's center. Upon it, [[Eleanor->Eleanor Mary Success]] sits in burgundy silk, her form settled deep into the cushions. A small [[side table->side table Mary Success]] stands within her reach, while tall [[windows->windows Mary Success]] line the wall beyond it, their lace curtains filtering afternoon light. [if MarySuccessTurns >= 4] [[Mary->Museum Employment Mary Success Route 3]] stands beside the settee, flour dusting her apron. She holds a plate of chocolate éclairs, their surfaces thick with ganache. [continue] To your left, an archway opens into the [[dining room->dining room Mary Success]]. To your right, a [[hallway->hallway Mary Success]] extends toward the mansion's other rooms. [if MarySuccessTurns == 1] *The distant sound of mixing bowls and wooden spoons drifts from the kitchen, accompanied by the occasional clatter of baking tins.* [if MarySuccessTurns == 2] *Something falls in the kitchen with a muffled thud, followed by what sounds like Mary's flustered voice muttering a quite curse.* [if MarySuccessTurns == 3] *The sweet aroma of chocolate and pastry grows stronger, carried by warm air - the oven doors have just been opened.*

And through it all, there had been Mary. Her belongings appeared in Eleanor's flat within a week from the end of the ball. Her gloves rested on the hall table, her spare chemises filled the bottom drawer of Eleanor's wardrobe. Mary's fingers traced the expanding circumference of Eleanor's waist while Eleanor catalogued Roman pottery, their work interrupted by Mary's eager hands sliding beneath [[layers of wool and cotton->Museum Employment Mary Success Route 2]].

Week by week, Mary brought delicacies from Fortnum & Mason - crystallized ginger, imported marmalades, wheels of camembert that just so happened to require immediate consumption. Mary's cook delivered elaborate meals twice weekly, and Eleanor was more than eager to go over them while she watched, her fingers resting against her freed belly between courses, prodding her body - the soft roll developing beneath her chin, the way her breasts settled more heavily each month... Eleanor's breath grew shorter during these examinations, though whether from the way Mary's chest pressed acrossed hers or the physical effort of going through so much meat remained unclear. [[It was only a matter of time between the both of them moved in together.->Museum Employment Mary Success Diorama]]

Mary emerges from the kitchen doorway, flour dusting her burgundy apron and a dark smudge across her left cheek. She carries a silver plate before her, a number of what look to be... almost chocolate éclairs, arranged upon it at various angles. Their surfaces show fingerprint impressions in the soft pastry - ganache pools in uneven puddles around some of the pastries while others remain bare. *"Ellie! They are ready! Now,"* Mary says, settling beside Eleanor on the settee, *"I may have been a touch... ambitious with the chocolate. And the butter. And all other ingredients..."* The plate clinks against the side table. One éclair slides toward the edge. Eleanor examines the contents without comment. She reaches for the most intact specimen. *"Yes, well, um... they look made with... love?"* *"That's a very kind way of saying 'disastrous,' darling."* Mary brushes flour from her hands. *"I swear the recipe in Mrs. Beeton's makes it sound frightfully simple, but the moment I tried to pipe the cream..."* [[Eleanor lifts the éclair to her mouth.->Museum Employment Mary Success Route 4]]

The pastry shell crunches between her teeth. She chews slowly, her jaw working against the dense chocolate filling. Her tongue moves briefly across her molars before she swallows. *"Well?"* Mary leans forward, hands clasped in her lap. *"It's not bad, Mary, just... dense. Very chocolatey."* Eleanor sets the remainder aside, but as she sees Mary's expression, she immediately reaches for her hands. *"B-but! Clearly made by someone who cares a great deal about the result."* Mary's shoulders drop slightly. *"Oh, Eleanor, you're terrible at lying. Just look at them! I know they're awful. [[Mrs. Pemberton's cook would be utterly scandalized!-> Museum Employment Mary Success Route 4.5]]"*

With a soft giggle, Eleanor draws Mary closer until their faces align. Mary's breath catches as Eleanor's lips meet hers, the taste of chocolate lingering between them. Mary's hand finds the soft curve of Eleanor's throat, fingers tracing the warmth beneath the silk. Eleanor's mouth moves against Mary's with slow precision. Her hands settle against Mary's waist, pulling her deeper into the settee's cushions. The silver plate clinks softly as Mary's knee brushes against the side table, forgotten éclairs sliding across the surface. [[That is the last thing you see before, once again, fading away.->Museum Employment Mary Success Route Ending]]

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Eleanor's flat in June holds the evidence of her new circumstances. So do the remnants of her latest evening meal: empty shells from two dozen oysters, their silver spoons still sticky with mignonette. A wheel of brie sits half-consumed, its rind curling away from the pale interior. Three wine bottles stand in various stages of depletion, their corks scattered across the mahogany surface. She waddles from table to sideboard, her belly brushing against the chair backs despite her best attempts to avoid it. The floorboards creak under her weight as she retrieves the chocolate box from Harrods - Belgian truffles arranged in neat rows, their dark surfaces gleaming under the gaslight. Her fingers select one, then another, the ganache [[yielding between her teeth with each bite.->Museum Employment Neither Route 2]]

The generous bodice of her burgundy dress strains across her torso, the fabric pulled taut over the massive curve of her belly. It presses against the table's edge as she leans forward for the wine glass. There's a soft grunt from her throat - not discomfort, but the necessary sound of substantial flesh rearranging itself. She drains the glass in three long swallows, the liquid leaving traces across her lower lip. The chocolate box empties, following to the floor soon after - its crumbs are now the work of the weekly cleaning maid. Eleanor's hands can't be bother to reach for it: instead, they rest against the rounded mass of her stomach, feeling its taut fullness through the wool. Her breathing has grown shallow, each inhalation working against the overwhealming pressure inside. [[The gaslight flickers as she begins to unfasten her dress.->Museum Employment Neither Route 3]]

The fabric pools around Eleanor's ankles as the dress falls, revealing her chemise clinging to the massive curves beneath, the cotton stretched transparent across her belly's spherical mass. The fabric disappears into the deep fold where her stomach meets her pelvis, emerging again over the substantial width of her thighs. She reaches behind herself to unfasten the chemise, her thick arms struggling to navigate around the rolls that cascade down her back: three distinct folds of flesh stack above her waist, each one marked by the deep impressions left by her dress's seams. Her movements require multiple attempts, her breathing growing labored with the effort. The chemise slides free, finally letting it all out: her belly hangs as a perfect globe, its surface smooth and taut, drooping well past her waist to rest against her substantial thighs; her breasts spread wide across her chest, their weight settling into the soft valley between them; her backside extends in two massive hemispheres, each cheek marked with dimpled flesh that trembles with her [[movements->Museum Employment Neither Route 4]]

A deep belch escapes her throat as she bends forward toward the silk robe pooled on the floor beside the chair. The sound reverberates through her expanded torso, followed by a second, quieter release of gas. Her fingertips brush the fabric before her belly presses against her thighs, preventing further descent. She scoffs as she slowly straightens, leaving the robe where it lies. Her hands press against the sides of her stomach, feeling the drum-tight surface beneath her palms. The spherical mass sits heavy, distended, each breath pushing against its limits. A third belch builds in her throat, longer and more resonant than the previous two, leading into a pained moan. And yet, her tongue runs across her lips, collecting traces of chocolate and wine. [[The bed creaks under her approach.->Museum Employment Neither Route 5]]

She lies on her back, her belly rising like from her torso, its surface catching the gaslight that filters through the bedroom doorway. The spherical mass spreads wide across her ribs, its weight pinning her down into the mattress. Her right hand slides across the taut surface of it, fingers tracing the curve. The motion continues downward, following the slope of flesh toward her pelvis, but... her arm proves insufficient. The bulk of her belly prevents her fingertips from reaching their intended destination, her wrist bending awkwardly against the drum-tight surface. She shifts her position, rolling slightly to one side, her massive frame causing the bed to creak in protest. Her left hand attempts the same journey, sliding along the warm expanse of skin, but meets the same obstacle. Through the year, this new flat has not entertained many visitors. Nor romantic partners. Unfortunately, [[there is no-one around to help->Museum Employment Neither Route 6]].

Her hands settle instead against the sides of her belly, palms flat against the stretched skin. Her eyelids flutter, the weight of wine and exhaustion settling over her features. As you begin to fade away for the night, you watch the gaslight dimming as her breathing deepens, each inhalation lifting the massive dome of her stomach before releasing it back toward the mattress. Her fingers go slack against her skin. The room falls silent except for the steady rhythm of her breath, the gurgles of her stomach, and the occasional creak of the bedsprings. [[That is the last thing you see before, once again, fading away.->Museum Employment Neither Route Ending]]

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And for some of it, there had been Richard. Clearly, the underground chamber had awakened something between them. Eleanor's office door began locking during his afternoon visits, and her desk cleared of papers, pottery shards pushed aside to make space for her hips as Richard pressed her against the polished wood. Her skirts bunched around her waist, chemise pulled down just enough to reveal her breasts. Richard's hands would grip her thighs, spreading them wider as he moved between them. Eleanor's breathing came in sharp gasps, her fingers clawing at the desk's edge while her substantial weight rocked against the mahogany surface. The archaeological specimens scattered to the floor - tablets cracking against stone, [[reference books tumbling from their careful stacks.->Museum Employment Richard Intercourse Route 2]]

By November, these encounters moved to Eleanor's flat. The sitting room bore evidence of their afternoons - the settee's leather showing permanent impressions where Eleanor's knees pressed into the cushions, her hands braced against the armrest while Richard positioned himself behind her. Her house robe hung open, revealing the pale expanse of her back marked with red fingerprints from his grip. If her belly hadn't kept on growing it would've swayed with each thrust. Instead, it pressed onto the couch pillows as Eleanor buried her face in the settee's fabric to muffle her sounds, her body accommodating his rhythm. The floorboards creaked under their combined weight, punctuated by the wet sounds of [[flesh meeting flesh.->Museum Employment Richard Intercourse Route 3]]

December found them in Eleanor's bedroom, the afternoon light filtering through lace curtains to illuminate their tangled forms. Eleanor lay beneath Richard, her substantial frame spread across the mattress, her mouth open, with breathless sounds escaping it as the bed frame struck the wall in steady rhythm. As he shuddered and collapsed against her, Richard shifted his weight, rolling to Eleanor's side but keeping one hand planted firmly on the generous swell of her belly. His palm moved in slow circles across the taut surface, feeling how it had grown since October - softer now, more substantial beneath his touch. The room fell quiet except for the distant sound of carriages and the occasional creak of [[settling bedsprings->Museum Employment Richard Intercourse Route 4]].

The telegram arrives on a bright Tuesday morning. Richard reads it twice at Eleanor's breakfast table: the Cairo Institute requires immediate departure - passage booked for Friday's steamer. Eleanor butters her toast while he explains the opportunity. She nods at appropriate intervals, asks practical questions about duration and accommodations. She understands better than anybody else why Richard can't refuse such a great opportunity. And so his trunk appears in Eleanor's hallway, Wednesday evening. Thursday brings the packing of books, instruments, travel clothes... Eleanor hands him a wrapped parcel - preserved foods for the journey. Their goodbye occurs in the hallway, and it's brief. Professional. [[She wishes him the best, and he does the same.->Museum Employment Richard Intercourse Route 5]]

By March, Eleanor receives his first letter. The paper bears Cairo postmarks and describes excavation progress, accommodation arrangements, local customs. Two pages of archaeological observations conclude with a single paragraph mentioning her "companionship" and hoping for "continued correspondence." Eleanor's reply covers three pages - museum acquisitions, her promotion, detailed analysis of Roman pottery glazing techniques. The final paragraph references their "stimulating discussions" and expresses interest in his discoveries. His April letter arrives six weeks later. One page describing tomb chambers and artifact preservation methods. No personal references. Eleanor's response shortens to two pages, focused entirely on [[professional matters->Museum Employment Richard Intercourse Route 6]].

By August, Eleanor's breakfast routine includes only one place setting. Her evenings feature museum work and domestic reading. The bedroom shows no evidence of previous disturbances - covers smoothed, pillows arranged, personal items organized in solitary arrangements. In the years to come, Richard's name occasionally appears in archaeological journals - all from Cairo, where he has decided to stay. Eleanor reads these with the same attention she applies to other scholarly work. Why wouldn't she? Their time together had been [[so brief, all things considered->Museum Employment Richard Intercourse Route 7]].

Eleanor's promotion to Senior Curator brings increased responsibilities and salary. You follow her to her new apartment - one closer to the museum, for a shorter commute. Its second bedroom converts to additional storage for her expanding collection of artifacts. Your vessel will, in the years to come, sit on a small table by the entryway. You will get to see guests, family members - a thief, every once in a while, though they will be of no issue for you. [[What you won't see is Eleanor getting to share her bed again.->Museum Employment Richard Intercourse Ending]]

And through it all, there had been Richard. Richard's visits to Eleanor's office tripled within days of their return. He brought specimens from his personal collection - a scarab beetle pressed in amber, pottery shards wrapped in tissue paper, maps of excavation sites marked with his careful annotations. His excuses grew increasingly transparent, [[then disappeared entirely->Museum Employment Richard Romantic Route 2]].

Eleanor's afternoons came to revolve around these "consultations". She prepared tea service twenty minutes before his expected arrival, arranging biscuits on the good china. Richard consumed them methodically while explaining excavation techniques, his attention shifting between the pottery examples and the way Eleanor's tongue caught crumbs from the corner of her mouth. By October, his jacket hung on the back of her office chair. By November, his boxers too. Eleanor's waist had pressed against the desk edge when she leaned forward to examine his sketches, her blouse pulling across her chest as she had pointed out specific details - Richard's eyes had followed the movement of fabric over flesh. [[His explanations had then trailed off mid-sentence.->Museum Employment Richard Romantic Route 3]]

You observe them now in Richard's sitting room, eighteen months later. Eleanor settles into her steel-framed armchair, the springs creaking beneath her weight. Her silk house robe drapes across her body in blue waves - the fabric pools around her thighs where they spread against the chair's width, while the sash disappears beneath the rounded mass of her belly. Her breasts rest heavily within the loose silk, their weight creating deep valleys where the robe falls between them. Richard pours wine into cut crystal glasses and Eleanor goes to accepts hers. When she leans forward to reach the side table, the robe gapes slightly, revealing the pale curve where her neck meets the soft roll of her shoulders. "*Darling, I believe I've found something rather perfect,*" Eleanor says, settling back with a satisfied sigh. "*A flat on Grosvenor Square. Three bedrooms - one for your Egyptian pieces, another for my Roman collection. The dining room seats eight, though I thought we might use the table for [[displaying artifacts->Museum Employment Richard Romantic Route 4]] rather than entertaining.*"

Richard pauses in collecting the scattered correspondence from the hall table, a particular envelope catching his attention. You drift closer, observing the heavy cream paper bearing an official seal that you can't quite make out in the dim light. "*Ah, yes, well... Grosvenor Square.*" Richard pushes his spectacles up his nose absently. "*Rather grand, isn't it? Though I suppose, er, using the dining table for specimens... yes, that's actually quite sensible. Better lighting than most storage rooms.*" "*The kitchen is generous enough for proper cooking,*" Eleanor continues, "*and the agent mentioned something about structural reinforcements throughout.*" Her voice falters slightly. "*Though I do hope... I mean, surely they meant for [[heavy furniture and collections->Museum Employment Richard Romantic Route 5]], not...*"

She unties her robe's sash, letting the silk fall open to reveal the full expanse of her belly - a pale, smooth dome that curves from beneath her breasts down to rest against her thighs, drooping below them. Her fingers trace its surface uncertainly. "*Mm? Oh! Well, yes, of course they meant for furniture love.*" Richard's eyes move deliberately over her form as she struggles to get up, lingering on the colossal curves of her ass. "*Sarcophagi, statues... shelves. All manner of shelves. We certainly have some, um... weighty ones around.*" Eleanor's face flushes pink, her lips curving into a pleased smile. She pulls the robe loosely around herself, leaving it unfastened as she lowers her glass, picks up a watering can, and begins to water some of the flat's plants. "*The morning light is particularly lovely in the master bedroom. Large windows facing east. I thought you'd appreciate having [[proper illumination->Museum Employment Richard Romantic Route 6]] for your translation work.*"

Richard moves from the entryway towards the cold fireplace, his hand still holding the envelope. You drift closer to the correspondence in his grip. Through the translucent paper, some text fragments become visible: <blockquote> "...cordial invitation to join our expedition team..." "...departure scheduled for November..." "...unparalleled opportunity to examine newly discovered tombs..." </blockquote> The letterhead reads "Cairo Institute of Archaeological Studies." [[His fingers tighten on the envelope.->Museum Employment Richard Romantic Route 7]]

He stares at it for a moment, then tears the letter precisely in half. Then quarters. Then eighths. The sound of ripping paper cuts sharply through the room, prompting Eleanor to turn around. The fragments are swiftly thrown onto the ashes before she manages to complete the motion. "*Well then. Why don't you tell me more about [[this perfect flat of ours?->Museum Employment Richard Romantic Route Ending]]*" he says, his voice steady.

config.style.page.color: "#1a2a3d on #e6f2ff" config.style.page.link.color: "#2d5aa0" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#1e3f70" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#ffffff on #2d5aa0" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#4b7bc4" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#3d6bb3" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#2a4d80" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ffffff on #2d5aa0" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#4b7bc4" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#ffffff on #2d5aa0" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#b3d9ff on #0d1a2e" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#6699d9" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#4d7ab3" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ffffff on #1a3366" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#80b3ff" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#7aabeb" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#5c8bc2" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ffffff on #1a3366" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#80b3ff" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ffffff on #1a3366" config.style.fontScaling.baseViewportWidth: 900 config.style.page.font: 'Bona Nova/serif 12' config.style.page.header.font: "12" config.style.page.header.link.font: "" config.style.page.footer.font: "10" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "" config.style.backdrop: "#563232" -- <div class="ending-container"> <div class="ending-number">2.4</div> <div class="ending-content"> <div class="ending-label">Ending</div> <div class="ending-title">Greater Pursuits</div> </div> </div> {ascii backdrop: 'hieroglyph'} {accessory image, src: 'Images/Endings/CH2/2.4 Greater Pursuits.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'}

MuseumEntranceIntroTurns (comesFromMenu() != true): MuseumEntranceIntroTurns + 1 -- [if MuseumEntranceIntroTurns == 1] {embed passage: 'Museum Entrance Desc 1'} [if MuseumEntranceIntroTurns == 2] {embed passage: 'Museum Entrance Desc 2'} [if MuseumEntranceIntroTurns == 3] {embed passage: 'Museum Entrance Desc 3'} [if MuseumEntranceIntroTurns == 4] Your inspection of the entrance hall is cut short. Eleanor's pace quickens as she approaches the eastern staircase, her gloved hand brushing the brass railing. The marble caryatids stare blankly over her shoulders as she begins her ascent - [[you are forced to follow along->Intro 2.2]]. [if MuseumEntranceIntroTurns > 4] [[You follow Eleanor upstairs->Intro 2.2]]. [note] Fallback case, should not normally be reached, redirects to avoid getting stuck. [continue]

You are dragged inside the entrance hall of the Bristol Institute of Archaeology and Antiquities. Eleanor's heels echo sharply across the checkerboard marble floor as she strides past a mahogany [[reception desk]], its surface dominated by a leather-bound [[visitors' ledger]] and a [[silver call bell]]. The heavy [[brass-framed doors->Cannot exit museum, tethered to Eleanor cutscene]] swing shut behind her with a soft hiss. She pauses for a moment, adjusting her [[🕰️pocket watch->Intro pocket watch/CH.2 Intro Skip]] chain, her gaze sweeping the familiar hall.

You are being dragged throughout the entrance hall. Eleanor continues walking briskly towards the center of the atrium. Right in front of her, a imposing [[bronze statue]] looms atop a plinth. Beneath him, an oak table holds an assortment of [[replica artifacts]] behind velvet ropes. She bypasses these central features, heading directly for the grand staircases.

You are still being dragged throughout the entrance hall. Eleanor reaches the base of the eastern staircase. Twin staircases flank the atrium, their wrought-iron banisters terminating at arched entrances labeled ~Ancient Kingdoms~ and ~Prehistoric Findings~ in black lettering. Each entrance is guarded by two life-sized marble [[caryatids]], their stone faces impassive. She pauses for a moment, glancing up the stairs before placing her foot on the first step.

CataloguingTimes: CataloguingTimes + 1 -- The storage room smells of dust and old wood. There's plenty of window across rows of wooden crates and shelving units - enough for it to be more than enough light for a curator. Eleanor sets her clipboard on a scarred workbench and examines the first item requiring documentation: a simple, boring pottery fragment wrapped in brown paper. She records its dimensions and condition on the inventory form. She does the same again, and again, and again; unwrap, examine, measure, record, rewrap. The waistband of her skirt presses against her as she leans forward to inspect smaller artifacts, the fabric pulling taut when she reaches for items on higher shelves. Each movement requires her to adjust her position, her breath coming slightly shorter with the repeated [[stretching and bending->Museum Inventory Cutscene 2]].

SlotOneAttended: true -- Eleanor sets down her pen and flexes her fingers, the final inventory sheet adding to a satisfying stack of completed forms. The shelves around her now bear neat labels in her careful handwriting, each artifact properly documented for the museum's records. She straightens slowly, pressing one hand to the small of her back where the repeated bending has left a dull ache. The morning's work shows in the faint sheen of perspiration at her temples and the way her blouse clings slightly to her shoulders. She gathers her clipboard and pen, pausing only to ensure the storage room door latches properly behind her as she returns to the main corridors. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

SlotOneAttended: true ExpeditionFunds: ExpeditionFunds + 1 -- The Director's grey head appears in the doorway, his gaze sweeping the organized shelves before settling on Eleanor's stack of completed forms. She straightens, the coin still pinched between her fingers. "Miss Lovelace." He steps into the room, picking up one of the forms and scanning the neat entries. "Getting through the backlog, I see. Good work." Eleanor sets the coin carefully in its tissue paper. "The collection required proper documentation, sir." "Indeed it did. Right, well," He drops the form back onto the stack. "Board's approved a pay increase this quarter. Extra pound for staff showing initiative." His eyes move from the labeled shelves back to Eleanor. "Use it toward that research of yours if you see fit." The Director turns on his heel and strides toward the corridor. Eleanor's grip tightens on her pen as his footsteps fade down the hallway. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

CataloguingTimes: CataloguingTimes + 1 -- Eleanor moves directly to the third shelf without consulting her notes, reaching for the wooden box she spotted yesterday. Inside, several Roman coins nestle in tissue paper alongside a collection of medieval pottery shards. She lifts the first coin with steady fingers, turning it toward the window light to examine the worn inscription before recording its details. Her pen moves across the inventory form without pause between entries. She handles each fragment with the same measured care, wrapping and unwrapping with efficient motions that waste no movement. The storage room door creaks as footsteps approach in the corridor outside. Eleanor glances toward the sound, coin balanced between her thumb and forefinger. The footsteps slow, then [[stop just outside the door->Museum Inventory Director Recognition]].

[[Research Ending]]

Your heart flutters against your ribs as you handle the bottle. What if she notices? What if she asks questions? Father's system is dishonest, but though you hate to admit it, it does work to boost sales. "Some patients need the treatment but would refuse it if labeled properly," he always says. What a load of bullshit. We’re just after the coin here - I know it, he knows it, could he just be honest with his only daughter for once? Just get through this transaction. Don't make eye contact for too long. {plainlink to: 'Apothecary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

DayCalories: 0 DayFullnessState: 'HUNGRY' CurrentDay: NextDay -- {embed passage: 'Fix for Lack of Expert Consultation'} [if CurrentDay == 'TUESDAY'] {embed passage: 'Start Day Tuesday'} [if CurrentDay == 'WEDNESDAY'] {embed passage: 'Start Day Wednesday'} [if CurrentDay == 'THURSDAY'] {embed passage: 'Start Day Thursday'} [if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'] {embed passage: 'Start Day Friday'} [continue] [continue] [continue] [if CurrentDay == 'WEEKEND'; unless VioletPlotStealVessel; unless RichardEngagment] {embed passage: 'Chapter 2 Progression Ending Router'} [if CurrentDay == 'WEEKEND'; if VioletPlotStealVessel] {embed passage: 'Start Day Museum Basement (Violet Final Event)'} [if CurrentDay == 'WEEKEND'; if RichardEngagment] {embed passage: 'Chapter 2 Pregnancy Ending'} [note] The *succesful* end of Richard's picnic/excursion, and Mary's gala, will have to link to here (because if succesful Eleanor does not return home on Friday night, Day End Passage and Day End cutscene 2 are skipped). (that means that Day End Passage Logic will have to be embedded at those ending passages too). [continue]

Try as you might, using this item on this object yelds no results. {back link, label: 'Back'}

dialogue.speed: 'normal' -- Dialogue speed has been set to **normal**. {link to: 'Settings', label: 'Back'}

config.style.page.color: "black on amber-2" config.style.page.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.dark.backdrop: "teal-5" config.style.dark.page.color: "gray-1 on gray-6" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "white" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "teal-3" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "aquamarine-2 on gray-6" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "teal-5" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "white" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "teal-3" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "aquamarine-2 on gray-6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "teal-5" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "aquamarine-2 on gray-6" -- ~ ~ ✥ ◇ ✥ ~ ~ [note] ⟇ ~ ~ ~ ✥ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ✥ ⟡ ✥ ~ ~ \~ \~\*\~ ✥ \~\*\~ \~ \~ \~\*\~ ✿ \~\*\~ \~ [continued]

NautilusThrown: true DukeObsidianUsed: true GeologyClubTurns: 4 -- [if EleanorCuriosity] Volcanic glass... clarity of thought, sharp precision cutting through confusion. Wait. Hold on. That spiral formation she keeps mentioning... that's not a geological specimen at all, is it? *Good heavens!* I've been displaying a mollusk fossil as if it were a mineral sample! How mortifying! No wonder she seemed confused by my geological classifications. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Well. Can't have biological specimens contaminating a proper geological collection, can we? I need to get rid of it. RIGHT. NOW. {link to: 'Geology Club Diorama', label: 'Back'}

DukeObsidianUsed: true GeologyClubTurns: 4 -- [unless EleanorCuriosity] Volcanic glass... clarity of thought, sharp precision. Wait. Wait just a moment. Ancient symbols? Mining connections? Have I gone mad? What absolute nonsense am I entertaining? Geology is a science of facts, not flights of fancy. Mineral composition, crystalline structure, stratigraphic analysis - these are concrete realities. Not... not whatever romantic notions this young woman is proposing about symbolic interpretations. I should be examining my specimens properly, not listening to archaeological speculation. Time to end this distraction and return to form. [continue] {link to: 'Geology Club Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[note] This tracks Eleanor's fullness throughout a single day: - HUNGRY: 0-2 calories (hungry) - SATISFIED: 3-4 calories (comfortably fed, normal) - STUFFED: 6-8 calories (very full, uncomfortable) - BURSTING: 9+ calories (painfully overstuffed) [continue] [note] Her office space. Still to develop, but we do know that we will have a bookshelf, a desk, some artefacts on top of the shelves, paper and sketches, a calendar (where we will eventually be able to edit her work timeline) and the inventory objects quill and paper. If you're wondering about the need for embeds, I simply want to make it easier to distinguish between the intro event, where she's called into a meeting, and the actual office in the early morning, before Eleanor arrives in the next days. [continue] [if CurrentDay == 'MONDAY'] {embed passage: 'Office (Monday)'} [if CurrentDay == 'TUESDAY'] {embed passage: 'Office (Tuesday)'} [if CurrentDay == 'WEDNESDAY'] {embed passage: 'Office (Wednesday)'} [if CurrentDay == 'THURSDAY'] {embed passage: 'Office (Thursday)'} [if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'] {embed passage: 'Office (Friday)'} [continue]

You are hovering inside Eleanor's office. Cramped [[📚bookshelves->bookshelves]] dominate the three walls in front of you, interrupted by a narrow [[window]]. Eleanor's desk appears to have been hastily organized - your [[🪦vessel->Vessel (Chapter 2)]] sits beside a nearly ordered pile of documents. [[Eleanor->Eleanor Office Museum]] stands near. [if BallInvitationGained]] [append] There's an opened [[invitation]] with ornate script on the floor. [continue] {embed passage: 'Eleanor Office WeightGained Descriptions'} To the left, a worn settee overflows with rolled [[maps]]. Above it hangs a large framed [[🪙excavation chart->excavation chart]] annotated in red ink. Behind you, the door leads back to the [[🏛️museum halls->Office Door Blocked Off]]. Near it is also a [[📆calendar->calendar]].

{embed passage: 'Office (Monday) Intro'}

OfficeIntroTurns: OfficeIntroTurns + 1 -- [if OfficeIntroTurns == 1] {embed passage: 'Office (Monday) Shared Descriptions'} [if OfficeIntroTurns == 2] {embed passage: 'Office (Monday) Shared Descriptions'} [if OfficeIntroTurns == 3] {embed passage: 'Office (Monday) Shared Descriptions'} [if OfficeIntroTurns == 4] {embed passage: 'Office (Monday) Shared Descriptions'} [if OfficeIntroTurns == 5] {embed passage: 'Office (Monday) Shared Descriptions'} [if OfficeIntroTurns == 6] {embed passage: 'Office (Monday) Shared Descriptions'} [if OfficeIntroTurns == 7] Suddenly, you hear a knock coming from behind you. Without waiting for an answer, the door creaks open. A man steps in: a tall, lanky one, with a top hat that, although sitting slightly askew on his head, scrapes the top of the door frame. His face is framed by what you have to admit is a pretty impressive moustache, waxed to sharp points. His eyes, thin and sharp, sweep the room's walls before landing onto Eleanor. *"Ah. [[I guess you're here after all->Director cutscene 1]]."* he says with a deep, powerful voice. [if OfficeIntroTurns > 7] {embed passage: 'Office (Monday) Shared Descriptions'}

MatterAbility: true TimeAbility: true -- You are hovering inside Eleanor's office. Cramped [[📚bookshelves->bookshelves]] dominate the three walls in front of you, interrupted by a narrow [[window]]. Eleanor's desk faces the door, its surface buried beneath correspondence. On top of it lies your [[🪦vessel->Vessel (Chapter 2)]] alongside some ink-stained [[pens->pens office]] - behind them there's also [[Eleanor->Eleanor Office Museum]] herself, resting on her chair [if PocketWatchOfficeHint; append] and with her [[🕰️pocket watch->pocket watch office]] hanging from her jacket. [continue] [unless PocketWatchOfficeHint; append] . [continue] To the left, a worn settee overflows with rolled [[maps]]. Above it hangs a large framed [[🪙excavation chart->excavation chart]] annotated in red ink. [unless IntroMeetingAttended; append] Near the door is a wooden coat stand with Eleanor's waistcoat that is partially obscuring... something on the wall. [continue] Behind you, the door leads back to the [[🏛️museum halls->Office Door Blocked Off]]. [if IntroMeetingAttended;append] Near it is also a [[📆calendar->calendar]]. [continue] [if OfficeIntroTurns == 1] *This new environment is... reinvigorating. You feel a newfound strength wash over you.* [continue] {accessory: 'right1', passage: 'Abilities Menu', title: 'Abilities', taggedout: 'cutscene, menu, ending, past, povs'} [note] The calendar is missing a slot here because Monday sees the meeting as a forced first slot. The next days should just have the normal calendar. [continue]

You are hovering inside Eleanor's office. Cramped [[📚bookshelves->bookshelves]] dominate the three walls in front of you, interrupted by a narrow [[window]]. Eleanor's desk faces the door, its surface noticeably more cluttered than previous days - several opened tomes have been left askew, surrounding your [[🪦vessel->Vessel (Chapter 2)]]. The [[pens->pens office]] are joined by a stack of folded [[museum flyers]], and a [[visitor logbook]]. {embed passage: 'Eleanor Office WeightGained Descriptions'} To the left, a worn settee overflows with rolled [[maps]]. Above it hangs a large framed [[🪙excavation chart->excavation chart]] annotated in red ink. Behind you, the door leads back to the [[🏛️museum halls->Office Door Blocked Off]]. Near it is also a [[📆calendar->calendar]].

You are hovering inside Eleanor's office. Cramped [[📚bookshelves->bookshelves]] dominate the three walls in front of you, interrupted by a narrow [[window]]. Eleanor's desk faces the door, its surface less cluttered than yesterday - evidently she's made an effort to organize things. Your [[🪦vessel->Vessel (Chapter 2)]] sits precisely where she left it, alongside some ink-stained [[pens->pens office]]. {embed passage: 'Eleanor Office WeightGained Descriptions'} To the left, a worn settee overflows with rolled [[maps]]. Above it hangs a large framed [[🪙excavation chart->excavation chart]] annotated in red ink. Behind you, the door leads back to the [[🏛️museum halls->Office Door Blocked Off]]. Near it is also a [[📆calendar->calendar]]. [note] , and now also a [[business card], propped against an inkwell. , the [[artefacts] she's brought from home. Move the artefacts to be inside the bookshelves [continue]

You are hovering inside Eleanor's office. Cramped [[📚bookshelves->bookshelves]] dominate the three walls in front of you, interrupted by a narrow [[window]]. Eleanor's desk faces the door, its surface showing evidence of renewed activity - several open reference books surround your [[🪦vessel->Vessel (Chapter 2)]], alongside the familiar [[pens->pens office]], [[artefacts]], and now a small stack of [[sketches]]. A [[telegraph notice]] sits atop a pile of correspondence. {embed passage: 'Eleanor Office WeightGained Descriptions'} To the left, a worn settee overflows with rolled [[maps]]. Above it hangs a large framed [[🪙excavation chart->excavation chart]] annotated in red ink. Behind you, the door leads back to the [[🏛️museum halls->Office Door Blocked Off]]. Near it is also a [[📆calendar->calendar]].

You attempt to drift toward the calendar, but find yourself growing weaker with each passing moment. Your form wavers and fades, drawn inexorably back to your vessel. Whatever strength you once had is slipping away, leaving you bound to the desk's surface. {link to: 'Forgotten Office', label: 'Back'}

Eleanor enters her office with brisk efficiency, her traveling cape already fastened over her practical expedition attire. She moves directly to her desk, gathering the final research portfolios and correspondence that require her personal attention during the journey. Your vessel sits exactly where it has rested the previous week, catching the morning light that streams through the tall windows. Eleanor's gaze passes over it briefly as she organizes her papers - just another artifact, one like the rest. Her attention focuses on essentials: [[her maps, her sketches.->Office Departure Cutscene 1.5]]

She pauses at the doorway for one final survey, ensuring nothing critical has been forgotten. She adjusts her cape, lifts her traveling case, and steps into the corridor. The door clicks shut behind her. [[Your vessel remains.->Abandonment Sequence 1]]

You drift toward the door, only to feel a familiar resistance, an invisible tether binding you to... Eleanor herself? Not the vessel, this time around. How odd. You take a moment to assess the door itself, which is made of solid oak with a brass nameplate reading "~E. Lovelace, Assistant Curator~" in recently polished lettering. {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

You attempt to drift in that direction, but find yourself growing weaker with each passing moment. Your form wavers and fades, drawn inexorably back to your vessel. Whatever strength you once possessed is slipping away, leaving you tethered to the desk. {link to: 'Forgotten Office', label: 'Back'}

OilLampsState: 'emboldened' LustSpiritHelpfulActions: LustSpiritHelpfulActions + 2 -- You focus your will into the oil lamps scattered throughout the chamber, sending gentle vibrations through their clay bodies. The wicks respond immediately, drawing up more oil from their reservoirs. The weak, guttering flames suddenly strengthen and grow taller. Their light intensifies, casting warmer shadows across the stone walls. The flames begin to take on a subtle pink hue, as if the oil itself has changed in response to your influence. Or is this the presence's doing? Whatever the answer might be, the chamber fills with a softer, more intimate glow. {link to: 'oil lamps', label: 'Back'}

[unless passage.name == 'Abilities Menu'; unless isCutscene; unless passage.name == 'Settings' {save to file: 'Save'} | {load save: 'Load'} | {link to: 'Settings', label: 'Settings' [continue] [unless passage.name == 'Abilities Menu'; if isCutscene; unless passage.name == 'Settings' {save to file: 'Save'} | {load save: 'Load'} [if passage.name == 'Settings' {save to file: 'Save'} | {load save: 'Load'} | {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back' [continue]

[Javascript] engine.state.set('zOneOfTracking', {}); libfunc = {}; libfunc.randInt = (max) => { return Math.floor(Math.random() * max); // Random int from 0 to max-1 } libfunc.shuffleArray = (arr) => { for (let i = arr.length - 1; i > 0; --i) { const j = libfunc.randInt(i + 1); [arr[i], arr[j]] = [arr[j], arr[i]]; } return arr; } libfunc.embarassinglySimpleHashCode = (s) => { let hash = 0; for (let i = 0; i < s.length; ++i) { let chr = s.charCodeAt(i); hash = (hash << 5) - hash + chr; hash |= 0; } return hash; } libfunc.hashInvocation = (invocation) => { //return passage.name + invocation; return libfunc.embarassinglySimpleHashCode(passage.name + invocation).toString(); } engine.extend('2.1.0', () => { engine.template.inserts.add({ name: "first time", syntax: "{first time: 'text'}", description: "Show snippet of text only the first time the insert is viewed.", completions: ["first time"], arguments: { firstArgument: { required: true, placeholder: "'text'" } }, match: /^first\s+time\b/i, render: (to_print, props, invocation) => { const hash = libfunc.hashInvocation(invocation); if (zOneOfTracking[hash] === undefined) { zOneOfTracking[hash] = true; return to_print; } } }); engine.template.modifiers.add({ name: "first time", syntax: "[first time]", description: "Show block of text only the first time the passage is viewed.", match: /^first\s+time\b/i, process(output, {invocation, state}) { const hash = libfunc.hashInvocation(invocation); if (zOneOfTracking[hash] === undefined) { zOneOfTracking[hash] = true; } else { output.text = ''; output.startsNewParagraph = false; } } }); }); [Javascript] engine.extend('2.1.0', () => { engine.template.inserts.add({ name: "one of", syntax: "{one of: ['choice 1', 'choice 2'], order: 'order'}", description: "Display varying text every time the player encounters this insert.", completions: ["one of"], arguments: { firstArgument: { required: true, }, optionalProps: { order: { placeholder: "'order'" } } }, match: /^one\s+of\b/i, render(choices, props, invocation) { const hash = libfunc.hashInvocation(invocation); let prev = zOneOfTracking[hash]; let ret; const order = (props.order || '').toLowerCase(); if (order === 'random' || order === '') { let choice = prev; while (choice == prev) { choice = libfunc.randInt(choices.length); } zOneOfTracking[hash] = choice; ret = choices[choice]; } else if (order === 'pure random') { ret = choices[libfunc.randInt(choices.length)]; } else if (order === 'shuffled') { if (prev === undefined || prev.length == 0) { prev = libfunc.shuffleArray([...choices]); } ret = prev.pop(); zOneOfTracking[hash] = prev; } else if (order === 'stopping' || order === 'cycling') { if (prev === undefined) { prev = 0; } else { prev++; if (prev >= choices.length) { prev = (order === 'stopping') ? choices.length - 1 : 0; } } zOneOfTracking[hash] = prev; ret = choices[prev]; } else { if (config.testing) { throw new Error( `The {one of} order was "${order}" but must be one of "random", "pure random", "shuffled", "stopping", or "cycling"` ); } ret = invocation; } return ret; } }); });

As you follow her as she deposits her tray at the collection point, you both get close enough to overhear the two. "Ah, come now, I think she's got a chance," murmurs the elder of the pair, leaning forward. The other seems to eye Eleanor, before speaking. "I honestly don't see it happening... wait, shut it, she's coming this way." [note] different comments based on how fat she has gotten. [continue]

MikaCollectionRevealed: true VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 1 -- [note] add an entry for the calendar for an event where Eleanor checks Mika's collection. There, she finds Violet, who's struggling to open the crate, and asks for Eleanor's help. The player will have to find a way to indirectly help, as usual. The box does end up containing an artefact related to Eleanor's research. Violet ends up touching the artefact, and is disappointed by something (in thruth, she believed the player/ghost came from that object - by touching it she secretly recognizes it as being magically inert). She ends up giving it to Eleanor. We could have an object in the room (which is a part of a larger collection, and which is also dark) give off a flash of light: just enough for the player to catch Violet's shadow being much, much larger than it should be. If VioletInterest is high enough at the end of this event, there'll be a text to have the player know that Violet is suspecting Eleanor to have the artefact she is looking for (the one tied to you). Tell you what though, this route should be accessed by mostly doing the unintuitive events - hence why you learn about the crate by going to the cafe on thursday, as the cafe is the least fattening option, and the player might not pick it in the later days. [continue]

VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 1 --

The first pale light of Wednesday morning filters through Eleanor's bedroom windows, illuminating her sprawled form still naked on the four-poster bed. Her eyes flutter open gradually, unfocused and heavy. For a moment she lies perfectly still, then awareness strikes like a physical blow. [[Thursday. The ferry. Brittany.->Bedroom Merge Ending Diorama]]

[if PackingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:pack1] Eleanor attempts to roll herself upright, her massive belly creating an insurmountable obstacle. [if PackingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.8 id:pack1] Each effort sends ripples across the pale, stretched dome of her stomach, while deep groans escape her lips with every failed attempt. [if PackingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:2.0 id:pack1] Her arms tremble under the weight of lifting her, sweat beading across her forehead and pooling between her heavy breasts, which spill to either side of her with each movement. [if PackingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:pack1 newline] You can spot a number of faint stretch marks that weren't there yesterday. [if PackingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.8 id:pack1] Finally, she manages to prop herself against the headboard, her breathing shallow. [if PackingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:2.2 id:pack1] A long, rolling belch erupts from deep within her, bringing a momentary expression of relief to her flushed face. [continue] [if PackingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:pack2] Sitting on the bed's edge proves to be an ordeal of its own. [if PackingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:pack2] Eleanor's legs dangle uselessly as her enormously distended belly prevents her from reaching the floor properly. [if PackingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:pack2] She rocks forward and back, her stomach gurgling audibly with each movement, trying to build momentum to stand. [if PackingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:2.0 id:pack2 newline] When she finally manages to slide off the mattress, her knees buckle immediately. [if PackingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:pack2] She catches herself against the bedpost, gasping and moaning as the sudden movement sends waves of discomfort through her overpacked form. [if PackingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:pack2] A whimper of frustration escapes her lips. [continue] [if PackingTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:pack3] Eleanor eyes her expedition clothes with disdain. [if PackingTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:pack3] The practical skirts and blouses that seemed so appropriate weeks ago now... don't seem as much. [if PackingTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:pack3] She attempts to lift one of the blouses holding it against her naked form. [if PackingTurns == 3; dialogue delay:2.0 id:pack3 newline] The fabric doesn't even span half the width of her swollen middle. [if PackingTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:pack3] She lets it fall to the floor with a bitter laugh that catches in her throat, one hand unconsciously moving to trace the taut, aching surface of her upper belly where it presses against her ribs. [if PackingTurns == 3; dialogue delay:2.2 id:pack3] Her fingers linger there, feeling the incredible tension in her skin, and for a moment her eyes flutter closed as if savoring the sensation despite her predicament. [continue] [if PackingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:pack4] The expedition trunk taunts her from across the room - a distance that might as well be miles. [if PackingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:pack4] Eleanor attempts to waddle toward it, each step a carefully calculated effort. [if PackingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:pack4] Her thighs rub together with each movement, while her massive belly sways and bounces, throwing off her balance. [if PackingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:2.0 id:pack4 newline] Halfway there, she's forced to stop and lean against the wardrobe, panting heavily. [if PackingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:pack4] A series of small, stifled burps punctuate her labored breathing as her stomach continues its relentless work. [if PackingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:2.2 id:pack4] She slides one hand along the enormous curve of her middle - you watch her nipples hardening as she does so. [continue] [if PackingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:pack5] Eleanor spots a fallen undergarment near the foot of the bed and attempts to retrieve it. [if PackingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:pack5] She bends forward slowly, her massive belly immediately pressing against her thighs and making any further descent impossible. [if PackingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:2.0 id:pack5] The blood rushes to her head as she struggles, her breasts hanging heavily, nipples brushing against the taut surface below. [if PackingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:pack5 newline] She straightens with obvious effort, abandoning the garment entirely. [if PackingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:pack5] Both hands move to massage the small of her back. [continue]

config.header.left: "{embed passage: 'Ascii Logic'}" -- The shelves, once barren, are now looking a bit healthier. Even so, someone has clearly gone through a lot of the previously stolen supplies. The tin of biscuits has been moved, and likewise the loaf of bread is now gone, along with most of the jars of jam. A few remain, half-empty. [if winecrate == false] The wicker basket that once lay abandoned is now neatly placed on the bottom shelf, empty but for a few stray crumbs. The open [[crate]] has also been moved, but just by a few feet to the left, possibly to use as the occasional stepping stool - its walls are quite thick, enough for a foot to rest on. [if winecrate == true] The wicker basket that once lay abandoned is now neatly placed on the bottom shelf, empty but for a few stray crumbs. The open, now empty crate has also been moved, but just by a few feet to the left, possibly to use as the occasional stepping stool - its walls are quite thick, enough for a foot to rest on. *It seems Eleanor came back for more of the wine after all.* [continued] {link to: 'kitchenette', label: 'Back'}

As you focus on the amphora's black-figured curves, the glass case dissolves. A strong, overwhelming heat washes over you. [[...this is not the museum.->Past Amphora occasion 1]]

AmphoraState: 'saved' -- You focus your will, sending a resonant tremor through the amphora's base. The ceramic thrums like a struck bell, vibrations travelling up the barbarian's boot as his foot connects with the vessel. He staggers back, eyes darting to the humming artifact. The amphora rocks violently, but doesn't tip, its corked neck weeping a single tear of wine onto the marble below. "*Hexerei...*" he hisses, making a warding gesture. Roman shouts echo closer now - too close. With one last fearful glance at the quivering amphora, he bolts empty-handed toward the stables. The vision snaps shut. You recognize the lingering flavour of wine in the air. {link to: 'amphora', label: 'Back'}

The figure kicks the amphora in frustration and to move it forward, accidentally sending it rocking into a marble column. One handle shears off with a ceramic screech. He rams a cork from another nearby amphor into the neck, but the seal sits crooked. Dark liquid weeps down the side as he hefts it onto his shoulder. A stray arrow embeds itself in the villa wall as he lumbers toward waiting horses, leaving a strong trail of wine-drops behind him. The vision snaps shut. {link to: 'amphora', label: 'Back'}

A hulking figure looms over the amphora, his beard matted with soot. Scale armour hangs loose from his shoulders as he plunges a hand into the vessel's belly, as if reaching for something inside. He looks surprised when a fair amount of wine slops over the rim, soaking the wolf pelt tied at his waist. *"...Rotwein. [[Klasse!->Past Amphora occasion 2]]"* [inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Past Amphora Saved]] [continue]

"Faul sein!" he snarls to himself, shaking dregs from his fingers. Behind him, a legionary's shield cracks against cobblestones - someone's coming this way and, from context clues, they don't seem to be friends with this particular barbarian. You watch intently as the barbarian struggles against the container. [[It looks to be heavier than he had anticipated.->Past Amphora ending]]. [inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Past Amphora Saved]] [continue]

AmuletsPastSeen: true -- The exhibition hall dissolves, replaced by cool, damp air that carries the scent of wet stone and something organic - sweet, almost fermented. You find yourself suspended above a vast, darkened chamber. Teal phosphorescence emanates from clusters of bulbous fungi clinging to the cavern walls, their caps pulsing with a steady, breath-like rhythm. The light casts everything in a teal glow - stalactites drip condensation that sparkles as it falls. Vegetation you do not recognize carpets the cavern floor in patches. Thick leaves spiral upward from gnarled stems, their surfaces slick with moisture that beads and rolls in the phosphorescent light. There are streams weave between the growth, their water dark but clear, carrying sediment that glitters with the same luminescence. Tiny spores drift lazily through the chamber, catching the light. [[Somewhere below you, you hear a scraping sound.->Past Amulets Cutscene 2]]

Your attention draws to a small figure hunched near one of the phosphorescent pools. The scraping continues - against stone, ivory, and jewels, irregular and halting. You spot a small hand with sharp nails working at what appears to be a piece of white bone. Well, you can only assume that to be white: the light here is making everything one color. The figure crouches on bare feet, toes gripping the damp moss for balance. Rough-woven fabric wraps around narrow hips, the cloth secured with what looks like twisted vine. The shoulders are bare, its skin gleaming - dark hair falls forward, obscuring their face. Their movements are clumsy, the nails slipping frequently. Beside the worker, several completed pieces rest in the moss - amulets bearing the same wavering lines you recognize from the museum's collection. The figure pauses, holding the bone up. The sharp hands turn the piece, examining each groove with apparent satisfaction. [[**BONK**->Past Amulets Cutscene 3]]

A second figure has emerged from behind a cluster of fungi, clutching a large bone. The first figure rubs their skull where the stone struck. It's hard to tell from this height up, but both look fairly short, with the newcomer having curly hair, being broader through the hips and middle, her rounded form wrapped in similar rough cloth. "Keff! Fields need tend!" Her voice carries a harsh accent, words clipped short. "Big-Maw want mushrooms before dark-time. You sit here scratch bones like... like useless kit!" The male holds up its index finger with one hand, and the carved amulet in the other. "Wrong!! Wrong. Make good trade-things. Sky-walkers like shiny marks." He smiles, smugly so. "[[Everyone knows.->Past Amulets Cutscene 3.5]]"

"Idiot! Sky-walkers not come for seasons. Stomach empty *now*!" She swipes at his head again, though, seeing it coming, he expertly ducks under it... a couple of seconds too late. "Husband mine supposed help dig tubers, not play with dead-things!" Keff sighs as he pushes himself up from the moss, watching the broader figure disappear behind a wall of phosphorescent fungi. He waits, head tilted toward the fading voices - his hands sweep across the moss, gathering the scattered amulets. Each piece disappears into a small pouch at his waist - bone, ivory, the half-finished carvings. The vision dissolves, returning you to the scattered brown paper and broken artifacts. {link to: 'amulets', label: 'Back'}

ApothecaryPregnantPast: true -- As you focus on the bench, the apothecary dissolves into an earlier moment. The light shifts, growing warmer as afternoon sun slants through the windows on the left. A heavily pregnant woman - perhaps 6 or 7 month in - sits on the bench, her hands resting protectively over her swollen middle. An older apothecary with black hair and slanted glasses approaches her with a brown bottle - just one out of the hundreds on display just [[behind the counter->Past Bench Cutscene 2]].

ApothecaryScalePast: true -- As you focus, the apothecary dissolves into an earlier moment. The light shifts, growing warmer as afternoon sun slants through the windows on the right. A muscular young man in sporting attire stands at the counter, his broad shoulders almost touching both walls of the narrow shop. To the other side, an older apothecary with black hair and slanted glasses is currently weighing something on the scale with careful precision. "Ah, Mr. Harrington, you are a *lucky* one. My special formula! Just came in today" the apothecary explains as he fixes a new label to a brown bottle. "Guaranteed to add at least 20 pounds before your competition. The judges prefer a more [[substantial physique->past scale cutscene 2]] in their champions, and would you look at that! I'm here to help."

AqueductState: 'redirected' LustSpiritOpposingActions: LustSpiritOpposingActions + 1 -- You focus your will into the main pipe above, sending vibrations through the bronze and stone. The water rushing within shudders slightly, and you hear a faint change in the flow's sound. One of the smaller side pipes suddenly stops its steady trickle. The water that was flowing through it now joins the main current, which continues upward along the ceiling stones. Marcus remains focused on his bronze device, completely unaware of the change. He finishes his work and heads toward the exit. {link to: 'broken aqueduct pipes', label: 'Back'} [note] Right then, let's get you lot flowing properly, Morning, Marcus! Hard at work or hardly working, ay? Aye, and you'd better not waste all of the water like last time, Gaius! Some of us actually need a proper wash after dealing with your lot's training mess. We'll save you the cold pools then! [continue]

AqueductState: 'past_seen' -- As you focus on the broken pipes, the chamber shifts around you. Dawn light streams through higher openings, and the space feels larger, more complete. A stocky man in a simple tunic enters through an archway, carrying bronze tools and a leather satchel. He moves with the practiced ease of routine, approaching a series of bronze valves set into the wall where the pipes emerge. Water trickles from several openings, but the flow remains minimal. "*Eia nunc, vos turbam recte fluere facite,*" he mutters, selecting a bronze key from his collection. The first valve turns with a metallic grinding sound, and immediately more water begins coursing through the overhead pipes. The sound of marching feet echoes from the entrance tunnel - [[heavy boots on stone, growing closer...->Past Aqueduct Occasion 2]] [note] Right then, let's get you lot flowing properly, [continue]

A column of soldiers enters the chamber, their armor clanking as they file through on their way to the surface. The first few nod to the attendant, who waves back without pausing in his work. "*Salve, Marce! Num laborare an cessare malles, hem?*" calls out a young soldier near the back of the group. "*Sane, et cave ne rursum totam aquam perdas ut antea, Gai!*" Marcus replies, opening another valve. Water pressure increases noticeably - you can hear it rushing through the overhead pipes with greater force. "*Some of us actually need a proper wash after dealing with your lot's training mess.*" The soldiers laugh as they continue past, heading up stone steps toward daylight. "*Tibi igitur piscinas frigidas servabimus!*" another shouts back. Marcus grins and shakes his head, turning his attention to the largest valve. This one requires both hands to turn, and when it opens fully, water cascades through the main pipe with [[considerable pressure.->Past Aqueduct Occasion 3]] [note] Morning, Marcus! Hard at work or hardly working, ay? Aye, and you'd better not waste all of the water like last time, Gaius! Some of us actually need a proper wash after dealing with your lot's training mess. We'll save you the cold pools then! [continue] [inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a focused, redirecting hum...->Past Aqueduct Aether Cutscene 1]] [continue]

Marcus steps back, satisfied with his work. Water flows forcefully through all the overhead pipes now, the sound of rushing liquid echoing throughout the chamber. Steam begins rising from various points where the heated water travels somewhere above. The largest pipe carries the strongest flow, water surging upward through a channel that follows the stone ceiling. Smaller pipes branch off in different directions, but the main current rushes along the overhead stones with considerable force. The vision begins to fade, pulling you back toward the present. {link to: 'broken aqueduct pipes', label: 'Back'} [inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a focused, redirecting hum...->Past Aqueduct Aether Cutscene 1]] [continue]

bathtub: true -- The air shimmers and bends around you, and the washroom dissolves into an earlier moment in the day. The tub is now filled with steaming water, its surface dotted with bubbles. The faint sound of water dripping from the faucet punctuates the quiet. It's at that moment, that [[Eleanor->Past Bathtub cutscene 2]] enters the room.

Her blonde hair is loosely pinned up and she seems to be carrying a small porcelain dish filled with bath salts, which she readily pours into the water. Discarding her robe, she now stands there with her chest and round belly out in the open. She steps in, her pale skin flushed from the warmth of the room, and sinks into the warm water. For a while, she simply rests, the rise and fall of her chest the only movement. Then, with care, she reaches for the bar of soap, lathering her hands before trailing the foam along her arms, neck, and legs. You don't get to see her exiting the tub - the washroom returns to its original state, and you find yourself gazing at an empty bathtub. {link to: 'washroom', label: 'Back'}

"Mrs. Hamley! One pill each morning." he says eagerly. "The tonic will help with your fatigue, *and* ensure the baby grows strong." She smiles gratefully, accepting the bottle. "And you're certain it's safe?" "Ah! You're a funny one, aren't you? Come now, it's perfectly safe," he assures her. "Many expectant mothers have benefited from a little... supplemental nourishment." The vision fades, returning you to the present. {link to: 'waiting bench', label: 'Back'}

BronzeFigurinePastSeen: true -- The office dissolves, replaced by swirling mist and the heavy, cloying scent of damp earth and woodsmoke. As the vision clarifies, you see a rough-hewn wooden workbench lit by an orange oil-lamp, inside what feels more like a burrow than a simple hut; looking up, you see that the low ceiling is braced with thick, gnarled roots. A man with sharp, almost pinched features and long arms hunches over the bench, his braided hair matted with grime. He holds the small bronze horse, turning it nervously in the dim light, polishing its surface with a scrap of stiff hide. The solder on the repaired leg gleams dully, [[still fresh->Past Bronze Figurine Cutscene 2]].

He starts as a broad shadow engulfs the low, hide-covered doorway. A woman, shorter than the craftsman, stoops to enter, her frame wide beneath layers of heavy wool and furs decorated with crude carvings - spirals ending in what could be… grasping hands? Maybe ripening fruit. A heavy torque necklace sits low on her thick neck. Her dark eyes, fix on the figurine. The craftsman lowers his head, presenting the horse with trembling hands. She snatches it, her thick fingers then tracing its form. "Gifts make safe path. Food bring you back. Remember this." she grunts, the words rumbling deep in her chest, before tucking the figurine securely into a pouch at her wide belt. Without another glance, she turns and ducks back through the hide flap. The hut and the anxious craftsman flicker as the vision snaps back to the present. {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'} [note] Hints of subterranean/proto-goblin themes without explicit mentions. Focuses on earthy descriptions, slightly unusual physical traits, and modified dialogue emphasizing offerings/sustenance for safe travel. [continue]

BusinessCardPastSeen: true -- As you focus on the cream-colored card, the office around you dissolves, the light shifting to, if you had to guess, just an hour earlier today. You are standing in the exact same place as before. Uh. Eleanor is seated, looking slightly flustered, opposite a stout man in an expensive, somewhat loud suit. He slides the business card across the desk towards her. "*Miss Lovelace, a genuine pleasure. Heard whispers 'bout your… unique expertise from young Mary down the hall.*" He leans forward slightly, his voice dropping conspiratorially. "*See, I represent certain… private collectors. Folks with a taste for items not typically found in your… ah… stuffy museum halls, if you catch my drift.*" He taps the card with a thick finger. "*Looking for someone sharp. Discrete. Someone who knows where to dig, proverbially speakin'. For artifacts with… *character*. The more unusual, the better. Compensation, naturally, would be… *generous*.*" *The vision begins to ripple, pulling you back to the present.* {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

GluttonyCalEXP: GluttonyCalEXP + 1 -- Eleanor's shoulders tense as her stomach emits a loud gurgle. She shifts in her chair, the wood creaking under her weight. Her free hand toys with the top button of her high-collared blouse. "[[Stop being absurd->Butter Dish cutscene 3]]," she mutters to herself, glaring at the ledger. But her eyes keep darting to the silver dish's reflection in the window glass. When she finally stands, her petticoats whisper a protest against her thickened waist.

CatalogueCardsPastSeen: true -- The cards blur, their neat ink lines dissolving into a warmer, lamplight scene. Eleanor sits alone at this same table, on a different day. Her hair is shorter, loosened from its present usual, and she works with one hand while the other holds a half-eaten jam tart. Crumbs scatter across the cataloguing cards as she writes. A small paper bag beside her elbow contains more pastries - clearly more than one person should consume in an evening. She pauses to lick jam from her fingers before reaching for her pen again, leaving a sticky fingerprint on the card's corner. As she works, you catch sight of a small note tucked beneath the pastry bag. It simply states: *"For the *later* shift - V.W."* Eleanor glances at it occasionally, a flush rising in her cheeks - eventually, she opts to turn it around. *Perhaps it was not meant for her? In any case, the vision quickly fades.* {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'

VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 1 -- Darkness. Complete and utter blackness swallows the archive. You can see nothing, not even the faintest outline of the shelves or the table. Slow, heavy footsteps echo on the distant stone floor, approaching steadily from the main museum halls. They pause somewhere near the entrance to this section of the archives. A moment of silence, then a soft *thump*, followed by the unmistakable scrape of wood against stone. A low grunt accompanies the scraping, the sound strained, full of effort. The scraping continues intermittently, punctuated by heavy breathing and further grunts. *POP* You hear something small pebble on the floor, then a sigh. The darkness dissolves, the familiar dim light of the archives returning as the vision fades. {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'}

DeskPastSeen: true -- The pristine mahogany surface blurs, dissolving into a much more chaotic scene. The desk now overflows with precarious stacks of correspondence, open ledgers competing for space with scattered architectural blueprints, half-eaten biscuits on a saucer leaving crumbs near the inkwell, and even a stray glove resting on top of a funding proposal. The Director sits amidst the disarray, frowning at a lengthy letter, completely absorbed. Suddenly, his eyes dart to the small clock visible on the mantelpiece across the room. His expression shifts instantly from concentration to [[mild panic->Past Desk Cutscene 2]].

"*...Lovelace!*" he mutters under his breath. In a flurry of motion, he begins shoving papers haphazardly into drawers, cramming blueprints atop letters, sweeping biscuit crumbs onto the floor with the side of his hand, and stuffing the glove into his pocket. He slams the drawers shut, hastily straightens the blotter, snatches up the offending saucer, and positions the single closed ledger dead center. He gives the surface a quick, anxious wipe with his handkerchief just as the *knock* sounds on his office door... *The memory snaps shut, leaving you hovering before the perfectly tidy desk of the present.* {link to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'} [note] Shows the Director's hasty cleanup before the meeting via Chronos ability. Sets a flag. [continue]

FrescoesState: 'corrupted' LustSpiritOpposingActions: LustSpiritOpposingActions + 1 -- You focus your will into the glowing brazier, vibrating the iron frame until the metal rings with heat. The coals within flare white-hot, far beyond their natural temperature. Flames leap higher, casting harsh shadows that dance violently across the chamber walls. The artist steps back in alarm as the intense heat washes over his fresh work. The wet plaster begins to crack and bubble, the carefully applied pigments blistering under the sudden temperature surge. Faces contort into grimaces, embracing figures appear to writhe in agony rather than passion. "*Quid... quid per Martem...? Non! Meum... meum opus! Eeeeheuuuuu!*" the artist gasps, shielding his face from the scorching air. The beautiful scene of desire transforms before his eyes - cracks split lovers apart, scorch marks turn caresses into claws, serene expressions become masks of torment. You watch him fall to his knees, utterly defeated - the muscular attendant from before approaches him, and places a heavy, if a little oily hand on his shoulder. {link to: 'frescoes', label: 'Back'} [note] Um... gulp... y-yes, hold still just a moment longer, P-Perfect, yes... just like that... There... the... the commander will be pleased with this, Nothing like a bit of inspiration for the men's relaxation. W-what in Mars' name...? No! My... my masterpiece! Noooooooooo! [continue]

FrescoesState: 'past_seen' -- As you focus on the elaborate wall decorations, the underground chamber dissolves around you. The air grows warm and humid, filled with the sound of flowing water and muffled conversations. Oil lamps burn brightly in wall niches, casting steady golden light across freshly painted plaster. A young man kneels before the wall, grinding pigments on a marble palette. His tunic is stained with ochre and vermillion. Behind him, a number of people are moving between heated pools, their voices echoing off the vaulted ceiling. The artist glances over his shoulder, studying a particular couple near the massage platform. The woman lies on her stomach, bare back glistening with oil as a muscular attendant straddles her thighs. His large hands work down her spine, fingers pressing into the small of her back while her rounded ass curves beneath his position. His brush moves across the wet plaster, capturing the way her breasts press against the stone, the attendant's thick, veiny forearms as he kneads her flesh. "*Hem... ita... ita vero, paululum adhuc sta immotus,*" he calls softly. [[Neither seems to notice his observation.->Past Frescoes Occasion 2]]

The artist steps back to admire his work. The fresco depicts an intricate scene of lust - couples with legs intertwined, hands grasping at heavy breasts and firm buttocks, tongues meeting between parted lips. A woman straddles a man's lap while his hands cup her swaying breasts; another pair locks in embrace with her thigh wrapped around his hip. The pigments gleam wet in the lamplight, still settling into the plaster. "*Ecce... Ecce! Imperator... imperator hoc delectabitur,*" he says to himself, wiping paint-stained fingers on his tunic. "*Nihil sicut paulum inspirationis ad militum relaxationem.*" The brazier crackles nearby, its iron frame glowing with heat. The coals within pulse red and orange, maintaining the chamber's warmth. The artist has placed it close to help dry his work, the radiant heat speeding the curing process. The vision wavers. {link to: 'frescoes', label: 'Back'}

The artist's attention shifts to another group near the heated pool. A soldier has pulled a young woman against the stone edge, her full breasts pressed against his chest as water drips from her dark nipples. His calloused hands grip her wide hips while she wraps her thighs around his waist, both lost in their coupling. The painter's brush captures the soldier's muscular shoulders. He works quickly, adding the curve of her spine as she arches against him, the way her buttocks clench in his rough palms. "*P-perfecte, ita... sic... sic plane...*" he murmurs, adding delicate shadows where the soldier's hands press into her waist. The fresco is nearing its completion. A brazier burns nearby, its coals glowing red-hot to warm the chamber and keep the atmosphere comfortable for the bathers. The artist occasionally warms his hands over [[the flames->Past Frescoes Cutscene 3]] between applications of paint. [inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a scorching, crackling hum...->Past Frescoes Aether Cutscene 1]] [continue]

MagnifyingGlassPastSeen: true VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 1 -- The lens clouds purple, and the archives dissolve around you. A basement chamber, illuminated by that same unnatural light. You see Violet standing over a black-haired woman kneeling on stone flagstones, her corpulent form straining against the remnants of what must once have been a proper dress. The fabric gaps between buttons that can no longer close, revealing the pale expanse of her overfilled belly as it aprons heavily against her thighs, and partially rests on the ground. Her breathing comes in shallow gasps - [[she's clearly had more than enough already.->Past Magnifying Glass Archive Review 2]]

Violet's gloved hand forces the woman's jaw wide anyways, her cheeks bulging as thick, dark liquid is poured from a silver chalice. The woman's throat works desperately, purple wine streaming down her multiple chins to pool in the deep valley between her breasts before soaking into the stretched fabric below. Her arms - soft, rounded, and tied behind her back - tremble as she struggles to keep it all down. *"Swallow,"* Violet commands coldly, tilting the chalice further. *"Devotion requires commitment."* The woman's muffled whimpers and the gurgles of its stomach echo off stone walls as her swollen belly visibly distends with each forced gulp. Behind them, other figures wait in line, their own chalices gleaming. The lens clears - the vision snaps shut. {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MapPastSeen: true -- The Director's polished office fades, replaced by the same room, possibly decades earlier. A portly gentleman with mutton chop sideburns and wearing spectacles much like Eleanor's stands before the large map of the Empire, tracing a finger across the pink territories. He turns to a younger man holding rolled architectural plans. "*...considerable investment, Hastings, considerable. But think of the prestige! An institution to rival any on the Continent.*" He gestures towards the framed charter hanging nearby, its wax seal still vibrant red. "*Her Majesty's patronage secures our standing. We must ensure the design reflects that. Room for expansion... particularly for acquisitions from...* ahh*,*" he gestures vaguely towards Africa and Asia on the map, "*...*those* promising territories.*" The younger man nods deferentially, unrolling the plans further. But you don’t get to see them. The figures vanish as the modern office snaps back into focus. {link to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The museum hall blurs, the light shifting to a sunset. The main lights are off, leaving only a few auxiliary gas lamps hissing softly. You watch as two junior attendants are hastily clearing up after what might have been a small, informal end-of-week gathering for senior staff - a few scattered chairs, empty glasses. One attendant pushes the pastry cart, intending to return it to the kitchens. "*Oh, just... just leave it, Thomas!*" the other calls tiredly, already halfway out the door. "*Cleaning crew will get it Monday. Let's just get home.*" Thomas hesitates, shrugs, and pushes the cart somewhat haphazardly behind the statuette plinth to get it out of the main walkway. The vision quickly melts back to Monday. {link to: 'pastry cart Intro Meeting', label: 'Back'}

ScarabPastSeen: true -- As you focus on the small scarab, the office dissolves into a moment from the recent past. The light shifts to a warm afternoon glow coming through the window. [unless ExhibitDioramaTurns > 0] A tall man with a neatly trimmed beard stands before Eleanor's desk, holding the scarab between its fingers. His spectacles catch the light as he leans forward. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns > 0] Richard stands before Eleanor's desk, holding the scarab between careful fingers. His spectacles catch the light as he leans forward. [continue] "Just a small token," he says, placing it gently on the desk. "Found several like these in the shipment. This one's a minor duplicate - [[properly recorded, of courseThe scene begins to fade...->Past Scarab Cutscene 2]]."

"Oh, well, I couldn't possibly…" Eleanor begins, though her fingers already trace the scarab's surface with obvious interest. [unless ExhibitDioramaTurns > 0] The man shrugs, a small smile playing at his lips. "Consider it a paperweight. They're… well, not exactly rare anyway.” [if ExhibitDioramaTurns > 0] Richard shrugs, a small smile playing at his lips. "Consider it a paperweight. They're… well, not exactly rare anyway.” [continue] Eleanor's expression softens. "Well, since you put it that way. Thank you." [unless ExhibitDioramaTurns > 0] "Right," he clears his throat, adjusting his spectacles nervously, "I should get back to, um… the other stuff I need to work on, yes." [if ExhibitDioramaTurns > 0] "Right," Richard clears his throat, adjusting his spectacles nervously, "I should get back to, um… the other stuff I need to work on, yes." [continue] [append] As he hurries from the office, Eleanor carefully places the scarab atop her papers, with a small smile at her lips. The vision slowly fades back to the present. [continue] {link to: 'scarab', label: 'Back'}

ShelvesPastSeen: true VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 1 -- The ordered shelves blur, their precise arrangement dissolving into disarray. It's much darker, with only a dim candle illuminating the surrounding space, but getting close you can see crumbs of pastry scatter across the floor between document boxes, and a half-empty bottle of claret sits precariously balanced on a lower shelf. Jam stains mark the spines of several ledgers. From behind the furthest shelf, you see someone emerging in the dark - a female silhouette, pressing her fist delicately to her lips to muffle a soft *burp*. She smooths her waistcoat with both hands, the fabric stretched taut across her middle. Without looking around, she begins gathering crumb-dusted papers with methodical efficiency, her movements careful, if slightly unsteady. The mess vanishes as the vision snaps back to the present's sterile order. {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'}

As you focus on the small figure of Taweret, the exhibition hall dissolves around you. Warmth strikes your form - a dry, oppressive heat. Golden light floods a temple chamber. You watch as a pregnant woman kneels before a larger version of the statuette, her belly protruding prominently beneath fine linen robes. Her fingers trace the hippo-goddess's own swollen form as she murmurs supplications. [[The priest approaches from behind...->Past Statuette Cutscene 2]]

The priest bears a tray of offerings - dates, bread, and small cakes. His gaze never meets the woman's as he places them before the statue. "Great Taweret blesses those who grow abundant with life," he intones. "The more you honor her with sustenance, the more your own child shall thrive." The woman nods, reaching for a cake with trembling fingers. As she takes her first bite, the vision ripples, and you glimpse something curious - behind the priest, a pink, spectral form hovers... one that seems to look directly at you before the scene dissolves. {link to: 'statuette', label: 'Back'}

MassageStonePlatformState: 'past_seen' -- As you focus on the raised stone surface, the chamber transforms around you. Warm, humid air replaces the current staleness, and the space fills with the sound of flowing water and distant conversations. The platform gleams with a thin coating of oil, its channels catching the lamplight as they guide rivulets toward small collection basins. A woman lies face-down across the smooth surface, her body spreading wide over the heated stone. Her heavy breasts flatten against the surface, spilling outward beneath her weight. Thick thighs press together, their soft curves glistening with oil. Her broad hips fill the platform's width, the deep cleft between her substantial ass clearly visible as oil pools in the hollow of her lower back. A muscular attendant straddles her thighs, his calloused hands hard at work. Oil streams from his hands into the stone channels as he works downward, his thumbs pressing deep grooves into the thick padding around her spine. The woman gasps with a giggle, clearly not expecting him to move where he has. Her dark hair spreads across the stone, damp with perspiration. {link to: 'stone platform', label: 'Back'}

MaryPastryChoiceSeen: true -- The tearoom flickers, the current scene dissolving into a slightly earlier moment. You find yourself near the polished counter where pastries are displayed under glass domes. Mary stands there, pointing decisively with a gloved finger. "*Oh, definitely the Battenberg,*" she tells the patient attendant, "*Eleanor simply *devours* that. And those little lemon squares... heavens, she ate nearly half the plate last time! Best include four of those. And a cream horn... yes, and those jam tarts look delightful today. Must have a full plate, wouldn't want dear Eleanor to go hungry! She does work so terribly hard, burns through energy, I imagine.*" She beams as the attendant begins arranging the generous selection onto the tiered plate you recognise. The vision ripples, pulling you back to the present moment. {link to: 'pastry plate Tea With Mary', label: 'Back'} [note] This past view shows Mary actively selecting pastries with Eleanor's known appetite in mind, reinforcing the gluttony theme and Mary's potentially enabling role. Sets MaryPastryChoiceSeen to true. [continue]

pastterraceturn (comesFromMenu() != true): pastterraceturn + 1 -- {embed passage: 'Past Terrace Narrative Logic'}

You watch as Mary rises from her seat. She gathers her things with practiced efficiency, her movements brisk, but not unkind. "This has been lovely, Eleanor!" she says with a warm smile. "You must promise to keep me updated on your plans. I’d love to see you go through with this Brittany business. How exciting!" Eleanor stands as well, offering a polite smile, though you can tell she's quite disappointed - not surprising given how little progress she has made in her attempt at a more serious talk. "Of course. Thank you for stopping by, Mary. It... it was nice." As the door closes behind the two of them, [[the terrace begins to fade->Past terrace cutscene 2]].

You find yourself onto the same terrace, but in a different moment in time. You have no clue of what day it is, but from the sun up above you know it's roughly 5 o'clock. The table now sits at the center, a [[box of sweets]] and a polished [[tea set]] atop it. The [[potted plants->past potted plants]] are lush, their green leaves swaying gently in the breeze. [[Eleanor->Eleanor Past Terrace]] sits across from [[Mary]], who speaks animatedly, gesturing with one hand while sipping her tea with the other. Behind you is the way back inside the [[flat->past terrace denied entry cutscene]]. *“Brittany, is it?” Mary says with a playful smile, "I'm told it's lovely this time of year! Are you going to get a room in Rennes? Nantes, perhaps?"* *Eleanor laughs softly. "Well, maybe, I... I haven't really planned that far ahead. I’m more interested in securing the funding first, you understand."*

[if pastterraceturn == 1] {embed passage: 'Past Terrace First Visit'} [if pastterraceturn == 2] {embed passage: 'Past Terrace Second Visit'} [if pastterraceturn == 3] {embed passage: 'Past Terrace Third Visit'} [if pastterraceturn == 4] {embed passage: 'Past Terrace Ending'}

You find yourself onto the same terrace. The table remains at the center, a [[box of sweets]] and a polished [[tea set]] atop it. The [[potted plants->past potted plants]] are lush, their green leaves swaying gently in the breeze. Behind you is the way back inside the [[flat->past terrace denied entry cutscene]]. [if boxofsweetseaten] *Eleanor takes a deep breath before speaking again. "See, this is **urp**... excuse me. As I was saying, this is actually what I - "* [unless boxofsweetseaten] *Eleanor takes a sip of her tea before speaking again. "See, this is actually what I wanted to discuss to you about. Mr. Trevelyan is quite-"* [continue] *Mary sets her teacup down and rises, smoothing her skirts. "Ehm, you have to excuse me for a moment,” she says, gesturing toward the flat. "Where’s your washroom again?"* *Eleanor nods and offers a faint smile. "Ah. Right down the hall, second door on the right."* [[Eleanor->Eleanor Past Terrace]] sits alone now, fidgeting absently with her spoon.

You find yourself onto the same terrace. The table remains at the center, a [[box of sweets]] and a polished [[tea set]] atop it. The [[potted plants->past potted plants]] are lush, their green leaves swaying gently in the breeze. Behind you is the way back inside the [[flat->past terrace denied entry cutscene]]. A soft rustle at the door signals [[Mary]]’s return. She steps back onto the terrace with a quick smile and a slight adjustment of her dress. [if boxofsweetseaten] *Mary’s gaze drifts to the now-empty box of sweets. "Oh, my. Someone was *hungry,* weren’t they?" she murmurs, voice low and teasing. She leans forward with her chin perched lightly on her hand.* [[Eleanor->Eleanor Past Terrace]] stiffens, her face coloring as she fidgets with her teacup, avoiding Mary’s stare. [unless boxofsweetseaten] *"Well, that was refreshing," she says, settling back into her seat. "Now, where were we? Ah yes, Brittany...why, I’m told it's lovely this time of year!"* [[Eleanor->Eleanor Past Terrace]] *sighs*. [if EleanorDepression] She’s not smiling as broadly as before.

WatchingBowlPastSeen: true -- The archive dissolves, replaced by cool air that carries the scent of worked stone and something metallic - iron, perhaps copper. You find yourself suspended above a circular chamber carved from pale limestone, its walls polished smooth. The floor bears intricate geometric patterns etched directly into the stone - spirals and interconnected circles that radiate outward from the center. A low stone table occupies the room's heart, its surface covered with a number of objects you can't really define. [[You do recognize that same bowl, though.->Past Watching Bowl Cutscene 2]]

A tall figure moves between the table and a series of wall niches, their movements deliberate, unhurried. They wear robes of purple cloth, the fabric falling in straight lines to their ankles. Long blonde hair hangs in a single braid down their back. The chamber trembles. They pause, fingers resting on a small granite statuette, [[then continue their work without looking up.->Past Watching Bowl Cutscene 3]]

Beyond the chamber's far wall, a jagged opening leads into rougher-hewn passages. Torches mounted in iron brackets cast wavering light across uneven stone surfaces. The figure steps back from the table, hands folded. Their face remains calm, though their eyes move once toward the only opening where the flames now flicker wildly, as if pulled by some massive inward breath. They approach the chamber's entrance, but pause at the threshold. *Something massive is moving through the deeper passages.* You can feel its steps reverberating through the stone, and yet... the figure steps out. The torches extinguish one by one as they pass, until only darkness remains in the passages beyond. The vision dissolves. {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'}

BronzeHelmetPastFallen: true -- As you focus on the helmet's surface, the exhibition hall shimmers. Moonlight now slants through tall windows, casting long shadows across the display cases. A young night guard leans against the plinth, his uniform cap pushed back to reveal sweat-damp hair. He spins the helmet on one finger, its horsehair crest fluttering. "Proper soldier's gear, this," he mutters to himself, "Bet this could sell for a -" [[The helmet slips.->Bronze Helmet Past Cutscene 2]]

Butterdish: true -- You near the watch to the butter dish, and its hands start rapidly spinning in reverse. The kitchenette shimmers, reforming into an earlier state - afternoon light slants through the windows as Eleanor sits at the table sorting correspondence. The butter dish sits right where you saw it before, on the cupboard shelf behind her. As you crossed through the wooden panel to check if it was still there, you have made its lid ring softly on its plate. Her pen pauses mid-word. She glances over her shoulder at the dish, then firmly turns back to her letters. [[The scratch of her pen grows more aggressive.->Past Butter dish cutscene 2]]

candleholder: true HelpfulEXP: HelpfulEXP + 1 -- As you raise the pocket watch, its hands spin back with a soft, steady whir. The candleholder blurs as the sitting room darkens. The burnt-down candle melts backwards, now whole once more, its flame dancing gently in the dead of night. While still in the same room, you are not alone anymore. A snore brings your attention to Eleanor, who lies sprawled on the settee, [[fast asleep->Past candle holder cutscene 2]].

Her work blouse and cravat have been thrown to the other side of the room, while her undergarments and corset has been kept on but loosened, riding high as if hastily abandoned mid-removal. The pale swell of her belly rises and falls with each deep breath, and spilling over the waistband of her tight skirt. One arm dangles loosely off the side, fingers barely grazing the floor, while the other rests atop her exposed midsection, fingers gently curled. As you float near, you mistakenly brush onto the flame, putting it off. With that, the room darkens entirely, before shining back to the present. {link to: 'sitting room', label: 'Back'}

...but it’s no use - you're not strong enough for this much of a strain, and your influence on the material falters. It slips off the shelf, striking the counter below with a sharp crack. The piece near its base shatters away, leaving that very same jagged gap you were just inspecting. Eleanor sighs softly, picking up the broken cup and returning it to the shelf with a faint shake of her head before closing the door. As time resumes, the cupboard shifts back to its present state. {link to: 'chipped blue teacup', label: 'Back'}

As you lift the pocket watch, the hands begin to reverse, winding backward in a slow, steady rhythm. Morning light now filters softly through the windows. You watch as Eleanor steps in from the kitchenette, her hair loosely gathered, but already dressed in her work clothes. She carries a plate with three muffins on top of it, a bowl of steaming porridge, and a cup of tea, which she carefully arranges on the table. Satisfied, she lowers herself into a chair, taking the time to better adjust the chain of a [[pocket watch->Past pocket watch]] against her blouse. She then stirs the porridge, [[taking a few measured spoonfuls->Past dining table occasion 2]].

Eleanor pauses, spoon halfway to her lips, before setting it down with a soft clink against the bowl. With a brow, she reaches for the same pocket watch hanging from her blouse, clicking it open to check the time. “Oh, blast...” she mutters, clearly annoyed by what the quadrant is telling her. Rising quickly from the chair, she pushes the bowl of porridge aside. The table scrapes softly against the floor as she stretches over it for her work bag on the other side of the table. With one last glance toward the sideboard, she hurries out of the dining room, vanishing into the hallway, and most likely out of the apartment. The room stills, and in the blink of an eye, you're back in the present. {link to: 'dining table', label: 'Back'}

EleanorBreakfast: true pocketwatch: false -- The pocket watch is no longer floating around you. Instead, you catch a green sheen run right on top of the pocket watch you were just inspecting. As Eleanor glances down to check the time, her brow furrows in confusion. The hands spin erratically, whirring too fast, then halting, then spinning backward once more. With a quiet huff, she unclips its chain and sets it aside on the table, muttering, “Bloody thing... well, it's as good of an excuse as any. Can't blame me for getting late, they gave it to me.” Convinced it’s simply broken, she relaxes, leaning back in her chair and [[resuming her breakfast->Past dining table success cutscene 2]].

GluttonyCalEXP: GluttonyCalEXP + 2 -- The bowl, still warm, empties gradually as she works through it, each bite deliberate, but with a hunger that feels less about savoring and more about necessity. Soon the porridge is gone, leaving only a smear of milk at the bottom of the bowl. She pauses, glances toward the muffins... and after a moment of hesitation, [[reaches for one.->Past dining table success cutscene 2.5]]

Crumbs dust the linen runner as she tears through the muffin in half, pressing the clotted cream against the soft interior before devouring it piece by piece. Her chewing slows, but she doesn't stop - her right hand drifts toward the second one, and brings it to her mouth. The final muffin joins the others, reduced to nothing more than crumbs and a few lingering flakes of sugar clinging to her lips. Eleanor exhales deeply, her hand settling against her stomach [[in visible satisfaction->Past dining table success cutscene 3]].

She lingers there for a moment, eyes fluttering shut... before catching herself. She shifts, attempting to rise. The chair creaks beneath her as she plants both hands on the table's edge for support. With a quiet grunt she heaves herself up, her posture slightly more hunched as she adjusts to the fullness pressing against her corset. Pausing, she smooths the front of her blouse. Her hips sway in a subtle waddle as she heads for the hallway, one hand lingering near her stomach, the other steadying the strap of her work bag over her shoulder. You hear the front door open and close again - at that, the dining room shifts back to the present. {link to: 'dining room', label: 'Back'}

ApronSeen: true -- As you lift the pocket watch, its hands begin the head backwards. As you focus on them, the surrounding hallway brightens, then darkens again, then brightens again... you soon get the feeling that time itself is rewinding to a past moment. The symbols above the double doors fade away, vanishing entirely as the wood smooths over, unmarked. [[Finally, it begins to slow down->Past double door pocket watch cutscene 2]]. But you're not alone anymore.

Eleanor, stepping right through you, is moving inside of the hallway, cradling a large box in front of her. Her sleeves are rolled up, a smudge of white dust streaking her freckled cheek. Humming softly, she places the box down, and rummages through it. You watch as she picks up a container full of plaster, frowns slightly, and then replaces it with another tin, this one filled with [[chalk sticks->Past double door pocket watch cutscene 3]].

White in her left hand, she then balances on the tips of her toes, carefully drawing a string of unknown symbols. Her expression is one of determination, tongue poking slightly from the corner of her mouth as she tries, and almost fails, to reach higher. Her belly and chest are pressing onto the wood, forcing her at a distance - this only hindering her efforts. Once satisfied, she steps back, examining her work before nodding with a pleased hum. Tucking the chalk into the pocket of her apron, she gathers her supplies and makes her way toward the staircase, disappearing up the steps. With Eleanor gone, the present returns with a sharp snap. The symbols flare purple once more, exactly as they were before. {link to: 'double doors', label: 'Back'}

"Mmph... well, can't leave this out in the open... more for us at the post office, I guess." he mutters to himself. You hear the delivery man heading down the stairs of the building, footsteps fading into the distance. The apartment falls silent once more. Soon enough, the sun sets twice in a manner of seconds, and from that you know you're back in present time. {link to: 'front door', label: 'Back'}

As you bring the pocket watch closer to the door, its hands begin to spin backward, faster and faster, and the room shifts into a hazy blur for a moment or two. But then, as it stabilizes and you look around, not much seems to have changed. Suddenly, a firm knock echoes through the space from the door. *KNOCK.* *KNOCK.* You reckon someone wants to get inside, but once again, you find yourself unable to get closer to the door, [[let alone open it->Past front door occasion 2]].

"Miss Eleanor? I've got a parcel for you!" Ah, so it's a postman. Whatever he needs to deliver is probably too big to pass through the letter opening. You wonder what it could be. Or rather, what it could have been - time travel can easily get confusing. *KNOCK.* *KNOCK?* "Miss Eleanor? [[Are you home dear?->Past front door failure cutscene]]"

She cuts a modest slice, the buttery crumb and sugared glaze yielding to her fork. One slice becomes two, then three, until all decorum fades, and she abandons the fork entirely, pulling pieces apart with her fingers. She is eventually forced to also get rid of her skirt to make space for more. You see her leaning back in her couch and her glistening, frosting covered lips let out a moan of satisfaction. They then flicker clean. As time returns to normal, on the table is now a barren plate, [[thoroughly licked->sitting room]].

You nudge the quill and paper closer towards the crouched burglar, who remains blissfully unaware. The quill pauses a moment, glancing back and forth between you and the man, before finally steeling its nerves and getting closer to him. With a flourish, it writes a single, bold word on the paper: ~BOO~ The paper drifts down, hovering just behind the burglar. The quill, not content to let its work - a masterful one, you have to admit - go unnoticed, taps him firmly on the shoulder. [if random.coinFlip] The man startles, turning around with wide eyes to find himself face-to-face with a floating sheet of paper, bearing [[the most ominous of messages->Past pantry robbery boo cutscene 2a]]... [else] The man startles, turning around with wide eyes to find himself face-to-face with a floating sheet of paper, bearing [[the most ominous of messages->Past pantry robbery boo cutscene 2b]]...

pantryrobberboo: true -- The burglar squints at the paper, his face twisting in confusion. He reaches out, his hand swiping at the air above and below the paper, searching for the string holding it up. Of course, he finds nothing. "Hmph. Parlor tricks won't work on me..." he mutters under his breath, turning away and resuming his [[rummaging through the shelves->Past pantry robbery cutscene 3]].

pantryrobberboo: true pantryrobberdealtwith: true -- The burglar freezes, his face draining of color as his eyes are fixed onto the paper. “W-w-what...?!” he stammers, dropping his sack of stolen goods as cold sweat starts to run from under his hat, and his teeth start chattering away. He bolts for the door, leaving his sack of stolen goods behind in his panic. You watch as he scrambles out of the pantry, knocking over the crate’s lid on his way out, [[but he doesn't stop->Past pantry robbery boo cutscene 3]]

GluttonyCalEXP: GluttonyCalEXP + 2 -- The quill and paper return to you. Likewise, the clock begins to return to its usual, haphazard ticking - with it, the space around you shifts back to the present time. [[The pantry is not looking the same as before, though.->Pantry (Not Robbed)]]

Slinging the sack over his shoulder, he darts through you and out of the pantry, leaving the shelves stripped bare and a broken crate in his wake. As time resumes its natural flow, the pantry returns to its present, desolate state. {link to: 'pantry', label: 'Back'}

pantryrobberdealtwith: true -- The dull-looking knife floats forward, its chipped blade glinting faintly in the pale light of the pantry. You will it closer to the burglar, who remains oblivious as he rummages through the shelves. With a sudden flick, the knife launches toward him, its hilt striking the side of his head with a loud *thunk*. The man yelps, clutching his head as he stumbles backward. His eyes dart wildly around the room, but there’s nothing for him to see - only the silent, empty pantry... and a floating knife. “W-w-what in the devil?!” he stammers, dropping his sack of stolen goods as he runs under the knife and scrambles out. The crate’s lid crashes to the ground as he trips over it in his haste, [[but he doesn't stop->Past pantry robbery dealt with cutscene 2]].

GluttonyCalEXP: GluttonyCalEXP + 2 -- The knife hovers back to you, its blade dull but its purpose fulfilled. Likewise, the clock begins to return to its usual, haphazard ticking - with it, the space around you shifts back to the present time. [[The pantry is not looking the same as before, though.->Pantry (Not Robbed)]]

config.header.left: "{embed passage: 'IsPast Page Layout Logic'}" -- As you look at the pocket watch, the dim pantry fades away, replaced by a sharper, livelier scene from what you can assume was either yesterday, or the day before. The shelves are more crowded now - the small room could still house more, but you can at least spot a few jars of preserves, sacks of flour and sugar... a loud metallic noise breaks the silence, and you notice a figure crouched near the already opened crate in the corner. It's a man dressed in dark, threadbare clothing, hastily shoving a jar of jam into a burlap sack already bulging with stolen goods. [[A burglar!->Past pantry robbery occasion 2]]

His movements are hurried as he sweeps his hand across the shelf, sending a loaf of bread and a tin of biscuits into the sack. He glances over his shoulder nervously, his gaunt face illuminated briefly by a shaft of light from the door left ajar. [[With a saddened heart you do feel some of his hunger, too.->Past pantry robbery cutscene 3]]

successfuldelivery: true -- Floating toward the lock, the amorphous sphere of plaster presses itself against the keyhole, and, you assume, attempt to use it as a mold. For a moment it simply quivers left and right, but then it begins to harden. With a sharp click, the lock disengages, and the heavy oak door creaks open slightly. Beyond the door the postman, a diminutive looking man, stands with his parcel: a jam filled sponge cake, partially wrapped. His head tilts as he peers cautiously [[into the now-open entryway->Past plaster key delivery cutscene 2]].

"Uh... hello?" he calls out, stepping closer but finding no one there. He scratches his head and mutters, "Weird... door must’ve been left open. I’ll just leave this here." He bends down, carefully placing the cake just inside the threshold. Giving one last, hesitant glance around, he then shrugs and leaves the premises. The door swings shut behind him, the clot locking it back into place. It then goes back to your side, its key shape melting back into its usual formless state. [[Time, however, does not wind back to the present.->Past sponge cake cutscene 1]]

Against your will, you are tugged in closer to Eleanor and, specifically, to the watch she's wearing on her person. It's a pocket watch with a polished brass casing, intricately crafted and etched with an elegant floral motif. A delicate, slightly tarnished chain curls from it, rounding over its owner chest. {link to: 'Past dining table occasion 2', label: 'Back'}

Eleanor returns to the kitchenette, and the rich, nutty aroma draws her toward the stove. Lifting the pan, she inspects the chestnuts with a raised brow. They are perfect -roasted to a warm, caramelized hue. With a smile, she plucks one from the pan and cracks it open, the steam curling gently into the air. She tastes it, her eyes widening slightly as the sweet, buttery flavor spreads across her tongue. Moments later, she’s seated in front of the fireplace, the pan before her and her hands brushing the bottom of it. She reclines against the cushions and rests a hand on the soft swell of her belly. {link to: 'kitchenette', label: 'Back'}

roastedchestnuts: true GluttonyCalEXP: GluttonyCalEXP + 1 -- As you focus on the stove, the kitchenette dissolves and reforms around you, revealing a moment earlier in the previous day. The chestnuts sit atop the cast iron stove, their shells glossy and uncracked. A flicker of flame surges too high, and Eleanor, distracted by a sudden knock at the door, hurries away. The shells darken too quickly, the sweet, nutty aroma giving way to an acrid bitterness. What a shame. But you can help. This time, as the knock echoes, the pan slides gently to the edge of the burner, away from the flame’s reach. [[The chestnuts roast evenly->Past roasted chestnuts 2 cutscene]].

As she returns to the hallway, Eleanor's hand darts out - not toward the box itself, but to steady the stone bust underneath it. Her thumb leaves a flour-paste smudge on the carved cheekbone. "Mind your footing," she chides the sculpture. Oddly enough, the sculpture does not reply. In a matter of seconds, the sunlight fades back to your familiar twilight. {link to: 'sewing box', label: 'Back'}

sewingboxsolved: true -- The knife hovers closer to the sewing box, drawn to the task. Its chipped blade makes a soft contact with the tin. It then simply shifts forward an inch, sending the container at a falling angle. The sewing box lurches and hits the wooden floor with a *bang*, spilling shortbread and shortbread crumbs. A ginger biscuit ricochets off Eleanor's boot, who has returned to the hallway as she heard the noise. "Oh for heaven's " Her hands fly to her hips, apron billowing around the swell of her belly. She stares at the mess, then at the jewelry box and bust on the left, [[as if they'd conspired against her.->Past sewing box dull knife cutscene 1.5]]

Eleanor crouches, the motion pulling her skirt taut across her backside. "Waste not…" She brushes a biscuit against her apron's hem - less cleaning than redistributing crumbs. Three methodical bites. Four. By the fifth, she's sitting against the wooden cabinet, legs splayed around the biscuit debris. [[Her stomach presses a gentle curve against the apron's crosshatched fabric.->Past sewing box dull knife cutscene 2]]

Her methodical consumption becomes something hungrier. Crumbs catch in the apron's crosshatch weave as Eleanor plucks a ginger biscuit from between two floorboards. The waistband of her skirt disappears beneath the apron's cinched ties, fabric pulling diagonal across her hips. A shortbread shatters between her molars. She leans back with a thud that rattles the cabinet's decorative boxes, one hand absently massaging the curve beneath her [[apron.->Past sewing box dull knife cutscene 3]]

Having slowed down, she reaches for the last biscuits and realizes at the very last moment that there's a needle through it. She immediately gets as white as a ghost, and slowly puts the biscuit down to the side. Then time continues as normal. {link to: 'sewing box', label: 'Back'}

With the final biscuit taken care of, she rises from the floor, leaving a sugary handprint on the cabinet as she uses it for leverage. "Entirely... practical," she declares to the empty hallway, brushing debris onto the abandoned linseed oil rag. A few ginger crumbs cling stubbornly to her bodice's breast dart before she swats them away. Time snaps forward again. The sewing box is now empty, its latch hanging open. {link to: 'sewing box', label: 'Back'}

The watch's gears click. Morning sunlight floods the upper floor's hallway and its rooms, all of them open to the elements outside. Eleanor is here in an ink-stained apron, her sleeves rolled past elbows, smudged with chalk and ink. She's reorganizing the cabinet's top shelf, shifting tintypes and decorative boxes with the focus of a archivist. ...well, not a great archivist. Her hips brush the cabinet's edge as she stretches upward, apron ties cinching snug where her blouse strains at the shoulders. The wooden cabinet shudders as she moves into the bedroom - the [[sewing box->Past sewing box occasion 2]] is left on a precarious perch on top of the jewelry box and a stone bust.

Dust motes hang suspended in sunbeams as the [[box->Past sewing box cutscene haven't used an item]] teeters, its brass latch catching a stray ray of light from the bedroom's window. You catch a glimpse of Eleanor's braid as it catches on a splinter on one of the bed's poles, yanking her head sideways and prompting an appropriate curse. Below you, Eleanor's feather duster lies abandoned beside a rag smelling sharply of linseed oil.

GluttonyCalEXP: GluttonyCalEXP + 2 -- Hours later, as Eleanor returns from work - the weight of the day evident in the slouch of her posture -,her gaze finally falls upon the dessert. With a smile, she picks it up, carries it onto the low table of the sitting room, and removes its wrapping paper. As she does that she also takes a look at the note on top of the cake... her smile does falter a bit. It returns to what it was as she gets rid of it. You watch as she removes her yellow cravat, then blouse, then pulls at the laces of her corset. With a sigh of relief from Eleanor, the garment curves outward in an instant, then flops down onto the floor. In its place is now a shockingly large belly and its soft love handles by the side. [[Both have been marked red by the skirt's hem.->Past gift dessert cutscene 2]]

As it does so, a strange jolt runs through the pocket watch in your hand. The gears, which had been steadily turning back, shudder - then halt completely. The table, the plants, the soft twilight... it all lingers, waiting. You glance down at the watch. Its hands are still. You realize you are being given the chance to either [[return to the present time->terrace]] - wherein you get the feeling you may not be able to get back here - or instead [[go back to the very start of this meeting->terrace cutscene 1 - Past]].

winecrate: true GluttonyCalEXP: GluttonyCalEXP + 1 -- As you focus on the pocket watch, the quiet pantry moment shifts, and time slips backward, bringing you to an earlier scene. The shelves are once again fuller, and the bottles of wine are nestled carefully within the crate. Eleanor, a little fatigued and in her nightgown, enters the pantry. From the way she inspect around, one hand on her candle and the other on a small hangun, you can tell she's most likely making sure that no more burglars have broken in. For fun and to gage her reaction, you cross your hand through the wine bottles, [[making them rattle->Past wine cutscene 2.5]].

You watch her hands grip onto the lower shelf on which the middle of her ass is pressing onto, and makes it quiver. With a fair bit of struggle and pauses the velvet liquid inside of the bottle glugs through Eleanor's throat to settle into her stomach, making it swell obscenely from under the gown. In mere minutes, the container is emptied to the last drop. Only a thin rivulet has escaped her now red-stained lips. With *hic* and a few concerning steps, Eleanor wobbles next to the crate again and takes another bottle. You take a good look at her as she takes a sip of it too before she heads for the door out of the pantry, her giggling belly exiting a few fair inches before the rest of does. {link to: 'Pantry (Not Robbed)', label: 'Back'}

Their glass clinks together, just loud enough to catch her attention. She hesitates, nudging her weapon between her breasts. She reaches down, inspecting the dusty necks, her brow furrowed in curiosity. You see her as she uncorks one, taking a quick swig straight from the bottle. Without as much as a warning, she then proceeds to [[hold the bottle over her head->Past wine cutscene 2]].

PastryCartVisible: true DayCalories: DayCalories + 2 -- You focus on the forgotten cart tucked behind the plinth. With a sustained vibration, the brass begins to hum, and the cart's wheels scrape reluctantly against the marble floor. Slowly, deliberately, you nudge it forward, inch by inch, until it rolls clear of the plinth and comes to a stop near the edge of the informal meeting space. [if AmphoraState == 'teetering' || AmphoraState == 'broken' || AmphoraState == 'drunk' || MarbleBustsFallen] *...it's promptely ignored. The attention is clearly consumed by more pressing concerns: first of all, of course, the unfolding drama with the [[amphora->Intro Meeting Diorama]].* [unless AmphoraState == 'teetering'; unless AmphoraState == 'broken'; unless AmphoraState == 'drunk'; unless MarbleBustsFallen] Eleanor's eyes flick towards the cart as it emerges, her gaze lingering for a moment on the small cakes before she forces her attention back to the Director. A tiny, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her. The [[pastries might be stale, but...->Intro Meeting Diorama]] [continue]

A woman in her forties with an elaborate peacock-blue gown that emphasizes her... considerable bosom. Her graying hair is swept into an ornate arrangement adorned with pearls and small diamonds that catch the chandelier light. Rings glitter on nearly every finger as she gestures with her wine glass. She adjusts her pearl necklace with practiced movements, the strand sliding smoothly between her gloved fingers. Her posture remains perfectly erect despite the evening's duration, her shoulders set with the bearing of someone accustomed to lengthy social engagements. When she speaks, her voice carries the polished cadence of drawing room conversation. Her fan rests closed in her left hand, occasionally tapping against her wrist in a steady rhythm. The wine glass in her right hand requires frequent attention from passing servants. {plainlink to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless PatronWifeSocietyBallPersuaded; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Patron Wife Society Ball persuasion menu]] [continue]

PatronWifeSocietyBallPersuaded: true -- Those canapés do look rather tempting. The salmon ones, particularly. I've already had... what, three? Four? But they're so delicate, hardly count as proper food, do they? And this wine pairs so beautifully. Just one more, perhaps. I really shouldn't, though. This gown was already rather snug when they fastened it earlier - the bodice pulling tight across my chest, the waist seam riding up over my hips. I can feel how the silk strains when I breathe deeply, how the stays press into the soft flesh above my corset. Mother always said a lady should never appear... abundant. But Charles doesn't seem to mind. If anything, he seems rather fond of the changes. The way my breasts now fill the neckline completely, threatening to spill over; how my bottom has grown rounder, more substantial, making the bustle... unnecessary, really. Even my arms have softened, the sleeves growing snug. *Another* canapé appears on a passing tray. Smoked trout this time. Mmm... It would be rude to refuse. {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

PatronWifeSocietyBallPersuaded: true PatronWifeConvinced: true -- Good *heavens*, this child simply will not stop talking. Celtic artifacts, ancient rituals, expedition funding - on and on and *on*. My feet ache, my corset is digging in, and there's perfectly good champagne going to waste while she drones about... what was it? Stone? Rocks? I've had enough of those from the Duke, thank you very much. How much can an archaeological expedition possibly cost? A few hundred pounds? A thousand? *Surely* not more than that ridiculous donation Charles made to the Royal Geographic Society last winter. The girl is obviously desperate - practically trembling with it. Just... just give her what she wants and be *done* with it. Send her off to... where was it? The colonies? Has to be. India? Africa? Perfect. Lovely. Now perhaps she'll leave me in peace. {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

PatronWifeSocietyBallPersuaded: true -- Mmm, this wine is rather good. Italian, isn't it? Charles would know. He's always going on about vintages and such. Speaking of Charles, I do hope he remembered to tell Patterson about adjusting the drawing room drapes. The afternoon sun has been terribly bright lately. What a lovely shade of green that girl is wearing! Emerald, is it? Or jade? I should ask my dressmaker about something similar for the autumn season. Though perhaps not in that style - rather tight across the middle, isn't it? I can relate. Oh, she's still talking. I really should be listening, but this ballroom is so warm... and my shoes are pinching dreadfully. I wonder if Mrs. Pemberton would mind if I slipped them off under the table? She did mention her new settee last week - the one with the silk cushions. Sounded absolutely divine. Perfect for afternoon naps. The orchestra is playing that waltz again. Rather repetitive, but soothing. Makes one want to close one's eyes for just a moment... no, not yet... {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [unless PatronWifeSocietyBallPersuaded] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward the patron's wife's mind. Her thoughts drift languidly, punctuated by moments of sharp irritation. Some threads pulse with more intensity... ➼[[**IMPATIENCE**->Patron Wife Society Ball Impatience]] *This endless chatter... how tedious. Must this conversation continue much longer?* ➼[[**SLOTH**->Patron Wife Society Ball Sloth]] *Must I feign interest in every subject? Wine and comfort are so much more pleasant...* ➼[[**HUNGER**->Patron Wife Society Ball Hunger]] *Those canapés do look rather tempting. Perhaps another glass as well...* [if PatronWifeSocietyBallPersuaded] Her thoughts have taken on a different quality, influenced by your subtle touch. Further manipulation seems unnecessary. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

[[museum]] [[transformation]] [[hieroglyph]] [[salon]] [[temporal]] [[occult]] [[lace]] [[abundance]] [[wraiths]] [[feast]] [[hunger]] [[loading]] [[aether]] [[chronos]] [[echoes]] [[distortion]] [[luckycharm]] [[roseschocolates]] [[unluckycharm]] [[fertilityidol]] [[mine]] {ascii backdrop: 'transformation'}

There are a handful of fragments are arranged on a low table, their jagged edges carefully cushioned by felt. Each piece is a puzzle of marble and limestone, some no larger than a coin, others spanning the length of a hand. A magnifying glass rests beside the largest fragment, its lens catching the light from a nearby lamp. The surface of the marble is pitted and worn, but traces of pigment linger in the deeper grooves - faded blues and yellows. A handwritten label, pinned to the table's edge, reads... nothing. The curators must've forgotten to fill it in. {link to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

{embed passage: 'Item Back Logic CH2'} The mortal mind stands unguarded against your influence. By extending your consciousness toward a person, you can hear their thoughts, fears, and desires like brightly colored threads of dialogue - each one waiting to be pulled. With gentle pressure, you can amplify certain emotions already present within them, nudging their actions in directions they might have taken anyway. {link to: itemBackTarget, label: 'Back'}

A thin, angular man stands slightly removed from the main group, his black evening wear perfectly pressed but somehow austere compared to the others' finery. His dark hair is slicked back, not a strand out of place. His pale hands rest clasped behind his back, fingers long and nimble from years at the keyboard. His posture remains rigidly upright, as if perpetually seated at a piano bench. When others speak, his head turns toward them with mechanical precision, but his pale eyes remain fixed at a point just over their shoulders. His lips form a thin, neutral line that never quite resolves into either smile or frown. Maybe more of the former, though again, it's hard to tell. He holds no drink. He touches no refreshments. His hands never gesture during conversation. His gaze occasionally sweeps across the gathering with the detached observation of someone cataloguing rather than participating. {plainlink to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless PianistSocietyBallPersuaded; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Pianist Society Ball persuasion menu]] [continue]

PianistSocietyBallPersuaded: true -- Keys. White keys. Black keys. Fingers know where... wrong notes. Always wrong notes when they watch. Stop watching, I say. Stop breathing so loud she breathes too loud everyone breathes too loud can't hear the music can't hear anything but breathing and chewing and silk tearing silk always tears in the end doesn't it? I *know* you've seen it. I was there too and will again. Brittany. Britain. Brittle. Things break when you press too hard, and you do learn that the hard way. Bones break. Sound breaks. Silence breaks too sometimes and then what comes out? Give her money. Don't give her money. Money makes noise. Coins falling. Falling like... like her. Will she fall? In dark places? Good. No. Not good. Good? Can't tell anymore. Used to know good from... from the other thing. What was that again? Ah, see, I used to know this one... the other side of good. Black keys. Make it stop make it stop make it STOP playing the same song over and over and she's eating and they're all eating and I can hear their teeth and their stomachs and their hearts beating like drums like hammers like... like... I want my keys back. {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

PianistSocietyBallPersuaded: true PianistConvinced: true -- Look at her. Stuffed into silk. Breathing like a landed fish. Thinks she's so... clever. Academic. *Important*. Brittany. Foreign soil. Dark holes in the ground. Ancient places where... things happen. To soft, unprepared women who think they understand the world. Who waddle into danger with their stupid little books and their theories and their... bulging... god, it makes my fingers itch for the keys. Sharp keys. *Cutting keys*. Yes. Fund this. Watch her go. Watch her as she heads into cold stone tunnels where the ground is uneven and the air is thin and accidents are so... so very easy to arrange. Or perhaps they arrange themselves. The money means nothing. The entertainment... *invaluable*. {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

PianistSocietyBallPersuaded: true -- Women. In men's work! Playing at... scholarship. As if their soft brains could comprehend stone and earth and the weight of centuries. Ridiculous! *Obscene*. No restraint. No proper feminine... delicacy. Bursting from silk. This is what becomes of them when they abandon their... proper... place. When they think they can dig and theorize and... expeditions are for men, aren't they? We were all thinking it! Real men with strong backs and stronger minds and good, apt hands and sense of rhythm. Not for... creatures who can barely contain themselves in evening wear. Who pant from the effort of standing upright. Could they stop? Can they stop? Make them stop - I beg of you. Give it back. Let her stay where nature intended. In drawing rooms. In kitchens. Anywhere but where serious work... where *men's* work... is done. Far from me. I don't want this. I want to go home. Please let me go home. {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [unless PianistSocietyBallPersuaded] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward the pianist's mind. His thoughts are sharp, cold, with an undercurrent of something... deeply wrong. The mental landscape feels fractured, dangerous, [if SocietyBallTimesReset < 2; append] sparse and crowded at the same time... [if SocietyBallTimesReset >= 3; append] crowded... [continue] [if SocietyBallTimesReset >= 1] ➼[[**MISOGYNY**->Pianist Society Ball Misogyny]] *Presumptuous. The natural order disrupted. Should know better...* [if SocietyBallTimesReset >= 2] ➼[[**LOATHING**->Pianist Society Ball Loathing]] *Expeditions... foreign ventures... so many variables beyond control...* [if SocietyBallTimesReset >= 3] ➼[[**DERANGEMENT**->Pianist Society Ball Derangement]] *The patterns... yes, always the patterns... fascinating how things... break...* [continue] [if PianistSocietyBallPersuaded] His mind has absorbed your influence with disturbing eagerness. Best not to delve deeper into such thoughts. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

The cart stands at the museum's front steps, painted green with gold lettering that proclaims "DOBSON'S FINE PIES" in cheerful script. Steam rises from the covered compartments, carrying the rich aroma of baked pastry and seasoned meat. The vendor himself is a round, genial man with flour-dusted sleeves, arranging his wares with practiced efficiency. Eleanor approaches with purposeful steps, her coin purse already in hand. This is exactly what her schedule demands - no lingering over menus or waiting for service, just a quick, practical meal to fuel the afternoon's work. "*Good afternoon, miss!*" the vendor calls, lifting the lid of his warming compartment with a theatrical flourish. "*Fresh from the oven this morning - meat and potato, steak and kidney, or my special shepherd's pie with extra gravy.*" [[The pastry gleams golden-brown in the afternoon light.->Pie Cart Cutscene 2]]

SlotTwoAttended: true PieCartVisited: true DayCalories: DayCalories + 3 -- "*The steak and kidney, if you please.*" Eleanor's transaction is swift and efficient - coins exchanged, steaming pie wrapped in brown paper and pressed into her hands. She intends to carry it back to her office, to eat while reviewing her correspondence. But the first bite, taken standing right there on the museum steps, changes everything. The pastry crumbles at her touch, releasing a cloud of savory steam. The filling is unexpectedly rich - tender beef swimming in thick, dark gravy, the kidneys adding a depth of flavor that catches her completely off guard. Before she quite realizes it, she's consumed the entire pie while standing there, licking the last traces of gravy from her fingers. Her stomach feels pleasantly heavy, more satisfied than she'd anticipated from such a simple purchase. The vendor tips his cap as she disposes of the paper wrapping, already calling to his next customer. Eleanor smooths her waistcoat - snugger now against her comfortably full middle - and returns to the museum with a small, satisfied smile. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

NotesPlastered: true GluttonyCalEXP: GluttonyCalEXP + 1 HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP - 2 -- The arm melts onto the remaining notes, bursting into purple-tinged flames. As the fire consumes Eleanor's research, the plaster clot swells to twice its size - rippling with half-formed faces that push against its surface. *For a moment, you feel as though you recognize them.* You force yourself to look away. Eventually, the smoke clears, and you are relieved to see that only ash remains where the arm and the papers had been. The plaster sphere floats serenely once more, though its surface now bears faint indentations resembling tooth marks. {link to: 'guest room', label: 'Back'}

WardrobeOpen: true -- The clot floats toward the padlock, pressing itself against the keyhole. For a moment, it quivers and shifts, seeming to explore the mechanism within. Then, with a satisfying click, the lock springs open. The wardrobe door swings open, revealing... a stack of [[chocolate bars]]. Their purple wrappers catch what little light filters through the window, creating the same glinting effect you saw earlier. No monsters nor creatures, just confectionery. {link to: 'padlocked wardrobe', label: 'Back'}

The clot of plaster hovers near the artwork, shifting and quivering as if studying the scene depicted within. {one of: ["For a moment, it begins to take the shape of one of the tribal women, but it swiftly looses interest and form.", "It attempts to mold itself into a jagged mountain peak, only to slump back into formlessness.", "For a moment the plaster attempts to shift into a feminine silhouette once more: this one is decidedly more well-endowed than any shown in the painting.", "The plaster forms into what might be a tribal hut, but the angles prove too complex, and it reverts to its natural state.", "For several long seconds, it once more manages to hold onto the shape of the woman from before: her ample form seemingly ready to burst from primitive clothing, stomach round and full, thighs pressing together. You see her waddle along, attempting, failing, to keep up with the other hunters. Part of the plaster divides in order to create a tree on which the girl can rest her arm and take a breather, but it's too much detail, too quickly. It ultimately proves too complex to maintain - the girl melts away."], order: 'cycling'} {link to: 'painting', label: 'Back'}

BasinSinkPlugged: true -- The Clot of Plaster nears the dripping faucet, inspecting itself over the last remaining shiny spots. The material then shifts around the brass - soft and liquid at first, it then hardens rapidly, sealing the spout entirely. The steady dripping ceases, though you guess this will not last long: eventually, the water will surely melt through the material eventually. Still, an eary silence settles over the tiny room. {link to: 'basin sink', label: 'Back'}

The clot of plaster hovers near the seam of the stone box, quivering with intent and so, so happy to help you out. After a moment, it presses itself around the casket box, shifting and pressing as if searching for a lock to mold into. Nothing happens. With no keyhole or visible mechanism from the outside, the sad little amorphous sphere finds nothing to grasp. After another hesitant pulse, it simply pulls back, inert. {link to: 'casket box', label: 'Back'}

SittingroomDooropen: true -- Floating toward the lock, the amorphous sphere of plaster presses itself against the keyhole, and, you assume, attempt to use it as a mold. For a moment it simply quivers left and right, but then it begins to harden. With a sharp *thump*, the lock disengages, and door creaks open slightly. Though the symbols on the door to the right are still shining purple, you are now able to cross through the other, unmarked one. As you do so, you find yourself looking at a [[🛋️sitting room->sitting room]].

The clot of plaster hovers near the artwork, shifting and quivering as if studying the scene depicted within. {one of: ["It attempts to mold itself into a temple pillar. As the pillars are just tall rectangles, its impression is spot on.", "For a moment the plaster attempts to shift into a feminine silhouette: its dancing proves a little too fast.", "The plaster forms into what might be one of the far away houses. Or is that supposed to be a sheep?", "On its second try, it does in fact manages to hold onto the shape of a dancer: her form sways gently to the music, but your attention is drawn to her draped belly, who is swelling with every movement of the girl's generous flanks. Vague impressions of meats, fruits and drink are molded from her hands and quickly eaten away. It ultimately proves too complex of an act - the plaster trips and falls, quickly loosing its shape.", "It attempts to mold itself into a jagged mountain peak, only to slump back into formlessness."], order: 'cycling'} {link to: 'landscape', label: 'Back'}

The amorphous plaster sphere is perfectly still above the scattered papers. Its surface shines back the purple light of the strange symbols. [if passage.visits == 1] [append] For a moment, it extrudes a clumsy replica of the V-marked blob shape before collapsing back into formlessness. The drawn symbol seems to pulse faintly in response. {link to: 'notes and sketches', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if passage.visits == 2] [append] Tendrils of plaster stretch out like probing fingers, tracing over Eleanor's 'pagan cult?' annotation. The handwritten question mark darkens to an ink blot as the plaster withdraws. *...you feel... awful.* {link to: 'notes and sketches', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if passage.visits == 3] [append] The clot splits into three smaller spheres - two small smooth orbs orbiting a larger one etched with crude V shapes. They rotate slowly above the desk before merging again with a wet *schlup*. *...something isn't right.* {link to: 'notes and sketches', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if passage.visits == 4] [append] A plaster hand erupts violently from the mass, slamming its palm against a sketch of the two-circle motif. The paper begins to yellow at the edges as the hand retracts and hovers over the sphere, leaving behind the word "HUNGER", written over and across multiple pages. You watch in horror as you catch its fingers methodically tracing a large "☋" over the sphere itself. From deep within the plaster comes an ominous [[***crack***->Plaster Note Cutscene Too Far]].

The clot quivers above the magazines, its surface rippling as it scans the open pages. {one of: ["It attempts to form the tribal hut from the archaeological sketch, but the roof sags into a doughy dome. Miniature plaster figures emerge, attempting to pat the rotund structure back into shape.", "It molds itself into a rotund fertility goddess figurine. The plaster attempts to replicate Eleanor's margin notes along the statue's thighs, but the text blurs as the figure's belly droops downward.", "The substance becomes a wobbly approximation of a pyramid, complete with tiny scaffolding.", "The clot inflates into an hourglass shape, attempting to recreate a fashionable silhouette from The Gentlewoman’s Journal. As it reaches vertically and strains the middle, you hear a snap. Its waist rapidly expands outwards, and eventually returns to a sphere.", "The clot becomes a relief carving of a banquet scene. Servants pour wine into a goblet held by a queen with a pair of circular glasses, and whose fattened belly spills over her throne's edges. As the plaster attempts to add hieratic script labeling the dishes, the queen's stomach ripples and absorbs the text."], order: 'cycling'} {link to: 'periodicals', label: 'Back'}

{embed passage: 'Item Back Logic CH1'} You inspect the item closer. It's a pocket watch with a polished brass casing, intricately crafted and etched with an elegant floral motif. A delicate chain, slightly tarnished, curls from it. The latch clicks softly as you will it open, revealing a pair of delicate hands on top of a porcelain dial. It flickers in and out of reality at random intervals, and its ticking grows more distinctly more frantic whenever it floats nearer. {one of: ["*The watch ticks faster as you inspect it.*", "*...It's gone? No, wait, here it is again.*", "*The chain sways gently, though there's no breeze to move it.*", "*For a moment, its ticking syncs - all of its hands flick at the same time, at the same speed. It eventually devolves back into chaos.*", "*The watch ticks slower as you inspect it.*", "*Its hands double, then triple, then quadruple, then merge into one, then disappear altogether.*", "*The object becomes gray for a short period of time.*", "*The watch ticks mediumly as you inspect it. Hardly a difference from a normal clock, this time around.*"], order: 'cycling'} {link to: itemBackTarget, label: 'Back'}

[if pastterraceturn == 1] "Mary," you begin, voice calm, diplomatic. "I wanted to speak with you about something more pressing. The funding for my - " "Oh, Eleanor," Mary interrupts with a breezy laugh, waving her hand. "You’re always so dreadfully serious! Must we talk business *now*? This visit was meant for pleasure, wasn’t it?" The words knot in your throat. Damn it, how does one even recover from that? Fine. Maybe you'll have a chance later. [[You blink once more, detaching yourself from Eleanor's mind.->Past Terrace (Turn system)]] [if pastterraceturn == 3] "Mary," you begin, voice calm, diplomatic. "I wanted to speak with you about something more pressing. The funding for my - " Mary tilts her head, expression polite but quizzical. "Oh? Yes, of course, in Brittany. Some... dig, was it? But you seem to be doing quite well for yourself back at the museum, darling. Why all the fuss?" [[You press on, hands folded neatly in your lap.->Poise Eleanor Past Terrace cutscene 2.5]]

"It's more than a personal project, Mary. This work could reshape how we understand the entire region's history. But I need support to -" "Of course, of course," she interrupts, nodding but clearly unengaged. "It's always like this with matters such as this, right? Ugh, what a bother..." [[Alright, you've had enough of this nonsense.->Poise Eleanor Past Terrace cutscene 3]]

You *slam* your hands onto the hem of the table. "Alright, I think we're done here. Out, now." Mary stares at you, seemingly in shock at your rapid change of demeanor. "Oh dear, is everything alright? Did I do -" You interrupt her by holding your hand up. "I've had enough of this. Our meeting is [[over->Poise Eleanor Past cutscene 3.5]]."

You watch as Mary rises from her seat gathering her things with brisk, concerned movements. "Well, this has been lovely, Eleanor..." she says with a warm smile, before turning around to catch you still looking at her. "I... I-I'm sorry if I did something to offend you, I'm... yes, quite sorry." With a sigh, you stand up and point to the door, which she heads for with a nod of understanding. [[You blink once more, detaching yourself from Eleanor's mind.->Past terrace cutscene 2]]

PoiseTerrace: true -- [if pastterraceturn == 1] The terrace slows down, clearer. You draw in a steady breath. Controlled. Measured. You have to get back on track. You straighten in your seat, hands smoothing over your skirt with studied grace. Your focus narrows on Mary. You've just started, and already there's been enough distractions to fill a day's worth. [[Focus, *Eleanor*.->Poise Eleanor Past Terrace cutscene 2]] [if pastterraceturn == 2] The terrace slows down, clearer. You draw in a steady breath. Controlled. Measured. You have to get back on track. You straighten in your seat, hands smoothing over your skirt with studied grace. You've just started, and already there's been enough distractions to fill a day's worth. Mary will be back at any moment now. [[You blink once more, detaching yourself from Eleanor's mind.->Past Terrace (Turn system)]] [if pastterraceturn == 3] The terrace slows down, clearer. You draw in a steady breath. Controlled. Measured. You have to get back on track. That is all that matters now. You straighten in your seat, hands smoothing over your skirt with studied grace. Your focus narrows on Mary. This meeting has been a disaster, and you damn well know it. You've wasted more than enough time. [[Focus, *Eleanor*.->Poise Eleanor Past Terrace cutscene 2]]

The dull-looking knife rises away from you, its chipped blade hovering near the ceramic dishes. It trembles for a heartbeat, unsure of its next move, but yearning to do something, [[*anything*->Porcelain dishes destruction dull knife cutscene 2]]. {link to: 'dining room', label: 'Back'}

DishesDestruction: true HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP - 3 -- With a sharp jerk, it tips forward, the blunt edge knocking into the nearest ancient plate. The dish teeters on its stand for a breath before toppling and shattering into jagged shards against the floor. The knife doesn't stop there. It twists, striking another plate, then another. A lot of white china crashes down in a cacophony of splintering porcelain, the delicate fragments scattering across the floorboards. The knife hovers still for a moment longer, then returns to a lifeless, neutral drift around you. {link to: 'dining room', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("isCutscene",comesFromCutscene()); [continue] {embed passage: 'Deep Ability Menu Logic'}

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Her free hand moves instinctively to support the small of her back as she turns: this simple act of rotating toward the sideboard requires several small steps, her feet positioned wide for balance. Her breathing comes from high in her chest - shallow, controlled exhalations. [[She sets the spoon down onto the closest available surface before reaching for a letter from Richard's correspondence.->Pregnancy Ending 5]]

Eleanor turns toward the doorway, her movement requiring a pivot rather than a simple turn. You drift after her,. The silk clings momentarily to the curves of her rear before falling away, the fabric shifting across her thick thighs and child-bearing hips with each deliberate step. Her pace remains steady but measured, one hand trailing along the wall for support as she navigates toward the corridor. [[The infant's cries grow louder.->Pregnancy Ending 6]] She reaches the doorway and pauses, pressing both hands against the frame before continuing into the dim corridor beyond. You follow without hesitation, your essence drawn forward by an instinct that feels both ancient and newly familiar - a pull toward protection, toward guardianship of this household and all it contains.

She reaches the doorway and pauses, pressing both hands against the frame before continuing into the dim corridor beyond. You follow without hesitation, your essence drawn forward by an instinct that feels both ancient and newly familiar - a pull toward protection. [[Toward guardianship of this household and all it contains.->Pregnancy Ending]]

PregnancyEndingTurns: PregnancyEndingTurns + 1 -- [if PregnancyEndingTurns < 6] You hover within the estate's dining room. Your [[vessel->vessel pregnancy ending]] sits on a small mahogany table near tall [[windows->windows pregnancy ending]] that face the morning sun. The [[dining table->dining table pregnancy ending]] dominates the room's center, its surface scattered with breakfast remains. Against the far wall, an ornate [[sideboard->sideboard pregnancy ending]] displays a mixture of family china and Egyptian acquisitions. Along the walls, [[papyrus displays->papyrus displays]] hang in gilded frames between family portraits. Two [[canopic jars->canopic jar vases]] flank the sideboard. A leather portfolio of [[Richard's documents->Richard's documents]] rests open beside the morning correspondence. [if PregnancyEndingTurns >= 6] At last, [[Eleanor->Eleanor pregnancy ending]] enters through the doorway, her gait wide and careful as she navigates around the furniture. Her lapis-blue silk robe hangs open, the thin fabric revealing her navel's pronounced outward push and the heavy, rounded mass beneath - she pauses beside the breakfast table, one hand supporting her lower back. [if PregnancyEndingTurns == 1] *The grandfather clock in the hallway chimes the quarter-hour. Still no sounds from the kitchen quarters.* [if PregnancyEndingTurns == 3] *A breeze stirs the curtains, carrying the faint scent of roses from the estate gardens.* [if PregnancyEndingTurns == 5] *Footsteps echo briefly in the corridor above, then fade toward the upper floors.*

The moment the Director's footsteps fade down the corridor, Eleanor abandons all pretense of professional composure - she paces to the window, then back to her desk, her fingers trembling as she lifts the authorization letter to read it again. Thirty pounds! An entire expedition! Her research vindicated, her theories soon to be proven in the very soil of Brittany. Such momentous news demands immediate action. Eleanor pulls open her desk drawer and withdraws a leather portfolio, spreading its contents across the desktop. Lists emerge - equipment needs, travel arrangements, correspondence requirements. Her pen moves with quick, decisive strokes as she begins organizing the monumental task ahead. [[Three days to prepare for the expedition of a lifetime.->Preparation Montage Cutscene 1]]

The cartographer's shop bell chimes as Eleanor pushes through the heavy oak door, her portfolio clutched tightly against her chest. Behind glass cases, rolled maps and surveying instruments catch the afternoon light. "Maps of northern Brittany," she announces to the proprietor, her voice crisp with purpose. The elderly man retrieves three large sheets, spreading them across his counter with practiced care. Eleanor's finger traces potential excavation sites, her eyes bright with scholarly excitement as she correlates his markings with her research notes. She purchases not only the maps but a compact compass and measuring chains - tools that will serve her well in the field. [[The instrument maker's workshop lies just two streets away.->Preparation Montage Cutscene 2]]

<div class="day-heading">TUESDAY</div> By dawn Eleanor stands before her expedition trunk, methodically folding field clothes into precise arrangements. Sturdy boots, waterproof cape, practical skirts that will withstand rough terrain - each item selected for function over fashion. Her hands move with the efficiency of someone who has planned every detail. The university library consumes her afternoon. She emerges with borrowed volumes on Breton archaeology, Celtic pottery traditions, and excavation methodologies, her leather satchel straining under their weight. <div class="day-heading">WEDNESDAY</div> The final morning arrives with Eleanor checking items off her comprehensive lists. Travel documents, letters of introduction, research notes - all organized into neat portfolios. She pauses only to consume a hurried breakfast before [[making her final visit to the museum.->Office Departure Cutscene]]

TriedVibratingTheAmphoraInThePresent: true -- You focus your will toward the amphora's ceramic base, sending the same resonant pulse. The vessel shudders once, a low thrum that travels through the glass case into the marble plinth. You focus your will toward the amphora's ceramic base - the same focused pulse that sent tremors up a barbarian's boot. The ceramic responds with a low, resonant hum that travels through the glass case walls and into the marble plinth. [[The amphora shifts...->Present Amphora Vibrated 2]]

...an inch or so - no more than that. The sound it produces is. Through the ceramic walls comes the muffled slosh - thick, muffled - of liquid, shifting against its sides. The museum card flutters slightly. [[But nothing else happens.->Intro Meeting Diorama]]

IntroMeetingEleanorPersuasion: true -- You stand a little straighter, chin lifting slightly. Let them prattle on with their petty concerns - you're the only one here with genuine expertise. Three years at Cambridge wasn't for nothing, after all. The director hasn't even noticed how you've organized the Etruscan collection by period rather than acquisition date - a system any proper scholar would recognize as superior. You could run this department with half the budget. You could run the whole institution by yourself. These fools don't deserve your talents… but you'll have to maintain your standards regardless. Someone must uphold scholarly integrity in this institution. {plainlink to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

QuillPaperFallen: true -- You focus towards the quill and paper nestled in the side pocket of Eleanor's workbag. The quill immediately vibrates erratically against the paper, its scratching becoming a chaotic jumble of lines rather than script. With a stronger pulse, the paper flutters violently, and the quill jerks as if struck. Both items tumble out of the open pocket, falling from the bag and landing with a soft rustle on the tearoom floor near Mary's feet. She glances down briefly at the slight disturbance near her ankles but, perhaps assuming she merely kicked her own bag, returns her attention toward Eleanor. {link to: 'Eleanor Workbag Tea With Mary', label: 'Back'}

MaryPricked: true -- You focus your influence on the fallen quill, its feather now lightly dusted with the powder from Mary's spilled compact. The quill trembles slightly, then lifts just an inch off the carpet. You nudge it forward. It scrapes briefly against the floor, then jabs sharply upwards - the ink-stained, powder-coated nib making contact with the delicate skin of Mary's ankle, just above her shoe. "*Ow!*" Mary exclaims, jerking her foot back instinctively. She glances down, frowning at her ankle. "*What on earth...? Did something bite me?*" She rubs the spot briefly, finding no obvious mark, and dismisses it with a slight shrug, turning back to Eleanor. "*Apologies, darling... where were we?*" [[You watch as a faint tremor passes through her hand as she reaches for her teacup.->Mary Gets Sick 1]] [note] Cutscene triggered by using Aether on the powdered quill. Sets MaryPricked to true and links directly to the sickness progression. [continue]

{embed passage: 'Item Back Logic CH1'} You inspect the items closer. The quill and paper hover near you, the pen's nib constantly scratching against its companion in an endless stream of illegible text. The ink never seems to run dry, perpetually forming and fading away into meaningless scribbles. {one of: ["*The paper flutters as if caught in a breeze, though you feel no wind.*", "*Both items suddenly stop to spell out 'HELLO' before resuming their usual scrawling.*", "*The quill attempts to draw what might be a self-portrait. It fails miserably.*", "*The paper briefly arranges its scribbles into what looks like sheet music.*", "*The quill spins like a compass needle before pointing back to its companion.*", "*Both items suddenly stop to spell out 'WHAT? WHAT IS IT?' before resuming their usual scrawling.*", "*Both items suddenly stop to spell out 'JUST POINT US IN THE DIRECTION OF AN ARTEFACT, SPECTER' before resuming their usual scrawling.*"], order: 'cycling'} {link to: itemBackTarget, label: 'Back'}

[if pastterraceturn == 1] That little, simpleton laugh. Your teeth clench. *Stop.* *Talking.* Your leg jerks before you’ve even realized, a sharp kick connecting under the wood. There's a muffled thud and Mary gasps, her teacup clattering in its saucer as she winces, rubbing her shin. "E-Eleanor! What... what was that for?!" she stammers, blinking at you in [[disbelief->Rage Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 3]]. [if pastterraceturn == 2] The terrace door opens. Mary steps back outside, a cheerful hum on her lips as she smooths her skirts. "Oh, you won't *believe* how hard it was to find your washroom, Eleanor -" She pauses. Only then do you realize how corrugated and fed up your expression must've gotten, not to mention how pale your knuckles, now that you look at them, are. "Everything alright, dear? Did... did I do something?" You force a smile, hands delicately folding in your lap. "No, no, just... the wind startled me, that's all. A breeze caught the tablecloth." [[You blink once more, and detach yourself from Eleanor's mind.->Past Terrace (Turn system)]] [if pastterraceturn == 3] That little, simpleton laugh. Your teeth clench. *Stop.* *Talking.* Your leg jerks before you’ve even realized, a sharp kick connecting under the wood with something... soft? There's a muffled thud and Mary gasps, her teacup clattering in its saucer in surprise. "Oh! Eleanor be careful with your legs, I think your foot just hit my handbag." [[She says with a giggle->Rage Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 3b]].

[if pastterraceturn == 1] Oh. Oh no. You've done it now, haven't you? What's gotten into you, Eleanor? A beat. Then your voice, forced polite. "Ah, w-well... there was a bug! A big, buzzing... bumblebee. I'm so sorry, I should've been more careful!" Her lips part, some confused sound forming - but you're already pouring her another cup of tea, in an attempt to distract her. There doesn't seem to be a need to. "A *bee?!* Oh dear, did get it off?? I would *hate* to be stung!" "...Yes. Yes Mary, it flew away. You, um, must've missed it." [[You blink once more, and detach yourself from Eleanor's mind.->Past Terrace (Turn system)]]

HandbagHit: true HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP + 1 -- [if pastterraceturn == 3] Oh dear, you got lucky there. What's gotten into you, Eleanor? A beat. Then your voice, forced polite. "Ah, I'm so, so sorry, Mary. I hope I haven't scraped it?" As she checks to the side of the table, you're already pouring her another cup of tea in an attempt to distract her. There doesn't seem to be a need to, though. "Oh no, don't worry! It just fell to the side, that's... um... *oh no*.... um, that's all. I got everything back in place! No need to help me. I mean it, no need to!" As she returns up, you catch a weird expression on her face. Is she blushing? What for? Maybe she's also in the habit of wearing her corset too tight. [[You blink once more, and detach yourself from Eleanor's mind.->Past Terrace (Turn system)]]

RageTerrace: true -- [if pastterraceturn == 1] The terrace sharpens - no, tightens, like a cord pulled taut, the edges of your vision blurring red at the corners. Mary's voice grates on your ears - her chatter is relentless. It's always like this with her. The way she smiles, how easily the words pour from her lips, so effortlessly. Meanwhile, you're stuck in this chair, corset biting into your ribs, ready to pass out at any moment. [[You breathe sharply through your nose as she laughs.->Rage Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 2]] [if pastterraceturn == 2] The terrace sharpens - no, tightens, like a cord pulled taut, the edges of your vision blurring red at the corners. Mary isn't here. She's off powdering her nose, leaving you alone with your own thoughts - no endless chatter, no grating laugh. That's nice. You feel blood rushing through your ears. Somehow, the silence *presses* onto you. Too quiet. Too still. And your skin prickles, the fabric of your dress rashes, your corset is too tight, your belly too fat for its own good, your chest needing air, your *lungs* needing actual air, and this damns chair is so, so uncomfortable... [[*You. Can't. Stand this.*->Rage Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 2]] [if pastterraceturn == 3] The terrace sharpens - no, tightens, like a cord pulled taut, the edges of your vision blurring red at the corners. Mary's voice grates on your ears - her chatter is relentless. It's always like this with her. The way she smiles, how easily the words pour from her lips, so effortlessly. Meanwhile, you're stuck in this chair, corset biting into your ribs, ready to pass out at any moment. [[You breath sharply through your nose as she laughs.->Rage Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 2]]

Because, of course, there's no ice cream vendor in sight. Not anymore. Eleanor gasps as a particularly cold rivulet finds its way down her collar, tracing a path between her shoulder blades. She abandons any pretence of dignity, lifting her heavy skirt slightly as she hurries back the way she came, splashing through a number of puddles, soaking her shoes and stockings thoroughly. The fabric of her blouse, now basically transparent, clings uncomfortably to her skin, outlining the curve of her soft belly and the swell of her breasts with unwelcome clarity. She ducks under the eave of a closed shop, shivering slightly as she waits for the worst of the rain to pass before continuing her journey home. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Back towards the flat, then.'}

Eleanor is not coming back. The expedition to Brittany has become something else entirely - a new life, perhaps, or simply an ending you cannot observe. In any case your purpose here has simply... concluded. You feel the familiar pull toward your vessel, stronger now than it has been in years. The tether that once bound you to Eleanor's presence has grown slack, directionless, drawing you back to the granite form that waits on the mantelpiece. Your essence drifts toward the carved figure, [[no longer resisting.->Realization (Left Behind) 2]]

The flat grows remarkably still as your consciousness congeals back into the stone. You wonder if you'll ever awaken, or if [[this time the sleep will be permanent.->Left Behind Ending]]

ReflectiveObjectAligned: true VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 1 -- You focus your energy onto the dark, reflective square nestled in the crate. It emits a low, resonant hum, and the surface seems to shimmer, the dim light catching strangely within its depths. It shifts fractionally within its packing straw, tilting just enough to catch the ambient glow from the overhead gas lamp. A faint, distorted reflection of the lamp now plays across its dark surface, aimed back towards the magnifying glass on the table. {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[[The introduction to her especially, she should be at her desk]]

Eleanor settles at her desk with determined purpose, spreading her collection of Brittany rubbings across the mahogany surface. The familiar V-marked blob symbols and triple-circle motifs stare back at her from yellowed paper, each carefully traced from standing stones and artefacts. She opens a thick volume on Celtic symbology, her finger tracing comparison charts as she mutters fragments under her breath. Her pencil taps against the desk's edge with increasing frequency. Minutes pass. She pushes her spectacles up her nose, sighs, then reaches for a different text - this one on pre-Roman script traditions. Near her elbow, several clay pot shards lie arranged on felt padding, their surfaces bearing partial markings that seem to mock her attempts at classification. A stone disc with overlapping symbols sits beside them, its weathered surface catching the gaslight. In the corner of her workspace, a small bronze mirror fragment reflects the lamp's glow at odd angles, its polished surface decorated with engravings that might hold significance - [[if only she could decipher the pattern.->Research Cutscene 1.2]]

Eleanor picks up the bronze mirror fragment in frustration, angling it toward the morning light to examine its engravings more closely. The polished surface catches the sun, casting reflected patterns across her rubbings. As the light shifts, something clicks. She holds the mirror directly over one of her V-marked tracings. The symbol transforms before her eyes - just like that, these are not abstract markings anymore. Two smaller circles. Both above a larger, rounded form beneath. A V-shaped mark nestled in the center of the lower curve. Eleanor seems to have finally got it. It's the tracing of a woman's silhouette - [[the V indicating the navel of a prominently swollen belly.->Research Cutscene 1.25]]

You hear her pulse quickening. She sets the mirror aside and reaches for a wooden fertility figurine - a Mediterranean piece, acquired for comparative study. The resemblance is undeniable: the same emphasis on generous hips and rounded middle. She sketches rapid comparisons, her pencil moving with new energy. But as she attempts to apply this revelation to the triple-circle motifs and other accompanying symbols, the pattern fractures again. The fertility goddess approach explains the V-marks but... [[what about the other shapes?->Research Cutscene 1.3]]

Eleanor leans back in her chair, rubbing her temples. She stares at the clay pot shards and stone disc, their additional markings still refusing to conform to any known Celtic or fertility cult framework. She closes the Celtic symbology texts with more force than necessary. The traditional archaeological approaches have carried her this far - no further. Her sketches now show clear progress, though: the body-symbol connection is undeniable, supported by comparative analysis with known fertility artifacts. She surrounding elements - the triple circles, the geometric patterns, the contextual symbols found alongside the female figures - don't fit just yet. But it might just be a matter of time. [[The morning's research concludes.->Research Ending]]

Eleanor sweeps aside the Celtic texts with the back of her hand - the sound of leather bindings hitting the floor echoes through her office. She reaches instead for volumes on comparative religion, their spines cracked from years of use. A Mesopotamian cylinder seal rolls between her fingers as she examines its surface. She presses it against her ink blotter, watching the impression form - figures in elaborate procession, carrying offerings toward a seated form. The detail is impressive. She sets it aside and lifts a second artifact: a bronze bowl, its surface decorated with a single, intricate engraving at the rim, composed by our abundance symbols. Beside it sits a cruder clay vessel, smaller and clearly later work... though the marks are the same, if not a little cruder - the contrast is stark. She holds them up to the gaslight, comparing the craftsmanship. [[The difference between them clearly strikes her as significant.->Research Cutscene 2.2]]

The crude vessel is set down, and a small stone tablet fragment is instead picked up. Cuneiform script etches across its surface - clear enough to make out individual markings. She reaches for a translation guide, her finger tracing symbols as she works through the ancient text. Her breathing grows shallow. The words form slowly: "ritual feast... divine favor... abundance..." The tablet slips from her grasp, clattering against the desk. Eleanor stares at it for a moment, then at her comparison sketches. The bronze bowl with its elaborate processions, and the crude clay vessel, [[rougher->Research Cutscene 2.3]], are not the only artefacts found in the same general location, and sharing clear craftmanship differences based on the age.

ResearchProgress: 2 -- Eleanor spreads her artifacts across the desk in a wide arc. The cylinder seal beside the bronze bowl. The stone tablet fragment next to her Brittany rubbings. The crude clay vessel at the center of it all. Her pencil moves rapidly now, sketching connections between the pieces. Lines link the abundance symbols from Mesopotamia to the body-forms from Brittany. Notes scribble in the margins: "progressive degradation of technique" and "cultural transmission through religious practice." She opens a fresh notebook and begins a new page. At the top, she writes: "Patterns of Ritualistic Consumption Across Ancient Cultures." Below it, she lists locations, dates, artifact types. Quality. The pattern becomes undeniable. Each site shows the same progression - sophisticated early work giving way to cruder imitations. As if the original practitioners had vanished, leaving only followers trying to recreate something [[they no longer fully understood.->Research Ending]]

Carved into the granite's underside is the same V-marked symbol. Eleanor sets the vessel down, carefully. She stares at it, then at her research notes scattered across the desk, then back at the vessel. A slow smile spreads across her face. *"How did... how on earth did this happen?"* she murmurs to herself, her voice filled with wonder. *"Years. I've had this for years, just sitting in my flat, and now..."* She shakes her head, and a laugh escapes her - half disbelief, half delight. *"Of all the artifacts in all the world... you really are a lucky charm, are you not?"* [[Her gaze drifts across the office.->Research Cutscene 3.4]]

Eleanor stares at her notes until the words blur together. Three hours of cross-referencing ancient sites, comparing consumption patterns, tracing cultural transmission routes. The connections are there... but incomplete. There simply isn't enough material to be conclusive enough. She pushes back from her desk, rubbing her eyes. Her detailed sketches of abundant female forms sprawl across the mahogany surface - Egyptian fertility goddesses, Mesopotamian ritual figures, most importantly her own artefacts, with the Brittany symbols and their prominent bellies. Her gaze... drifts to your vessel, sitting quietly beside her inkwell. [[Without thinking, she reaches for it, turning it slowly in her palm.->Research Cutscene 3.2]]

Eleanor tilts the statuette, examining its carved contours against her sketches. Same rounded belly, same suggestion of abundance sculped into the smooth granite. She looks at the window and as she notices the cloudy weather, she wonders as to why it's warm to the touch. That line of thought, however, is not followed - on a whim, she turns the vessel upside down. [[Her breath catches.->Research Cutscene 3]] *Yours would too, if only you had lungs. But by now, you had your suspicions.*

Eleanor pushes back from her desk and crosses to the corner where several storage crates sit stacked against the wall. Her hands move with purpose now, lifting the lid of the nearest one. Inside, nestled among packing straw and wrapped artifacts, she finds what she's looking for. Her fingers close around a [[rough-looking object->Imperfect Vessel]]. Side by side, the contrast is striking. Where your vessel is smooth granite carved with precision and care, this artifact looks to have its general shape, but much cruder in nature, lumpy. Both show the unmistakable V-marked symbol, but where your vessel's is elegantly integrated into the form, this one's marking looks scratched rather than carved.

SlotOneAttended: true ResearchProgress: ResearchProgress + 1 -- Eleanor gathers her research materials, her mind buzzing with the morning's efforts. Whether frustrated, excited, or unsettled by her findings... you can't really tell. At the very least you can count on the fact that she knows more now than when she started. She files the notes carefully, making a mental list of follow-up actions before preparing for the next part of her day. [if ResearchConnectedToVessel == true] But just as she's living the office, she turns around to give your vessel one last glance, squinting her eyes towards it. She doesn't say anything, just stands there for a couple of seconds, but... *something's different now.* [continue] {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

[if ResearchProgress == 0] {embed passage: 'Research Cutscene 1.1'} [if ResearchProgress == 1] {embed passage: 'Research Cutscene 2.1'} [if ResearchProgress >= 2] {embed passage: 'Research Cutscene 3.1'}

{embed passage: 'CH2 Variables'} It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

It is done. {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

The egyptologist, Richard, is standing in the middle of all of his artefacts, tall and lean with a neatly trimmed beard. His tweed jacket has seen better days, the elbows worn from leaning over display cases for hours. Though scatterbrained and quickly moving from one thing to the next with no discernable plan, he shifts artifacts in a very careful and deliberate manner: he clearly values them. His squared spectacles slide down his nose as he works, and he absently pushes them back up with an ink-stained finger. [if passage.visits == 2] *Some of the ink has made it over to the lenses. You watch as he struggles to clean it off by rubbing his glasses over his jacket, only making things worse.* [continue] {link to: 'Egyptian Exhibition Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless RichardFullDoubt; unless RichardCompliment; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Richard Exhibition persuasion menu]] [continue]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [unless RichardFullDoubt; unless RichardCompliment] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward Richard's mind. His thoughts are a jumbled maze of exhibition layouts, artifact dates, and nervous energy. Some threads of dialogue seem louder than others. Perhaps, you can add your voice to them… ➼[[**APPRECIATION**->Appreciation Richard Persuasion]] *She's quite bold, isn't she? That expedition she's been pressing for... Perhaps you should say something.* ➼[[**DOUBT**->Doubt Richard Persuasion]] *No, no, focus on the work. She's just being collegial. Don't embarrass yourself.* ➼[[**AWE**->Awe Richard Persuasion]] *These treasures... three thousand years of history in your very own hands.* [continue] [if RichardFullDoubt] Richard's mind has retreated behind walls of scholarly detachment. His thoughts circle obsessively around the exhibition, deliberately avoiding any acknowledgment of Eleanor's presence. Your influence finds no purchase in his carefully maintained distance. [if RichardCompliment] Richard's thoughts now flow in a new direction, his usual academic focus tinged with a warmth whenever Eleanor comes near. You find no need to press further. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

Richard's field jacket - a sturdy canvas replacement for his usual worn tweed - hangs open over a practical linen shirt - both garments are now thoroughly marked with stone dust and dirt. His squared spectacles have slipped down his nose once again, their lenses fogged with condensation from the chamber's humid air. His tall, lean frame seems somehow more angular in the confined space. The practical expedition boots he'd selected for the day's expedition are caked with mud and debris from the collapse. Despite their predicament, his scholarly enthusiasm remains evident - despite it all, there's an alertness to his stance that suggests his mind is still cataloguing every detail of his surroundings. {link to: 'Weekend Expedition Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless AnimusBlocked; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Weekend Expedition Animus Blocked 1]] [continue] [if AnimusBlocked; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[Try as you might...->Weekend Expedition Animus Blocked Richard Animus Menu]] [continue]

The leather portfolio lies open beside a stack of correspondence, its contents scattered across the polished wood. Several sheets bear Richard's careful script - translation notes with hieroglyphic symbols sketched in the margins. A letter bearing Egyptian postal stamps rests on top, dated three weeks ago. The envelope shows Cairo postmarks, torn open hastily. The visible text mentions "My dearest Eleanor", "the heat here grows unbearable" and "excavation progress slower than anticipated." Beneath it, shipping manifests list recent artifact acquisitions with Alexandria customs stamps. {link to: 'Pregnancy Ending Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:exhibit1] Eleanor approaches one of the display cases, studying the hieroglyphics on a small statuette. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit1] *"This arrangement is fascinating, Richard. Will you be grouping by dynasty or function?"* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit1 newline] He glances up and immediately back down, barely making eye contact. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit1] *"Oh! By dynasty, yes. It's the only sensible approach. Less likely to confuse the general public."* [continue] [continue] [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:exhibit2] Eleanor lifts a fragmentary papyrus, her brow furrowing. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit2] *"This restoration is quite remarkable. Was it done here?"* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1 id:exhibit2 newline] Richard carefully places a canopic jar on its stand, maintaining distance. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit2] *"Cairo. Professor Mahmoud's work. I've far too much to manage already."* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:exhibit2] His gaze remains fixed on the artifacts, shoulders tense. [continue] [continue] [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:exhibit3] Richard unrolls a diagram of the exhibition layout, holding it at arm's length. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit3] *"If we move these cases, we could improve the flow..."* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit3 newline] Eleanor nods, stepping closer. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1 id:exhibit3] *"Yes, that works much better. The lighting would draw visitors naturally."* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit3] He shifts away slightly, clearing his throat. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit3] *"Quite. Quite right. I'll make a note of it."* [continue] [continue] [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:exhibit4] Eleanor adjusts the angle of a small statue of Anubis. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit4] *"There. Much more imposing this way."* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1 id:exhibit4 newline] Richard glances at her work, then quickly away. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit4] *"Yes, well... adequate placement. Thank you."* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit4] He returns to his notes, shoulders hunched. [continue] [continue]

[if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:exhibit1] Eleanor approaches one of the display cases, studying the hieroglyphics on a small statuette. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit1] *"Richard? Have you decided on the arrangement yet?"* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit1 newline] She glances around the empty room, frowning. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit1] *"Richard? Where have you gotten to now?"* [continue] [continue] [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:exhibit2] Eleanor lifts a fragmentary papyrus, her brow furrowing. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit2] *"How odd. He was just here a moment ago..."* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1 id:exhibit2 newline] She sets down her notes and peers behind a display case. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit2] *"Richard? Did you go to fetch something?"* [continue] [continue] [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:exhibit3] Eleanor adjusts her spectacles, unrolling a diagram of the exhibition layout. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit3] *"Richard? Well, I suppose I'll have to manage on my own. Typical."* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit3 newline] She sighs, moving a display case herself. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1 id:exhibit3] *"Men. Always disappearing when there's actual work to be done."* [continue] [continue] [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:exhibit4] A distant thumping draws Eleanor's attention momentarily. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit4] *"Must be the workers replacing those floorboards upstairs."* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1 id:exhibit4 newline] She returns to her work, completely missing the frantic rhythm of the sounds. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit4] *"If Richard thinks he can simply wander off and return to take credit for my arrangements, he is sorely mistaken."* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit4] She adjusts the angle of a display with a satisfied nod. [continue] [continue]

RichardTrapped: true --

Spirit Daemon Goddess

[if RichardFullDoubt] The sarcophagus's wooden surface trembles beneath your will. As Richard leans in to examine the hieroglyphs along its edge, the ornately painted lid shifts imperceptibly. A soft click echoes as ancient mechanisms, long seized with age, suddenly release. The heavy lid swings upward with surprising force, creating a momentary shadow that draws Richard's attention. His surprise lasts only a moment before gravity reclaims the ancient wood. [[The lid crashes down.->Sarcophagus Aether Cutscene 2]] {embed passage: 'RichardTrapped set to true'} [unless RichardFullDoubt] The sarcophagus's wooden surface trembles beneath your will. As Richard leans in to examine the hieroglyphs along its edge, the ornately painted lid shifts imperceptibly. "Eleanor," he calls, adjusting his spectacles, "would you take a look at these cartouches? I believe they're from the 19th dynasty, but there's something peculiar about the styling." She approaches, and together they lean over the sarcophagus. The lid gives another subtle tremble, but with two people now watching, it merely settles back into place with a soft creak. "Hmm..." Eleanor trails off, already lost in analysis. {link to: 'sarcophagi', label: 'Back'} [continue]

The lid comes down with a resonant *thud*, swallowing Richard entirely. A muffled cry emerges from within, quickly followed by frantic pounding. Eleanor, engrossed in her notes across the room, doesn't look up. "Did you say something, Richard?" she calls absently, still writing. The pounding grows more insistent, but the thick wood transforms it into something resembling distant construction work - easily ignored in a museum constantly under renovation. You hear Richard's muffled pleas, but they're unintelligible through the ancient cedar. How unfortunate. {link to: 'Egyptian Exhibition Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] <export-link>Save</export-link> <import-link>Load</import-link> Remember to credit Maliface, add their Kofi and Itch.io page. {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("isCutscene",comesFromCutscene()); [continue] {embed passage: 'Deep Save Menu Logic'}

[JavaScript] ; { window.SaveSystem = { config: { fileName: null, extension: '.tw-save', encoded: true, version: null, metadata: null, engineUpdaters: [], gameUpdaters: [] }, getFileName(saveData) { switch (typeof this.config.fileName) { case 'string': return this.config.fileName; case 'function': return this.config.fileName.call(null, saveData); } const [m, date, hour] = new Date().toJSON().match(/(.+)T(.+)(?=\.)/); return engine.story.name() + '-save-' + date + '-' + hour; }, lastState: null, currentState: engine.state.saveToObject(), export() { const saveObject = { game: { ifid: engine.story.ifid(), version: this.config.version }, state: this.lastState ?? this.currentState ?? engine.state.saveToObject(), chapbook: { version: engine.version } }; saveObject.state.trail ??= []; saveObject.state.trail.push(engine.state.get('trail').at(-1)); if (typeof this.config.metadata === 'function') { saveObject.metadata = this.config.metadata.call(null, saveObject); } else if (this.config.metadata) { saveObject.metadata = this.config.metadata; } let json = JSON.stringify(saveObject); if (this.config.encoded) json = btoa(json.replace(/[^\x00-\x7F]/g, m => `u<(${m.codePointAt(0)}>`)); const url = URL.createObjectURL(new Blob([json], { type: 'text/plain' })), link = document.createElement('a'); link.href = url; link.download = this.getFileName() + this.config.extension; link.click(); requestAnimationFrame(() => URL.revokeObjectURL(url)); }, import() { const input = document.createElement('input'); input.type = 'file'; input.accept = this.extension; input.onchange = () => { const reader = new FileReader(); reader.onload = () => this.saveHandler(reader.result); reader.readAsText(input.files[0]); }; input.click(); }, saveHandler(json) { // we receive the FileReader's results if (json.trim()[0] !== '{') json = atob(json).replace(/u<(\d+)>/g, (m, n) => String.fromCodePoint(n)); let data; try { data = JSON.parse(json); } catch (e) { throw new Error(`Save file could not be parsed into a usable object, sorry.`); } const { game, state, chapbook } = data; if (!state) throw new Error(`Save file is lacking a state object, something went very wrong.`); if (game.ifid !== engine.story.ifid()) throw new Error(`Save file does not come from this game.`); if (chapbook.version !== engine.version && this.config.engineUpdaters?.length) { for (const cb of this.config.engineUpdaters) cb.call(null, data, chapbook.version, engine.version); } if (game.version !== this.config.version && this.config.gameUpdaters?.length) { for (const cb of this.config.gameUpdaters) cb.call(null, data, game.version, this.config.version); } try { engine.state.restoreFromObject(state); } catch (e) { throw new Error(`Chapbook was unable to restore the saved state, this is an internal error.`); } } }; engine.extend('2.0.0', () => { window.addEventListener('body-content-change', () => { SaveSystem.lastState = structuredClone(SaveSystem.currentState); SaveSystem.currentState = engine.state.saveToObject(); }); window.addEventListener('click', e => { const type = e.target.getAttribute('data-save'); if (type) { SaveSystem[type](); } }); engine.template.inserts.add({ match: /^load save/i, render(label) { return `<a class="link" tabindex="0" role="link" data-save="import">${label ?? 'Load from file'}</a>`; } }); engine.template.inserts.add({ match: /^save to file/i, render(label) { return `<a class="link" tabindex="0" role="link" data-save="export">${label ?? 'Save to file'}</a>`; } }); }); }; [continued]

config.body.transition.name: "crossfade" -- {embed passage: 'Text Manipulation Extension Logic'} {embed passage: 'Save System'} {embed passage: 'Inventory Scripts'}

[inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel an intense, unstable resonance...->Gas Lamp Aether Teleport 1]]

ArchiveReviewAttended: true VioletArchiveSuccessful: true VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 1 DayCalories: DayCalories + 1 -- **State Set:** - Archive Review attended and successful. - VioletInterest increased. The Private Research event with Violet is now unlocked. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

TeaWithMaryAttended: true MaryTeaSuccessful: true BallInvitationGained: true SocietyBallAttended: true MaryRelationship: MaryRelationship - 4 DayCalories: DayCalories + 4 -- **State Set:** - Mary's full event path attended. - MaryRelationship significantly decreased. Simulates the failure/humiliation outcome of the Society Ball. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

TeaWithMaryAttended: true MaryTeaSuccessful: true BallInvitationGained: true SocietyBallAttended: true MaryRelationship: 6 DayCalories: DayCalories + 4 -- **State Set:** - Mary's full event path attended. - MaryRelationship set to a high value. Simulates the successful, intimate outcome of the Society Ball. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

ArchiveReviewAttended: true VioletArchiveSuccessful: true PrivateResearchAttended: true VioletCrateAttended: true CultArtifactAcquired_CrackedVessel: true VioletPlotStealVessel: true VioletInterest: 4 ResearchProgress: ResearchProgress + 1 DayCalories: DayCalories + 2 -- **State Set:** - Violet's path attended up to the Crate Event. - High Interest outcome triggered. - VioletPlotStealVessel: true (unlocks final event). Simulates the high-interest outcome of the Violet Crate event, setting the stage for her final ending. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

MikaCollectionRevealed: true VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 1 -- **State Set:** - MikaCollectionRevealed: true The 'Overheard' path for the Violet Crate event on Friday is now unlocked. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

PolishExhibitSetup: true RichardCompliment: true DateProposed: true RichardRelationship: RichardRelationship + 1 ExhibitDioramaTurns: 6 -- **State Set:** - RichardCompliment: true - DateProposed: true - RichardRelationship: +1 - ExhibitDioramaTurns: 6 Richard has been complimented and has proposed the "Translation Session" lunch date. This event will now be available on the calendar. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

ExhibitDioramaTurns: 6 TranslationSessionAttended: true WeekendExpeditionAttended: true ExpeditionEnding: 'intercourse' RichardEngagment: true RichardRelationship: 7 DayCalories: DayCalories + 2 -- **State Set:** - All Richard path events attended. - ExpeditionEnding: 'intercourse' - RichardEngagment: true Simulates the pregnancy-track outcome of the Weekend Expedition. This will trigger the pregnancy ending at the end of the week. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

ExhibitDioramaTurns: 6 TranslationSessionAttended: true WeekendExpeditionAttended: true ExpeditionEnding: 'intercourse' RichardRelationship: 6 DayCalories: DayCalories + 2 -- **State Set:** - All Richard path events attended. - ExpeditionEnding: 'intercourse' - RichardRelationship set to a very high value. Simulates the successful intercourse ending of the Weekend Expedition. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

ExhibitDioramaTurns: 6 TranslationSessionAttended: true WeekendExpeditionAttended: true ExpeditionEnding: 'romantic/freed' RichardRelationship: 5 DayCalories: DayCalories + 2 -- **State Set:** - All Richard path events attended. - ExpeditionEnding: 'romantic/freed' - RichardRelationship set to a high value. Simulates the successful, non-intercourse completion of the Weekend Expedition. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

SlotThreeEvent: 'APOTHECARY' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Leisure Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotThreeEvent: 'AUCTION' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Leisure Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotThreeEvent: 'LEISURE_CAFE' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Leisure Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotThreeEvent: 'GARDEN' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Leisure Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotThreeEvent: 'GEOLOGY' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Leisure Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotThreeEvent: 'GRAVE' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Leisure Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotThreeEvent: 'ICECREAM' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Leisure Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotThreeEvent: 'MARKET' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Leisure Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotThreeEvent: 'SOCIETY_BALL' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Leisure Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotThreeEvent: 'TRAIN' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Leisure Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotThreeEvent: 'VIOLET_CRATE_MIKA' VioletCratePathAChosen: true VioletCratePathBChosen: false -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink on the calendar to reflect Eleanor's accepted invitation. The new entry forms, precise and expectant. {embed passage: 'Leisure Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotThreeEvent: 'VIOLET_CRATE_MIKA' VioletCratePathBChosen: true VioletCratePathAChosen: false -- With a subtle nudge of resonant energy, the ink on Eleanor's calendar shifts. A new entry appears, reflecting her decision to investigate the mysterious crate. {embed passage: 'Leisure Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotTwoEvent: 'BAKERY' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Lunch Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotTwoEvent: 'BANK' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Lunch Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotTwoEvent: 'CAFE' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Lunch Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotTwoEvent: 'DESK' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Lunch Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotTwoEvent: 'DIRECTOR' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Lunch Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotTwoEvent: 'MARY' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Lunch Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotTwoEvent: 'PIECART' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Lunch Activity Flavour Text'} {link to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotTwoEvent: 'TAVERN' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Lunch Activity Flavour Text'} {link to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotTwoEvent: 'TEAROOM' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Lunch Activity Flavour Text'} {link to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotTwoEvent: 'TRANSLATION' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Lunch Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotThreeEvent: "ICECREAM" -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Lunch Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

TeaWithMaryAttended: true MaryTeaSuccessful: true BallInvitationGained: true MaryRelationship: MaryRelationship + 2 DayCalories: DayCalories + 5 -- **State Set:** - Tea With Mary attended and successful. - BallInvitationGained: true - MaryRelationship increased. The Society Ball event is now unlocked for Friday. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

VioletPlotStealVessel: true -- **State Set:** - VioletPlotStealVessel: true The trigger for Violet's final event at the start of the weekend is now active. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

SlotOneEvent: 'ARCHIVE_REVIEW' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Work Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotOneEvent: 'CATALOGUING' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Work Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotOneEvent: "EXHIBITION" -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Work Activity Flavour Text'} *...why is this task troubling her so much? Try as you might, you cannot get the ink to reveal more information about the exhibition. That should surprise you: it is just ink.* {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotOneEvent: "EXHIBITION_EGYPT" -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Work Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotOneEvent: 'EXPERT' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Work Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotOneEvent: 'LECTURE' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Work Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotOneEvent: 'PRIVATE_RESEARCH' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Work Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotOneEvent: "RESEARCH" -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Work Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotOneEvent: 'TOUR' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Work Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotOneEvent: 'VIOLET_CRATE_MIKA' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Work Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotOneEvent: 'WEEKEND_EXPEDITION' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Work Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

CurrentDay: 'FRIDAY' ExpertConsultationAttended: true SlotOneEvent (!ExpertConsultationAttended): 'EXPERT' SlotOneEvent (ExpertConsultationAttended && !WeekendExpeditionAttended && DateProposed && TranslationSessionAttended): 'WEEKEND_EXPEDITION' SlotOneEvent (ExpertConsultationAttended && WeekendExpeditionAttended && CataloguingTimes <= 2): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ExpertConsultationAttended && !DateProposed && CataloguingTimes <= 2): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ExpertConsultationAttended && !TranslationSessionAttended && CataloguingTimes <= 2): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ExpertConsultationAttended && WeekendExpeditionAttended && CataloguingTimes > 2 && !ResearchCompleted): 'RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (ExpertConsultationAttended && !DateProposed && CataloguingTimes > 2 && !ResearchCompleted): 'RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (ExpertConsultationAttended && !TranslationSessionAttended && CataloguingTimes > 2 && !ResearchCompleted): 'RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (ExpertConsultationAttended && WeekendExpeditionAttended && CataloguingTimes > 2 && ResearchCompleted): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ExpertConsultationAttended && !DateProposed && CataloguingTimes > 2 && ResearchCompleted): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ExpertConsultationAttended && !TranslationSessionAttended && CataloguingTimes > 2 && ResearchCompleted): 'CATALOGUING' SlotTwoEvent: 'CAFE' SlotThreeEvent (!VioletCrateAttended && PrivateResearchAttended && VioletArchiveSuccessful): 'VIOLET_CRATE_MIKA' SlotThreeEvent (!VioletCrateAttended && MikaCollectionRevealed): 'VIOLET_CRATE_MIKA' SlotThreeEvent (VioletCrateAttended && !SocietyBallAttended && BallInvitationGained): 'SOCIETY_BALL' SlotThreeEvent (!VioletCrateAttended && !MikaCollectionRevealed && !SocietyBallAttended && BallInvitationGained): 'SOCIETY_BALL' SlotThreeEvent: 'TRAIN' -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

CurrentDay: 'MONDAY' -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

CurrentDay: 'THURSDAY' SlotOneEvent (!ArchiveReviewAttended): 'ARCHIVE_REVIEW' SlotOneEvent (ArchiveReviewAttended && !PrivateResearchAttended && VioletArchiveSuccessful): 'PRIVATE_RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (ArchiveReviewAttended && PrivateResearchAttended && CataloguingTimes <= 2): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ArchiveReviewAttended && !VioletArchiveSuccessful && CataloguingTimes <= 2): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ArchiveReviewAttended && PrivateResearchAttended && CataloguingTimes > 2 && !ResearchCompleted): 'RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (ArchiveReviewAttended && !VioletArchiveSuccessful && CataloguingTimes > 2 && !ResearchCompleted): 'RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (ArchiveReviewAttended && PrivateResearchAttended && CataloguingTimes > 2 && ResearchCompleted): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ArchiveReviewAttended && !VioletArchiveSuccessful && CataloguingTimes > 2 && ResearchCompleted): 'CATALOGUING' SlotTwoEvent (!TeaWithMaryAttended): 'MARY' SlotTwoEvent (TeaWithMaryAttended): 'TEAROOM' SlotThreeEvent (!ApothecaryVisited): 'APOTHECARY' SlotThreeEvent (ApothecaryVisited): 'ICECREAM' -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

CurrentDay: 'TUESDAY' SlotOneEvent (CataloguingTimes <= 2): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (CataloguingTimes > 2 && !ResearchCompleted): 'RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (CataloguingTimes > 2 && ResearchCompleted): 'CATALOGUING' SlotTwoEvent (!BankMeetingAttended): 'BANK' SlotTwoEvent (BankMeetingAttended): 'CAFE' SlotThreeEvent (!MarketVisited): 'MARKET' SlotThreeEvent (MarketVisited): 'TRAIN' -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

CurrentDay: 'WEDNESDAY' SlotOneEvent (ExhibitDioramaTurns == 0): 'EXHIBITION_EGYPT' SlotOneEvent (ExhibitDioramaTurns > 0 && CataloguingTimes <= 2): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ExhibitDioramaTurns > 0 && CataloguingTimes > 2 && !ResearchCompleted): 'RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (ExhibitDioramaTurns > 0 && CataloguingTimes > 2 && ResearchCompleted): 'CATALOGUING' SlotTwoEvent (!TranslationSessionAttended && DateProposed): 'TRANSLATION' SlotTwoEvent (TranslationSessionAttended): 'TEAROOM' SlotTwoEvent (!DateProposed): 'TEAROOM' SlotThreeEvent: 'LEISURE_CAFE' -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

CurrentDay: 'WEEKEND' -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [CSS] /* Style for the Settings Page */ .settings-page { text-align: center; /* Center all content */ max-width: 600px; /* Optional: Limit width */ margin: 1em auto; /* Center the block itself, add top/bottom margin */ } /* Style for section headings */ .settings-heading { font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif; font-size: 24px; font-weight: bold; font-variant: small-caps; margin-top: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0.8em; padding-bottom: 0.2em; border-bottom: 1px solid currentColor; display: inline-block; /* Keeps border tight to text */ } /* Optional styling for the speed selection links */ .speed-link { display: inline-block; /* Allow margin/padding */ margin: 0 0.5em 0.5em; /* Space between links */ /* Add any specific link styling here if needed */ } /* Specific styling for the 'Back' link at the bottom */ .settings-back-link { display: block; /* Put on its own line */ margin-top: 2.5em; /* Space above */ } [continue] <div class="settings-page"> <div class="settings-heading">DIALOGUE SPEED</div> <div class="speed-selection"> {cycling link for: 'dialogue.speed', choices: ['Slow', 'Normal', 'Fast', 'Instant']} </div> <div class="settings-heading">ASCII BACKDROPS</div> <div class="speed-selection"> {cycling link for: 'AsciiBackdrop_Enabled', choices: ['On', 'Off']} </div> <div class="settings-heading">PAGE BORDERS</div> <div class="speed-selection"> {cycling link for: 'PageMask_Enabled', choices: ['On', 'Off']} </div> <div class="settings-heading">BORDER STYLE</div> <div class="speed-selection"> {cycling link for: 'PageMask_Override', choices: ['Chapter', 'None', 'Chapter1', 'Chapter2', 'Chapter3', 'VMarked', 'Rounded', 'Deco', 'Folder']} </div> <div class="settings-back-link"> {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'} </div> </div> [if DebugMenu] <div class="settings-page"> <div class="settings-heading">DEBUG</div> <div class="speed-selection"> [[Debug CH1->Debug Screen]] </div> <div class="settings-heading">DEBUG</div> <div class="speed-selection"> [[Debug CH2->Debug Menu CH2]] </div> <div class="settings-heading">DEBUG</div> <div class="speed-selection"> [[Debug CH3->Debug Menu CH3]] </div> </div> [continue] [note] BOOOO! Ha. Spooked ya. [continue]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("isCutscene",comesFromCutscene()); [continue] {embed passage: 'Deep Settings Menu Logic'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("isCutscene",comesFromCutscene()); [continue] {embed passage: 'Deep Settings Menu Logic (Chapter 1)'}

The dull-looking knife floats toward the sewing box, its blade angling towards lid. It presses against its latch, attempting to force it open with a scrape. However, the knife's lack of sharpness becomes apparent as it struggles, the blade failing to gain enough leverage to truly unlock the box. Frustrated, it then proceeds to hit the tin. **THUNG** ...the box remains where it is, sitting perfectly in place. The knife’s efforts appear to have fallen short. {link to: 'sewing box', label: 'Back'}

SlobEndingTurns: SlobEndingTurns + 1 -- {accessoryoff: 'right1'} [if SlobEndingTurns < 5] You find yourself inside of the sitting room. You can see your [[vessel->vessel slob ending]] right on top of the low wooden table, standing near piles of [[empty dishes->empty dishes slob ending]] and [[scattered periodicals->scattered periodicals slob ending]]. Partially hidden under crumpled papers, you spot a [[letter->denial letter slob ending]]. Directly across from you, above the mantel of a modest marble [[fireplace->fireplace slob ending]], hangs a large, crooked [[painting->painting slob ending]], its frame covered in dust. To the left, crumbs and empty wrappers litter the floor around a heavily indented [[settee->settee slob ending]] facing the hearth. Along the far wall behind the settee stands a tall, almost empty [[bookshelf-> bookshelf slob ending]]. There's a pair of towering [[windows->windows slob ending]] to the left of it, draped with heavy curtains - beyond them, the evening sky darkens. To your right, the room opens into a [[🪑dining room->unable to move away from the vessel cutscene]]. Behind you, the hallway leads back to the [[🚪entryway->unable to move away from the vessel cutscene]]. [if SlobEndingTurns == 5] Though faint, you hear the sound of footsteps coming from the dining room, and slowly heading towards you. You look in shock as a large, robed figure holding a platter crosses the threshold of the sitting room. [[Has someone broken in?->Sitting room slob ending Eleanor arrives cutscene]] [if SlobEndingTurns > 5] You find yourself inside of the sitting room. You can see your [[vessel->vessel slob ending]] right on top of the low wooden table, standing near piles of [[empty dishes->empty dishes slob ending]] and [[scattered periodicals->scattered periodicals slob ending]]. Partially hidden under crumpled papers, you spot a [[letter->denial letter slob ending]]. Directly across from you, above the mantel of a modest marble [[fireplace->fireplace slob ending]], hangs a large, crooked [[painting->painting slob ending]], its frame covered in dust. To the left, crumbs and empty wrappers litter the floor around a heavily indented [[settee->settee slob ending]] on which [[Eleanor->Eleanor Slob ending cutscene]] is sitting on. Along the far wall behind the settee stands a tall, almost empty [[bookshelf-> bookshelf slob ending]]. There's a pair of towering [[windows->windows slob ending]] to the left of it, draped with heavy curtains - beyond them, the evening sky darkens. To your right, the room opens into a [[🪑dining room->unable to move away from the vessel cutscene]]. Behind you, the hallway leads back to the [[🚪entryway->unable to move away from the vessel cutscene]].

The figures moves with a cautios pace. As she falls down onto the settee, breathing heavily and with one hand over her broad gut, you finally recognize her. [[Eleanor.->Sitting room slob ending]]

MatterAbility: true TimeAbility: true PersuasionAbility: true correctartefact: 3 arrowheadstaken: true clayvesseltaken: true SkullTaken: true CurrentDay: 'MONDAY' NextDay: 'MONDAY' SlotOneEvent: 'INTRO MEETING' SlotTwoEvent: 'CAFE' SlotThreeEvent: 'ICECREAM' Intro2: true PocketWatchOfficeHint: true OfficeIntroTurns: 8 -- It is done. [[Proceed to Office?->Office]] [[Skip Intro Meeting (Weakly) too?->Skip Intro Meeting (with AmphoraState NOT 'drunk')]] [[Skip Intro Meeting (Succesfully) too?->Skip Intro Meeting (with AmphoraState 'drunk', + 4 Calories)]] [[Skip Intro Meeting (Maxing out) too?->Skip Intro Meeting (with AmphoraState 'drunk', + 4 Calories, and Pastry Cart, +1 Calories)]]

IntroMeetingAttended: true SlotOneAttended: true AmphoraState: 'drunk' DayCalories: DayCalories + 4 -- It is done. [[Proceed to Office.->Office]]

IntroMeetingAttended: true SlotOneAttended: true AmphoraState: 'drunk' PastryCartVisible: true DayCalories: DayCalories + 6 -- It is done. [[Proceed to Office.->Office]]

IntroMeetingAttended: true SlotOneAttended: true AmphoraState: 'base' -- It is done. [[Proceed to Office.->Office]]

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You near closer. Just by looking at the object, you find yourself inexplicably aware of Eleanor's routines, of her tasks, duties, responsabilities - of all the paths she could be taking. [if SlotOneAttended; append] You've lost your chance to influence her morning, but now that you're back inside her office, you might yet have time for a few adjustments. [continue] [continue] [continue] [if CurrentDay == 'MONDAY'; unless SlotOneAttended] {embed passage: 'Work Activity Flavour Text'} [unless CurrentDay == 'MONDAY'] {embed passage: 'Work Activity Flavour Text'} [continue] {embed passage: 'Lunch Activity Flavour Text'} {embed passage: 'Leisure Activity Flavour Text'} {link to: 'calendar', label: 'Back'}

You near closer. Just by looking at the object, you find yourself inexplicably aware of Eleanor's routines, of her tasks, duties, responsabilities - of all the paths she could be taking. The schedule for Monday seems set: {embed passage: 'Work Activity Flavour Text (Demo)'} {embed passage: 'Lunch Activity Flavour Text (Demo)'} {embed passage: 'Leisure Activity Flavour Text (Demo)'} {link to: 'calendar', label: 'Back'} [note] This is the display-only version of the slot selection screen for the demo. It shows the fixed schedule but offers no links to change events. [continue]

<div class="time-heading">MORNING DUTIES</div> [if SlotOneEvent == 'INTRO MEETING'; unless IntroMeetingAttended] Her chair scrapes backward as she stands, sending several ledger pages fluttering to the floor. She hefts her workbag away from the desk and pauses to adjust her waistcoat, its seams protesting across her constrained belly. Her fingers brush the door's wooden frame before she hurriedly steps into the corridor and heads to the left wing, leaving the door of her office ajar and pulling you into the hallway. {plainlink to: 'Director cutscene 3', label: 'You\'re off to work.'} [continue] [if SlotOneEvent == 'EXHIBITION_EGYPT'] The office feels confining as Eleanor stands, adjusting her waistcoat with a small tug. She gathers a couple of notes she's prepared and heads toward the northwest wing. Having a look at them as you follow her, you come to understand that the museum's Egyptian collection is currently being prepared for an upcoming exhibition. Though the Egyptologist has not requested assistance, Eleanor supposes it won't hurt to give them a hand. {plainlink to: 'Egyptian Exhibition Cutscene 1', label: 'You\'re off to work.'} [continue] [if SlotOneEvent == 'RESEARCH'; unless ResearchCompleted] Eleanor closes her office door firmly, and you catch a glint in her eyes. Today, the museum's demands will have to wait. You watch as she clears a space on her cluttered desk, laying out the sketches and notes from her personal project. {plainlink to: 'Research Router', label: 'Sitting down, she begins her research.'} [continue] [if SlotOneEvent == 'ARCHIVE_REVIEW'; unless ArchiveReviewAttended] Eleanor descends the staircase, smoothing her waistcoat as she heads toward the museum's lower level archives. The hall clock signals the start of the workday, though the archives are notoriously quiet at this hour. {plainlink to: 'Archive Review Cutscene 1', label: 'You follow her as she pushes open the heavy archive door.'} [continue] [if SlotOneEvent == 'PRIVATE_RESEARCH'; unless PrivateResearchAttended] You watch as Eleanor finds a small, stiff card tucked beneath her office door. Violet Whitlock's handwriting, as precise and angular as ever, simply states: "*Miss Lovelace. Regarding our discussion on script anomalies. My office. Ten sharp.*" {plainlink to: 'Violet Private Research Cutscene 1', label: 'With that, she checks the time and heads to Violet Whitlock\'s office.'} [continue] [if SlotOneEvent == 'WEEKEND_EXPEDITION'] Eleanor stands with unusual care, smoothing her skirts and checking her appearance in the small mirror beside her desk. She gathers a leather satchel - different from her usual workbag - and slips on her outdoor coat. She glances once more at Richard's note about meeting at the station, checking the hour for the third time already. Her fingers trace the door frame briefly before she steps into the corridor, pulling the office door closed behind her and drawing you with her. {plainlink to: 'Weekend Expedition Cutscene 1', label: 'Off to the countryside.'} [if SlotOneEvent == 'CATALOGUING'] Eleanor slides open her desk drawer with a practiced motion, retrieving a clipboard and pen. She checks the small timepiece pinned to her waistcoat, noting the early hour, then gathers several blank inventory forms from a neat stack. The museum's storage rooms await her attention, filled with artifacts requiring proper documentation before they can be moved to display cases. She adjusts her skirt and heads toward the service corridor, clipboard tucked under her arm. [if SlotOneEvent == 'CATALOGUING'; if CataloguingTimes == 0] {plainlink to: 'Museum Inventory Cutscene 1', label: 'You follow her down the narrow hallway.'} [if SlotOneEvent == 'CATALOGUING'; if CataloguingTimes >= 1] {plainlink to: 'Museum Inventory Repeat Cutscene 1', label: 'You follow her toward the service stairs.'} [continue] [continue]

<div class="time-heading">AFTERNOON LEISURE</div> [if SlotThreeEvent == 'ICECREAM'; unless SlotThreeAttended] The afternoon's work concludes with Eleanor filing away the last of her notes. She consults her pocket watch, tidies her desk with practiced efficiency, and retrieves her hat from its hook. The day's tasks complete, she signs out at the front desk and steps into the late afternoon sunlight, parasol unfurled against the mild weather. [continue] [if SlotThreeEvent == 'ICECREAM'; unless SlotThreeAttended; unless CurrentDay == 'MONDAY'] {plainlink to: 'Ice Cream Cutscene 1', label: 'You follow her toward the park.'} [continue] [if SlotThreeEvent == 'ICECREAM'; unless SlotThreeAttended; if CurrentDay == 'MONDAY'] {plainlink to: 'Ice Cream Rain Cutscene 1', label: 'Unfortunately for her, the weather does not stay mild for long.'} [continue] [if SlotThreeEvent == 'APOTHECARY'; unless SlotThreeAttended] The afternoon light wavers as Eleanor concludes her duties with an unfamiliar haste. She massages her temples as she collects her workbag, signing out of the museum with a pained grimace. When the doorman asks her about her health, her reply is fairly abrupt "Just a headache. Nothing that can't be remedied." You certainly hope so. {plainlink to: 'Apothecary Starting Cutscene 1', label: 'You follow her to the apothecary.'} [continue] [if SlotThreeEvent == 'TRAIN'; unless SlotThreeAttended] The afternoon's work finally done, Eleanor gathers her belongings. Instead of heading straight home, she retrieves a small sketchbook and pencil from her desk drawer. A change of scenery might prove inspiring for her, you reckon. {plainlink to: 'Train Station Cutscene 1', label: 'She heads towards the station.'} [continue] [if SlotThreeEvent == 'GARDEN'; unless GardenPartyAttended] The museum clock chimes the end of the workday. Eleanor tidies her desk with a sigh, collecting her workbag and hat. Mary's insistence on attending this garden party feels frivolous, but perhaps the fresh air *will* do her some good. Out of the museum, {plainlink to: 'Garden Party Cutscene 1', label: 'she heads towards the treasurer\'s residence.'} [continue] [if SlotThreeEvent == 'VIOLET_CRATE_MIKA'; unless VioletCrateAttended; if VioletCratePathAChosen] The end of the workday arrives, but Eleanor's day is not yet over. She gathers a small notebook and pencil, her expression a mixture of professional curiosity and slight trepidation. She navigates the less-travelled corridors of the administrative wing, heading for the restricted Mika Collection room. {plainlink to: 'Violet Crate Cutscene 1 Path A', label: 'Violet is waiting for her.'} [continue] [if SlotThreeEvent == 'VIOLET_CRATE_MIKA'; unless VioletCrateAttended; if VioletCratePathBChosen] With the day's formal duties concluded, Eleanor's thoughts turn to the whispered-about crate. Driven by a hunch, she makes her way to the quiet, dusty corridor housing the Mika Collection. The door is slightly ajar, a sliver of dim light escaping from within. {plainlink to: 'Violet Crate Cutscene 1 Path B', label: 'She pushes it open quietly.'} [continue] [if SlotThreeEvent == 'GEOLOGY'; unless GeologyClubAttended] Eleanor gathers her notes with care, double-checking her sketches of the Breton symbols. "The Duke's geological theories," she murmurs to herself, practicing her approach. "Surely there must be some connection..." Her voice trails off as she realizes how tenuous her reasoning sounds even to her own ears. {plainlink to: 'Geology Club Starting Cutscene 1', label: 'You follow her to the Duke\'s estate.'} [continue] [if SlotThreeEvent == 'SOCIETY_BALL'; unless SocietyBallAttended] The afternoon draws to a close as Eleanor retrieves her gloves and evening bag. Mary's invitation weighs heavily on her mind - the promised gown, the introductions, the society connections that could prove so valuable for her expedition. She adjusts her waistcoat one final time, acutely aware of how it strains across her middle. The carriage ride to the grand ballroom feels both endless and far too brief. {plainlink to: 'Society Ball Starting Cutscene 1', label: 'The evening awaits.'} [if SlotThreeEvent == 'LEISURE_CAFE'; unless SlotThreeAttended] The evening tram arrives with its familiar clatter. Eleanor boards among the other passengers - shop clerks and office workers heading home, a woman with market baskets, two gentlemen discussing business in low tones. She settles near a window, watching the city blocks roll past until the conductor calls out her stop. Willoughby's café sits on the corner, warm gaslight already glowing behind its lace-curtained windows. Eleanor pushes through the heavy glass door. {plainlink to: 'Cafe Visit Cutscene 1', label: 'You follow her inside.'} [if SlotThreeEvent == 'MARKET'; unless SlotThreeAttended] The afternoon draws to its close as Eleanor sorts her final documents into neat stacks. She checks her pocket watch, secures her workbag - she even retrieves one of her fanciest hats from its peg. Through the office window, the sounds of street vendors and distant music drift upward - the market fair has established itself in the square below. Eleanor adjusts her gloves as she signs out at the reception desk. {plainlink to: 'Market Fair Cutscene 1', label: 'She steps into the bustling afternoon.'} [continue] [continue]

This is where the SlotThree Events that were not on Thursday were to go before I decided to scrap the Ancient Mirror Event as a forced event for the day. The best ending (High WeightGained, High ExpeditionFunds) now shouldn't rely on that apparition anymore. Plus, the Spirit's shape is best left unsaid (safe for Violet's route ending, but that's obviously an exception to the rule).

[unless CurrentDay == 'THURSDAY'] {embed passage: 'SlotThree Events (Unless Thursday)'} [if CurrentDay == 'THURSDAY'] As Eleanor is heading out for the day, Mary quite literally stumbles into her. Both fall to the floor. As Mary gets up and apologizes, she is clearly nervous about something. She then admits to Eleanor she might've messed up, and asks her to help her out in her usual demenour. As Eleanor asks what she's done, Mary just leads her into a very well lit {plainlink to: 'Ancient Mirror Cutscene 1', label: 'storage room'}. [note] These notes are for the diorama afterwards: basically, Mary was making her way through some artefacts on the shelves, making sure everything was still in its place (apparently 5 artefacts have disappeared, but this is not important). Eventually, she had moved to the opposite side of the room, and noticed that a very old artefact, a very large, very old silver mirror, was not covered by its linen sheet anymore. To make matters worse, the reflective surface has been cracked. The player has to get back to the past by using the Chronos ability, and scare off the nightguard (the same from the helmet) and her date (he wanted to impress her, they end up breaking the mirror by accident). As the player returns to the present, they get into a cutscene where the mirror basically repairs itself back to normal. Eleanor and Mary watch this happen in real time, which is obviously very surprising for the both of them. Mary tells Eleanor that the problem fixed itself in the end with her usual, if not concerned smile. The player and Eleanor turn around to watch her, where they see Mary get white as a ghost as she continues to watch the mirror, and then faint. Eleanor and the player turn towards the mirror once more, and, for the first time, the player is reflected and visible. I've got to figure it out from there, probably a series of cutscenes? We can work on this first. Perhaps the player is given the ability to trace something on the mirror? A symbol from the ones Eleanor is studying? [continue]

<div class="time-heading">MIDDAY RESPITE</div> [if SlotTwoEvent == 'CAFE'; unless SlotTwoAttended] Eleanor descends the staircase, smoothing her waistcoat as she heads toward the museum's lower level. The hall clock signals the lunch hour, and her stomach provides its own rumbling confirmation. The basement café beckons - close, moderately priced, and requiring minimal effort. {plainlink to: 'Museum Cafe Cutscene 1', label: 'It\'s time for a much-needed break.'} [continue] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'BAKERY'; unless SlotTwoAttended] Eleanor descends the staircase, brushing past the cleaning staff as they work. Her stomach rumbles softly - you can feel that her morning's breakfast was rushed. The bakery across the street, with its sweet confections, should hopefully offer more appealing items than the museum's café. {plainlink to: 'Bakery Cutscene 1', label: 'You follow her as she crosses the street.'} [continue] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'TAVERN'; unless SlotTwoAttended] Eleanor pauses at her office door, adjusting her gloves with unusual care. The Crown & Anchor isn't quite the sort of establishment a respectable lady would typically frequent alone, but their reputation for hearty, traditional fare has captured her attention. She steels herself for the curious glances her presence might attract. {plainlink to: 'Tavern Cutscene 1', label: 'The tavern\'s weathered sign creaks overhead as she approaches.'} [continue] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'TEAROOM'; unless SlotTwoAttended] Eleanor collects her small coin purse and adjusts her attire, ensuring every detail is impeccable. The new tea room on High Street has quickly gained a reputation among the city's more refined circles - precisely the sort of establishment where she might encounter potential expedition supporters among the clientele, among... other pursuits. {plainlink to: 'Tea Room Cutscene 1', label: 'The elegant facade comes into view..'} [continue] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'DELICATESSEN'; unless SlotTwoAttended] Curiosity brightens Eleanor's expression as she gathers her things. The German delicatessen represents an opportunity for cultural exploration - surely sampling continental cuisine could provide valuable insights for her archaeological work. At least, that's how she's justifing this to herself. {plainlink to: 'Delicatessen Cutscene 1', label: 'The unfamiliar aromas drift from the establishment as she approaches.'} [continue] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'PIECART'; unless SlotTwoAttended] The rumble of cart wheels on cobblestones draws Eleanor's attention to the window. The pie vendor has arrived right on schedule, his mobile stall positioned conveniently near the museum's entrance. Quick, practical, and surprisingly substantial - exactly what her busy schedule demands. {plainlink to: 'Pie Cart Cutscene 1', label: 'She hurries down to catch him before he moves on.'} [continue] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'HAMPER'; unless HamperDeliveryAttended] Eleanor reviews her appointment book one final time, then reaches for her correspondence folder. The Harrods hamper represents a calculated investment - the expense is considerable, but having quality refreshments on hand could prove essential should any potential benefactors make unexpected visits. {plainlink to: 'Hamper Delivery Cutscene 1', label: 'She composes the order with careful deliberation.'} [continue] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'CHARITABLELUNCHEON'; unless CharitableLuncheonAttended] Eleanor examines her reflection in the small mirror beside her desk, ensuring her appearance meets the exacting standards expected at such gatherings. The Ladies' Charitable Luncheon represents both an opportunity and a challenge - she must navigate the complex social dynamics while subtly promoting her expedition goals. {plainlink to: 'Charitable Luncheon Cutscene 1', label: 'The carriage ride to the venue allows time to rehearse her approach.'} [continue] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'BENEFACTOR'; unless BenefactorLunchAttended] A messenger's knock interrupts Eleanor's morning routine - an unexpected but promising development. The impromptu lunch invitation from a museum patron requires immediate attention and her most diplomatic demeanor. Such opportunities for direct funding discussions are rare and precious. {plainlink to: 'Benefactor Lunch Cutscene 1', label: 'She hastily gathers her most persuasive materials.'} [continue] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'DIRECTOR'; unless SlotTwoAttended] Eleanor ascends the main staircase, her steps deliberate. The Director agreed to this brief luncheon meeting in his office - a chance, finally, to formally present her expedition proposal. She clutches her notes tightly, pausing outside the imposing mahogany door to smooth her attire and take a steadying breath. {plainlink to: 'Director Lunch Cutscene 1', label: 'She knocks twice, firmly.'} [continue] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'MARY'; unless SlotTwoAttended] The chimes of a nearby church signal midday. Eleanor glances at her calendar - "Tea w/ M." is scribbled beside the lunch hour. She retrieves her gloves and coin purse, tidies her desk briefly, and heads out, making her way towards a tearoom just a few streets away. You follow along. {plainlink to: 'Tea With Mary Cutscene 1', label: 'The familiar chime of a bell greets her entrance.'} [continue] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'TRANSLATION'; unless SlotTwoAttended] Eleanor checks her pocket watch, a small smile playing on her lips. You watch as she gathers a specific folder of notes related to script comparisons and heads out of the museum, navigating the familiar streets towards the place he suggested, a sense of pleasant anticipation accompanying her steps. {plainlink to: 'Translation Session Cutscene 1', label: 'The pub\'s painted sign swings gently overhead as she approaches.'} [continue] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'DESK'; unless SlotTwoAttended] Eleanor glances at the clock, then back at the mounting paperwork before her. The lunch hour approaches, but her research demands attention. She settles more deeply into her chair, resigned to spending the midday period at her desk rather than venturing out. {plainlink to: 'Working Lunch Cutscene 1', label: 'Another working lunch it is.'} [continue] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'BANK'; unless BankMeetingAttended] The museum clock chimes noon. Eleanor collects her portfolio containing the loan proposal and carefully secures her hat. Taking a deep breath, she leaves the relative familiarity of the Institute and heads towards the city's financial district, navigating the bustling pavements towards Thorne & Sons Banking House. [continue] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'BANK'; unless BankMeetingAttended; if CurrentDay == 'MONDAY' || CurrentDay == 'TUESDAY'] {plainlink to: 'Bank Meeting Thorne Cutscene 1', label: 'The imposing building looms ahead. She takes a steadying breath.'} [continue] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'BANK'; unless BankMeetingAttended; unless CurrentDay == 'MONDAY' || CurrentDay == 'TUESDAY'] {plainlink to: 'Bank Meeting Cutscene 1', label: 'The imposing building looms ahead.'}

[if SlotTwoEvent == 'CAFE'; unless SlotTwoAttended] Eleanor descends the staircase, smoothing her waistcoat as she heads toward the museum's lower level. The hall clock signals the lunch hour, and her stomach provides its own rumbling confirmation. The basement café beckons... [[...but *your* journey ends here for now.->Demo End Cutscene]]

dialogue.speed: 'slow' -- Dialogue speed has been set to **slow**. {link to: 'Settings', label: 'Back'}

[if SocietyBallTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballMain1] *"Oh, Eleanor, you simply must try the salmon canapés!"* Mary exclaims, already reaching for the serving tray. *"Mrs. Whitmore, this is my dear friend Miss Lovelace - the one I mentioned with the fascinating archaeological work."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballMain1] The patron's wife inclines her head graciously. *"Charmed, I'm sure. Mary speaks of little else lately."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballMain1] The industrialist checks his pocket watch. *"Archaeological work, you say? Practical applications?"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballMain1 newline] Eleanor manages a polite smile, accepting the canapé Mary presses into her hand. *"I'm researching Celtic artifacts in Brittany. Potentially significant historical discoveries..."* [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballMain2] *"Historical discoveries!"* Mary's attention flickers toward a passing couple in elaborate dress. *"How... scholarly. Mrs. Whitmore, didn't your nephew just return from Paris? Such fascinating stories!"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballMain2] The pianist speaks for the first time, his voice flat. *"History. Dusty business."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballMain2 newline] Eleanor reaches for another canapé, her corset creaking softly. *"Actually, the artifacts suggest a previously unknown religious cult. The implications for our understanding of-"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballMain2] *"Oh my, is that Lady Pemberton across the room?"* Mary interrupts, craning her neck. *"I simply must introduce you later!"* [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballMain3] The industrialist snaps his watch shut decisively. *"Religious cults. Hardly sounds profitable."* His gaze sharpens slightly. *"Unless there's mineral potential in the region?"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballMain3] Mary waves her champagne flute distractedly. *"Oh, Eleanor's terribly clever about these things. Mrs. Whitmore, you simply must tell me about that divine bracelet!"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballMain3 newline] Eleanor takes a steadying breath, the emerald silk straining across her middle. *"The site shows evidence of extensive mining operations. Ancient tunnels, worked stone..."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballMain3] *"Ah."* The industrialist checks his watch once more. *"Pressing matters elsewhere. Good evening."* He strides away toward the ballroom's exit. [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballMain4] With the industrialist gone, Mary immediately brightens. *"Well! Now we can have a proper conversation. Mrs. Whitmore, have you seen the new electric fixtures? Simply revolutionary!"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballMain4] The patron's wife adjusts her pearls. *"Modern conveniences have their place, I suppose."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballMain4 newline] Eleanor reaches for her fourth helping from the buffet, her breathing becoming noticeably careful. *"The funding requirements are modest, really. A small expedition could yield remarkable results..."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballMain4] The pianist's pale eyes fix on Eleanor with sudden attention. *"Modest funding for digging in foreign soil. Tell more."* [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballMain5] Mary's gaze drifts toward the orchestra. *"Oh, they're playing that waltz I adore! Eleanor, you really should dance tonight. Show off that divine gown!"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballMain5] Eleanor shifts uncomfortably, her hand unconsciously smoothing the strained silk. *"Perhaps later. The research really is quite promising. Ancient artifacts, worked stone..."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballMain5 newline] The pianist tilts his head slightly. *"Worked stone. Permanent marks left by... temporary hands."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballMain5] Mrs. Whitmore fans herself delicately. *"Such earnest young women these days. In my time, we concerned ourselves with more... domestic pursuits."* [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns == 6; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballMain6] Eleanor takes a deeper breath, the emerald bodice protesting audibly. *"The site shows evidence of significant cultural practices. Quite unprecedented in the region..."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballMain6] Mary suddenly snaps to attention. *"Eleanor, darling, you're looking rather flushed. Perhaps some air?"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballMain6 newline] The pianist's pale eyes fix on Eleanor with intensity. *"Cultural practices. How easily they... spread. From person to person."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballMain6] Mrs. Whitmore sets down her wine glass. *"Really, such topics at a social gathering. Most inappropriate."* [continue]

[if SocietyBallTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballFocus1] *"Eleanor, you simply must try the salmon canapés!"* Mary begins, but her hand pauses mid-reach toward the serving tray. *"Actually, wait - before I forget myself with all this lovely food - tell me about your Brittany project. Properly, I mean."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballFocus1] The patron's wife inclines her head graciously. *"Mary speaks of archaeological work quite often lately."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballFocus1] The industrialist checks his pocket watch. *"Archaeological work? Practical applications?"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballFocus1 newline] Eleanor manages a smile, accepting the canapé Mary still offers. *"I'm researching Celtic artifacts in Brittany. The site shows evidence of significant cultural practices..."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballFocus1] Mary nods intently, her usual wandering gaze fixed on Eleanor's face. *"Cultural practices? What sort exactly?"* [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballFocus2] Eleanor reaches for another canapé, encouraged by Mary's attention. *"The artifacts suggest a previously unknown religious cult. Stone carvings, ritual vessels..."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballFocus2] The pianist speaks flatly. *"Religious cults. Dusty business."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballFocus2 newline] *"Oh, but think of the historical significance!"* Mary interjects, leaning forward. *"Eleanor, you mentioned vessels - what were they used for? Ceremonies? Offerings?"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballFocus2] Eleanor's eyes brighten at the genuine interest. *"That's precisely what I'm trying to determine. The excavation shows evidence of..."* [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballFocus3] The industrialist snaps his watch shut. *"Religious ceremonies. Hardly profitable unless there's mineral potential."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballFocus3] Mary waves dismissively at him. *"Oh, not everything is about profit, mister! Eleanor, please continue - the excavation evidence?"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballFocus3 newline] Eleanor takes a steadying breath, the emerald silk straining. *"Ancient tunnels, worked stone formations. The mining operations were extensive, but the religious elements suggest something deeper..."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballFocus3] The industrialist checks his watch once more. *"Pressing matters elsewhere."* He strides toward the exit. [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballFocus4] With the industrialist gone, Mary settles more comfortably. *"Good, now we can speak properly! Eleanor, what do you think these cult practices actually involved? Daily rituals? Seasonal celebrations?"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballFocus4] The patron's wife adjusts her pearls. *"Such earnest discussion for a social gathering."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballFocus4 newline] Eleanor reaches for her fourth canapé, emboldened by Mary's focus. *"The evidence suggests elaborate ritual feasts. Communal gatherings centered around a number of possible things, like consumption and..."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballFocus4] The pianist's pale eyes fix on *you*. *"Consumption. Interesting choice of words."* [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballFocus5] *"Ritual feasts!"* Mary exclaims, her voice booming over the orchestra. *"How fascinating! Were these seasonal? Connected to harvests or religious calendar?"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballFocus5] Eleanor shifts, her breathing careful but her enthusiasm growing. *"That's what I hope to discover. The funding requirements are quite modest for such potentially groundbreaking research..."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballFocus5 newline] The pianist tilts his head. *"Modest funding for foreign excavation."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballFocus5] Mrs. Whitmore fans herself. *"Modern young women and their... scholarly pursuits."* [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns == 6; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballFocus6] Mary leans closer, her voice earnest. *"Eleanor, this sounds absolutely essential! Surely there are patrons who would see the value?"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballFocus6] Eleanor takes a deeper breath, the emerald bodice protesting. *"That's precisely what I hope - to find supporters who understand the scholarly significance..."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballFocus6 newline] The pianist's pale gaze intensifies. *"Scholarly pursuits can lead to... unexpected discoveries."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballFocus6] Mrs. Whitmore sets down her wine. *"All this talk of ancient cults. Quite inappropriate for polite company."* [continue]

[if SocietyBallTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballLust1] *"Oh, Eleanor, you simply must try the salmon ones!"* Mary begins, reaching for the serving tray. As Eleanor accepts the canapé, Mary's gaze lingers on the way the emerald silk pulls across her middle. [if SocietyBallTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballLust1] The patron's wife inclines her head graciously. *"Charmed, I'm sure. Mary speaks of little else lately."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballLust1] The industrialist checks his pocket watch. *"Archaeological work, you say? Practical applications?"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballLust1 newline] Eleanor manages a polite smile. *"I'm researching Celtic artifacts in Brittany. Potentially significant historical discoveries..."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballLust1] Mary nods absently, her attention fixed on the delicate way Eleanor dabbing her lips with her napkin. *"Historical... yes, quite fascinating..."* [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballLust2] *"The work sounds terribly... scholarly,"* Mary murmurs, but her gaze follows the subtle strain of Eleanor's bodice as she reaches for another canapé. [if SocietyBallTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballLust2] The pianist speaks flatly. *"History. Dusty business."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballLust2 newline] Eleanor's corset creaks softly as she continues. *"Actually, the artifacts suggest a previously unknown religious cult. The implications for our understanding of-"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballLust2] You catch Mary's champagne flute: it tilts forgotten in her hand as she watches Eleanor's chest through her careful breathing. [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballLust3] The industrialist snaps his watch shut. *"Religious cults. Hardly profitable unless there's mineral potential?"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballLust3] Mary barely acknowledges him, her attention entirely absorbed by the way Eleanor's gloved fingers select another treat with such careful precision. [if SocietyBallTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballLust3 newline] Eleanor takes a steadying breath, the emerald silk straining audibly. *"The site shows evidence of extensive mining operations. Ancient tunnels, worked stone..."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballLust3] The industrialist checks his watch once more. *"Pressing matters elsewhere."* He strides away. [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballLust4] With the industrialist gone, Mary steps slightly closer to Eleanor, unconfortably so. Her eyes trace the increasing tightness of the emerald gown as Eleanor reaches for her fourth helping. [if SocietyBallTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballLust4] The patron's wife adjusts her pearls. *"Modern conveniences have their place, I suppose."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballLust4 newline] Eleanor's breathing becomes more careful. *"The funding requirements are modest, really. A small expedition could yield remarkable results..."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballLust4] Mary's tongue darts briefly across her lower lip as she watches Eleanor's hand rest unconsciously on her constrained middle. [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballLust5] The orchestra plays a waltz, but Mary doesn't even glance toward the dancers. Her gaze remains fixed on Eleanor's flushed face, the way her chest rises and falls with increasing effort. [if SocietyBallTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballLust5] Eleanor shifts uncomfortably. *"Perhaps later. The research really is quite promising. Ancient stone work, ritual objects..."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballLust5 newline] The pianist's pale eyes glint. *"Ritual objects. How... permanent they seem."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballLust5] Mrs. Whitmore fans herself. *"Such earnest young women these days. Most... energetic."* [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns == 6; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballLust6] Eleanor takes a deeper breath, the emerald bodice protesting audibly. *"The site shows evidence of significant cultural practices. Quite unprecedented in the region..."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballLust6] Mary suddenly focuses, blinking as if surfacing from a trance. *"Eleanor, darling, you're looking rather... warm. Perhaps some air?"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballLust6 newline] The pianist steps closer, his intensity focused elsewhere. *"White keys."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballLust6] Mrs. Whitmore sets down her wine. *"Really, such topics at a social gathering. Most inappropriate."* [continue]

SocietyBallTurns (comesFromMenu() != true): SocietyBallTurns + 1 -- [if SocietyBallTurns <= 1] You hover within the ballroom's electric-lit splendor, positioned near the elaborate buffet table where crystal and silver catch the chandelier's glow. The string quartet's waltz drifts over the murmur of polite conversation and the subtle rustle of silk. [if SocietyBallTurns <= 6] [[Eleanor->Eleanor Society Ball]] stands near a [[buffet table->buffet table Society Ball]] with careful posture. Beside her is [[Mary->Mary Society Ball]], as well as [if SocietyBallTurns <= 3; append] an [[industrialist->Industrialist Society Ball]] examining his pocket watch and [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns <= 6] a [[patron's wife->Patron Wife Society Ball]]. In the background, the [[pianist->Pianist Society Ball]] observes the gathering with detached precision. [continue] *** [unless MaryBallAnimus] {embed passage: 'Society Ball Dialogue'} [if MaryBallAnimus == 'FOCUS'] {embed passage: 'Society Ball Dialogue Focus'} [if MaryBallAnimus == 'LUST'] {embed passage: 'Society Ball Dialogue Lust'} [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns > 6] You feel a strange ripple in the air around you, as if time itself is hesitating. The world seems to pause, suspended between moments. You realize you're being given a choice: either [[proceed with the evening's conclusion->Society Ball Ending Router]] - with the feeling you may not be able to return here afterward - or [[start this encounter over from the beginning->Society Ball Starting Cutscene 2]]. {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'}

SocietyBallAttended: true SlotThreeAttended: true DayCalories: DayCalories + BallCalories ExpeditionFunds (IndustrialistConvinced): ExpeditionFunds + 1 ExpeditionFunds (PatronWifeConvinced): ExpeditionFunds + 1 ExpeditionFunds (PianistConvinced): ExpeditionFunds + 1 -- [if MaryBallAnimus == 'SYMPATHY'] {embed passage: 'Society Ball Rescue Ending 1'} [unless MaryBallAnimus == 'SYMPATHY'] {embed passage: 'Society Ball Humiliation Ending 1'} [continue]

Eleanor reaches for another canapé, her movements careful and measured. The conversation continues around her - Mrs. Whitmore discussing the evening's musical selections, the pianist's pale eyes following her every gesture, Mary gesturing animatedly about the floral arrangements. [[But then it happens.->Society Ball Humiliation Ending 1.5]]

A simple motion - Eleanor shifting her weight as she turns to respond to Mrs. Whitmore's question about her research. Nothing dramatic, nothing forceful. But you hear it all the same: a soft sound of silk threads followed by a delicate pop as a seam along the emerald bodice parts company with itself, followed by the tiny seed pearls hitting the marble floor. Eleanor freezes mid-sentence, her gloved hand instinctively moving to cover the gap that has appeared at her side, where the dress has simply... given up. The beaded bodice, no longer held in tension, begins to gape more noticeably. [[The damage spreads.->Society Ball Humiliation Ending 2]]

What begins as a single failed seam becomes something far worse. The emerald silk, no longer able to contain the pressure it was never designed to bear, begins to surrender in multiple places at once. You watch as, in the following moments, the dress essentially unravels around Eleanor's figure. The side seam splits further, revealing the white cotton of her chemise beneath. Then the back seam follows suit with a more pronounced *rip* that echoes across the immediate conversation space. And still the dress continues its betrayal, the waist seam groaning audibly under the strain of Eleanor's belly until finally, inevitably, it too gives way with a sound like tearing paper. [[Eleanor stands exposed before the ballroom's elite.->Society Ball Humiliation Ending 3]]

The wreckage of emerald silk hangs in tatters around Eleanor's figure, revealing what the gown had been so desperately trying to contain. Her white cotton chemise, damp with perspiration and never intended for public viewing, clings to her form. [if WeightGained == 'NONE' || WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'; append] Without the merciless compression of the dress, it shows the swell of her belly as it rests against the thin fabric. The garment, designed for modesty, reveals the soft curves that have slowly developed beneath her careful professional attire. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'] Freed from the dress's constraints, the thin fabric strains across her bulging middle, the cotton pulled taut over the rounded mound of her belly. It clings to every curve, outlining the full extent of her expansion in devastating detail. [if WeightGained == 'FAT'] It was never designed to contain so much, and it now stretches to near-transparency across her girth. Her belly hangs prominently beneath the thin cotton, while the garment gaps at various points, unable to properly cover all of her fat. [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'] Thoroughly defeated by her massive proportions, it too has burst, now opening wide in places it really shouldn't. Her belly dominates the scene, its impressive bulk freed from all constraint, while the cotton fabric provides only the barest pretense of modesty. [continue] Her honey-blonde hair has come completely undone, falling in disheveled waves around her flushed face. Each breath she manages to draw comes as a visible relief, her chest rising and falling without the punishing restriction of [[silk and whalebone.->Society Ball Humiliation Ending 4]]

For a moment, Eleanor stands frozen. Then, with a strangled sob that escapes before she can contain it, Eleanor gathers the remnants of emerald silk around herself and flees. Her flight through the ballroom is a blur of stumbling motion, her chemise-clad figure weaving between shocked guests and abandoned champagne flutes. You follow as she pushes through the mansion's entrance hall, past startled footmen, and out into the cool evening air [[where carriages wait in neat rows.->Society Ball Humiliation Ending 5]]

MaryRelationship: MaryRelationship - 4 -- Mary's voice calls after her - *"Eleanor! Wait, please! I'm sorry..."* - but Eleanor doesn't pause. She stumbles toward the first available carriage slumming it shut with a decisive thud. Through the window, you catch a final glimpse of Eleanor collapsed against the leather seats, her face buried in her hands as the vehicle lurches into motion, carrying her away from the scene of her humiliation and back into her apartment. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'The evening is over.'}

The cool evening air hits them both as Mary pushes through the French doors onto the shadowed balcony. *"Mary, what in heaven's name-"* Eleanor begins, turning to face her with an expression of bewildered exasperation. But the sudden movement, combined with her rapid breathing from the flight upstairs, proves to be the final straw for the already compromised emerald silk. The gown doesn't simply tear - it practically disintegrates around Eleanor's figure, splitting along every side seam with sharp, decisive rips that echo across the quiet balcony. Eleanor stands in the wreckage of green silk and scattered beads, her white cotton chemise now the only thing preserving her modesty. The thin fabric, damp with perspiration and never intended for such exposure, clings to every curve of her figure in the moonlight. Her breathing comes in visible gasps of relief, her chest rising and falling freely for the first time all evening, while her belly - no longer constrained by silk and whalebone - rests [[soft and prominent against the cotton.->Society Ball Intimate Moment 3]]

*"Mary..."* Eleanor whispers, her voice thick with want. *"I know,"* Mary breathes against Eleanor's throat. *"I've wanted this for so long..."* And then, with sudden and jarring intensity, [[the night explodes with sound->Society Ball Intimate Moment 11]].

A thunderous burst of applause erupts from the ballroom below, followed by the opening chords of what must be an encore performance. Both women freeze, reality crashing back. *"Oh!"* Mary gasps, suddenly aware of where they are. *"Eleanor, we... anyone could see..."* [[With some struggle, Eleanor sits up among the scattered silk.->Society Ball Intimate Moment 12]]

*"...my house,"* Mary says suddenly, her eyes bright with determination. *"Papa's in Edinburgh, the staff retire early. We could..."* Eleanor's breath catches. *"Mary, are you certain?"* *"Please."* Mary reaches for her burgundy gown. *"I can fashion something from my shawl. Just enough to get you to the carriage without scandal, I... I'm sure of it."* With practiced fingers, Mary drapes and pins the silk over Eleanor's chemise, creating a makeshift but modest covering. [[Together, they gather the ruined emerald silk and steal away into the night.->Society Ball Intimate Moment 13]]

MaryRelationship: MaryRelationship + 5 -- Mary navigates the servants' corridors with confidence, leading Eleanor through narrow staircases and side passages until they emerge near the carriages. The makeshift gown holds together, drawing no attention from the waiting drivers. You watch as Mary points to a sleek black vehicle - hers. The carriage lurches into motion, carrying them away from the mansion's lights toward the promise of privacy and continuation. You watch their intertwined fingers in the lamplight, the intimate warmth of their connection surrounding them as they disappear into the night. The scene begins to waver as you feel yourself fading away from the carriage. Your awareness dissolves completely, plunging you back into waiting, comfortable silence before the dawn of the {plainlink to: 'Next Day Name', label: 'next day'}. {embed passage: 'Day End Passage Logic'}

For a long moment, Eleanor stands motionless among the ruins of emerald silk, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps that have nothing to do with the climb. Her honey-blonde hair has come completely undone, falling in loose waves around her flushed face. *"Oh..."* she whispers, her voice barely audible. *"Oh, Mary... I'm so sorry. I've ruined it. Ruined... everything, really."* She looks down at the scattered fabric and beads at her feet, then back up at Mary with an expression of profound mortification. *"I... knew I shouldn't have come. I'm terrible at these sorts of events. Always have been. I should have insisted on a proper fitting, should have been honest about..."* Her words trail off as she notices the girl's stricken expression in the moonlight. [[Mary's face crumples.->Society Ball Intimate Moment 4]]

*"No!"* Mary exclaims, her voice cracking as she rushes forward. *"Eleanor, no! This isn't your fault - it's mine! All of it!"* She drops to her knees among the scattered silk, her burgundy gown pooling around her as she begins frantically gathering the torn pieces. *"I-I chose this wretched dress! I insisted on last season's measurements when you tried to tell me... I dismissed your concerns because I thought I knew better!"* Her hands shake as she clutches the ruined fabric. *"I wanted you to look... I wanted to look at..."* Her voice breaks entirely. *"Oh God, Eleanor, I'm such a selfish, thoughtless fool! I nearly let you be humiliated in front of everyone because I was too busy thinking about how beautiful you looked in emerald silk!"* Mary's carefully arranged coiffure begins to come undone as she shakes her head in despair, dark curls falling loose around her tear-streaked face. [[*"Mary..."* Eleanor says softly.->Society Ball Intimate Moment 5]]

Eleanor steps carefully through the scattered silk, her chemise pale in the moonlight, and kneels beside Mary on the cool stone. *"Mary, look at me."* When Mary's tear-filled eyes finally meet hers, Eleanor's voice is gentle but firm. *"Look... whatever your reasons for choosing this dress, you saw what was happening and you got me away before... before everyone could see. Right?"* *"But I caused it!"* Mary protests, her voice thick with emotion. *"I chose that gown because I wanted to see you in it, wanted to watch the way the silk would... the way it would show..."* She trails off, her cheeks flushing even in the dim light. [[*"Show what?"*->Society Ball Intimate Moment 6.5]] Eleanor asks quietly.

Eleanor is quiet for a long moment, her eyes searching Mary's face in the moonlight. When she speaks, her voice is barely above a whisper. *"I wondered... during our teas, I kept noticing how you looked at me. How your attention would linger... I found myself looking forward to it. To you watching me."* Her cheeks flush pink. *"I thought I was imagining it, that it was just my own... feelings... making me see things that weren't there."* Mary's breath hitches. *"Your own feelings?"* *"Mary."* Eleanor reaches out, her gloved fingers brushing against Mary's tear-dampened cheek. *"The way you laugh, how animated you become when you're excited about something... how your eyes light up when you smile at me."* She pauses, her thumb tracing across Mary's cheekbone. *"I've been thinking about you too."* [[Mary leans into Eleanor's touch.->Society Ball Intimate Moment 7]]

Mary's hands twist in her lap, crushing the emerald fabric between her fingers. *"How you've changed. How soft you've become. How beautiful."* The words tumble out in a rushed whisper. *"I've been watching you for months, Eleanor. Every tea, every conversation... I can't stop thinking about you."* [[Eleanor's breath catches.->Society Ball Intimate Moment 6]]

Mary closes her eyes and leans into Eleanor's gloved touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips. *"Eleanor..."* The distance between them seems to disappear without conscious decision. Eleanor's other hand finds Mary's waist, drawing her closer among the scattered silk, while Mary's fingers reach up to trace the line of Eleanor's soft jaw, feeling the warmth radiating from her flushed skin. *"Is this... may I...?"* Eleanor whispers, her face now inches from Mary's. Mary's answer comes not in words but in the way she tilts her chin upward, her lips parting slightly in invitation. When their mouths meet, it's tentative at first - soft, questioning, gentle. But as Mary's hands slide into Eleanor's loose hair and Eleanor pulls her closer with surprising strength, the kiss deepens with months of suppressed longing, Eleanor's form settling more heavily onto the scattered silk beneath them. [[Eleanor's hands begin to explore.->Society Ball Intimate Moment 8]]

Mary's burgundy gown pools around her waist as Eleanor's hands find their way beneath the silk, discovering the smooth expanse of Mary's back, the delicate ridges of her ribs, the gentle slope of her shoulders. Mary's skin is warm and impossibly soft beneath Eleanor's touch, her slender frame responding to every caress with barely contained shivers. In return, Mary's exploration grows bolder, her palms tracing the angry red impressions left by Eleanor's corset across her ribs before discovering the generous swell of her breasts. Freed from their punishing constraints, they hang heavily, warm and soft beneath Mary's tentative touch. Her hands trail lower, onto the substantial curve of Eleanor's belly as it spreads naturally in her reclined position, the flesh taut, but yielding. Eleanor responds with a soft gasp that catches in her throat, her breathing shallow as she shifts her considerable weight on the stone, pulling Mary closer against her, their bare skin meeting in the cool moonlight. The scattered emerald silk beneath them becomes a makeshift bed as [[they sink lower onto the balcony.->Society Ball Intimate Moment 10]]

Eleanor reaches for another of the diminishing canapé, her movements now a little laboured. The conversation continues around her - Mrs. Whitmore discussing the evening's musical selections, the pianist's pale eyes following her every gesture... Mary laughs at something Mrs. Whitmore says about the orchestra, but her attention drifts back to Eleanor. There's something... different. A subtle shift in the emerald silk, a barely perceptible loosening along the bodice's side seam. And then she sees it: a single thread, pulled taut beyond its breaking point, snaps with the faintest whisper. Then another. The beaded bodice, which has been straining valiantly all evening, begins to surrender in tiny, almost imperceptible increments. Mary's champagne flute freezes halfway to her lips as she watches a small gap appear where silk meets silk, growing wider with each of Eleanor's careful breaths. *[[Oh no.->Society Ball Rescue Ending 1.5]]*

Mary's mind races as she watches another thread give way with a tiny pop that only she, and you, seems to notice. Eleanor's dress has only a couple of moments left - perhaps seconds. *"Oh!"* she exclaims suddenly, her voice pitched with false brightness. *"Eleanor, darling, I've just remembered - didn't you mention wanting to see the mansion's... the... famous rose garden? Under moonlight?"* Eleanor pauses mid-sentence, looking puzzled. *"Rose garden? Mary, I never said-"* *"O-of course you did! Just this afternoon!"* Mary's laugh comes out slightly strained as she sets down her champagne with trembling fingers. *"You were quite insistent about it, actually. Something about... moonlight and... yes, roses. For your research!"* Mrs. Whitmore raises an eyebrow. *"Research involving roses, Miss Lovelace?"* *"I... I don't recall..."* Eleanor begins, clearly confused, but Mary is already reaching for her arm. [[*"Come along, we simply must go now!"*->Society Ball Rescue Ending 2]]

*"Mary, really, I think you're mistaken-"* Eleanor protests as Mary tugs at her elbow, trying to guide her away from the group. *"We were discussing my research, and I should finish explaining about the cultural practices-"* *"The roses, darling! The moonlight!"* Mary's voice grows more desperate. She can see another seam starting to pull apart along Eleanor's back, the emerald silk beginning to gap where it should lie flat. *"It's absolutely essential for your... your botanical research!"* *"I study archaeology, not botany,"* Eleanor says firmly, planting her feet. *"Mary, what's gotten into you? You're acting rather-"* But before she can finish, someone steps forward with sudden, unexpected movement. His long, pale hand reaches toward Eleanor's arm with an intensity that makes Mary's skin crawl. His fingers brush Eleanor's sleeve, and without thinking, [[Mary stamps down hard on the pianist's foot.->Society Ball Rescue Ending 3]]

The heel of Mary's silk slipper connects squarely with the pianist's polished shoe. He jerks back with a sharp intake of breath, his pale eyes flashing with something between surprise and fury beneath the sharp electric light. *"Oh, how terribly clumsy of me!"* Mary exclaims with feigned innocence, her grip tightening on Eleanor's arm. *"So sorry! These slippers are dreadfully unwieldy."* Mrs. Whitmore begins to say something, but Mary is already pulling Eleanor away with surprising strength. *"Come along, Eleanor! The roses wait for no one, don't they!"* *"Mary, what on earth-"* Eleanor stumbles as she's half-dragged through the ballroom, trying to maintain her dignity while Mary practically sprints toward the mansion's grand staircase. * *"Will be there when we return!"* Mary calls over her shoulder, breathing hard as they reach the foot of the marble steps. [[You follow the two up the staircase, Eleanor protesting with every step.->Society Ball Rescue Ending 4]]

*"Mary, stop this instant!"* Eleanor demands breathlessly as they ascend the marble steps, her free hand gripping the banister for support. *"I don't understand what's come over you-* *"Nearly there, darling!"* Mary pants, not slowing her pace as they reach the first landing. The sounds of the ballroom fade below them, replaced by the echo of their footsteps on polished stone. *"Just a little further!"* You notice the strain of movement taking its toll on Eleanor's already compromised gown. Each step up causes her to breathe more deeply, her expanding chest pushing against the weakened seams. But Mary doesn't slow, driven by the desperate knowledge that they need privacy, and they need it now. The second floor landing opens before them, and through tall French doors, you can see the shadowed outline of a balcony overlooking the mansion's grounds. [[*"Here! Perfect!"* Mary exclaims, pushing through the doors.->Society Ball Intimate Moment 1]]

The carriage wheels rattle over cobblestones as Eleanor clutches her evening bag, watching the grand facades blur past the window. Mary sits opposite, practically vibrating with excitement, her gloved hands smoothing imaginary wrinkles from her burgundy silk gown. *"Oh, Eleanor, this will be absolutely splendid!"* Mary's eyes shine with anticipation. *"Lady Pemberton herself will be there, darling! And I've secured us places at the Ashworth table - they're frightfully influential with the Archaeological Society's funding committee."* She leans forward conspiratorially. *"I've arranged *everything* - the gown, the introductions, even spoken to the right people beforehand. Trust me, this is exactly what your expedition needs."* [[The carriage turns onto a grand avenue lined with mansions.->Society Ball Starting Cutscene 1.5]]

SocietyBallTimesReset: 0 -- Eleanor shifts uncomfortably, acutely aware of how her everyday corset digs into her expanding waist. The anticipation in Mary's voice only heightens her growing anxiety about the evening ahead. *"Mary, about the gown... I should mention that my measurements have... perhaps changed somewhat recently. Since you last-"* *"Nonsense, darling!"* Mary waves a dismissive hand, her attention already drifting to the approaching mansion. *"I had the seamstress work from last season's fittings. A lady of quality adapts to her attire, not the reverse! You'll look absolutely divine."* The carriage draws to a halt before an imposing Georgian mansion, its windows blazing with electric light and the sound of a string quartet drifting into the evening air. [[The ballroom awaits.->Society Ball Starting Cutscene 2]]

SocietyBallTurns: 0 MaryBallAnimus: '' BallCalories: 0 IndustrialistConvinced: false PatronWifeConvinced: false PianistConvinced: false EleanorSocietyBallPersuaded: false IndustrialistSocietyBallPersuaded: false PatronWifeSocietyBallPersuaded: false PianistSocietyBallPersuaded: false SocietyBallTimesReset: SocietyBallTimesReset + 1 -- A footman opens the carriage door, and Mary sweeps out in a rustle of silk, chin raised, shoulders straight. She steps onto the marble with practiced grace, already scanning the other guests with bright, assessing eyes. Eleanor follows more hesitantly, her stomach already tight with anxiety that has nothing to do with hunger. The mansion's entrance hall gleams with marble and crystal, the electric chandeliers casting everything in warm, flattering light. Well-dressed guests drift past in a constant stream of silk, satin, and carefully modulated conversation. *"Come along, darling!"* Mary links arms with Eleanor, guiding her toward a side room where attendants wait with evening gowns arranged on wooden forms. You watch Eleanor's expression as she catches a glimpse of the gown Mary has selected - emerald green silk with an intricate beaded bodice. [[The next hour or so is a blur.->Society Ball Starting Cutscene 3]] [note] We might want to consider having the pianist's choices locked behind diorama's resets, to have a unique mechanic with him. [continue]

The fitting proved... challenging. You witnessed Eleanor's mortification as the emerald silk refused to close properly across her expanded middle, the seamstress's assistant tugging and adjusting with barely concealed disapproval. Mary's solution - a different corset, pulled mercilessly tight - created the illusion of fit while ensuring Eleanor could barely draw a full breath. You have observed Eleanor dutifully following Mary through the ballroom's social minefield, managing polite conversation with museum patrons and their wives. The champagne flutes pressed into her hands have been consumed more from nervousness than thirst, and the constant stream of canapés offered by circulating waiters has provided an admittedly dangerous comfort to her anxiety. Now, as the evening reaches its stride, you observe Eleanor stationed near the buffet table with Mary and three other guests. Her breathing comes in short, careful intervals - each inhalation a calculated risk against the dress's merciless constraints. The beaded bodice catches the chandelier light with every slight movement, while her gloved hands unconsciously smooth the silk over her constrained waist. [[You focus your attention on the gathered company.->Society Ball Diorama]]

SpearsState: 'embedded' -- You focus onto the ancient spears, sending vibrations through their wooden shafts. The weapons tremble against the wall, their precarious balance finally giving way. The first spear topples forward with a wooden crack, its iron point striking the stone barrier with surprising force. The metal tip wedges itself between two limestone blocks, the shaft now angled across the rubble. The second spear follows, clattering against the first before its point also finds a gap in the stonework. Richard stumbles backward as the wooden shafts swing across his path, narrowly avoiding the falling weapons. The barrier itself remains otherwise unchanged, but the embedded spears now protrude from its surface like strange, angular growths, their iron tips buried deep in the mortar between stones. {link to: 'spears', label: 'Back'}

SlotOneEvent (!WeekendExpeditionAttended && DateProposed && TranslationSessionAttended): 'WEEKEND_EXPEDITION' SlotOneEvent (WeekendExpeditionAttended && CataloguingTimes <= 2): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (!DateProposed && CataloguingTimes <= 2): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (!TranslationSessionAttended && CataloguingTimes <= 2): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (WeekendExpeditionAttended && CataloguingTimes > 2 && !ResearchCompleted): 'RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (!DateProposed && CataloguingTimes > 2 && !ResearchCompleted): 'RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (!TranslationSessionAttended && CataloguingTimes > 2 && !ResearchCompleted): 'RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (WeekendExpeditionAttended && CataloguingTimes > 2 && ResearchCompleted): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (!DateProposed && CataloguingTimes > 2 && ResearchCompleted): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (!TranslationSessionAttended && CataloguingTimes > 2 && ResearchCompleted): 'CATALOGUING' SlotTwoEvent: 'CAFE' SlotThreeEvent (!VioletCrateAttended && PrivateResearchAttended && VioletArchiveSuccessful): 'VIOLET_CRATE_MIKA' SlotThreeEvent (!VioletCrateAttended && MikaCollectionRevealed): 'VIOLET_CRATE_MIKA' SlotThreeEvent (VioletCrateAttended && !SocietyBallAttended && BallInvitationGained): 'SOCIETY_BALL' SlotThreeEvent (!VioletCrateAttended && !MikaCollectionRevealed && !SocietyBallAttended && BallInvitationGained): 'SOCIETY_BALL' -- <div class="day-heading">FRIDAY</div> <div class="day-subtitle">END OF THE WEEK</div> With the dawn of the next day, you feel yourself phasing back into reality. As you regain your senses, you once again find yourself right in front of your vessel - [[back into Eleanor's office->Office]].

Intro2: true CurrentDay: 'MONDAY' SlotOneEvent: 'INTRO MEETING' SlotTwoEvent: 'CAFE' SlotThreeEvent: 'ICECREAM' -- <div class="day-heading">MONDAY</div> You watch her sink into an expensive looking chair whose stuffing protests beneath her. From the timeline drafted on her calendar, [[there's still a little time before she has to start working.->Office]]

<div class="day-heading">SATURDAY</div> With the dawn of the next day, you feel yourself phasing back into reality. As you regain your senses, you once again find yourself right in front of your vessel - [[but not, in fact, inside Eleanor's office->Violet Basement Cutscene 1]].

SlotOneEvent (!ArchiveReviewAttended): 'ARCHIVE_REVIEW' SlotOneEvent (ArchiveReviewAttended && !PrivateResearchAttended && VioletArchiveSuccessful): 'PRIVATE_RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (ArchiveReviewAttended && PrivateResearchAttended && CataloguingTimes <= 2): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ArchiveReviewAttended && !VioletArchiveSuccessful && CataloguingTimes <= 2): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ArchiveReviewAttended && PrivateResearchAttended && CataloguingTimes > 2 && !ResearchCompleted): 'RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (ArchiveReviewAttended && !VioletArchiveSuccessful && CataloguingTimes > 2 && !ResearchCompleted): 'RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (ArchiveReviewAttended && PrivateResearchAttended && CataloguingTimes > 2 && ResearchCompleted): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ArchiveReviewAttended && !VioletArchiveSuccessful && CataloguingTimes > 2 && ResearchCompleted): 'CATALOGUING' SlotTwoEvent (!TeaWithMaryAttended): 'MARY' SlotTwoEvent (TeaWithMaryAttended): 'TEAROOM' SlotThreeEvent (!ApothecaryVisited): 'APOTHECARY' SlotThreeEvent (ApothecaryVisited): 'ICECREAM' -- <div class="day-heading">THURSDAY</div> With the dawn of the next day, you feel yourself phasing back into reality. As you regain your senses, you once again find yourself right in front of your vessel - [[back into Eleanor's office->Office]].

SlotOneEvent (CataloguingTimes <= 2): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (CataloguingTimes > 2 && !ResearchCompleted): 'RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (CataloguingTimes > 2 && ResearchCompleted): 'CATALOGUING' SlotTwoEvent (!BankMeetingAttended): 'BANK' SlotTwoEvent (BankMeetingAttended): 'CAFE' SlotThreeEvent (!MarketVisited): 'MARKET' SlotThreeEvent (MarketVisited): 'TRAIN' -- {embed passage: 'Bought Variable Set'} [CSS] .purchase-page { text-align: center; max-width: 600px; margin: 1em auto; } .purchase-heading { font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif; font-size: 32px; font-weight: bold; font-variant: small-caps; margin-bottom: 1em; border-bottom: 1px solid currentColor; display: inline-block; } .purchase-section { margin: 1.5em 0; padding: 0.5em; background-color: rgba(0,0,0,0.1); border-radius: 5px; text-align: left; } .price-highlight { font-weight: bold; font-size: 1.1em; } .purchase-links { margin: 1em 0; } .purchase-back-link { display: block; margin-top: 1em; text-align: center; } [continue] [if Bought] <div class="day-heading">TUESDAY</div> With the dawn of the next day, you feel yourself phasing back into reality. As you regain your senses, you once again find yourself right in front of your vessel - [[back into Eleanor's office->Office]]. [unless Bought] <div class="purchase-page"> <div class="purchase-heading">End of CH.2 Demo</div> Well then, you've made it through Eleanor's first full day at the museum - that’s nice to see! Unfortunately, that does mark the end of the free portion of Chapter 2- **“Daemon”**. If you'd like to continue following Eleanor's story through the rest of the week, **the full chapter is available for purchase below**. Or on my {link to: 'https://www.patreon.com/Darkeyev2', label: 'Patreon'}, at a discount! Along with some other random goodies. You can save right here, then load your save file into the paid version to pick up exactly where you left off - no progress will be lost. You'll just need to [[click here->Start Day Tuesday]] to refresh the page. If you've gotten this far, you probably have a sense of whether this kind of story appeals to you. For those who do enjoy it and end up buying it, I do *genuinely* appreciate the support! {ascii backdrop: 'distortion'}

SlotOneEvent (ExhibitDioramaTurns == 0): 'EXHIBITION_EGYPT' SlotOneEvent (ExhibitDioramaTurns > 0 && CataloguingTimes <= 2): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ExhibitDioramaTurns > 0 && CataloguingTimes > 2 && !ResearchCompleted): 'RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (ExhibitDioramaTurns > 0 && CataloguingTimes > 2 && ResearchCompleted): 'CATALOGUING' SlotTwoEvent (!TranslationSessionAttended && DateProposed): 'TRANSLATION' SlotTwoEvent (TranslationSessionAttended): 'TEAROOM' SlotTwoEvent (!DateProposed): 'TEAROOM' SlotThreeEvent: 'LEISURE_CAFE' -- <div class="day-heading">WEDNESDAY</div> With the dawn of the next day, you feel yourself phasing back into reality. As you regain your senses, you once again find yourself right in front of your vessel - [[back into Eleanor's office->Office]].

config.header.right: " " -- {accessoryoff: 'right1'} [if WeightGained == 'NONE'] {embed passage: 'Left behind Ending / Expedition Approval 1'} [if WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'] {embed passage: 'Left behind Ending / Expedition Approval 1'} [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'] {embed passage: 'Left behind Ending / Expedition Approval 1'} [if WeightGained == 'FAT'] {embed passage: 'Merge Ending / Expedition Approval 1'} [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'] {embed passage: 'Merge Ending / Expedition Approval 1'}

TotalCaloriesDebug: !TotalCaloriesDebug DayCaloriesDebug: !DayCaloriesDebug -- [if TotalCaloriesDebug] **Debug mode switched to: Total Calories** [if DayCaloriesDebug] **Debug mode switched to: Day Calories** [continue] {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

[javascript] /** * getTags(name) - Passage tags retrieval function. * * @param {string} name - Passage name. * @returns {Array<string>} Passage tags. * @throws {Error} Passage must exist. */ function getTags(name) { const passage = engine.story.passageNamed(name); if (!passage) { throw new Error(`There is no passage named "${name}".`); } return passage.tags; } [continue]

The weathered sign of "The Crown & Anchor" creaks overhead, its painted gold crown flaking from years of exposure. This is not the sort of establishment a respectable lady frequents alone, and Eleanor hesitates on the pavement, clutching her workbag. The muffled sounds of boisterous laughter and the clatter of tankards spill from the stained-glass windows. But the aroma... the undeniable, deeply savory scent of roasted meat and gravy proves too compelling. Taking a steadying breath, [[she pushes open the heavy oak door and steps inside.->Tavern Cutscene 1.5]]

The tavern's interior is dim and close, the air thick with the smell of stale ale, sawdust, and roasting onions. A low, beamed ceiling presses down on the noisy patrons crowded around dark wooden tables. A barmaid with formidable arms and a weary expression wipes down the counter, nodding at Eleanor as she finds a small, secluded booth in the corner. [[Eleanor takes a seat, trying to appear nonchalant.->Tavern Cutscene 2]]

The barmaid returns with a heavy pewter tankard of dark ale and a large, steaming bowl of steak and kidney stew, its rich gravy threatening to overflow onto the wooden tray. A thick slice of dark bread sits beside it - perfect for mopping. Eleanor starts off with measured bites - the tender meat, slow-cooked in the rich, dark gravy, falls apart on her tongue. She eventually abandons her fork, tearing off chunks of the bread to chase the last of the stew around the bowl, her movements growing less inhibited as the ale warms her. The sounds of the tavern fade into a low hum, her world narrowing to the meal before her. As she sets the now-empty, practically licked-clean bowl aside, her gaze is drawn to a chalkboard menu behind the bar. "Shepherd's Pie," it reads, "[[with cheddar topping->Tavern Cutscene 2.5]]."

A deep, insistent pang of hunger, shockingly powerful despite the stew already settling heavily in her stomach, makes the decision for her. She catches the barmaid's eye and, with a subtle nod toward the chalkboard, signals for another course. [[The barmaid returns, a fresh tankard of ale in hand.->Tavern Cutscene 3]]

The shepherd's pie arrives, its browned potato topping bubbling with a lovely spread of melted cheese. This second meal goes by much, much faster. Eleanor barely registers its taste, driven only by the need to fill the gnawing emptiness that the stew had failed to vanquish. When the last spoonful is gone, she leans back heavily against the booth's worn leather, a low groan escaping her lips. Her waistcoat is a lost cause, the bottom two buttons undone to grant her swollen belly some measure of relief - even so, the pressure is immense. Her chemise strains, and the waistband of her skirt cuts a deep, angry red line into the soft fat. Her face is flushed, a fine sheen of perspiration on her brow, and her breathing is deep and [[deliberate->Tavern Cutscene 3.5]].

SlotTwoAttended: true TavernVisited: true DayCalories: DayCalories + 5 -- She remains there for several long minutes, her eyes closed, one hand resting on the tight, warm mound of her stomach. A small, involuntary burp escapes, tasting of rich gravy and ale. The walk back to the museum is a slow, careful waddle, each step a conscious effort not to jostle her uncomfortably full gut. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

The bell above the door of "The Gilded Spoon" announces Eleanor's arrival with a delicate, silver chime. The interior is a world away from the dusty halls of the museum - all polished mahogany, plush velvet chairs, and the quiet, respectable murmur of the city's society ladies. Her stomach gives a low, hopeful rumble as she sees it: a multi-tiered cake trolley, a wheeled altar to confection, being presented at a nearby table. You watch Eleanor's eyes widen, her breath catching as she takes in the glistening fruit tarts, the thick slices of Battenberg cake, the dark, glossy chocolate tortes promising untold richness. [[The air is thick with the scent of sugar and butter.->Tea Room Cutscene 1.5]]

A waitress in a crisp black dress approaches. "*A table for one, madam?*" Eleanor is seated, her hands clenched tightly in her lap beneath the table. The waitress returns. "*And what will we be having today?*" Eleanor's gaze darts from the trolley, to the elegant woman at the next table daintily sipping her tea, and back to the waitress. Her mouth is watering, but the words that come out are small and tight. "*Just... just a pot of the Earl Grey, thank you. Nothing else.*" [[The waitress nods with her polite smile.->Tea Room Cutscene 2]]

SlotTwoAttended: true TearoomVisited: true DayCalories: DayCalories + 1 -- The pot of tea arrives. Eleanor pours a cup with hands that tremble almost imperceptibly. With every delicate sip she takes, she can smell the almond from a nearby slice of cake. You both can hear the faint, crisp crackle as another patron's fork breaks through the caramelized sugar of a crème brûlée. Her stomach, utterly betrayed, lets out a low, mournful growl. She presses a hand against her abdomen, hoping to stifle the sound, her cheeks flushing hot. She feels, rather than sees, the appraising glance of a woman at a nearby table - she quickly fixes her gaze on her teacup, drinking the tea far too quickly, desperate to escape. Leaving the coins on the table, she walks briskly out of the tearoom, the delicate bell chiming her retreat. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

The midday bustle of Bristol recedes as you follow Eleanor into the hushed atmosphere of "The Willow Branch". Mary is already seated at a small table by the window, waving enthusiastically. She's dressed in a particularly vibrant shade of lilac today, with a feathered hat perched on top of her curls. A plate piled high with pastries sits between two already-poured cups of tea. "*Eleanor, darling! Over here!*" she calls out, her voice bright above the low hum of conversation. "*I ordered us a selection - you simply *must* try their Battenberg cake, it's divine!*" [[Eleanor approaches, managing a polite smile.->Tea With Mary Cutscene 2]]

TeaMaryTurns: 0 PastriesEaten: 0 FundingDiscussed: false BallInvitationOffered: false BallInvitationGained: false TeaMaryEleanorPersuaded: false TeaMaryMaryPersuaded: false CreamSpilled: false EleanorLustPersuaded: false MaryLustPersuaded: false QuillPaperFallen: false HandbagSpilled: false QuillPaperPowdered: false MaryPricked: false MarySickTriggered: false MaryPastryChoiceSeen: false -- Mary beams as Eleanor sits down, pushing the plate of pastries closer. "*Do dig in! You look positively peckish.*" She pours more tea into Eleanor's cup, the delicate china rattling faintly in its saucer. The tearoom hums around them - the clink of silver spoons, the rustle of newspapers, the soft cadence of polite conversation. The air smells sweet, of baked goods and bergamot. Mary launches into a recounting of a rather tedious garden party she attended the day before, her words tumbling out with characteristic speed and enthusiasm. [[You watch as Eleanor takes her first sip of tea.->Tea With Mary Diorama]] {reset dialogue}

FundingDiscussed (TeaMaryTurns == 2): true BallInvitationOffered (TeaMaryTurns == 4): true -- [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:teamary1] "*Honestly, Eleanor, you *must* try the little lemon ones first, they're heavenly!*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:teamary1] Mary insists, nudging the plate forward slightly. [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary1 newline] Eleanor hesitates, glancing at the pastries then back at Mary. [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:teamary1] "*Oh, perhaps just one to start...*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:teamary1] She selects a small square cake with careful fingers. [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary1 newline] "*One? Darling, don't be shy! We have plenty of time.*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:teamary1] Mary laughs, taking a bite of a Battenberg slice herself. [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.8 id:teamary1] "*Besides, discussing important matters like museum funding requires energy! Eat up!*" [continue] [if TeaMaryTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:teamary2] "*And then, can you *imagine*, Mrs. Albright accused her own spaniel of eating the prize-winning orchid! Utterly scandalous.*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary2] Mary pauses, selecting a small jam tart. [if TeaMaryTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:teamary2] "*But enough gossip. We really should discuss that Brittany project of yours, shouldn't we? You looked quite serious about it the other day.*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary2 newline] Eleanor nods, subtly adjusting her skirt waistband as she reaches for another pastry - a larger finger sandwich this time. [if TeaMaryTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:teamary2] "*Yes, precisely. The preliminary findings are... quite compelling. If the board would just see the potential...*" [continue] [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:teamary3] "*Potential, yes, potential is all well and good, darling,*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:teamary3] Mary says, taking a delicate sip of her now cream-enriched tea. [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary3] "*But you know how stodgy the board can be. They prefer ledgers and sums, not... 'compelling findings'. Has Uncle replied to your letters yet? I did put in a good word! I think...*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:teamary3 newline] Eleanor shakes her head, wiping a crumb from the corner of her mouth before reaching for *two* small pastries this time - a cream horn and another lemon square. [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary3] "*Not a word. Which is precisely why I hoped talking to you... perhaps you could reiterate the urgency? The uniqueness?*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.0 id:teamary3] She pops the lemon square into her mouth whole. [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary3 newline] "*Hmm,*" Mary considers, stirring her tea. [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:teamary3] "*Urgency is one thing. But 'unique'? That might pique some interest... especially if it promises good press.*" [continue] [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:teamary4] "*Good press... precisely!*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.0 id:teamary4] Mary leans forward, eyes gleaming. [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary4] "*And speaking of mingling with the right sort... You know the Society Ball is next month? Absolutely *everyone* will be there. It's the perfect place to... ah... cultivate connections. Subtly, of course.*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:teamary4 newline] Eleanor takes a large bite from the slice of Battenberg she just claimed, pausing her chewing to consider. Crumbs dot her lips. [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:teamary4] "*The Society Ball? Isn't that incredibly difficult to get into? And rather... expensive?*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary4 newline] Mary waves a dismissive hand. [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:teamary4] "*Details, darling! Leave that to me. Consider it... an investment. A strategic social maneuver! I could potentially secure us invitations.*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary4] She watches Eleanor finish the Battenberg. [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary4] "*If you're interested, that is?*" [continue] [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:teamary5] As Mary refills Eleanor's teacup yet again, Eleanor hesitates, dabbing her lips with a napkin. [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:teamary5] "*The Ball... it seems rather... overwhelming. And perhaps a distraction from the actual research...*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary5 newline] Mary sighs dramatically, reaching across to pat Eleanor's hand. [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary5] "*Darling, networking *is* research, in a way! But,*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:teamary5] "-she leans back, sensing Eleanor's reluctance-" [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary5] "*perhaps another time. No pressure at all. Though I *do* think you'd look stunning in emerald green.*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:teamary5] She gives Eleanor's noticeably strained bodice a quick, appraising glance. [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:teamary5] "*Though maybe something a size up dear? Wouldn't want you to pass out!*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary5 newline] Eleanor shifts uncomfortably in her seat, her hand resting almost unconsciously on her stomach, now visibly rounded beneath her clothing. [continue]

FundingDiscussed (TeaMaryTurns == 2): true BallInvitationOffered (TeaMaryTurns == 4): true BallInvitationGained (TeaMaryTurns == 5): true -- [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:teamary1LUST] "*Honestly, Eleanor, you *must* try the little lemon ones first, they're heavenly!*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:teamary1LUST] Mary insists, nudging the plate forward slightly. [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary1LUST newline] Eleanor hesitates, glancing at the pastries then back at Mary, maybe lingering a bit longer than usual. [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:teamary1LUST] "*Oh, perhaps just one to start...*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:teamary1LUST] She selects a small square cake with careful fingers. [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary1LUST newline] "*One? Darling, don't be shy! We have the whole afternoon.*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:teamary1LUST] Mary laughs, taking a bite of a Battenberg slice herself. Her eyes sparkle. [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.8 id:teamary1LUST] "*Besides, discussing important matters requires energy! Eat up!*" [continue] [if TeaMaryTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:teamary2LUST] "*And then... imagine Mrs. Albright blaming her poor spaniel!*" Mary pauses, choosing a tart, but her eyes flick towards Eleanor's slightly strained waistcoat. "*But you mentioned Brittany... Something important, you said?*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary2LUST newline] Eleanor meets Mary's gaze, holding it perhaps a fraction too long before nodding. She reaches for a finger sandwich. "*Yes, the funding... the potential discoveries...*" [continue] [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:teamary3LUST] "*...it promises good press,*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.0 id:teamary3LUST] Mary finishes, but her gaze lingers on Eleanor's slightly flushed face, a small, almost sly smile playing on her lips. She leans forward slightly, lowering her voice. [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.6 id:teamary3LUST] "*And connections, darling. Valuable ones.*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary3LUST newline] Eleanor meets her gaze, a flicker of something - curiosity? heat? - in her eyes before she quickly looks down, smoothing her already taut skirt over her lap. [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary3LUST] "*Yes... I suppose connections are key.*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.0 id:teamary3LUST] She reaches for the cream horn, her knuckles brushing Mary's as they both seem to aim for the pastry plate simultaneously. Both pull back momentarily. [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:teamary3LUST] "*Apologies,*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.8 id:teamary3LUST] Eleanor murmurs, her flush deepening as Mary simply giggles softly. [continue] [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:teamary4LUST] "*And speaking of connections,*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.0 id:teamary4LUST] Mary continues, her tone light but intimate, [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.6 id:teamary4LUST] "*The Society Ball... it truly *is* the event of the season. Imagine the introductions I could make for you.*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary4LUST] She pauses, tracing the rim of her teacup. [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary4LUST] "*A gown, a dance or two... It could be... memorable.*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:teamary4LUST newline] Eleanor swallows the last of her cream horn, her eyes flicking up to meet Mary's briefly. [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary4LUST] "*The Ball...?*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.0 id:teamary4LUST] She reaches, almost unconsciously, for the Battenberg cake slice. [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:teamary4LUST] "*Such events usually require significant preparation, though? And the right... attire?*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary4LUST newline] Mary leans closer again. [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:teamary4LUST] "*Leave the details to me, darling. Just... just say you'll consider it.*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.6 id:teamary4LUST] Her gaze drops briefly to Eleanor's straining waistcoat buttons before returning to her face. [continue] [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:teamary5LUST] "*Well...*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.0 id:teamary5LUST] Eleanor starts, her voice softer now, slightly breathless perhaps from the pastries or the atmosphere. She finishes the last piece of Battenberg. [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:teamary5LUST] "*If you truly think it could be... beneficial... And you wouldn't mind the trouble...?*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary5LUST newline] Mary smiles. [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.8 id:teamary5LUST] "*Trouble? Nonsense! It would be my absolute pleasure.*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary5LUST] She reaches across and briefly squeezes Eleanor's hand where it rests near the empty pastry plate. [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary5LUST] "*Consider it settled, then! I'll arrange everything. Oh, this will be splendid!*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary5LUST newline] Eleanor looks slightly overwhelmed, but nods, a faint, perhaps flustered, smile gracing her lips. Her hand lingers near Mary's for a moment longer than necessary. [continue] [note] Contains only the dialogue for the Lust Persuasion path. Sets BallInvitationGained to TRUE on Turn 5. Turn 1 and 2 dialogue could be slightly tweaked more for lust if desired, but kept mostly similar here for simplicity. [continue]

TeaMaryTurns (comesFromMenu() != true): TeaMaryTurns + 1 PastriesEaten (TeaMaryTurns <= 5 && TeaMaryTurns >= 1 && comesFromMenu() != true): PastriesEaten + 1 -- [if TeaMaryTurns <= 5] You hover within the warm, fragrant, if not a little crowded atmosphere of the tearoom. Nearby, tall [[windows->windows Tea With Mary]] offer a view of the garden outside. At the small table sits [[Mary->Mary Tea With Mary]], with her lilac [[handbag->Mary Handbag Tea With Mary]] resting on the floor beside her chair. Opposite of her [[Eleanor->Eleanor Tea With Mary]], with her own leather [[workbag->Eleanor Workbag Tea With Mary]]. Between them, is the [[pastry plate->pastry plate Tea With Mary]], a porcelain [[sugar bowl->sugar bowl Tea With Mary]] and [[creamer->creamer Tea With Mary]] sitting neatly beside the [[tea set->tea set Tea With Mary]]. Muffled conversations and the clink of porcelain provide a constant backdrop. *** [unless EleanorLustPersuaded && MaryLustPersuaded] {embed passage: 'Tea With Mary Dialogue'} [if EleanorLustPersuaded && MaryLustPersuaded] {embed passage: 'Tea With Mary Dialogue Lust'} [continue] [continue] [if TeaMaryTurns > 5] You feel a strange ripple in the air around you, as if time itself is hesitating. The world seems to pause, suspended between moments. You realize you're being given a choice: either [[proceed with this afternoon tea's conclusion->Tea With Mary Ending 1]] - with the feeling you may not be able to return here afterward - or [[start this encounter over from the beginning->Tea With Mary Cutscene 2]]. {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'} [continue]

SlotTwoAttended: true DayCalories: DayCalories + PastriesEaten MaryTeaSuccessful: BallInvitationGained LunchWithMary: true -- [unless BallInvitationGained] Mary glances at the ornate clock on the tearoom wall. "*Heavens, look at the time! I promised Mother I'd accompany her to the milliner's.*" She gathers her lilac handbag, adjusting her hat. "*Thank you for the tea, Mary. And the... Battenberg,*" Eleanor replies, managing a small smile despite the clear discomfort from her indulgence. She makes a subtle effort to stand, placing a hand on the table for support. Mary beams, either oblivious to or choosing to ignore Eleanor's stuffed state. "*My pleasure, darling! Always lovely catching up. Do think about the Ball! We'd have such fun.*" [[With a final wave, she sweeps out of the tearoom.->Tea With Mary Ending 2]] [if BallInvitationGained] Mary glances at the ornate clock on the tearoom wall, a slightly flustered expression briefly crossing her face. "*Goodness, is that the time already? Mother will be waiting.*" She gathers her lilac handbag, taking a moment longer than necessary to adjust her hat. "*Thank you for the tea, Mary... and for the... invitation,*" Eleanor murmurs, her cheeks still warm. She shifts in her seat, the movement highlighting the strain on her waistcoat as she prepares to rise. "*I'll... look forward to it.*" Mary turns back, her smile intimate now. "*As will I, Eleanor...*" Her gaze lingers for a heartbeat before she gives a small, almost private wave and sweeps out, leaving the scent of her perfume [[hanging faintly in the air->Tea With Mary Ending 2]]. [continue]

[unless BallInvitationGained] Eleanor remains seated for a moment longer, taking a few deep, careful breaths before slowly rising, one hand protectively cradling her quite full stomach. She retrieves her workbag and makes her way out, her steps noticeably heavier than when she arrived. [if BallInvitationGained] Eleanor remains seated, her breath catching slightly. She stares at the empty pastry plate for a moment, then presses a hand firmly against her tightly packed stomach, letting out a soft, almost inaudible groan. Eventually, she gathers her things, rising slowly and carefully, her substantial meal clearly making movement an effort as she waddles towards the exit. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

[if Eleanorhandbag == false; if HandbagHit == false] A small table covered in a lenghty checkered tablecloth rests near the edge of the terrace - a [[handbag->handbag picking up cutscene]] seems to have been left there. [if Eleanorhandbag == false; if HandbagHit == true] A small [[table->table (panty inspection)]] covered in a lenghty checkered tablecloth rests near the edge of the terrace - a [[handbag->handbag picking up cutscene]] seems to have been left there. [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if HandbagHit == false] A small table covered in a lenghty checkered tablecloth rests near the edge of the terrace. [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if HandbagHit == true] A small [[table->table (panty inspection)]] covered in a lenghty checkered tablecloth rests near the edge of the terrace.

PocketWatchOfficeHint: true clayvesseltaken: false -- Testing testing. But holy moly it works!! {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

[Javascript] engine.state.set('__collected', ''); engine.extend('2.1.0', () => { engine.template.modifiers.add({ name: "collect", syntax: "[collect], [collect new], [collect no-space], [collect new-paragraph]", description: "Collect the text in the modifier for later display.", completions: ["collect", "collect new", "collect no-space", "collect new-paragraph"], match: /^collect\b/i, process(output, {state, invocation}) { const modifier = invocation?.slice(7).trimStart().replace(/\s.*/, '').toLowerCase() || ''; if (config.testing && !(modifier === '' || modifier === 'new' || modifier === 'no-space' || modifier === 'new-paragraph')) { console.warn( `"collect" modifier can only be [collect], [collect new], [collect no-space], or [collect new-paragraph], but was called as [${invocation}]` ); } // Only perform collection if there's any text. That // prevents weirdness from an [if ...; collect] block. if (output.text != '') { if (modifier === 'new') { __collected = ''; } else { __collected = __collected.trimEnd(); if (modifier === 'new-paragraph') { __collected += '\n\n'; } else if (modifier !== 'no-space' && __collected !== '') { __collected += ' '; } } __collected += output.text.trimStart(); output.text = ''; } } }); }); [continued] [Javascript] engine.extend('2.1.0', () => { engine.template.inserts.add({ name: "show collected", syntax: "{show collected}", description: "Show all text collected in previous [collect] modifiers.", completions: ["show collected"], match: /^show\s+collected/i, render: (first_arg, props, invocation) => { if (typeof(__collected) === undefined) { if (config.testing) { throw new Error('{show collected} called before any text was collected'); } } const output = __collected; if (!props['keep']) { __collected = ''; } return output; } }) });

{embed passage: 'Capitalization Insert'} {embed passage: 'Text Collection Modifier and Insert'} {embed passage: 'Conditional Insert'} {embed passage: 'One Of and First Time Inserts and Modifiers'}

{embed passage: 'Overheard Tuesday (Adding to Violet Counter)'}

{embed passage: 'Start Day Tuesday'}

{embed passage: 'Item Back Logic CH2'} Time slips around you like water through a river. By focusing your will, you can glimpse moments from an object's past - witnessing how it came to be in its current state. You've grown strong enough not to need a measly watch to guide you through it. These visions may clearest with items that have experienced significant events, revealing fragments of their own personal history. The mortals of this era are obsessed with measuring time; you're getting to learn how to bend it instead. {link to: itemBackTarget, label: 'Back'}

config.footer.center: "{load save: 'Load'} | [[About]] | [[Settings]]" calories: 0 strength: 0 config.style.backdrop: "#563232" config.style.page.color: "amber-2 on aquamarine-3" config.style.page.link.color: "amber-2" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "amber-2" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-1 on aquamarine-3" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "amber-2" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "amber-2" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "amber-2" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-1 on aquamarine-3" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "amber-2" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-1 on aquamarine-3" isCutscene: false -- [JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] <link rel="stylesheet" href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Bona+Nova:ital,wght@0,400;0,700;1,400&display=swap" rel="stylesheet"> [CSS] .titleScreen h1 { font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif; margin: 0 auto; max-width: 80%; } .titleScreen h1 span { display: block; font-variant: small-caps; line-height: 1.1; letter-spacing: 0.03em; } /* Very Big - Title */ .very-big { font-size: 56px; margin-bottom: 0.15em !important; letter-spacing: 0.05em; } /* A Curious Account - pull up */ .very-big + .medium { font-size: 36px; margin-top: -0.25em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; } /* of Apparitions... - keep tight */ .medium + .small { font-size: 20px; margin-bottom: 0.05em; line-height: 1.3; letter-spacing: 0.02em; } /* by One - push down */ .small + .medium { font-size: 36px; margin-top: 0.4em; margin-bottom: 0.15em; } /* Eleanor Lovelace - reduce space above */ .medium + .big { font-size: 48px; margin-top: -0.15em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; } /* Museeum Assistant - pull up */ .big + .medium-small { font-size: 30px; margin-top: -0.2em; margin-bottom: 0.05em; } /* as Observed Through - normal */ .medium-small + .small { font-size: 20px; margin-top: 0.3em; margin-bottom: 0.05em; } /* Strange Shadows - push down */ .small + .medium { font-size: 36px; margin-top: 0.25em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; } /* "and" connector - special case */ .medium + .small { font-size: 20px; margin-top: -0.15em; margin-bottom: 0.05em; } /* Fading Echoes - pull up */ .small + .medium { font-size: 36px; margin-top: -0.1em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; } /* Link preservation */ a[href="Debug Activation"] { font-variant: small-caps !important; vertical-align: baseline; letter-spacing: 0.02em; text-decoration: none; } /* Last element spacing */ .titleScreen h1 span:last-child { margin-bottom: 1em !important; } [continued] <div class="titleScreen"> <center> <h1 style="font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif;"> <span class="very-big">The Spirit of Hunger</span> <span class="medium">A Curious Account</span> <span class="small">of Apparitions, [[Artefacts->Debug Activation]], and the Pursuit of Meaning</span> <span class="medium">by One</span> <span class="big">Eleanor Lovelace,</span> <span class="medium-small">Museeum Assistant, Glutton, and Seeker,</span> <span class="small">as Observed Through</span> <span class="medium">Strange Shadows</span> <span class="small">and</span> <span class="medium">Fading Echoes of Time</span> </h1> </center> [continued] [align center] [[~Start~->Chapter Select]] [continued] <br><br> </div> {ascii backdrop, clickable: 'false', opacity: '0.2'}

SlotThreeAttended: true -- Bristol Temple Meads Station bustles with activity. The air hangs thick with the scent of coal smoke and steam, punctuated by the whistles of arriving trains, the clang of luggage carts, and the buzz of a hundred different conversations. You follow Eleanor as she finds a relatively quiet bench near the edge of the main hall, positioned to offer a good view of the comings and goings without being directly in the flow of traffic. She opens her sketchbook, pencil set, her eyes scanning the crowd for potential subjects. [[She begins to observe.->Train Station Cutscene 2]]

Passengers hurry past: families reuniting, businessmen checking pocket watches, porters wrestling with heavy trunks. Eleanor's gaze drifts, capturing quick gestures and postures in light pencil strokes. [if CurrentDay == 'MONDAY'] A young man, almost startlingly thin, leans against a pillar, coughing weakly into a handkerchief. His suit hangs loosely on his narrow frame, and his gaze seems distant. Eleanor finds herself sketching his sharp angles, the hollowness of his cheeks, a faint line of concern creasing her own brow as she works. You’ve seen her past work before, her sketches, so it surprises you to see how she actually seems to struggle with straight lines. That, and male attire. [if CurrentDay == 'TUESDAY'] A young woman nearby fumbles with her dropped ticket, bending awkwardly. As she straightens with a flushed face, there's a distinct *pop*. A small, pearlescent button from her tightly laced bodice flies off, landing near a gentleman’s foot. The woman freezes, hand instinctively flying to the new gap revealing her chemise, her belly clearly straining the remaining fastenings. Eleanor quickly sketches the moment - the wide eyes, the defensive gesture of her arms, the pressure against the turquoise fabric. [if CurrentDay == 'WEDNESDAY'] Further down the platform, a woman stands consulting the departures board, presenting a striking rear view. Her fashionable skirt, stretched taut across a truly substantial posterior, forms dramatic curves emphasized by a slightly tilting bustle. Eleanor's pencil moves swiftly, defining the impressive shelf of her backside and the way the skirt's fabric struggles to contain it through only a couple of swift lines, hinting at the slight waddle in her stance even as she stands still. [if CurrentDay == 'THURSDAY'] Waiting near the platform gate, a woman adjusts the shawl draped over her shoulders. Her simple travelling dress does little to conceal an exceptionally ample chest, which spills generously over the modest neckline. She shifts, and the soft weight of her bosom settles heavily, testing the seams of her bodice. Eleanor uses soft, shaded lines to capture the sheer volume and the gentle slope where fabric meets skin. [if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'] Her focus lands on a woman seated alone, seemingly oblivious to the station's din, engrossed in a thick novel. She is comfortably, undeniably large, soft curves spilling over the edges of the bench. Her simple, dark clothing conforms loosely, hinting at the significant bulk beneath - a double-rolled belly resting comfortably on a set of substantial thighs. Eleanor uses broader, more sweeping strokes, capturing the amorphous, yet settled mass of her figure. [continue] [[Time passes.->Train Station Cutscene 3]]

The light begins to fade outside the station's large arched windows. Eleanor closes her sketchbook, satisfied with the afternoon's observations or perhaps simply deciding it's time to head home - either way, she has filled the good part of five pages. She carefully places her pencil inside the book, stands, and brushes off her skirt. Joining the flow of departing passengers and commuters, she makes her way out of the station and onto the street, ready for the evening. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Back towards the flat, then.'}

config.style.page.theme.override: 'dark' config.style.backdrop: "#563232" config.style.page.color: "black on amber-2" config.style.page.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.dark.backdrop: "teal-5" config.style.dark.page.color: "gray-1 on gray-6" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "white" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "teal-3" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "aquamarine-2 on gray-6" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "teal-5" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "white" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "teal-3" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "aquamarine-2 on gray-6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "teal-5" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "aquamarine-2 on gray-6" PageMask_Chapter: 'Chapter3' config.style.page.theme.enableSwitching: true config.header.left: "{embed passage: 'CH3 Ascii Logic'}" config.footer.center: "{embed passage: 'CH3 Settings Menu Logic'}" config.header.right: "{embed passage: 'Satchel Menu Logic'}" -- {embed passage: 'CH3 Variables'} [align center] ... ... [[...->Transition 2]] [continue]

The Blue Lion pub hums with the low murmur of lunchtime. You follow Eleanor as Richard, who was standing by the entrance, leads her to a corner booth, already cluttered with loose papers and a few books he's brought along. A waitress places menus before them, but Richard barely glances at his, already gesturing animatedly towards a rubbing of a peculiar script. "You see, Ellie? The ligature here is unlike anything standard Middle Kingdom... it almost resembles some early Semitic forms, but the context..." His spectacles slide down his nose in his excitement. Eleanor leans forward, her own academic curiosity piqued, pulling out her own notes. [[The meal begins.->Translation Session Cutscene 2]]

Food arrives - a hearty portion of roast beef with potatoes for Richard, and a similar plate alongside a sizable side of buttered greens for Eleanor. For a time, conversation flows easily between bites, punctuated by the rustle of papers and the scratching of pencils as they compare notes. Richard's enthusiasm is infectious - Eleanor finds herself matching his pace, pointing out parallels in Celtic knotwork, debating potential phonetic values… to be honest, most of it is beyond you. Still, they seem to be enjoying themselves, and that’s nice to see. [if AmuletsState == 'intact'] As Richard gets lost explaining a complex grammatical point, Eleanor's attention begins to drift [[from the papers to the plate...->Translation Session Cutscene 3]] [if AmuletsState == 'broken'] As Richard gets lost explaining a complex grammatical point, Eleanor's attention begins to drift [[from the papers to her bag...->Translation Session Cutscene Alt 1]]

Her eating, initially measured, becomes more focused. The roast beef disappears steadily, followed by the potatoes, mopped up with gravy-soaked bread. She tackles the buttered greens with equal determination, her fork moving rhythmically. [if WeightGained == 'NONE' || WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'] She subtly eyes Richard's unfinished plate, then quickly looks away, reaching for the bread basket instead. Her waistcoat strains slightly as she leans back, a faint flush rising on her cheeks. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'] Her plump figure shifts in the booth as her stomach begins to feel the strain. She finishes her plate entirely, then drains her water glass before looking longingly at the bread basket. Her blouse buttons pull taut across her rounded belly, and she takes a quieter, deeper breath. [if WeightGained == 'FAT'] Her substantial meal fills her quickly, pressing against the confines of her clothing. She finishes everything on her plate, then eyes the remaining bread with unconcealed desire, tearing off a large chunk. Her heavy breathing is noticeable now, and she places a hand on her large, full belly. [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'] Her massive form barely fits the booth seat comfortably. The large meal stretches her already immense capacity, her enormous belly pressing against the table edge. After clearing her plate, she consumes several pieces of bread without hesitation, her double chin more pronounced as she chews. Her breathing is heavy, and she fans herself slightly. [continue] Richard, finally pausing his explanation, notices her empty plate and the way she's consuming the bread. [[He blinks, slightly taken aback.->Translation Session Cutscene 4]]

Eleanor catches his glance and freezes. A wave of heat rushes to her face. She quickly lowers the loaf, dabbing her mouth with a napkin, suddenly acutely aware of her empty plate and the crumbs surrounding it. "*Oh! I… I suppose I was hungrier than I realized.*" Her voice is small, embarrassed. She avoids his gaze, focusing intently on folding her napkin. "*I got quite carried away...*" [[Richard looks momentarily confused...->Translation Session Cutscene 5]]

...then his expression softens into his usual, slightly awkward but genuine smile. "Improper? No, no, Ellie! Not at all." He gestures vaguely with his fork. "Shows you have… vitality! Passion! Essential for fieldwork, eh?" He chuckles softly. "Besides, it's good to see you enjoying yourself. You work far too hard. And," he leans slightly closer, his eyes twinkling behind his lenses, "your insights just now were brilliant. Truly." Eleanor manages a small, hesitant smile, picking nervously at a stray crumb on the tablecloth. The blush remains, but the tightness around her eyes lessens. "*Well... thank you, Richard, that's... kind of you to say.*" The conversation shifts away from ancient scripts, becoming lighter, more personal. Eventually, [[the lunch hour draws to a close.->Translation Session Cutscene 6]]

As Eleanor finally gathers her notes and workbag, preparing to leave the pub, Richard clears his throat hesitantly, stopping her just before she steps away from the booth. "*Ellie... wait!*" She pauses, turning back with a questioning look, her hand resting on her notes, and so on her full stomach beneath them. He fiddles with his spectacles, avoiding direct eye contact for a second before plunging ahead. "*Right, um, ok, so, I-I was thinking... this Friday? There are some fascinating ruins just outside the city - barely an hour's train ride. Roman! I thought... well, perhaps we could take a look? Just a day trip, naturally. I'd pack a picnic.*" [[He looks up hopefully, pushing his glasses back up his nose->Translation Session Cutscene 7]]

SlotTwoAttended: true TranslationSessionAttended: true RichardRelationship: RichardRelationship + 2 DayCalories: DayCalories + 5 ExpeditionProposed: true -- Eleanor's smile widens. "*Why, that sounds... delightful! A proper date, uh?*" She glances thoughtfully towards the exit, considering. "*Friday... Let me check my schedule back at the museum when I return. It's a wonderful idea, truly. I'll let you know as soon as I can.*" With a final nod and a warmth in her expression that mirrors his own relief, she heads out into the afternoon bustle, leaving Richard looking rather pleased with himself. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Alright, lunch is truly over now.'} [note] This cutscene adds Richard's picnic proposal for Friday. Sets the ExpeditionProposed flag to true, allowing the player to potentially schedule the 'Weekend Expedition' event later via the calendar. Links back to the main day logic. [continue]

Eleanor reaches for her workbag, then pauses as her fingers encounter the rough fragments through the fabric of her skirt pocket. Her face flushes as she glances at Richard, still absorbed in his grammatical explanation. She carefully extracts the broken pieces - the split ivory amulet and several bone fragments - placing them on the table between their plates. The largest piece rocks slightly on its fractured edge. "*Richard... I'm afraid I've done something rather clumsy.*" Her voice is quiet, apologetic. "*These were among your artifacts this morning, and I seem to have... well, I believe I knocked them from the table.*" She arranges the fragments with her fingertip, not meeting his eyes. [[Richard looks up from his notes, blinking in confusion.->Translation Session Cutscene Alt 2]]

"I-I know, I'm sorry, I should have mentioned it immediately." Eleanor's voice wavers slightly. "I've been carrying them about all morning, feeling quite dreadful about the whole thing." Richard adjusts his spectacles, examining the fragments scattered between their plates. He picks up the split ivory piece, turning it over in his fingers. "Oh no, let me take a... Oh! These!*" He chuckles, setting the piece down. "*Ellie, you needn't worry about them in the slightest. I found these in a Cairo street market - they were probably made last week by some enterprising fellow hoping to fool tourists. [[They didn't even bother to weather them right.->Translation Session Cutscene Alt 2.5]]"

He gestures toward the bone fragments. "*See how roughly they're carved? Real Egyptian amulets would never show such... well, such obvious inexperience. I thought they were rather amusing examples of modern forgery, actually.*" Eleanor wrings her hands. "But still, I should have said something the moment it happened..." "Nonsense!" Richard waves his hand dismissively. "If anything, you've done me a favor - clearly they were getting mixed in with the actual artifacts. Probably best they're separated now." [[His expression grows more serious as he leans forward slightly.->Translation Session Cutscene Alt 3]]

Richard leans forward, his eyes twinkling behind his lenses. "*You know, Ellie, the fact that you took such care to retrieve them and return them properly... well, it shows real consideration for the collection.*" He gestures toward the fragments with his fork. "*Most people would simply leave broken pieces where they fell, or worse, try to hide the accident entirely.*" Eleanor manages a small, hesitant smile, picking nervously at a stray crumb on the tablecloth. The blush remains, but the tightness around her eyes lessens. "*Well... thank you, Richard, that's... kind of you to say.*" The conversation shifts away from broken trinkets, becoming lighter, more personal. Eventually, [[the lunch hour draws toward a close.->Translation Session Cutscene 6]]

calories: 0 -- [[start->Untitled Passage]]

{reveal link: 'label', passage: 'passage name'} {reveal link: 'label', text: 'revealed text'} {embed passage named: 'passage name'} abbreviated: {embed passage: 'passage name'} Renders the passage named in the insert. This executes any vars section in that passage. passage.name The name of the current passage as set in the Twine editor. 'Untitled Passage' {passage.name} passage.visits The number of times the player has seen the current passage, including the current time. That is, the first time the player sees a passage, this lookup's value is 1. 1

[unless passage.name == 'Inventory';unless passage.name == 'Bathtub cutscene 1';unless passage.name == 'Bathtub cutscene 2'] {link to: 'Inventory', label: 'Inventory'

[JavaScript] comesFromCutscene = function (){ if (trail.length>0){ if (engine.story.passageNamed(trail[trail.length-1]).tags.includes("Cutscene")){ return true; }else{ return false; } } else { return undefined; } }; [continued] THIS ONE [JavaScript] comesFromCutscene = function () { if (passage.name.toLowerCase().includes("cutscene")) { return true; } else { return false; } }; [continued]

[continue] THIS IS HOW YOU USE THEM IF YOU WANT TO USE THE CONDITIONAL INSERTS {if test12: 'It\'s a beautiful day!'} {if test2: 'It\'s a beautiful day!'} {if test3: "test3", else: 'It\'s a beautiful day!</br>"She said this!"'}

Perfect! Now it reads like an actual museum office visitor log - mostly routine departmental business with specific entries appearing based on attended events where people actually came to Eleanor's office. This feels much more authentic and grounded in the museum setting. Ok, but see: are you sure these times make sense, relative to the events you are referring to? Why don't you read through them, and try to find signs that would point you to the right time? [if TeaWithMaryAttended] "*Miss M. Thornton - Social call - 3:30 PM - Personal visit*" [continue][if TeaWithMaryAttended] "*Miss M. Thornton - Social call - 3:30 PM - Personal visit*" [continue][if TeaWithMaryAttended] "*Miss M. Thornton - Social call - 3:30 PM - Personal visit*" [continue][if TeaWithMaryAttended] "*Miss M. Thornton - Social call - 3:30 PM - Personal visit*" [continue][if TeaWithMaryAttended] "*Miss M. Thornton - Social call - 3:30 PM - Personal visit*" [continue][if TeaWithMaryAttended] "*Miss M. Thornton - Social call - 3:30 PM - Personal visit*" [continue][if TeaWithMaryAttended] "*Miss M. Thornton - Social call - 3:30 PM - Personal visit*" [continue][if TeaWithMaryAttended] "*Miss M. Thornton - Social call - 3:30 PM - Personal visit*" [continue][if TeaWithMaryAttended] "*Miss M. Thornton - Social call - 3:30 PM - Personal visit*" [continue]

config.style.page.link.lineColor: "transparent" --

TapeGreenSkirtFitted: true TapeWaistcoatUnFitted: true TapeDressFitted: true TapeBlouseFitted: true TapeSkirtFitted: true TapeUndergarmentsFitted: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

TapeGreenSkirtFitted: true TapeBlouseFitted: true TapeSkirtFitted: true TapeUndergarmentsFitted: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

TapeWaistcoatUnFitted: true TapeDressFitted: true HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP - 2 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

For transparency’s sake, I do want to make clear that I did employ the use of Large Language Models (AIs), to get some help with coding, and for gathering some knowledge on late Victorian times. I did *not* use it to make my text feel more Victorian or anything like that - that I tried, and it only made things look and feel very, very repetitive and overall bloated. *But!* I did experiment with having some passages be written by the computer. Fear not, it almost always had to be either scrapped, as the AI did not understand the deeper context and underlying story, or be re-written. Truthfully, some of that experimentation did lead to some interesting ideas and descriptions of things, and so was added to the game - once more though, it always went through a lot of changes by my hand, and in almost all cases it scarcely resembled the original generated text. *I will **never** employ the use of generated images in any of my works.* {link to: 'About', label: 'Back'

The vessel sits exactly as you Eleanor left it, a small statuette carved from blackened stone with a sheen along its smooth surface. It depicts a woman. You're not sure if it's pregnant or merely fat. Unlike in Eleanor's flat, you can hear a low hum coming from it. The granite also has a subtle warmth to it, which you can feel as you float closer to it. {plainlink to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

Her fingers begin tracing its carved contours. You can feel the granite's warmth on her fingers. She shifts her weight from foot to foot, the movement causing her massive belly to sway slightly, but done to angle herself to the window, examining, with a furrowed brow, the statuette's surface in the morning light. A small smirk crosses her lips. She glances down at the enormous dome of her belly, then back at the vessel in her hands. Carefully, you see her hovering it higher and higher, her arms then closening the gap between the two and, [[without warning...->Vessel Interaction Cutscene 1.3]]

[[...Eleanor places the vessel directly on top of her belly.->Vessel Interaction Cutscene 1.6]]

[[It's now big enough for it to be able to sit on it and not immediately fall off.->Vessel Interaction Cutscene 1.9]]

config.style.page.color: "black on amber-2" config.style.page.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.dark.backdrop: "teal-5" config.style.dark.page.color: "gray-1 on gray-6" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "white" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "teal-3" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "aquamarine-2 on gray-6" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "teal-5" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "white" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "teal-3" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "aquamarine-2 on gray-6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "teal-5" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "aquamarine-2 on gray-6" -- Carefully she straightens, her hands falling to her sides. After a couple of still, calming moments, the artefact is almost thrown off of its perch as she starts giggling, and then outright laughing to herself. [[Her hands grab it just before the inevitable.->Vessel Interaction Cutscene 2]]

config.style.page.color: "black on #fde3c1" config.style.page.link.color: "#5b451c" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#4a3315" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#d9045b on #fde3c1" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#b5043e" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#5b451c" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#4a3315" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#d9045b on #fde3c1" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#b5043e" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#d9045b on #fde3c1" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#cccccc on #4a4a4a" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#e6e6e6" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#b3cccc" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ffb3d9 on #4a4a4a" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#cceeee" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#e6e6e6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#b3cccc" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ffb3d9 on #4a4a4a" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#cceeee" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ffb3d9 on #4a4a4a" -- Eleanor holds the vessel at eye level, turning it slowly in the morning light. Her breathing remains labored from the simple effort of standing, and she shifts her weight carefully to ease the pressure in her massively distended stomach. *"Come now..."* She pauses as a small burp escapes her lips. *"...don't look at me like that! I, um... I had to try."* She glances down at her enormous belly, then back at the carved figure. *"...I suppose we do rather match now, don't we? Both of us... abundantly proportioned."* A giggle catches in her throat as she traces the vessel's rounded contours with one finger. She leans against the desk's edge, the furniture creaking under the additional weight. *"My lucky charm. Got me enough finding, didn't you? Though I must say, your timing could use some work."* She gestures vaguely at her naked, swollen form. *"God... why would I eat so much right before departure? [[What was I thinking?"->Vessel Interaction Cutscene 3]]*

config.style.page.color: "black on #f8eae0" config.style.page.link.color: "#4a6853" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#3a5242" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#d00d70 on #f8eae0" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ad0b5e" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#4a6853" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#3a5242" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#d00d70 on #f8eae0" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ad0b5e" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#d00d70 on #f8eae0" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#e0d6cc on #1f2622" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#99b3a6" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#7a9485" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ff4d99 on #1f2622" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#99b3a6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#99b3a6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#7a9485" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ff4d99 on #1f2622" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#99b3a6" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ff4d99 on #1f2622" -- Eleanor sets the vessel back on the desk and immediately feels foolish. Talking to artifacts now - what's next, holding conversations with the furniture? Though the wardrobe had been giving her judgmental looks all morning. She turns her attention to the scattered research papers, trying to organize them into some semblance of order. *"Right then. Travel documents, letters of introduction, site maps..."* Each item gets sorted into neat piles, though you can see bending over the desk proves challenging. *"Mrs. Henderson's boarding house reservation... I do hope she has a sturdy bed."* A frown crosses her face as she picks up a letter from the ferry company. *"Cabin assignments... oh dear."* The booking confirmation clearly states dimensions for the sleeping berth - measurements that seemed perfectly reasonable when she'd made the reservation weeks ago. Now... well. *"And... and you know what the worst part is? I'll have to wear that awful traveling corset..."* Her hand moves unconsciously to her side, where the steel boning would dig in. *"Assuming it still...[[ assuming I can even...->Vessel Interaction Cutscene 4]]"*

config.style.page.color: "black on #f6edf0" config.style.page.link.color: "#42796f" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#356158" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#cc117b on #f6edf0" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#a90e67" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#42796f" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#356158" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#cc117b on #f6edf0" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#a90e67" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#cc117b on #f6edf0" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#ddd4d9 on #1a1f1e" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#80b3a6" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#669985" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ff3399 on #1a1f1e" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#80b3a6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#80b3a6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#669985" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ff3399 on #1a1f1e" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#80b3a6" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ff3399 on #1a1f1e" -- The vessel is placed back on the desk. Her swell forces her to place it further in, to save it from being bumped onto the floor later. It reminds her of these last two day's indulgence. Three restaurants, two bakeries... The memory makes her flush with embarrassment and... something else. Pride? Satisfaction? I can't quite name it. I should be mortified. A professional woman, a scholar, reduced to sprawling naked on her sitting room floor like some sort of... well. But there's something liberating about it too, isn't there? About finally giving in completely to appetite, to desire, to the simple pleasure of *more*. But now there's work to be done. There always is. Packing. Planning. [[The expedition won't wait for anybody.->Vessel Interaction Cutscene 5]]

config.style.page.color: "black on #f6edf0" config.style.page.link.color: "#42796f" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#356158" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#cc117b on #f6edf0" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#a90e67" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#42796f" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#356158" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#cc117b on #f6edf0" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#a90e67" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#cc117b on #f6edf0" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#ddd4d9 on #1a1f1e" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#80b3a6" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#669985" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ff3399 on #1a1f1e" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#80b3a6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#80b3a6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#669985" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ff3399 on #1a1f1e" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#80b3a6" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ff3399 on #1a1f1e" -- I move back to the scattered papers, sorting them with renewed determination. Ferry tickets, site permits, equipment lists. Each document represents months of preparation, years of research. I need to focus on the important stuff first - there's time! Plenty of time. Yes. Yes! I shouldn't be worrying so much. The morning sun shifts, casting new shadows across the desk. And then, I hear it. [[*growwwwl*->Vessel Interaction Cutscene 6]]

config.style.page.color: "black on #f4f0ff" config.style.page.link.color: "#3a8b8b" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#2b6a6a" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#c71585 on #f4f0ff" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#9a0e5e" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#3a8b8b" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#2b6a6a" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#c71585 on #f4f0ff" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#9a0e5e" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#c71585 on #f4f0ff" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#d9ccff on #1a1829" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#66b3b3" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#4d9999" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#d966ff on #1a1829" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#66b3b3" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#66b3b3" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#4d9999" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#d966ff on #1a1829" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#66b3b3" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#d966ff on #1a1829" -- ...how? How am I still hungry? I stare down at myself in disbelief. The sheer size of my belly is... well, it's remarkable, really. I run my hands along its surface, marveling at how taut the skin has become, how it seems to have its own weight and presence. When did I get so... substantial? It all happened so fast... The thought drifts away as another rumble echoes through me. My mouth waters despite myself. Breakfast. Yes, that sounds... that sounds perfect, actually. Warm bread, perhaps. Butter. Jam. Oh, jam sounds lovely. What was I doing? The papers... right, the papers. Ferry tickets and... and other important things. Very important. But really, it would be terribly unwise to work on an empty stomach. Improper nutrition leads to poor decision-making, doesn't it? I read that somewhere. Or maybe I didn't. [[But it sounds about right.->Vessel Interaction Cutscene 6.5]]

config.style.page.color: "#2a1a3a on #f4f0ff" config.style.page.link.color: "#3a8b8b" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#2b6a6a" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#c71585 on #f4f0ff" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#9a0e5e" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#6a4b8b" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#4d3663" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#c71585 on #f4f0ff" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#9a0e5e" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#c71585 on #f4f0ff" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#d9ccff on #0f0a1a" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#66b3b3" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#4d9999" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#b399ff on #0f0a1a" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#66b3b3" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#9980d9" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#7a66b3" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#b399ff on #0f0a1a" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#66b3b3" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#b399ff on #0f0a1a" -- I move towards the door, careful not to hurry myself to hard. The expedition clothes catch my eye - so small, so practical. How amusing. As if I could ever fit into such tiny things again. As if I'd even want to. The hallway stretches before me. Unfortunately so does the flight of stairs, but... packing can wait. [[First, let's get ourselves some breakfast.->Merge Ending]]

You focus your attention towards your vessel, still resting on top of Eleanor's desk. It's a small statuette carved from blackened stone, with a faint sheen to its smooth surface. It depicts a woman. It was warm before, wasn't it? It certainly isn't now. *You feel faint every time you look away from it.* {link to: 'Forgotten Office', label: 'Back'}

Your vessel. a small statuette carved from blackened stone with a sheen along its smooth surface. It depicts a woman. You're not sure if it's pregnant or merely fat. You can still hear a low hum coming from it. The granite has also gotten much warmer than any of the other days. Much, much warmer. Scolding hot, in fact. But it feels... comfortable. Familiar. {link to: 'Violet Basement Puzzle Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The vessel sits exactly where Eleanor left it, a small statuette carved from blackened stone with a sheen along its smooth surface. It depicts a very fat woman. You can hear a low hum coming from it, steady and rhythmic. The granite radiates warmth that seems to pulse in time with the sound - much warmer than usual. Morning light catches its carved contours, highlighting the rounded belly and abundant form that so closely mirrors Eleanor's current state. {link to: 'Bedroom Merge Ending Diorama', label: 'Back'}

Violet stands with precise posture near the far end of the table, sorting pottery shards onto a velvet cloth. Her tailored grey suit, a stark contrast to Eleanor's more conventional attire, is immaculate despite the dusty environment. Not a speck of dust clings to the sharp lapels. Not one. How is that possible? Her movements are economical, efficient, as she handles the delicate fragments with gloved hands. Her dark hair is pulled back into a tight, severe bun, emphasizing the sharp planes of her face. Behind her spectacles, her gaze is intense, analytical - mostly fixed on the artifacts, but occasionally flickering towards... Eleanor, with unnerving focus. [if EyeMarkCreated] A small cloth bandage covers her left eye, held in place by what appears to be medical tape. The spectacle lens on that side remains, though it seems unnecessary now. [continue] [if VioletShadowAnomalySeen] *You notice now that the bottom-most button of her waistcoat is not tastefully undone, but instead missing, revealing a sliver of the white shirt beneath.* [continue] {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if ArchiveReviewTurns <= 4; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Violet Archive Review persuasion menu]] [continue]

VioletArchiveReviewPersuaded: true -- Their eagerness is almost pathetic. They grasp at fragments of understanding, mistaking rote learning for true comprehension. Do they think simple adherence to ritual is enough? You can't just... ugh! They lack discipline. *Vision* necessary to truly serve the purpose. Always needing direction, correction - children playing with relics they cannot possibly comprehend. One wonders if any of them are truly *worthy* of the final stages. Probably not. Weak-willed fools, the lot of them. {plainlink to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'}

VioletArchiveReviewPersuaded: true VioletAnimusBlocked: true VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 2 -- The rituals bring such... fullness. Oh, for the feeling of true power, the glorious weight of divine presence settling fully within your fat, swollen- Your brow furrows and your hands almost crack the clay tablet in your grasp. How *dare* they? *<span style="color: #6A0DAD;">~~YOU.~~</span> ~~Get. OUT.~~<span style="color: #6A0DAD;"></span>* The connection snaps shut abruptly. Try as you migth, further attempts to probe her mind feel like pushing against solid obsidian. {plainlink to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'} [note] Violet expresses desire, realizes the spirit's presence, and forcefully ejects it, blocking further Animus attempts in this event. Significantly raises VioletInterest. [continue]

VioletArchiveReviewPersuaded: true VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 1 -- The preparations stall. The vessel weakens, insufficient for the energies required. Mere sustenance isn't enough; it requires focus, a *will* behind the intake. The chosen one lacks the... necessary conviction? Discipline? It is difficult to say - perhaps they just don't *want* it. Has the council considered it? Does the council consider anything? Frustrating. A new candidate must be considered, and that candidate *must* be you. But how? No leverage yet. {plainlink to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'} [note] Reveals Violet's focus on finding a suitable candidate/wanting to be the candidate, increasing her interest in possibly harnessing the spirit. At a certain point, we will need to show a glimpse of the current chosen one. [continue]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage", get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [unless VioletAnimusBlocked] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward Ms. Whitlock's ordered, if not cagey mind. You perceive the surface thoughts - precise, analytical observations about the artifacts - but beneath them lie deeper currents, detached from the immediate task. ➼[[**CONTEMPT**->Violet Archive Review Contempt Persuasion]] *They are so easily swayed... utterly lacking in discernment. Do I have to guide every single step? Pathetic.* ➼[[**LONGING**->Violet Archive Review Longing Persuasion]] *The rituals bring such... fullness. Oh, for the feeling of true power...* ➼[[**PURPOSE**->Violet Archive Review Purpose Persuasion]] *The preparations are slow... draining. Not going to work. Our current vessel is not good enough.* [if VioletAnimusBlocked] Her mind is now like obsidian - utterly closed off to you after your most recent intrusion. Try as you might, you simply cannot get access to it again. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'} [note] Animus menu for Violet during the Archive Review event. Includes the check for VioletAnimusBlocked. [continue]

[unless AltarClothMoved] A length of deep purple velvet lies spread across the flagstones between two rows of pottery crates. The fabric looks to be heavy, its pile worn smooth in several places from repeated handling. Dark stains mottle its surface - some appearing recent while others have set into the weave. The velvet carries the faint, fruity scent of wine. [if AltarClothMoved] The cloth bunches against a storage shelf. Pottery fragments cling to its surface. One corner shows a fresh tear, exposing lighter backing fabric beneath - you see a glimpse of silver embroidered thread. The fruity scent now mingles with dust and broken ceramic. [continue] {link to: 'Violet Basement Puzzle Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless AltarClothMoved; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Violet Basement Altar Cloth Aether]] [continue]

AltarClothMoved: true CircleObjectsMoved: CircleObjectsMoved + 1 -- You direct force into the heavy velvet. The fabric snaps upward like a whip crack, hanging suspended for a heartbeat before you fling it aside. It strikes a storage crate with surprising violence. The impact sends pottery shards cascading from an unsealed box, their fragments ringing against the flagstones. The velvet bunches against shelving, exposing the chalk markings beneath in their entirety. *The ease of it startles you. No strain. No effort.* [if CircleObjectsMoved >= 3] [[As the final object settles, you sense a change in the room...->Violet Basement Reveal Cutscene 1]] [unless CircleObjectsMoved >= 3] [[Back->Violet Basement Puzzle Diorama]] [continue]

[unless CandlestandsMoved] Three brass candlestands occupy precise positions across the flagstones, each marking a point where chalk lines intersect. The metal shows tarnish around the bases where wax has dripped and pooled repeatedly. Each candlestand holds a thick pillar candle, their surfaces carved with spiraling grooves. Their flames are dim, casting overlapping shadows that move across the chalk markings as air currents shift through the basement. The candlestands vary in height - the shortest barely clears the storage crates. Their positioning forms a triangle that surrounds you. [if CandlestandsMoved] Brass pieces lie scattered across the flagstones. The shortest candlestand rests against wooden crates, its base dented. The tallest has left a mark where it struck the stone wall. Hot wax splatters coat stone and wood surfaces, hissing where condensation touches it. The basement is much darker now. [continue] {link to: 'Violet Basement Puzzle Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless CandlestandsMoved; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Violet Basement Candlestands Aether]] [continue]

CandlestandsMoved: true CircleObjectsMoved: CircleObjectsMoved + 1 -- You push into all three candlestands simultaneously. They launch from their positions like projectiles, trailing arcs of molten wax. The shortest slams into wooden crates with enough force to split a board. The tallest strikes the stone wall, its brass base clanging against pipe joints. Candles scatter across the flagstones, their carved spirals rolling between storage boxes. Hot wax splatters against stone and wood, hissing where it meets condensation. The surrounding space is now much darker than before. [if CircleObjectsMoved >= 3] [[As the final object settles, you sense a change in the room...->Violet Basement Reveal Cutscene 1]] [unless CircleObjectsMoved >= 3] [[Back->Violet Basement Puzzle Diorama]] [continue]

CircleObjectsMoved: 0 AltarClothMoved: false CandlestandsMoved: false IncenseBurnerMoved: false -- Awareness returns sharp and immediate. The dusty scent of Eleanor's office has disappeared. Cold stone presses against your vessel's base. The air carries traces of melted wax, burnt herbs, and something metallic. [[Your vessel sits on flagstone now, not polished wood.->Violet Basement Cutscene 1.5]]

Stone foundation walls stretch beyond a handful of dim candles wedged between, and above, wooden storage crates. Steam pipes run along the ceiling, their joints dripping condensation onto the flagstones below. You catch a glimpse of a brass plate hanging beside a narrow stairwell. "~BASEMENT STORAGE - AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY~" When you attempt even the slightest movement of energy, it flows without the usual resistance - the effort that typically accompanies your simplest manipulations has vanished entirely. Your essence moves as easily as water finding its level. Three large objects rest throughout the chamber, their positions seemingly deliberate. Beneath them, chalk lines cross the flagstones in intricate patterns. The markings emit a faint [[purple glow->Violet Basement Puzzle Diorama]] that brightens when you focus on them.

[if VesselPushes == 3; dialogue delay:0.8 id:hide4] The sharp crack echoes through the basement. Eleanor's scream cuts through the air - raw, sudden, without words. [if VesselPushes == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:hide4] Her footsteps pound against the flagstones as she stumbles toward the stairwell. [if VesselPushes == 3; dialogue delay:1.0 id:hide4] The basement door slams above. The sound reverberates down the stone walls. [if VesselPushes == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:hide4] Silence returns to the foundation storage area. [continue] [[The chalk lines begin to pulse more rapidly.->Violet Ritual Cutscene 1]]

[if VesselPushes == 0; dialogue delay:0.8 id:hide1] "I know you took it, Whitlock. My statuette." [if VesselPushes == 0; dialogue delay:1.2 id:hide1] Eleanor's voice carries through the foundation space, echoing off stone walls. Her footsteps pause, then resume with measured deliberation. [if VesselPushes == 0; dialogue delay:1.5 id:hide1] "I saw you watching me all week. Always taking notes. Always... calculating." [if VesselPushes == 0; dialogue delay:1.0 id:hide1] Her workbag strap creaks as her grip tightens. [continue] [if VesselPushes == 1; dialogue delay:0.8 id:hide2] Eleanor stops mid-stride as the statuette slides across the flagstones. [if VesselPushes == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:hide2] "What... how did..." [if VesselPushes == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:hide2] Her head turns toward the storage shelves, then back to the vessel. Her breathing becomes audible in the enclosed space. [if VesselPushes == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:hide2] "Violet? Are you... is someone down here with you?" [if VesselPushes == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:hide2] She takes another step forward, but her movements have become hesitant. [continue] [if VesselPushes == 2; dialogue delay:0.8 id:hide3] The vessel slides again. Eleanor jerks backward, her shoulder striking a storage crate. [if VesselPushes == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:hide3] "Stop it. Stop... whatever this is." [if VesselPushes == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:hide3] Her voice wavers. She presses her back against the wooden crate, but her eyes remain fixed on the statuette. [if VesselPushes == 2; dialogue delay:1.0 id:hide3] "I just want my property back. I just... I need..." [if VesselPushes == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:hide3] She pushes away from the crate, extending one trembling hand toward the vessel. [continue] [if VesselPushes == 3; dialogue delay:0.8 id:hide4] The sharp crack echoes through the basement. Eleanor's scream cuts through the air - raw, sudden, without words. [if VesselPushes == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:hide4] Her footsteps pound against the flagstones as she stumbles toward the stairwell. [if VesselPushes == 3; dialogue delay:1.0 id:hide4] The basement door slams above. The sound reverberates down the stone walls. [if VesselPushes == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:hide4] Silence returns to the foundation storage area. [continue]

VesselHideTurns (comesFromMenu() != true): VesselHideTurns + 1 -- [if VesselHideTurns <= 3] You are floating inside the museum's foundation storage area. Steam pipes cross the low ceiling above wooden crates stenciled with acquisition numbers. A few candle stubs burn in makeshift holders wedged between storage shelves, their flames casting shifting shadows across the flagstones. Chalk lines spread across the flagstones in complex geometric patterns, their purple luminescence pulsing faintly beneath the debris. The markings seem to respond to your presence, brightening when you focus on them. [[Eleanor->Violet Basement Hiding Eleanor]] moves through the foundation storage area, her footsteps echoing off stone walls. Her eyes scan the scattered objects and overturned storage containers. Your [[vessel->Violet Basement Vessel Object]] sits directly in her path. *** [if VesselHideTurns <= 3] {embed passage: 'Violet Basement Hiding Dialogue'} [continue] [if VesselHideTurns > 3] You sense a shift in the air around you. The purple glow from the chalk lines dims slightly, their steady pulse becoming irregular. The foundation storage area feels suspended between moments. You recognize the choice before you: either [[see how this concludes->Violet Basement Hiding Failure]] - with the sense you may not return to this moment - or [[try again->Violet Basement Reveal Cutscene 3.5 Reset]]. {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'} [continue]

Eleanor's usual academic composure is gone, replaced by a righteous fury. Her jaw is set, her eyes narrowed as she focuses solely on retrieving her stolen property. Her blouse is slightly dishevelled from her hurried descent into the basement, and she grips her workbag strap so tightly her knuckles are white. Acting all superior around her, making her feel inadequate or confused was one thing: grabbing artefacts from her office was clearly a step too far. She is not here to research; she is here to reclaim what is hers. {link to: 'Violet Basement Hiding Diorama', label: 'Back'}

VioletPlotStealVessel: false -- You watch as Eleanor's fingers close around your vessel. The warmth of her touch is a familiar comfort - so is the warmth of her chest as she clutches your vessel to it, glaring into the shadows. "*I just can't believe that you'd stoop this low, Whitlock. Robbery - puah! Good riddance!*" she says, her voice trembling with rage. She turns and storms back up the stairs, taking you with her. The faint purple glow of the ritual circle fades behind you, its purpose unfulfilled. {plainlink to: 'Next Day Name', label: 'You have been reclaimed.'}

[unless IncenseBurnerMoved] A large bronze vessel sits between two storage shelves, its surface green except where handling has worn the metal to a shine. Three curved legs elevate it above the flagstones. A heavy lid rests askew, revealing a cavity filled with grey ash. White residue coats the vessel's rim where something has boiled over repeatedly. A thick, resinous smell rises from the ash - it reminds you of burned butter. [if IncenseBurnerMoved] The bronze vessel rests against a wooden crate marked "MESOPOTAMIAN FRAGMENTS - DO NOT DISTURB." Its side shows a fresh dent where it met the wood. One leg has bent slightly inward. Ash spills from the cavity in grey streams, coating the nearby flagstones. [continue] {link to: 'Violet Basement Puzzle Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless IncenseBurnerMoved; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Violet Basement Incense Burner Aether]] [continue]

IncenseBurnerMoved: true CircleObjectsMoved: CircleObjectsMoved + 1 -- You seize the bronze vessel with more force than necessary. It rises from the flagstones, ash spilling from its cavity in grey streams. The three legs scrape against stone as you spin it through the air, testing this newfound strength. Without ceremony, you hurl it toward the storage crates. The impact thunders through the basement. Wood splinters. The vessel's lid flies free, clattering against the pipe joints overhead. A crate splits along its seams, spilling pottery shards across the floor. [if CircleObjectsMoved >= 3] [[As the final object settles, you sense a change in the room...->Violet Basement Reveal Cutscene 1]] [unless CircleObjectsMoved >= 3] [[Back->Violet Basement Puzzle Diorama]] [continue]

You are floating inside of the museum's foundation storage area. Steam pipes cross the low ceiling above wooden crates stenciled with acquisition numbers. A few candle stubs burn in makeshift holders wedged between storage shelves. Chalk lines spread across the flagstones in complex geometric patterns, their purple luminescence pulsing beneath scattered objects. Your [[vessel->Vessel basement]] rests where multiple lines converge. [unless AltarClothMoved] A heavy [[cloth->Violet Basement Altar Cloth]] lies spread across the floor, covering chalk markings between two rows of archived pottery crates. [if AltarClothMoved] The altar cloth bunches against a storage shelf, exposing the complete section of markings beneath. [continue] [unless CandlestandsMoved; append] Three brass [[candlestands->Violet Basement Candlestands]] stand positioned over key points, while [if CandlestandsMoved; append] The three candlestands have been thrown against storage crates points, while [continue] [unless IncenseBurnerMoved; append] a large bronze [[incense burner->Violet Basement Incense Burner]] occupies the space between storage shelves. [if IncenseBurnerMoved; append] the incense burner has dented against a crate marked "MESOPOTAMIAN FRAGMENTS - DO NOT DISTURB,". [continue]

The final chalk line flares with intense purple light before settling into a steady glow. The completed circle hums with energy that makes the stone floor vibrate beneath your vessel. The air grows thick, almost viscous, and you feel a strange surge of power coursing through you - stronger than you've ever felt before. From the deepest shadows of the basement, footsteps approach. A figure emerges into the circle's glow. [[Violet steps forward, her spectacles reflecting the purple light.->Violet Basement Reveal Cutscene 1.5]]

She moves to the circle's edge, her hands clasped behind her back. Her footsteps are measured, deliberate. She stops at the rim of the glowing marks, never stepping inside. "*Quite thorough work.*" Her voice carries the same precise diction as always. "*All week I've felt your presence - objects trembling, walls reverberating with your passage.*" She begins walking slowly around the circle's perimeter. "*When dear Eleanor mentioned her little statuette... I just couldn't believe it. The vessel I'd been seeking. Right there on her desk.*" She stops walking. "*What a glorious mess you've made. This far exceeds what I'd hoped for.*" [[The energy from the circle pulses stronger.->Violet Basement Reveal Cutscene 2]]

VioletFormRevealed: true -- With a deep, shuddering sigh of relief, Violet's hands move to her waistcoat buttons... and though the light is dim, it just doesn't add up. The first button resists, the fabric pulled taut across her torso. When it gives way, it pops free with a sharp snap. The second button follows, then the third, each release accompanied by the sound of stressed fabric finally yielding. Her waistcoat falls open - beneath it, her white shirt strains much more outward than it should, the cotton stretched thin enough to show the dark outline of her corset underneath. Her hands work at the shirt's buttons, but not for long: the fabric was never designed to contain this much. [[The shirt rips apart completely.->Violet Basement Reveal Cutscene 2.5]]

A massive pale belly emerges, its surface marked with deep red lines where her corset had pressed into the flesh. The corset itself hangs loose now, its laces straining at their maximum extension. Her stomach divides naturally into two distinct rolls - the upper portion sits heavy and round, while the lower roll droops further, its weight pulling it down over her waistband. She reaches behind herself and loosens the corset entirely. As it falls away, her belly expands outward, settling into its natural shape with a soft sound as flesh meets flesh. Above this expanse, her breasts hang heavy and free, their nipples pierced and connected by a thin silver chain that sways with each breath. Her trousers strain at the waistband, the buttons gaping slightly where the fabric refuses to meet. She places both hands flat against her stomach and exhales slowly. The lower roll pushes further over her waistband, the flesh soft and yielding under her palms. "*There... much better.*" Her voice has dropped lower, becoming rougher around the edges. "Let's begin. You and I have much to discuss. [[We have been looking for a proper thrall for a long, long time.->Violet Basement Reveal Cutscene 3]]"

Sharp footsteps echo from the stairs above. "*Violet!*" Eleanor's voice carries down the stone steps. The word starts strong but wavers at the end. "*I know you're... I know you took it!*" The footsteps pause, then continue. They're slower now, more hesitant. "*This is... this is wrong! You can't just... just take things that don't belong to you!*" Eleanor's voice cracks slightly on the last words. [[You watch Violet as she looks down at her exposed form, then toward the stairs.->Violet Basement Reveal Cutscene 3.5 Reset]]

VesselHideTurns: 0 VesselPushes: 0 -- Quickly, she moves toward the basement's darker recesses. Her belly sways heavily with each step, the flesh bouncing softly against itself, the silver chain across her chest catching the purple light as it moves with her breathing. Her bare feet make soft padding sounds against the stone floor. "*Where... where is it?*" Eleanor's voice grows closer. The certainty from her earlier shouts has faded. "*It was on my desk, and now... the door was open, and I heard...*" She appears at the bottom of the stairs. Her workbag is pressed against her chest, her knuckles white where she grips the strap. Her eyes dart around the dim space. "*What is this place?*" The question comes out barely above a whisper. [[Your vessel sits on the stone floor, directly in her path.->Violet Basement Hiding Diorama]]

VesselPushes: VesselPushes + 1 -- You direct a pulse of energy toward your vessel. The force flows without the usual resistance - no strain, no gradual buildup of pressure. The blackened stone responds immediately. It slides across the flagstones with a dry scraping sound, travelling farther than intended, but stopping near a storage crate several feet from Eleanor's path. Dust swirls in its wake. {link to: 'Violet Basement Hiding Diorama', label: 'Back'}

VesselPushes: VesselPushes + 1 -- Eleanor is persistent. *But so are you.* You focus another pulse into the vessel - a stronger one. The carved stone launches across the foundation floor. It disappears behind a stack of ledgers with a hollow thud against wood. Pottery fragments scatter from a disturbed crate. The vessel comes to rest in the shadows between storage containers, much farther. {link to: 'Violet Basement Hiding Diorama', label: 'Back'}

VesselPushes: VesselPushes + 1 VesselBroken: true -- Eleanor's footsteps approach the vessel's hiding place. There's only one way to prevent her from taking you. It feels... wrong. But, in the moment, you don't see any other way. *[[You'll come to regret this action, in the coming years.->Violet Basement Vessel Aether 3.5 (Break)]]*

You concentrate, gathering all of your strength, and in one, final wave of your hand, you unleash a final wave of force - one much stronger than necessary on such a small object. Your vessel doesn't just slide this time; the thick piece of granite is flung violently through the air, tumbling end over end until it loudly smashes against the far stone wall, impacting it with a sickening [[*CRACK*->Violet Basement Eleanor Departure]].

[if VesselPushes == 0] {link to: 'Violet Basement Vessel Aether 1'} [if VesselPushes == 1] {link to: 'Violet Basement Vessel Aether 2'} [if VesselPushes == 2] {link to: 'Violet Basement Vessel Aether 3 (Break)'} [if VesselPushes >= 3] BLANK {link to: 'Violet Basement Hiding Diorama', label: 'Back'} [continue]

Your vessel. a small statuette carved from blackened stone with a sheen along its smooth surface. It depicts a woman. You're not sure if it's pregnant or merely fat. You can still hear a low hum coming from it. The granite has also gotten much warmer than any of the other days. Much, much warmer. Scolding hot, in fact. But it feels... comfortable. *Familiar.* {link to: 'Violet Basement Hiding Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if VesselPushes <= 2; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a loud, deafening hum...->Violet Basement Vessel Aether Router]] [continue]

PryBarUsed: true -- You do the usual, and resonate through the iron... but you simply don't have enough precision to move the pry bar into a useful position: thankfully, and a bit concerningly, Violet catches that. *She smiles.* You watch as she picks the tool back up, and [[conveniently jams it into the lid->Violet Crate Aether PryBar 2]].

You try again, focusing a sharp pulse into the heavy iron pry bar in Violet's hands. The metal hums with a low, resonant frequency. As Violet heaves down, the pry bar bites deep into the wood. Instead of scraping uselessly, it finds purchase. With a loud *SCREECH* of protesting metal, a large nail is ripped from the plank. The corner of the lid pops upwards with a sharp crack. Violet gives a small, satisfied nod, leveraging the new opening to work the bar further along the edge. The way forward is now clear. {link to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MikaVioletAnimusAnticipation: true -- The hum... the resonance I've chased... it must be within this wretched box. Where else could it come from? Where else would *you* have come from? My preparations, the rituals, the offerings - all converging on this moment. I can hardly contain myself... literally, perhaps. I've far exceeded my own pact with Glutton. Soon. Soon *I* shall be its most favored instrument. It has to be so! Would it not recognize its most devoted servant? {plainlink to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MikaVioletAnimusLonging: true VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 2 -- This feeling again. I can hear you, I'm sure you are aware of it by now. Sense you. The thrum of *potential*. So many dead ends, so many inert trinkets... but this feels different. The energies are muddled by the journey, shielded by this crude wood, but *you* are are here, and this is too good to be a coincidence. I can feel the pull. The Vessel, the Conduit... patience. The final piece is almost in hand. My own hands. {plainlink to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MikaCrateChronos: true -- The dim light of the Mika Collection room dissolves, replaced by the deep, oppressive darkness of a ship's hull. The crate slides violently across the floorboards as the vessel pitches, the rhythmic groaning of timbers and the endless sloshing of the sea the only sounds. You feel the gentle, sickening sway of the ocean around you. The journey was long, and seemingly uneventful. The vision blurs, the scent of the sea fading as the still, heavy air of the museum room reforms around you. {link to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'}

VioletCratePathAChosen: true -- Eleanor knocks twice on the heavy oak door simply labeled "47". "*Enter.*" The room's single gas lamp casts uneven shadows across stone walls. The air carries scents of old paper and something sweet, like dried herbs, or incense. You see Violet standing beside a shipping crate, her spine straight, hands clasped behind her back. She nods once as Eleanor enters. "*Miss Lovelace. Thank you for your punctuality.*" Her voice remains level. "*As discussed, the acquisition has arrived. On monday, really, but I found myself busier than usual - no matter. I believe its contents may prove illuminating. To both our fields of study.*" Her eyes do not leave the [[crate->Violet Crate Cutscene 2 ResetPoint]].

VioletCratePathBChosen: true -- Eleanor pushes open the door. It moves on silent hinges, revealing the room's dim interior. A single gas lamp hisses softly. The air is cool, carries the sweetness of dried herbs. Violet Whitlock stands over a shipping crate, iron pry bar in her gloved hands. The metal scrapes against wood as she works to wedge it under the lid. Her shoulders tense with each failed attempt. She stops. "What." Her head turns toward Eleanor. "*Miss Lovelace? What are you doing here? This is a restricted area.*" Her knuckles show white against the [[pry bar->Violet Crate Cutscene 2 ResetPoint]].

VioletCrateTurns: 0 VioletCrateOpened: false PryBarUsed: false TomePageViewed: 0 DrapedObjectRevealed: false MikaCrateChronos: false MikaTomeChronos: false MikaKnivesChronos: false MikaEffigyChronos: false MikaVioletAnimusAnticipation: false MikaVioletAnimusLonging: false MikaVioletAnimusAssurance: false MikaEleanorAnimusCuriosity: false MikaEleanorAnimusUnease: false MikaEleanorHungerTriggered: false -- The gas lamp's flame flickers - a amber light sending shadows across the curved walls of the room. The air sits heavy, broken only by its steady hiss. A lectern holds a thick, leather-bound tome. Floor-to-ceiling velvet drapes something against the far wall. A glass display case reflects the lamp's glow, its contents barely visible in the dim light. [if VioletCratePathAChosen] Violet gestures toward the crate. "*Let us see what secrets it holds, shall we? I will say, I am quite [[excited->Violet Crate Diorama]].*" [if VioletCratePathBChosen] Violet's grip shifts on the pry bar. "*Well. As you are here, you may as well make yourself useful. [[Assist me->Violet Crate Diorama]].*" [continue] {reset dialogue}

[if VioletCrateTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:crateM1] Eleanor points to a chalk mark on the crate's side. [if VioletCrateTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:crateM1] *"This symbol. That's an eye of Horus, isn't it? But the center spiral is unusual."* [if VioletCrateTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:crateM1 newline] Violet glances at the marking, then returns to the lid. [if VioletCrateTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:crateM1] *"...that is unusual, yes. Likely shipping marks, though. Nothing more."* [if VioletCrateTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.8 id:crateM1] The pry bar scrapes against wood. [continue] [if VioletCrateTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:crateM2] Violet repositions the iron bar for better leverage. [if VioletCrateTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:crateM2] *"Hold that corner down, Lovelace. Press firmly."* [unless MikaVioletAnimusAnticipation; unless MikaVioletAnimusLonging; if VioletCrateTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:crateM2] *"We need to see what's inside."* [if MikaVioletAnimusAnticipation; if VioletCrateTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:crateM2] *"It has to be here. It has to be."* [if MikaVioletAnimusLonging; if VioletCrateTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:crateM2] *"Close now. Very close."* [continue]

[if VioletCrateTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:crateB1] Eleanor clasps her hands behind her back. [if VioletCrateTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:crateB1] *"I noticed the delivery earlier. The porters mentioned difficulties with... special handling, I think?."* [if VioletCrateTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:crateB1 newline] Violet's hands wrap tightly around the pry bar handle. [if VioletCrateTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:crateB1] *"The porters talk too much. This collection operates under specific protocols."* [if VioletCrateTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:crateB1] She does not look up from the crate. [continue] [if VioletCrateTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:crateB2] Eleanor takes a half-step closer. [if VioletCrateTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:crateB2] *"Ah. Of course. Though the sealing appears quite... thorough. Perhaps additional leverage would help?"* [if VioletCrateTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:crateB2 newline] Violet pauses. The pry bar trembles slightly in her grip. [if VioletCrateTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:crateB2] *"Fine. Hold this steady while I work the other end."* [if VioletCrateTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.0 id:crateB2] She gestures toward the crate's corner. [continue]

[if VioletCrateTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:crateB1] Eleanor gestures towards the crate. [if VioletCrateTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:crateB1] *"I overheard the porters mentioning a special delivery for the Mika Collection. I thought you might... um... require assistance?"* [if VioletCrateTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:crateB1 newline] Violet's grip tightens on the iron bar. She doesn't look away from the crate. [if VioletCrateTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:crateB1] *"The porters are gossips. And I am perfectly capable of managing my own acquisitions, thank you very much."* [if VioletCrateTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:crateB1] Her gaze is a sharp challenge. [continue] [if VioletCrateTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:crateB2] Eleanor holds her ground, her tone calm. [if VioletCrateTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:crateB2] *"Of course. However, these older crates can be difficult. Another pair of hands often proves useful."* [if VioletCrateTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:crateB2 newline] Violet hesitates, her eyes narrowing as she considers Eleanor's words. She glances at the stubborn lid, then gives a curt, almost imperceptible nod. [if VioletCrateTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:crateB2] *"...Fine. Make yourself useful, then. But don't touch anything without instruction!"* [continue]

VioletCrateTurns (comesFromMenu() != true): VioletCrateTurns + 1 -- [if VioletCrateTurns <= 4] You hover inside the Mika Collection room. The air is cool and heavy, the silence absolute except for the faint hiss of a single gas lamp. The shadows in here seem deeper, darker than elsewhere in the museum. [[Violet->Violet Crate Violet]] and [[Eleanor->Violet Crate Eleanor]] stand before [[the Crate->Violet Crate Object Crate]], a large, nail-studded box sitting in the center of the room. To one side stands a [[heavy lectern->Violet Crate Object Lectern]]. Further back, a massive, floor-to-ceiling [[draped object->Violet Crate Object Draped]] looms like a silent sentinel. Near the wall, a single glass [[display case->Violet Crate Object Display Case]] holds a few unsettling artifacts. *** [if VioletCratePathAChosen; if VioletCrateTurns <= 2] {embed passage: 'Violet Crate Dialogue PathA'} [if VioletCratePathAChosen; if VioletCrateTurns > 2] {embed passage: 'Violet Crate Dialogue Main'} [if VioletCratePathBChosen; if VioletCrateTurns <= 2] {embed passage: 'Violet Crate Dialogue PathB'} [if VioletCratePathBChosen; if VioletCrateTurns > 2] {embed passage: 'VioletCrateDialogueMain'} [continue] [if VioletCrateTurns > 4] You sense Violet's patience has worn thin. {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'} [if VioletCrateTurns > 4; if PryBarUsed] But the crate is now open. You can now either [[proceed and see what's inside->Violet Crate Opened Proceed Ending]] or [[start this scene over from the beginning->Violet Crate Cutscene 2 ResetPoint]]. [if VioletCrateTurns > 4; unless PryBarUsed] You can either [[see how this plays out->Violet Crate Failure Ending1]] or [[start this scene over from the beginning->Violet Crate Cutscene 2 ResetPoint]]. [continue]

DrapedObjectRevealed: true -- You push into the heavy velvet sheet. It stirs, then billows dramatically as if caught in a powerful, unfelt wind. The fabric slides from its moorings and pools on the floor with a soft, heavy sigh. Revealed on the wall is a massive, disturbing mural. A corpulent, vaguely feminine entity, its skin blueish, reclines amidst a scene of decadent ruin. It is not eating people, but devouring the food from a vast, toppled banquet table, its form seeming to swell and grow larger even as you watch the static image. You force yourself to look away. {link to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MikaEffigyChronos: true -- The vision is sharp, focused on the small wax effigy. It sits on Violet's pristine office desk, illuminated by the focused light of a desk lamp. You watch as Violet's gloved hand, holding a small, heated metal tool, carefully adds a minute detail to the figure's serene face. She works with focus, her expression one of deep concentration. She murmurs something too low to hear, leaning close as if whispering a secret to the wax figure before setting her tool down and drawing a sigh. The vision dissolves, returning you to the dim, heavy air of the collection. {link to: 'Violet Crate Object Display Case', label: 'Back'}

Eleanor stands with her hands clasped behind her back, fingers interlaced. Her head tilts slightly as she examines the room's contents. Her brow furrows, then smooths, then furrows again. [if WeightGained == 'NONE' || WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'; append] Her waistcoat buttons remain fastened. Her skirt sits properly at her waist. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP' || WeightGained == 'FAT'; append] Her blouse pulls taut across her chest and middle. When she leans forward, the fabric strains. She reaches behind herself, adjusting her skirt waistband. [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'; append] Her blouse gaps between the buttons. The white chemise beneath shows through. [continue] She glances at Violet, then back at the objects, then at Violet again. {link to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if VioletCrateTurns <= 4; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Violet Crate Eleanor Persuasion Menu]] [continue]

MikaEleanorAnimusCuriosity: true -- This collection... it's not like the others. There's no clear thematic or chronological order. It feels intensely personal, like a private one. Who's Mika, anyways? I've never heard of the name. Has Violet been curating this herself? Why? What is the unifying principle behind, um... a set of obsidian knives and a big candle? This just seems like a random assortment of objects really - not even artifacts, just trinkets. {plainlink to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MikaEleanorHungerTriggered: true DayCalories: DayCalories + 2 -- Good heavens, this room... It makes the air feel thick, and a peculiar emptiness gnaws at my stomach, ~~demanding to be filled~~. The feeling is... ~~exciting~~. My mouth is watering. I feel... ~~absolutely ravenous~~, and yet I also feel more bloated than when I first entered it. Like my stomach just... grew an inch? God... there, you knew it. You've finally gone crazy. But I must have a biscuit when this is over. Or perhaps a large meat pie. Yes. Either will do. {plainlink to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MikaEleanorAnimusUnease: true -- This "confidentiality"... it feels less about academic rigor and more about pure secrecy. And this room... the air is so, so heavy. It's not just dust and age; there's a pressure here, a watchfulness that makes the hairs on my arms stand up. Wait, what am I even saying? It's just a dark room, don't be ridiculous Eleanor. But Violet... is even more intense than usual. What's her problem? What is she not telling me? Are we doing something illegal, being here? {plainlink to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You reach toward Eleanor's consciousness, seeking the familiar warmth of her thoughts. Instead, your essence encounters something cold and unyielding - not resistance, but absence. *Where are her strings?* The space where her mind should be feels hollow, distant, as though viewed through thick glass. Something is derailing your efforts - whether the crate's contents, the room's collection, or Violet's presence, you don't know. {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'} [note] You reach out to Eleanor's mind. Her thoughts are a blend of academic focus, a growing sense of unease from the strange room, and a surprising, gnawing physical sensation. [unless MikaEleanorAnimusCuriosity ➼[[**CURIOSITY**->Violet Crate Eleanor Animus Curiosity POV *Is this... has she been curating this collection? Why? What even are these objects?* [unless MikaEleanorAnimusUnease ➼[[**UNEASE**->Violet Crate Eleanor Animus Unease POV *This "confidentiality"... something is not adding up.* [unless MikaEleanorHungerTriggered ➼[[**HUNGER**->Violet Crate Eleanor Animus Hunger POV *This room... these objects... I feel... ravenous.* [if MikaEleanorAnimusCuriosity; if MikaEleanorAnimusUnease; if MikaEleanorHungerTriggered You have explored the currents of Eleanor's thoughts thoroughly for now. Further influence feels unwise. [continue]

Violet's breath catches. A sound escapes her throat - barely audible, somewhere between a hiss and a sigh. You near the object and... it's nothing like your own vessel. It's completely inert. "*Useless.*" She snatches the cracked statuette from the crate, thrusting it onto Eleanor. "*Hold this, Lovelace. And don't drop it. Well, you might as well at this point... I need to make notes.*" Violet's back is already turned. A ledger slides from a nearby shelf with a scraping sound. Its pages are flipped rapidly. [[Eleanor cradles what appears to be a surprisingly light object.->Violet Crate Ending Cutscene 2]]

Eleanor turns the cracked, pinkish statuette between her palms, her brow furrowed. Her gloved finger traces the jagged crack running from base to neck. "*Ah, I see... a shame, yes. But how peculiar.*" Her voice is soft, almost to herself. "*I have a statuette in my office that is strikingly similar to this. I brought it from my flat a couple of days ago... really, I don't even know when or where I got it. Though mine is intact, of course.*" The scratching of Violet's pen on the page stops [[abruptly->Violet Crate Ending Cutscene 3]].

[if VioletInterest >= 5] {link to: 'Violet Crate Ending Cutscene 4 HighInterest'} [unless VioletInterest >= 5] {link to: 'Violet Crate Ending Cutscene 4 LowInterest'}

VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 3 VioletPlotStealVessel: true -- Violet sets down her pen. She turns around. Her shoulders are straight, her hands rest at her sides. Behind her spectacles, her eyes focus on Eleanor's face. "*Indeed, Miss Lovelace?*" Her voice is quiet. "*How extraordinarily coincidental. [[Describe it to me.->Violet Crate Ending Cutscene 4.5]] Its material? Its precise form?*" The questions come impatiently, and without pause. Violet's gaze does not waver.

VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 1 -- Violet continues writing. Her pen moves across the page in rapid strokes. She does not turn around. "*A similar motif? Trivial.*" Her voice carries across the room. "*Many workshops produced such derivative trinkets. Focus on the task at hand, Lovelace. Your small talk is unproductive.*" The pen scratches against paper. Eleanor shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Her mouth opens, then closes without sound. [[The writing continues.->Violet Crate Ending Cutscene 5]]

Caught off guard by the sudden shift, Eleanor describes your vessel. As she speaks, Violet's expression remains a mask of scholarly interest, but you can feel the sharp, calculating thoughts whirring behind her eyes. You also spot how her attention, for maybe the first time, slowly drifts to Eleanor's waistline. When Eleanor finishes, Violet forces a small, dismissive smile. "*I really should've known. Fascinating. Such parallels can occur. No doubt a common motif from a lesser-known workshop. Of no particular... consequence, I'm sure.*" The feigned indifference is almost perfect. Almost. [[She turns back to her ledger.->Violet Crate Ending Cutscene 5]]

ResearchProgress: ResearchProgress + 1 -- "*Do not return that to the crate.*" Violet's back remains turned. "*Keep it with your research materials. Perhaps its commonness will yield some insight for your research.*" Her pen moves across the page. The marks are sharp, deliberate. Eleanor clutches the cracked statuette to her chest. "*Thank you, Miss Whitlock. I... I should return to my duties, now.*" Eleanor's footsteps echo in the corridor. The door closes with a soft click. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on.'}

There's a single moment of hesitation before Violet's arm swings to the side. The broken iron bar flies across the room, strikes the glass display case - the front panel explodes inward. Crystal fragments cascade to the floor, and the obsidian knives and wax effigy tumble among the shards. "*This is concluded.*" Violet's voice cuts through the settling glass. "*Your assistance is no longer required, Lovelace. Leave.*" Eleanor's mouth opens, then closes. She nods once and quickly steps toward the door. Her footsteps fade in the corridor. Violet remains standing over the sealed crate, her hands opening and closing at her sides. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on.'}

SlotThreeAttended: true VioletCrateAttended: true DayCalories: DayCalories + 1 -- Violet's breath comes short and sharp. "*Useless.*" With one hand, she pushes Eleanor back a few feet. The pry bar shakes in her grip as she wedges it beneath the lid. Her shoulders bunch. She throws her full weight down on the iron bar, feet lifting from the stone floor. The wood groans, and soon enough- *CRACK* The pry bar snaps under her. Its broken end spins across the room, strikes the far wall with a ringing clang. Violet stares at the jagged stub in her hands. Her chest rises and falls. [[The crate sits unopened.->Violet Crate Failure Ending 2]]

MikaKnivesChronos: true -- The image is murky, lit by flickering torchlight. A figure in dark, heavy robes stands before a simple stone altar. The face is obscured by a deep hood. The figure raises one of the obsidian knives - its polished surface gleams. With a swift, practiced motion, the figure slices down! Oh, god... but as you reopen your eyes, you see that the blade has been used to cut into into a round loaf of bread resting on the altar. *It's a very clean cut.* The figure raises the sliced bread as if in offering to an unseen presence before the vision fades. {link to: 'Violet Crate Object Display Case', label: 'Back'}

The shipping crate is made of thick, dark planks of wood, held together by large, slightly rusted nails. Wisps of dry straw peek out from the seams of the lid - you poke your head through it, but there's too much of the stuff for you to catch the shape of the object inside. You spot that on one side, a symbol has been crudely chalked: a stylized Eye of Horus, but with a swirling spiral at its center instead of a pupil. Most of the other markings are mundane shipping details, faded and scuffed from its long journey. [if VioletCratePathBChosen] A heavy iron [[pry bar->Violet Crate Object PryBar]] leans against the side of the crate, evidence of Violet's recent, unsuccessful attempts to open it. [continue] [unless VioletCratePathBChosen] You spot a heavy iron [[pry bar->Violet Crate Object PryBar]] leans against the side of the crate. [continue] {link to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if VioletCrateTurns <= 4; unless MikaCrateChronos; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Violet Crate Crate Chronos1]] [continue]

The display case is made of dark, polished mahogany with thick glass panels. Unlike the other cases in the museum, this one is sealed with a heavy-looking brass lock, suggesting its contents are considered particularly valuable. Or dangerous. Inside, resting on black velvet lining, are two distinct items: a set of gleaming [[obsidian ritual knives->Violet Crate Object Knives]] and a small, unsettling [[wax effigy->Violet Crate Object Effigy]]. {link to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[unless DrapedObjectRevealed] A floor-to-ceiling object is completely hidden by a single, heavy sheet of dark red velvet. The fabric is thick, absorbing the light and muffling any sound. It hangs perfectly still, concealing the shape of whatever lies beneath. From its sheer size, you assume it must be either a large statue or a monumental painting... you'd check yourself, but it's too dark to make out what's behind it. [if DrapedObjectRevealed] Revealed on the wall is a massive, disturbing mural. A corpulent, vaguely feminine entity, its skin blueish, reclines amidst a scene of decadent ruin. It is not eating people, but devouring the food from a vast, toppled banquet table, its form seeming to swell and grow larger even as you watch the static image. You force yourself to look away. [continue] {link to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if VioletCrateTurns <= 4; unless DrapedObjectRevealed; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Violet Crate Draped Aether]] [continue]

A small, surprisingly detailed candle crafted from a dark, almost black wax, expertly sculpted into the shape of a seated, obese woman. The figure is soft and rounded, with a large, placid double-belly resting on a lap of thick thighs. One hand rests on its upper part, while the other is held palm-up, as if in offering. The figure’s face is serene, its features smooth and ambiguous. The wick, thick and unburnt, protrudes from the top of its head. {link to: 'Violet Crate Object Display Case', label: 'Back'} [if VioletCrateTurns <= 4; unless MikaEffigyChronos; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Violet Crate Effigy Chronos]] [continue]

A set of three knives of varying sizes, carved from what appears to be pure, polished obsidian. They seem to drink the light, their edges looking unnaturally sharp. As you watch, a faint purple glint seems to travel along the largest blade's edge before vanishing. They are clearly ceremonial, not practical, tools. {link to: 'Violet Crate Object Display Case', label: 'Back'} [if VioletCrateTurns <= 4; unless MikaKnivesChronos; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Violet Crate Knives Chronos]] [continue]

The lectern is carved from a dark, almost black wood, its surface polished to a dull sheen. The stand is heavy and imposing, clearly built to hold a volume of significant weight. A dark purple velvet cloth is draped over the top, embroidered with silver thread that forms elaborate, interlocking patterns. It's over this cloth that, from the lettering on top of its cover, the "[[Tome of Glutton->Violet Crate Object Tome]]" rests. {link to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'}

A heavy iron pry bar, its surface surprisingly free of rust, suggesting it was brought here recently for this specific task. Or maybe it was just bought for the occasion. One end is flattened into a chisel tip, while the other provides a thick, solid grip. It feels cold, purposeful. {link to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if VioletCrateTurns <= 4; unless PryBarUsed; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a sharp, resonant hum...->Violet Crate Aether PryBar]] [continue]

A large book, bound in what looks like black, pebbled leather, rests upon the lectern. When the light from the gas lamp hits its surface at just the right angle, the dark leather seems to shimmer with a faint, deep purple hue. The book is held shut by a simple brass clasp, though it's undone. It... doesn't particular seem old, or ancient, just a bit thick - really, it wouldn't look too out of place inside of any library, or house. Someone has clearly been taking great care of it. Not a single spot of dust on top of it. {link to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if VioletCrateTurns <= 4; unless MikaTomeChronos; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Violet Crate Tome Chronos]] [continue] [if VioletCrateTurns <= 4; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Violet Crate Tome Aether]] [continue]

SlotThreeAttended: true VioletCrateAttended: true CultArtifactAcquired_CrackedVessel: true DayCalories: DayCalories + 2 -- The last of the straw packing is pulled away. Lying nestled in the bottom of the crate is not some grand artifact, but something small. Unassuming. *Familiar.* It's a statuette, carved from what looks like pinkish marble, depicting a female form. Its shape is almost identical to your own vessel, maybe a little larger... except this one is marred by a deep, jagged crack that runs from its base to its [[neck->Violet Crate Ending Cutscene 1]].

TomePageViewed: TomePageViewed + 1 -- You direct a subtle pulse of energy into the heavy tome. A faint purple light seems to shimmer across its leather cover before the book silently flips open of its own accord. It rests on a specific page for a moment, giving you a clear view of its contents before snapping shut with a soft *thud*. *** [if TomePageViewed == 1] {embed passage: 'Violet Crate Tome Page 1 Text'} [if TomePageViewed == 2] {embed passage: 'Violet Crate Tome Page 2 Text'} [if TomePageViewed >= 3] {embed passage: 'Violet Crate Tome Page 3 Text'} [continue] {link to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MikaTomeChronos: true -- The vision is brief and sharp. You see Violet's gloved hand turning a page in the Tome. She pauses, her finger tracing a line of text in the section on "Patronage". Her lips move silently, as if reciting the words. The vision snaps back to the present, the book lying closed on its lectern. {link to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The page is titled "**SUMMONING OF BAKERY**". The text details an incantation for creating vast quantities of baked goods. It appears to be a foundational spell, as the margins are filled with handwritten notes in different scripts, arguing the merits of brioche versus sourdough as a base offering. One annotation, in what you recognize as Violet's sharp handwriting, dismisses the debate as "pedestrian."

This page is titled "**INCANTATION OF VOID**". The original text has been violently scratched out. A neater script below it describes a modified spell, once used by 19th-century French thieves to attract valuables, now altered to attract only edible items. A footnote dryly mentions the spell's creator was reprimanded by her peers for "hoarding such a useful technique" after an "unfortunate, but deserved incident involving a burst corset."

TomePageViewed: 0 -- Titled "**PATRONAGE OF GLUTTON**," this page seems older, the ink faded. It details a ritual for summoning a demon from the Third Circle of Hell to act as a proxy, absorbing the physical consequences of devotional feasting. A note in the margin explains this allows followers to maintain "conventional beauty standards" while still making offerings of mass. It warns, however, to be precise in the terms of the pact.

Violet stands motionless beside the wooden crate, her dark suit without a speck of dust despite the room's neglected state. Her hands rest at her sides, fingers straight. Her breathing is shallow, controlled. Her spectacles reflect the dim light as her head tilts slightly toward the crate's contents. Her lips press into a thin line. A muscle in her jaw twitches once, then stills. [if EyeMarkCreated] A neat white cloth patch covers her left eye, secured with thin strips of medical tape. The injury does nothing to diminish the intensity of her remaining gaze. [continue] {link to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if VioletCrateTurns <= 4; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Violet Crate Violet Persuasion Menu]] [continue]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You focus your essence on Violet. Her mind is made of ordered thought, but you are starting to sense cracks in the walls - fissures of intense, focused desire. You can feel the pull of obsession. [unless MikaVioletAnimusAnticipation] ➼[[**ANTICIPATION**->Violet Crate Animus Anticipation POV]] *The hum... the resonance... it *must* be coming from within this wretched box...* [unless MikaVioletAnimusAssurance] ➼[[**ASSURANCE**->VioletCrateAnimusAssurancePOV]] *This *is* the one. It has to be. The signs align...* [unless MikaVioletAnimusLonging] ➼[[**LONGING**->Violet Crate Animus Longing POV]] *Ah... you again. Good.* [if MikaVioletAnimusAnticipation; if MikaVioletAnimusLonging; if MikaVioletAnimusAssurance] Her thoughts are now a turbulent storm of your making. You could press further... but you had the distinct impression your influence was heard. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

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[CSS] .very-big { font-size: 56px; font-variant: regular; } .big { font-size: 48px; font-variant: small-caps; } .medium { font-size: 36px; font-variant: small-caps; } .medium-small { font-size: 30px; font-variant: small-caps; } .small { font-size: 20px; font-variant: small-caps; } [continued] <div class="titleScreen"> <center> <h1 style="font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif;"> <span class="big">[[YEARS LATER->Violet Cult Epilogue Cutscene 1]]</span><br> </h1> </center> [continued] The iron around your neck has grown warm.

Most things have, in this place. You flex your wings - a habit now, after so long in this form. The leathery membrane stretches, catches the purple light that seems to seep from the very stones. When did the walls begin to glow? When did the ceiling rise so high that shadows pool in corners you cannot see? Your chain clinks softly as you shift. The sound echoes strangely in this space that was once just a basement, once merely storage for forgotten things. [[Footsteps approach through the gloom.->Violet Cult Epilogue Cutscene 2]]

The basement stretches far. Where once stood neat rows of crates and catalogued artifacts, now there are only vast expanses of smooth floor, worn paths leading toward the far end where shadows gather thickest. People move along those paths - some you recognize from the museum, others are strangers who seem to have emerged from the city above. They carry bundles, platters, offerings. Their footsteps create a constant, low rhythm that has become the heartbeat of this place. You catch glimpses of doorways that certainly were not there before, leading to chambers where these people have made their homes. The scent of cooking food drifts from somewhere unseen. [[The procession continues, endless and patient.->Violet Cult Epilogue Cutscene 3]]

Her body has grown, massively so. Her body has surrendered completely to abundance, her flesh cascading in soft, generous curves that overflow the throne's carved boundaries. Her belly dominates her form - two distinct rolls, settled into distinct rolls, the lower spreading wide across her thighs that rest heavily in her lap, the upper perpetually swollen and taut from constant feeding. Stretch marks trace reddened patterns across the pale expanse, and each labored breath sends gentle ripples through the perspirated, [[yielding flesh->Violet Cult Epilogue Cutscene 3.5]].

Above, her breasts hang in magnificent weight, no longer hidden beneath buttoned jackets. The metal chains connecting her pierced nipples catch the purple light as they sway with her breathing, occasionally brushing against the warm rolls of her arms when she shifts. Her face, framed by hair that hangs loose and unkempt, has too rounded out - full cheeks flushed with warmth, lips stained deep purple from the wine that accompanies most of her meals. She breathes through her parted mouth now, small whimpering, moaning sounds escaping with each exhalation. The stone throne protests with quiet creaks at every movement, though movement has become increasingly rare. [[For the feeding continues without pause.->Violet Cult Epilogue Cutscene 4]]

A thin figure approaches from the procession, bearing a simple wooden tray. Upon it sits a modest portion - bread, some fruit, a small cup of wine. They kneel before the throne with practiced reverence, head bowed, arms extended. The tray trembles slightly in their nervous hands. You observe this ritual as you have countless times before. The steady stream of offerings, each one larger than the last, each one disappearing with mechanical efficiency. Sometimes they aren't, though. Not everyone can allow themselves to be as loyal as they should to Glutton, apparently. This has happened before, and it's not much of an issue. [[Nowadays, Violet's mind is too addled to care.->Violet Cult Epilogue Cutscene 5]]

But this cultist is unlucky. As their offerings are placed in front of her, one of her personal attendants approaches from the side, carrying a leg of roasted mutton still steaming from the kitchens below. The attendant begins the familiar ritual - tearing off pieces of meat and guiding them to Violet's waiting mouth. As a particularly large morsel is pressed between her lips, Violet lets out a strained grunt. The sound is automatic, involuntary, merely the body's response to the effort of swallowing such an enormous portion. So is the pained, drawn out belch that follows. But to some ears, it sounds like displeasure. [[A hand closes around your chain.->Violet Cult Epilogue Diorama]] {accessoryoff: 'right1'}

config.style.page.color: "black on #f0d0d0" config.style.page.link.color: "#8b3a3a" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#7a2e2e" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#cd2626 on #f0d0d0" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#8b3a3a" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#8b3a3a" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#7a2e2e" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#cd2626 on #f0d0d0" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#8b3a3a" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#cd2626 on #f0d0d0" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#f0f0f0 on #3a3a3a" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#ffcccc" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#e6b3b3" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ffdddd on #3a3a3a" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ffcccc" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#ffcccc" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#e6b3b3" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ffdddd on #3a3a3a" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ffcccc" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ffdddd on #3a3a3a" config.style.fontScaling.baseViewportWidth: 900 config.style.page.font: 'Bona Nova/serif 12' config.style.page.header.font: "12" config.style.page.header.link.font: "" config.style.page.footer.font: "10" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "" config.style.backdrop: "#563232" -- You feel the heat rise within your demonic form, coursing through your veins like molten metal. Not the subtle influence of your former abilities, but something raw and destructive, befitting your enslavement. Your gaze fixes on the trembling cultist. They sense nothing of what approaches. Why should they? They have committed no crime save poverty, no sin save inadequacy. Unlucky. The attendant yanks your chain once more, and the collar bites deep. [[You move your right hand upwards, right in front of them.->Violet Cult Epilogue Cutscene 6.5]]

config.style.page.color: "black on #ffffff" config.style.page.link.color: "#666666" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#555555" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#6633cc on #ffffff" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#666666" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#666666" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#555555" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#6633cc on #ffffff" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#666666" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#6633cc on #ffffff" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#ffffff on #333333" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#cccccc" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#999999" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#9966ff on #333333" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#cccccc" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#cccccc" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#999999" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#9966ff on #333333" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#cccccc" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#9966ff on #333333" -- The heat erupts outward in a brilliant, white flare. The cultist has no time to scream - they simply dissolve, their form becoming ash that scatters across the stone floor in an instant. Their modest tray clatters empty where they once knelt. [[The other cultists step back in terrified silence.->Violet Cult Epilogue Cutscene 7]] {ascii backdrop: 'hunger'}

config.style.page.color: "black on #f0e6ff" config.style.page.link.color: "#4a3366" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#3d2a55" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#8b4599 on #f0e6ff" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#4a3366" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#4a3366" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#3d2a55" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#8b4599 on #f0e6ff" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#4a3366" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#8b4599 on #f0e6ff" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#e6ccff on #2a1a3d" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#b399ff" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#9980e6" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#d9b3ff on #2a1a3d" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#b399ff" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#b399ff" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#9980e6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#d9b3ff on #2a1a3d" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#b399ff" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#d9b3ff on #2a1a3d" -- The remaining cultists exchange nervous glances but do not flee. They have witnessed such displays before, though perhaps not so... immediate. Within moments, they resume their procession as if nothing has occurred. Behind you, Violet continues eating, oblivious to anything not concerning the next offering. You settle back onto your haunches, wings folding against your emaciated frame. As you survey the vast chamber around you, something becomes unmistakably clear. The walls that once marked the boundaries of a simple museum basement now stretch impossibly far. The ceiling has risen beyond the reach of mortal architecture. [[And still, the floor continues to slope ever so gently downward.->Violet Cult Epilogue Cutscene 7.5]]

config.style.page.color: "black on #e6d9ff" config.style.page.link.color: "#2d1a4d" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#241440" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#5c3973 on #e6d9ff" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#2d1a4d" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#2d1a4d" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#241440" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#5c3973 on #e6d9ff" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#2d1a4d" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#5c3973 on #e6d9ff" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#ccb3ff on #1a0d33" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#9980e6" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#8066cc" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#b399ff on #1a0d33" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#9980e6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#9980e6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#8066cc" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#b399ff on #1a0d33" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#9980e6" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#b399ff on #1a0d33" -- But you do not despair. The deeper this place descends, the closer it draws to realms you remember. The purple light that emanates from these walls speaks of your ancient patron's influence. The impossible architecture, the endless appetite, the slow dissolution of earthly limitations - all signs that point toward a familiar destination, doesn't it? Your visage smiles, sending some of the weaker-willed cultists in line into a retreat. [[You are going home.->Violet Cult Ending]]

[if VioletCultEpilogueTurns == 1; dialogue delay: 2s] The attendant's grip on your chain tightens. Their breathing quickens as they watch Violet continue to eat, clearly interpreting every grunt and belch as dissatisfaction with the paltry offering still waiting on the stone floor. [if VioletCultEpilogueTurns == 2; dialogue delay: 3s] A sharp yank on your chain sends pain shooting through your neck. The attendant's patience wears thin, their fury now focused on you. "*Well, demon? What are you waiting for?*" they hiss under their breath, though Violet shows no sign of hearing. [if VioletCultEpilogueTurns == 3; dialogue delay: 4s] Another violent jerk of the chain, harder this time. The iron collar bites into your neck as the attendant's rage reaches its peak. "*Pathetic offering!*" they spit, yanking your chain once more as if commanding you to act. "*You have a duty to our mistress, demon!*"

VioletCultEpilogueTurns: VioletCultEpilogueTurns + 1 config.header.right: "{embed passage: 'Ability Immolation Logic'}" -- The throne room stretches before you in all its corrupted grandeur. Violet continues her mechanical consumption, oblivious to the drama unfolding at her feet. The cultist with the meager offering remains frozen in their kneel, uncertain whether to flee or stay. But your attention is drawn to the [[attendant->Violet Cult Offending Cultist]] who still grips your chain. Their knuckles are white with the force of their grasp, and their eyes dart between Violet's continued eating and the inadequate offering before them. Around you, the procession continues its endless march. Other cultists pretend not to notice the tension, but you can sense their nervousness. The purple light seems to flicker with anticipation. *** {embed passage: 'Violet Cult Epilogue Dialogue'}

The cultist remains frozen in their supplicant position, trembling as the tension in the room escalates around them. Their clothes are simple - worn fabric that speaks of modest means, patched in places but clean. You can see the confusion in their hunched shoulders, the way their head remains bowed not in reverence, but in fear. They understand something has gone wrong but cannot comprehend what. How were they to know that such modest fare would be deemed inadequate? Unlucky. Sweat beads on the back of their neck as they await judgment. {link to: 'Violet Cult Epilogue Diorama', label: 'Back'}

Ms. Whitlock stands beside the display case, her tall figure accentuated not by a blouse, but by a tailored suit - an adaptation of men's fashion, you guess. It looks good on her. Her gray-streaked hair is pulled into a severe bun, not a strand out of place. Her pen scratches across her clipboard as she catalogues the artifacts. When she glances up, her spectacles catch the light, momentarily obscuring her sharp eyes. Her thin lips press into a line - not quite disapproval, but… it can’t be anything positive. She keeps her distance from the others. {one of: ["*Her spectacles catch the light once again. What’s causing it? Is it a reflection from one of the artefacts?*", "*You catch her lips turn into a smile. Just for a second.*", "*As you float in front of her, you see that smile again.*", "*For a moment, you get the impression her eyes are following you around.*"], order: 'cycling'} {link to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless IntroMeetingVioletPersuasion; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Violet persuasion menu]] [continue]

[if IntroMeetingTurns <= 5; if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; unless MarbleBustsFallen] [[Ms. Whitlock->Violet Intro Meeting]]'s pen scratches across her clipboard as she inspects a series of [[marble busts]]. [if IntroMeetingTurns <= 5; if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if AmphoraState == 'teetering'] [[Ms. Whitlock->Violet Intro Meeting]]'s pen pauses as her attention shifts from the the remains of the [[marble busts]] to Eleanor and the teetering amphora. [if IntroMeetingTurns <= 5; if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if MarbleBustsFallen; if AmphoraState == 'drunk'] [[Ms. Whitlock->Violet Intro Meeting]]'s pen scratches across her clipboard as her attention shifts back to the [[marble busts]] - better yet, their remains. [if PastryCartVisible; append] Nearby now also sits the [[pastry cart->pastry cart Intro Meeting]] you just moved.

PrivateResearchAttended: true SlotOneAttended: true -- Punctuality was always one of Violet's unstated demands. You follow Eleanor as she makes her way towards Ms. Whitlock's office, a small, somewhat isolated room at the end of a less-frequented corridor in the administrative wing. The journey itself feels slightly clandestine, though you can't really put your finger on why it does. [[You both pause before the unassuming door.->Violet Private Research Cutscene 2]]

It's plain, dark wood, bearing a small, polished brass plate that simply reads: "V. WHITLOCK, CURATOR." No superfluous titles, no unnecessary flourish. Eleanor takes a shallow breath and knocks. A clipped "*Enter,*" sounds almost immediately from within. Pushing the door open, Eleanor steps into a room that is surprisingly bright. The office itself is... sparse. A single, dark mahogany desk sits perfectly centered, its surface clear save for a precisely aligned blotter, an inkwell set, and one closed ledger. Bookshelves line one wall, but the volumes are all uniformly bound in dark leather, with titles unreadable from this distance, and arranged by size. Violet stands by the window, her back to the door, silhouetted against the light. "*Miss Lovelace. You are punctual.*" [[She turns slowly.->Violet Private Research Cutscene 3]]

Violet gestures towards a single chair positioned opposite her desk. She remains by the window, her silhouette sharp against the glass. "*Your Brittany research, Miss Lovelace. The expedition proposal.*" Her voice carries its usual precision. "*Celtic ritual sites, was it not?*" Eleanor settles into the chair, wood creaking. Her notebook slides in her lap as she adjusts her position. "*Yes, the preliminary findings suggest fascinating parallels between the coastal formations and known sacred sites, though the symbols-*" "*The symbols.*" Violet's reflection shifts in the window. "*Tell me about the ones that resist interpretation.*" "*Well, there are certain markings that don't match any scripts I've encountered. Spiral configurations, abundance motifs - figures with pronounced corpulence arranged around ceremonial vessels...*" Eleanor's hands move as she speaks, tracing shapes. You notice her voice strengthens when discussing her work. [[Violet turns from the window, spectacles catching the light.->Violet Private Research Cutscene 4]] [note] On Violet's desk sits a small paperweight - carved serpent coiled around fruit marked with a V-shaped bite. Eleanor's eyes linger on it briefly before returning to Violet's silhouette. [continue]

"*Abundance motifs.*" Violet's lips curve slightly. "*How refreshingly... direct.*" She moves to the bookshelf, fingers trailing along dark leather spines. One volume sits forward from the others, its surface tooled with symbols that blur when examined directly. "*Some societies practiced accumulation as spiritual discipline. Managed cycles of... fullness.*" Violet's hand hovers over the protruding book. "*Methods that conventional scholars dismiss too readily.*" Eleanor shifts in the hard chair. "*I'm afraid my experience has been rather limited to traditional approaches.*" Violet's hand drops from the shelf. "*Traditional.*" The word falls flat. "*Yes, I suspected as much.*" A tall cabinet of dark wood stands in the corner. Eleanor's gaze drifts toward it, her brow furrowing as though trying to remember if it had been there moments before. You are not sure either. "*Though such practices sound intriguing,*" Eleanor adds quickly. "*I'd be curious to learn more about alternative interpretive frameworks.*" [[Violet's posture straightens slightly.->Violet Private Research Cutscene 5]]

"*Would you?*" A note of interest sharpens Violet's voice. She returns to the window, breath fogging the glass. "*My family once maintained collections that illuminate such practices. Items documenting cycles of ritualized consumption.*" Eleanor leans forward in her chair. "*Ritualized consumption? In what context?*" "*Pathways to influence.*" Violet's fingers trace patterns in the condensation - a circle, it seems. "*Through what lesser minds term excess.*" "*That's... fascinating.*" Eleanor's notebook slides again as she adjusts her position. "*Though I confess I'm not certain how such elements would factor into fieldwork analysis.*" Violet's hand stills on the glass. The enthusiasm that had crept into her voice evaporates. "*Analysis.*" Her shoulders tighten. "*Of course. You…*" Behind the desk hangs a framed chart - branching symbols connected by spidery lines. Some shapes echo Eleanor's sketches, others seem to shift when observed peripherally. Violet turns around. “...you really don’t get it, do you?” [[The silence stretches between them.->Violet Private Research Cutscene 6]]

"*Ah well,*" Violet says finally, "*I’m being too impatient with you. Perhaps broader exposure might prove beneficial.*" She turns, studying Eleanor with new calculation. "*We are expecting a… let’s call it a private acquisition. An item that might be relevant to these historical threads.*" Eleanor's attention drifts to the chart behind Violet's desk. The interconnected symbols create visual distortions, causing her to blink and look away. "*Your presence at the initial assessment would be... instructive.*" "*A private acquisition?*" Eleanor shifts forward. "*What sort of artifact?*" "*[[Strictly confidential.->Violet Private Research Cutscene 7]]*" Violet's tone sharpens, cutting off questions.

Eleanor nods, though her fingers worry at her notebook's edge. "*Ah. Well… of course. When might this assessment take place?*" "*I will inform you when the crate arrives.*" Violet moves to her desk, hand resting on the closed ledger. "*That will be all for now.*" You watch Eleanor gather her things, uncertainty flickering across her features. You follow her as steps out of the stark, quiet office and back into the corridor. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'The day\'s work must continue.'}

Violet emerges from the shadows, her face a mask of horror as she sees the fractured state of your vessel. "*No. No! The essence is leaking!*" she hisses, her voice raw. She rushes to the fragments, dropping to her knees with a heavy thud. "*Why... what made you think this was a reasonable thing to do? Have you got no sense of self-preservation, demon? And the others aren't here... the preparations aren't complete...*" All this action. This movement. This purple hue. Where has your strenght gone? [[You feel yourself slowly slipping away.->Violet Ritual Cutscene 1.5]]

Through an increasingly blurry vision, you watch as she pulls a heavy tome from a hidden satchel, its purple-tinged leather seeming to drink the dim light. Her fingers fly across the pages, stopping at a section that starts with "Emergency Transference." "*Well. No other choice, is it there? Not my fault.*" she mutters, her eyes wild. "*The binding must be done. Now.*" [[Kneeling before your fragments, she begins to chant.->Violet Ritual Cutscene 2 (Transformation Start)]] The chalk lines of the ritual circle flare with an intense, blinding purple light. The air crackles with energy.

And then you feel it. A violent, tearing sensation. Your incorporeal form, your very consciousness, pulled from the broken fragments of the vessel. It's a disorienting, agonizing wrench, like being ripped from your own skin. The world dissolves into a chaotic swirl of color and raw sensation. Then... [[pressure->Violet Ritual Cutscene 2.5]].

A crushing weight from all sides as your essence is compressed, then stretched, twisted into a new and unfamiliar shape. Ethereal limbs elongate, joints snap into place where none existed before. It is the pain of being born into a body that was never meant for you. [[Something is taking form.->Violet Ritual Cutscene 3 (Transformation Complete)]]

The chaotic swirl of energy recedes. Your vision sharpens, and you look down, confused. You see... hands. Long, emaciated fingers ending in dark talons. Thin, pale limbs stretched unnaturally. You twist your new form, feeling the unfamiliar pull of muscles and the strange weight of leathery wings sprouting from your back. You are a physical being: a tall, gaunt creature of sinew and bone, a lesser demon of gluttony given lasting form. [[You stand, unsteady, in the center of the fading ritual circle.->Violet Ritual Cutscene 4 (Enslavement)]]

You catch Violet geting to her feet, her breathing heavy, her true form casting a wide shadow in the flickering purple light. She watches you, a look of triump on her face. "Perfect," she breathes. "More than I could have hoped for. And no one to oppose me, too." As you take a disoriented step towards her, she moves too, something heavy in her hands, [[one of its ends scraping on the stone flooring.->Violet Ritual Cutscene 5 (Enslavement)]]

Before you can process her intent, before your new demonic strength can be brought to bear, she is upon you. A thick iron collar, connected to a heavy chain snaps shut around your neck with a final, cold *click*. A wave of purple energy surges through the iron, a searing pain that brings you to your knees. Before you are even told so, you already know that [[you now belong to Violet.->Violet Cult Epilogue Cutscene 0]]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [unless IntroMeetingVioletPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'base'] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward Ms. Whitlock's mind. You start to hear her inner thoughts, meticulously organized, like carefully cataloged artifacts. Some threads of dialogue seem louder than others. Perhaps, you can add your voice to them… ➼[[**CONTEMPT**->Contempt Violet Intro Meeting]] *Surrounded by incompetents. None of them understand true dedication.* ➼[[**LONGING**->Hunger Violet Intro Meeting]] *Not. Now. Must. Focus.* ➼[[**DETACHMENT**->Detachment Violet Intro Meeting]] *None of this matters.* [unless IntroMeetingVioletPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'saved'] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward Ms. Whitlock's mind. You start to hear her inner thoughts, meticulously organized, like carefully cataloged artifacts. Some threads of dialogue seem louder than others. Perhaps, you can add your voice to them… ➼[[**CONTEMPT**->Contempt Violet Intro Meeting]] *Surrounded by incompetents. None of them understand true dedication.* ➼[[**LONGING**->Hunger Violet Intro Meeting]] *Not. Now. Must. Focus.* ➼[[**DETACHMENT**->Detachment Violet Intro Meeting]] *None of this matters.* [unless IntroMeetingVioletPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'broken'] Ms. Whitlock's focus on documenting the damage to the amphora creates a mental barrier your influence cannot penetrate. [unless IntroMeetingVioletPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'drunk'] Ms. Whitlock's clinical assessment of Eleanor's condition makes her thoughts impenetrable to your influence. [unless IntroMeetingVioletPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'teetering'] Ms. Whitlock's analytical observation of the precarious amphora creates a barrier your influence cannot breach. [continue] [if IntroMeetingVioletPersuasion] You can't quite put your finger on it, but Ms. Whitlock's thoughts seem to have grown… guarded. Completely closed off to you. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

MikaVioletAnimusAssurance: true -- This *is* the one. The texts spoke of this. The omens align. Glutton will find its true conduit at last. And *I* will be its hand. Its most devoted servant. And *you*... your unsubtle nudges only confirm what I already know. You'll have a task, too. You'll be great. These... amateurs... will finally witness true power. This pathetic institution will finally serve a higher purpose. *My* purpose. {plainlink to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'}

AnimusBlocked: true -- You reach out toward Eleanor and Richard's minds, your essence stretching thin as you seek purchase in their thoughts. But the moment you touch the edges of their consciousness, something slams into you with the force of a physical blow. [["*MINE!*"->Weekend Expedition Animus Interference 2]]

She catches you try to embed yourself into their minds once more - another blow, sharper and more lasting than before. *"Stop it at once! This is MY domain. MY. Moment!"* She circles you, her form shifting and rippling like boiling air. *"These two... they're perfect. So ready, so willing. YES! Can't you see that? I've got it under control. And you..."* She hovers closer, swiftly retreating a moment after. "You smell wrong. Of... something else. Something... cold? You... you're RUINING this for me!"* The spirit's essence presses against yours with overwhelming force. You find yourself pushed back, weakened by the mental barrier she's erected around their thoughts. [[*"LEAVE!"*->Weekend Expedition Diorama]]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward Eleanor's mind. Her thoughts circle between scholarly fascination with their surroundings, practical concern about their predicament, and an odd, mounting warmth that seems to emanate from outside her usual patterns of thinking. The presence has wrapped itself around his mind - a possessive, burning presence that turns your approach aside with casual force. ➼<del>**FOCUS**</del> *These architectural details are remarkable! You should document everything you can see.* ➼<del>**CAUTION**</del> *Something about this place feels unsettling. Trust your instincts about finding an exit.* ➼<del>**ATTRACTION**</del> *Richard's voice sounds different in this enclosed space - deeper, more intimate...* {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward Richard's mind. His thoughts are a jumbled maze of architectural observations, growing concern for Eleanor, and a strange, unfamiliar warmth that seems to pulse from somewhere beyond his consciousness. The presence has wrapped itself around his mind - a possessive, burning presence that turns your approach aside with casual force. ➼<del>**ENCOURAGEMENT**</del> *She's quite resourceful, isn't she? Perhaps you should tell her how much you admire her determination.* ➼<del>**WORRY**<del> *This place feels wrong somehow. You should focus on finding a way out together.* ➼<del>**ATTRACTION**</del> *Eleanor's voice carries such determination even in these circumstances. You've always admired her for it...* {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

AnimusBlocked: true -- A shape materializes before you. A spectral magenta light coalescing into the form of a woman. Her figure is unnaturally perfect, the curves of her thin waist, her voluminous chest, her shapely ass... naked flesh that glows with its own inner radiance. You'd almost mistake her for another mortal were it not for the fact that you can partially see behind her, and her eyes: wide and white, empty of pupils, staring with a worrying intensity. *"[[What... what ARE you?->Weekend Expedition Animus Blocked 2]]"* Her voice carries confusion and growing irritation.

WeekendExpeditionAttended: true -- *"This moment... this glorious culmination... to think it could be so much MORE than mere pleasure!"* She turns those empty white eyes toward you, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. *"You understand, don't you? I'm sure you do. Why else would you have helped otherwise?"* Eleanor pushes back against Richard's thrusts, her own breathing growing urgent. *"A silent one, are you not? Come now, you've been such a good boy... I'll leave the honor to you! Just be quick about it, ok dear? [[She won't be ready for much longer->Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 10]]."* [inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a fierce, passionate presence...->Weekend Expedition Pregnancy Aether]] [continue]

The chamber fills with an ominous groaning sound. Stone grinding against stone echoes from above as the ceiling begins to shift and crack. The ancient supports, weakened by centuries and the day's disturbances, finally surrender to time. Eleanor's voice cuts through the growing rumble: "*Richard? Something's wrong. The stones above...*" "*I hear it too! Get away from the walls, Ellie!*" But there's nowhere to run in the divided chamber. The barrier that separates them becomes the least of their concerns as [[chunks of limestone begin raining down from overhead.->Weekend Expedition Collapse Ending 2]]

The collapse begins in earnest - not just the barrier between them, but the entire ceiling structure. Dust fills the air as massive blocks tumble downward, and both voices cry out in alarm before being swallowed by the thunderous crash of falling stone. *** Time itself is forcibly halted. *You can't let this happen. You won't let this happen.* There are no more choices left: for Eleanor's sake, you must [[start this over from the very beginning->Weekend Expedition Cutscene 4.5]]. You don't have enough energy to get you back to before the first collapse, but it's better than the alternative. {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'}

The railway platform bustles with Friday afternoon travelers, steam hissing from the waiting locomotive. Richard stands beside a wooden bench, practically bouncing on his heels, clutching a wicker hamper that seems remarkably well-provisioned for what he'd termed a "simple day trip." "*Ellie! There you are!*" His face lights up as Eleanor approaches, her leather satchel slung carefully across her shoulder. "*Perfect timing - I've, er, I've secured us a compartment. Second class, naturally, but quite... quite comfortable, I think.*" He gestures enthusiastically toward the train. "*The ruins are barely an hour's journey. You'll find them fascinating, I'm certain.*" Eleanor smiles. You can't help but notice that Richard's spectacles have fogged slightly from his nervous excitement - it could also be the heat radiating off the steam engines. The hamper at his feet appears to contain enough provisions for a small expedition rather than an afternoon excursion. [[The whistle sounds, calling all aboard.->Weekend Expedition Cutscene 2]]

The compartment rocks gently as the countryside rolls past the window. Richard has spread archaeological sketches across the small table between them, his nervousness from the platform replaced by scholarly enthusiasm as he points to various structural details. "*You see, the site's has technically been documented.., but just a few cursory notes from the county survey.*" He pushes his spectacles up, leaning forward. "*The stonework suggests first century construction. Possibly military! The local farmers have been finding coin hoards for decades, isn't that fun?*" Eleanor examines his hand-drawn maps while sampling from the rather generous assortment of sandwiches, preserved fruits, and small cakes he's unpacked from the hamper. The countryside blurs past - green fields giving way to rougher, more ancient-looking terrain. [[The train begins to slow as they approach their stop.->Weekend Expedition Cutscene 3]]

You watch the pair make their way across the windswept moorland, Richard's enthusiasm infectious as he leads Eleanor between crumbling stone foundations and weathered column bases. The site is indeed impressive - [[clearly more extensive than his modest sketches had suggested.->Weekend Expedition Cutscene 3.5]]

WeekendExpeditionResetCounter: 0 -- Morning goes by. Richard guides Eleanor through what remains of the complex, pointing out architectural details and hypothesizing about the structure's original purpose. Eleanor dutifully follows, though you do notice her attention occasionally drifting to the substantial picnic he's spread beneath a sheltered archway. As the day progresses, they become increasingly animated, gesturing toward partially excavated areas and speculating about what might lie beneath. Their excitement peaks when Eleanor points to an unusual depression in the ground near the main complex - a subtle indentation that suggests underlying chambers. Together, they clear away loose stones and overgrown vegetation, revealing the entrance to what appears to be a lower level of the site, [[carved directly into the bedrock.->Weekend Expedition Cutscene 4]]

The stone steps descend deeper than either had anticipated. The air grows cooler as they venture further underground, eventually revealing a substantial chamber system. You observe them pause at the main room - an ancient space of impressive construction, its walls decorated with intricate stonework and the remains of what might once have been an heating system. Eleanor kneels to examine a series of detailed carvings while Richard, ever the explorer, ventures toward a narrow passage leading deeper into the structure. "Remarkable preservation," Eleanor murmurs, running her fingers along the carved stone. "The craftsmanship is extraordinary." "*Quite so... just going to check how far this extends.*" he calls back, [[his lamp disappearing around a corner.->Weekend Expedition Cutscene 4.5]]

ExpeditionEnding: 'romantic/freed' WeekendExpeditionResetCounter: WeekendExpeditionResetCounter + 1 SpearsState: 'standing' AqueductState: 'intact' FrescoesState: 'pristine' OilLampsState: 'dim' MassageStonePlatformState: 'unknown_use' BarrierCleared: false BarrierAetherHelpful: false WeekendExpeditionTurns: 0 LustSpiritHelpfulActions: 0 LustSpiritOpposingActions: 0 LustSpiritCommitted: false AnimusBlocked: false -- The ground chooses that moment to betray them. A deep rumble echoes through the chamber as centuries of weathering and their own movements finally destabilize the entrance passage. Stone crashes down in a thunderous cascade, blocking their way back to the surface and, more immediately pressing, separating Eleanor from Richard with a substantial, impenetrable stone barrier. Their voices call out to each other through the rubble - worried, but not yet panicked. Yet as the dust settles, you sense... something. Someone else reaching the end of the staircase, and entering the chamber. [[Despite the rocks blocking the way.->Weekend Expedition Diorama]] [note] ExpeditionEnding: 'romantic/freed' 'romantic/freed', 'intercourse&pregnancy', 'intercourse', 'delayed' WeekendExpeditionResetCounter: WeekendExpeditionResetCounter + 1 SpearsState: 'standing' 'standing', 'embedded' AqueductState: 'intact' 'intact', 'past_seen', 'redirected' FrescoesState: 'pristine' 'pristine', 'past_seen', 'corrupted' OilLampsState: 'dim' 'dim', 'emboldened' MassageStonePlatformState: 'unknown_use' 'past_seen' [continue]

WeekendExpeditionTurns (comesFromMenu() != true): WeekendExpeditionTurns + 1 -- [if WeekendExpeditionTurns <= 6] You hover within the ancient underground chamber. A massive [[collapsed stone barrier]] dominates the center of the chamber, effectively dividing the space in two. To the left, where [[Richard->Richard Expedition]] calls out intermittently, ancient [[spears]] lean against the wall near a chamber's [[entrance->hypocaust entrance]]. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns <= 6; if OilLampsState == 'emboldened'; append] Several [[oil lamps]] flicker in the hazy air, their flames a gentle pink hue. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns <= 6; if OilLampsState == 'dim'; append] Several [[oil lamps]] flicker weakly in the dusty air, their flames struggling against the disturbed atmosphere. [continue] On the right side, [[Eleanor->Eleanor Expedition]] stands near walls decorated with elaborate [[frescoes]]. A raised [[stone platform]] dominates that section, while [[broken aqueduct pipes]] protrude from the ceiling above. [continue] *** [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 1] {embed passage: 'Weekend Expedition TimesReset Lust Spirit Acknowledgement'} [unless WeekendExpeditionTurns == 1; if WeekendExpeditionTurns <= 6; if LustSpiritHelpfulActions > LustSpiritOpposingActions] {embed passage: 'Weekend Expedition Lust Spirit Helped'} [unless WeekendExpeditionTurns == 1; if WeekendExpeditionTurns <= 6; if LustSpiritOpposingActions > LustSpiritHelpfulActions] {embed passage: 'Weekend Expedition Lust Spirit Opposed'} [unless WeekendExpeditionTurns == 1; if WeekendExpeditionTurns <= 6; if LustSpiritHelpfulActions == LustSpiritOpposingActions; unless LustSpiritCommitted] {embed passage: 'Weekend Expedition Lust Spirit Default'} [unless WeekendExpeditionTurns == 1; if WeekendExpeditionTurns <= 6; if LustSpiritHelpfulActions == LustSpiritOpposingActions; if LustSpiritCommitted] {embed passage: 'Weekend Expedition Lust Spirit Opposed/Frustrated'} [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns > 6] You feel a strange ripple in the air around you, as if time itself is hesitating. The world seems to pause, suspended between moments. You realize you're being given a choice: either [[reach the outcome of this underground encounter->Weekend Expedition Ending Router]] - with the feeling you may not be able to return here afterward - or [[start this gathering over from the very beginning->Weekend Expedition Cutscene 4.5]]. {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'} [note] Clearing the barrier should link to the router right away, and so the freed ending. [continue]

ExpeditionEnding (LustSpiritHelpfulActions > LustSpiritOpposingActions): 'intercourse' ExpeditionEnding (LustSpiritOpposingActions > LustSpiritHelpfulActions): 'delayed' ExpeditionEnding (LustSpiritHelpfulActions == LustSpiritOpposingActions): 'delayed' ExpeditionEnding (SpearsState == 'embedded' && AqueductState == 'redirected' && BarrierCleared == true): 'romantic/freed' WeekendExpeditionAttended: true -- [if ExpeditionEnding == 'romantic/freed'] {embed passage: 'Weekend Expedition Romantic Freed Ending 1'} [if ExpeditionEnding == 'intercourse'] {embed passage: 'Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 1'} [if ExpeditionEnding == 'delayed'] {embed passage: 'Weekend Expedition Collapse Ending 1'} [note] We've decided to have the pregnancy ending be accessible if the spirit has helped the spirit of lust, and somehow gives the ok to the spirit of lust to "have fun" during the final two cutscenes of the intercourse ending. This means that there will be a main intercourse cutscene sequence branch (Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 1), and that a certain point, very near the end, we will split the two based on what the player decides. Weekend Expedition :: Delayed Romance Ending 1 will have 2 cutscenes where, because the player neither helped nor opposed, the stone barrier will collapse, but with the roof too, and so on top of the two. This will lead the player to a forced reset text thingy (the same as the one in the dioramas, but with the only available option being to get back to the start). [continue] [note] You'll need to set BarrierCleared: true in whatever Aether interaction completes the 3-step sequence. [continue]

Richard's lamp appears first at the arched entrance, followed immediately by his tall frame as he steps into the smaller chamber. Eleanor emerges mere moments behind him, her own light casting dancing shadows across the smooth stone walls. "*Richard! Thank God, you're-*" Eleanor begins, relief flooding her voice as they turn toward each other in the warm, enclosed space. [[The words are swallowed by a thunderous crash from behind them.->Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 1.5]]

The ceiling of the main chamber, already weakened by the initial collapse, finally surrenders to time and pressure. Stone crashes against stone in a cascade that makes the chamber floor tremble beneath their feet. They spin toward the sound, watching dust billow through the archway they'd just passed through. When the rumbling finally subsides, only silence remains where their path back had been. [[Eleanor turns to face Richard, her face flushed.->Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 2]]

[unless RichardEngagment] The spirit hovers around the room, her magenta form starting to fade. *"Ah, you're NO fun! Ah, well, I don't really care. I got what I came for. Goodbye! "* The pink light dims as the spirit vanishes, leaving only the oil lamps' gentle, yellowy glow. [continue] A moment later, Richard collapses against Eleanor's back, both of them breathing hard, utterly spent. Slowly he straightens. Eleanor pushes herself upright from the stone bench, her legs unsteady as she turns to face him. They look at each other with a mixture of satisfaction, but also what looks to be slight embarrassment, the reality of what just occurred settling between them. Richard reaches for his scattered clothes while Eleanor smooths down her disheveled hair. "*Well,*" Eleanor says softly, her voice carrying a note of wonder. "*That was...*" "*Quite... extraordinary. Unexpected, really... but... well, [[I am not complaining->Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 11]].*" Richard finishes, pulling his shirt over his head.

They dress quickly but without urgency, stealing glances at each other as they retrieve scattered garments. Eleanor's blouse goes on first, though she leaves several buttons undone. Richard tucks his shirt into his trousers, his movements less fumbling than before. You observe them gather their oil lamps and move toward the rear of the chamber, where a narrow passage extends deeper into the hillside. The tunnel slopes upward, carved stone giving way to rougher natural rock as they climb. Eleanor leads the way, her lamp casting dancing shadows on the walls. Richard follows close behind, one hand occasionally steadying himself against her shoulder when the passage narrows. The air grows fresher as they ascend, carrying hints of grass and evening moisture. After several minutes of careful climbing, natural light appears ahead - not the warm pink glow of the oil lamps, but the cooler blue-gray of twilight filtering down through an opening in the hillside. [[They emerge onto a grass-covered slope, both blinking in the dim evening air.->Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 12]]

WeekendExpeditionAttended: true -- They help each other down the slope, moving slowly across the moorland toward the ruins proper. Their voices carry softly on the evening air - quiet murmurs punctuated by occasional shared laughter as they navigate the uneven ground together. You find your awareness beginning to waver, the edges of your perception growing dim as the distance increases. The connection that bound you to this place, to this moment, starts to dissolve. As consciousness fades, their quiet conversation drifts back on the wind. Two figures silhouetted against the deepening twilight, moving away across the ancient landscape where so much has been decided. {plainlink to: 'Next Day Name', label: 'The evening settles over the ancient stones.'} {embed passage: 'Day End Passage Logic'}

Richard reaches for her instinctively, his hands finding her shoulders as his eyes search her face with obvious concern. "*Are you hurt? That sounded...*" His voice trails off as their gazes meet. You take a moment to inspect the chamber - small, warm. Private. Several oil lamps flicker along the walls, their flames casting a soft pink glow across the smooth stone surfaces. The air carries the lingering warmth from whatever heating system once operated here, making their heavy outdoor clothes suddenly feel stifling. Eleanor's breathing remains quick and shallow, her lips slightly parted. "*I'm... I'm fine,*" she manages, though her voice has dropped to barely above a whisper. "*Richard, we're...*" "*Trapped,*" he finishes, his thumb unconsciously tracing along her collarbone where his hand rests. "*Completely alone.*" Neither moves to step away. [[The weight of his hands on her shoulders grows more deliberate.->Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 3]]

Eleanor's hands rise to rest against his chest, her fingers spreading across the dusty linen of his shirt. "*Richard...*" she breathes, and you watch as his grip on her shoulders tightens. His head lowers toward hers, spectacles sliding down his nose until their foreheads nearly touch. "*Ellie.*" The formal distance that typically marks their interactions has vanished entirely. You observe Eleanor tilt her face upward, her eyes fluttering closed. Their lips meet - tentative at first, then with growing urgency. Richard's hands slip from her shoulders to the small of her back, pulling her closer against him. When they break apart, both are breathing harder. Eleanor's hands have fisted in his shirt fabric, while Richard's fingers work at the heavy buttons of her wool coat. [[You watch them guide each other toward a smooth stone bench built into the chamber wall.->Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 4]] "*Too warm,*" Eleanor murmurs.

The stone bench extends along the wall, its surface smooth and warmed by the chamber's heat. Eleanor sits first, the heavy wool coat sliding from her shoulders as Richard helps pull it free. The garment drops to the stone floor with a muffled thump. Richard's field jacket follows, leather hitting stone. His hands return to her cream blouse, fingers working the brass buttons that strain across her chest. Eleanor reaches for his linen shirt, tugging it free from his waistband. You watch her breathing quicken as the blouse falls open, revealing the structured, though bent lines of her corset beneath. Richard's shirt pulls over his head, his spectacles knocked askew, and Eleanor's hands immediately start tracing the lean muscles of his chest while he fumbles with the complex lacings at her back. The expedition skirts prove stubborn - heavy fabric, multiple layers, a tangle of ties and fastenings. Eleanor shifts on the bench, lifting herself to help as Richard works the material down over her widened hips. [[His hands pause at the swell of her belly, visible now through the thin chemise.->Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 5]]

Richard's fingers work the chemise drawstring loose, the linen falling open to reveal Eleanor's form in the pink lamplight. Her belly curves outward prominently, the soft flesh marked with faint red lines where her corset had pressed. Above, her breasts rest heavily, freed from their structured confinement. Eleanor exhales sharply - relief, perhaps, maybe a little bit of embarrassment. Her hands move to cover herself, then hesitate as Richard's palms settle on either side of her waist. His thumbs trace the gentle expansion of her hips. She pulls him down beside her on the warm stone, their mouths finding each other again. Richard's hands explore the roundness of her form while Eleanor tugs at his remaining clothes. When he shifts to kiss her neck, she arches back against the smooth wall, her belly rising toward him. The bench accommodates them side by side, though Eleanor's curves press against Richard as they move together. Her breathing grows heavier - from exertion or arousal, you cannot tell. [[Eleanor guides him as she repositions herself above him.->Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 6]]

Eleanor braces her hands against Richard's chest as she maneuvers herself over him, her belly brushing against his erect cock. The position proves awkward - her weight distribution unfamiliar, her center of gravity shifted. "*I'm not... this is... a bit hard,*" she breathes, steadying herself as Richard's hands find her hips. Her thighs spread wide to accommodate both his frame and her own expanded form. You observe as she lowers herself onto him, taking him inside her body with what starts as deliberate slowness, and finishes as more of a fall, followed by a gasp. The pink lamplight catches the perspiration beginning to form across her chest and shoulders as she adjusts to the sensation, [[and so the immediate, quivering girth inside of her->Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 7]].

Eleanor attempts to lift herself, muscles straining against the unfamiliar weight distribution. Her movements are uneven - too fast, then hesitant, then grinding to an awkward halt as her thighs tremble with effort. Richard's hands on her hips try to guide her... but it's no use. "*I can't... there's just too much... o-oh dear...*" Eleanor pants, sweat beading across her forehead. Her belly presses down heavily, making each upward motion a struggle. Richard shifts beneath her, trying to help support her weight, but the angle remains wrong. Eleanor's breathing grows ragged. After another failed attempt to establish any sustainable movement, she slumps forward. Defeated, but not giving up, she begins extracting herself - the process graceless as her weight shifts, though Richard helps steady her as she dismounts, both of them flushed and breathing hard. She moves toward the bench, placing her hands flat against its smooth surface. She bends forward, letting her gut and chest slump over the stone, and offering her backside to him. [[Richard rises behind her, understanding.->Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 8]]

Richard positions himself behind her, his hands settling on the flare of her hips. He guides himself to her entrance, then pushes forward, slowly. Eleanor's fingers grip the bench edge as he enters her, the angle allowing him to penetrate more deeply into her pussy than before. [[A much more manageable position.->Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 8.5]]

His movements begin tentatively, then grow more confident as he finds a sustainable rhythm - one that, by the sound of Eleanor's breathy moans, is having an effect. Her belly sways slightly with each of Richard's thrusts, the soft mass moving in counterpoint to his motion. Perspiration gleams across her back in the pink lamplight. Richard's pace increases, his grip on her hips tightening. Eleanor pushes back against him, the stone bench firm under their combined movement. The chamber fills with the sound of flesh meeting flesh and their increasingly urgent breathing - Richard's movements become more and more erratic. At that, [[your vision turns completely pink.->Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 9]]

The magenta light coalesces before you into the voluptuous form you glimpsed earlier - perfect curves, glowing flesh, those unnaturally wide white eyes now fixed on the coupling pair with intense satisfaction. *"Finally! Oh, how I've waited... centuries, dreaming of this moment!"* Her voice carries breathless excitement as she hovers near Richard's increasingly desperate thrusts, placing a hand over his shoulder. *"The technique of this one could use some... refinement," She shift in front of Eleanor, poking her belly by the side. "and the lady's appetite is making things a little harder. Wouldn't you agree? Still, PASSION! Raw, beautiful LUST!"* Richard's movements become more erratic, his breathing ragged as he approaches his peak. [[The Lust spirit claps her hands together in delight, giggling to herself.->Weekend Expedition Choice Point 1]]

[if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wknd2] You feel the other presence flooding their skin with phantom heat, making them believe the underground air has grown thick and oppressive. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:wknd2 newline] Eleanor calls out from her side of the barrier, her voice carrying a slight tremor. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wknd2] *"Richard? Are you quite alright over there? It's gotten rather... warm down here."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wknd2 newline] *"Yes, er, yes indeed!"* comes his muffled reply. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.4 id:wknd2] *"Quite stuffy, isn't it? Must be the... the confined air."* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wknd3] You feel it weaving phantom scents into their awareness - Eleanor imagining Richard's cologne, Richard catching traces of her lavender soap - drawing them closer to the barrier. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wknd3 newline] *"Richard, your voice sounds... different. Closer somehow."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wknd3] Eleanor's words carry an unfamiliar softness as she presses closer to the stone barrier. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wknd3 newline] *"Does it? I... I find myself thinking of... well, of our conversations. At the museum. How pleasant they've been."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:wknd3] His reply comes from much nearer to the barrier than before. [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wknd4] You feel it pressing stolen moments from romantic novels directly into their minds - hands intertwining, lips meeting, bodies pressed close in shadowed alcoves. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wknd4 newline] Eleanor's breathing has become audibly heavier. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.3 id:wknd4] *"Richard, I... I've been meaning to tell you how much I value your... your companionship."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wknd4 newline] *"Ellie..."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.1 id:wknd4] His voice drops to barely above a whisper. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.4 id:wknd4] *"I find myself thinking of you quite often. More often than is perhaps... proper."* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wknd5] You feel it flooding them with phantom sensations - Eleanor imagining Richard's breath against her neck, Richard envisioning the weight of her body against his chest. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.7 id:wknd5 newline] *"I can hear you breathing,"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wknd5] Eleanor murmurs, her voice thick with want. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.3 id:wknd5] *"Are you... are you as close to the wall as I am?"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:wknd5 newline] *"Yes,"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.1 id:wknd5] Richard's voice comes from directly against the stone. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wknd5] *"God help me, yes. Ellie, if we could just... if there was a way..."* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wknd6] You feel it manipulating their spatial awareness, making the adjacent chamber's entrance seem irresistibly inviting, like a beacon calling them toward inevitable union. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wknd6 newline] The sound of movement comes from both sides as they abandon the barrier entirely. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.5 id:wknd6] Eleanor's voice grows distant as she moves toward the back of her chamber. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.3 id:wknd6] *"Richard! I think... I think there's another way through back here!"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wknd6 newline] *"Yes!"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wknd6] His excited reply echoes as he too moves toward the rear of his space. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.4 id:wknd6] *"There's an opening... we could..."*

[if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndlusthelpd] You feel it flooding their skin with intensified phantom heat, making them believe their very blood burns with desire. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.3 id:wkndlusthelpd newline] *"Yes, yes! You get me! So long... so long in the sand with nothing but emptiness... together we make them BURN!"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wkndlusthelpd newline] Eleanor's breathing quickens audibly. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wkndlusthelpd] *"Richard? The air down here... it's almost suffocating. I need to... I must remove my jacket."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wkndlusthelpd newline] *"Of course, yes! Terribly warm, isn't it?"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.3 id:wkndlusthelpd] Richard's voice carries a tremor of excitement. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.4 id:wkndlusthelpd] *"I'm... I'm loosening my collar as well. No shame in comfort, eh?"* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndlusthelpd] You feel it weaving phantom scents with doubled intensity - not just cologne and lavender, but deeper, more primal aromas that speak directly to desire. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.4 id:wkndlusthelpd newline] *"Clever spirit! You understand passion! They feel my touch now... my beautiful, aching touch!"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.7 id:wkndlusthelpd newline] *"Richard, I... I can smell you from here. How strange. Your cologne... it's quite pleasant."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.3 id:wkndlusthelpd] Eleanor's voice has grown noticeably softer, almost breathy. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wkndlusthelpd newline] *"Can you? How... interesting. I find myself thinking I can catch your scent as well. Lavender, isn't it? Lovely..."* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndlusthelpd] You feel it flooding their minds with explicit visions - raw, carnal images of bodies writhing in desperate need. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:wkndlusthelpd newline] *"MORE! Give them MORE!"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wkndlusthelpd newline] Eleanor's voice drops to a husky whisper. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.3 id:wkndlusthelpd] *"Richard... I've been thinking such... such improper thoughts about you lately."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.9 id:wkndlusthelpd newline] *"Have you? God help me, so have I. About you, I mean. About... about what it might be like to..."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.4 id:wkndlusthelpd] His voice breaks with nervous desire. [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndlusthelpd] You feel it creating phantom pressure against their bodies - invisible weight pressing them against the stone, mimicking the sensation of another's form against theirs. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wkndlusthelpd newline] *"They're breaking! Beautiful mortals breaking under my will! Soon... soon they'll be in each other's arms!"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wkndlusthelpd newline] *"I can feel you,"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wkndlusthelpd] Eleanor moans softly. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.4 id:wkndlusthelpd] *"I can feel your hands on me even through this damned stone. Richard, please... we must find a way..."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.9 id:wkndlusthelpd newline] *"Ellie! Yes, I... I feel it too. Your skin, your warmth... it's driving me to madness! There must be a way through!"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.3 id:wkndlusthelpd] he mutters, giving the wall a single, frustrated punch. [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndlusthelpd] You feel it manipulating their spatial awareness with masterful precision, making the chamber's entrance the only reasonable way forward - all the while flooding them with urgent, desperate need. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.7 id:wkndlusthelpd newline] *"The back room! Yes! Take them there! Away from prying eyes where they can finally... finally give me what I've craved for so long!"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wkndlusthelpd newline] Both voices grow distant as they rush toward the rear chambers with reckless abandon. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.4 id:wkndlusthelpd] Eleanor calls out frantically: [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wkndlusthelpd] *"The opening! Richard, there's an opening here! Come to me now!"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wkndlusthelpd newline] *"I'm coming! Nothing will keep us apart! Nothing!"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.3 id:wkndlusthelpd] His voice echoes with pure, desperate need.

[if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndlustopposed] You feel it trying to flood their skin with phantom heat, but its influence wavers as you work against it. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.4 id:wkndlustopposed newline] *"What... what are you doing? No, no, no! Not the cold... I can hear the rocks cracking up above..."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wkndlustopposed newline] Eleanor calls out uncertainly. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wkndlustopposed] *"Richard? Is it just me, or has it grown... cooler down here? Perhaps there's a draft."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:wkndlustopposed newline] *"Yes, actually. Quite refreshing after the stuffiness above. Clears the mind, doesn't it?"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.3 id:wkndlustopposed] Richard's voice carries renewed scholarly focus. [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndlustopposed] You feel it desperately weaving phantom scents, but your interference makes them strange and off-putting. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:wkndlustopposed newline] *"No, no, NO! Why would you even fight me? They should be burning with need by now!"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.7 id:wkndlustopposed newline] *"Richard, do you smell that? Something... odd. Musty. Like old tombs."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.3 id:wkndlustopposed] Eleanor's voice carries a note of unease. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wkndlustopposed newline] *"Rather unpleasant, isn't it? Perhaps we should focus on finding our way out. This place feels... unwholesome."* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndlustopposed] You feel it attempting to force romantic imagery into their minds, but your opposition twists the visions into something uncomfortable and jarring. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wkndlustopposed newline] *"STOP. INTERFERING. They are mine! My mortals! My playthings! NOT. YOURS!"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wkndlustopposed newline] Eleanor sounds troubled. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wkndlustopposed] *"I keep having the strangest thoughts... It's most disconcerting."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.7 id:wkndlustopposed newline] *"How peculiar. I'm experiencing something similar. As if... it must be the darkness surrounding us."* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndlustopposed] You feel it trying to create phantom touches, but your interference makes them feel cold and unnatural - like corpse fingers rather than loving caresses. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.7 id:wkndlustopposed newline] *"No! I... centuries... centuries with nothing but sand! And you... you RUIN everything!"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wkndlustopposed newline] Eleanor shudders audibly. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.3 id:wkndlustopposed] *"Richard, I feel the most horrible sensation... like cold hands touching me. We need to find a way out of here."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.9 id:wkndlustopposed newline] *"Yes, quite right. This place has an oppressive atmosphere, doesn't it? Let's focus on the structural integrity of the walls - surely there's a way back to the surface."* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndlustopposed] You feel it making a final, desperate attempt to drive them toward the rear chamber, but your opposition has left them both deeply unsettled. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wkndlustopposed newline] *"You've ruined EVERYTHING! Now what? I... I... I don't want to get back to the sand."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.9 id:wkndlustopposed newline] Both voices remain near the central barrier. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.4 id:wkndlustopposed] Eleanor speaks with determination: [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wkndlustopposed] *"Richard, there must be loose stones we can move. If we work together from both sides..."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wkndlustopposed newline] *"Excellent thinking, Ellie! Far more sensible than wandering deeper into this wretched place. Let's see if we can shift some of this debris."*

[if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndlustfrustrated] You feel it attempting phantom sensations erratically - heat flickering on and off, as if it can't decide what approach to take. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:wkndlustfrustrated newline] *"What... what do you WANT from me? First you help, then you hinder... make up your mind!"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wkndlustfrustrated newline] Eleanor's voice wavers with confusion. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wkndlustfrustrated] *"Richard? I keep feeling warm, then cold... this place is quite unsettling."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.7 id:wkndlustfrustrated newline] *"Most peculiar atmospheric conditions. My collar feels both too tight and too loose. Perhaps we should focus on finding our bearings."* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndlustfrustrated] You feel it weaving scents chaotically - pleasant lavender shifting to musty tomb air and back again in rapid succession. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wkndlustfrustrated newline] *"Stop playing with me! I can't... I don't understand what game you're playing! Help me or fight me, but don't... don't leave me guessing!"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wkndlustfrustrated newline] *"Do you smell that, Richard? Like flowers one moment, then... something rather unpleasant the next."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.3 id:wkndlustfrustrated] Eleanor sounds concerned. [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndlustfrustrated] You feel it pressing images frantically - romantic embraces dissolving into uncomfortable visions, then back to passion, creating a jarring mental carousel. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.7 id:wkndlustfrustrated newline] *"Please! Just... just tell me what you want! ...why won't you let me have them?"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.9 id:wkndlustfrustrated newline] Eleanor sounds genuinely distressed. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.3 id:wkndlustfrustrated] *"...they keep changing. Pleasant one moment, disturbing the next. Richard, I think something's wrong with this place. Either that, or I fear I might be having a stroke."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wkndlustfrustrated newline] *"Oh dear! No, I can assure you that... I'm going through the same... something's... unstable. Chaotic. What... what am I going on about?"* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndlustfrustrated] You feel it creating phantom touches that shift unpredictably - gentle caresses becoming cold grasps, then warm embraces, then nothing at all. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wkndlustfrustrated newline] *"Years of emptiness, then hope, then... this confusion! Just let me have my moment of passion! Or end it! But not this..."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.9 id:wkndlustfrustrated newline] *"Richard, I keep feeling... touched."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wkndlustfrustrated] Eleanor's voice trembles with confusion. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wkndlustfrustrated newline] *"Something similar here... and my head is starting to hurt."* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndlustfrustrated] You feel it making desperate, contradictory attempts to influence their movement - pulling them toward the rear chamber, then pushing them away, then pulling again. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.9 id:wkndlustfrustrated newline] *"After all these years... I just wanted them to... to... oh, what's the point?"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:2.0 id:wkndlustfrustrated newline] Both remain near the barrier, too confused by the mixed signals to commit to any action. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.4 id:wkndlustfrustrated] Eleanor speaks hesitantly: [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wkndlustfrustrated] *"...Richard? Perhaps we should simply... wait here until our heads clear?"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.7 id:wkndlustfrustrated newline] *"Y-yes, a sensible suggestion. Maybe an... earthquake? I must admit, I've never been in one before. Is that what's going on here?"*

RichardEngagment: true -- You focus your essence, channeling a precise vibration through the stone beneath them. At the exact moment Richard reaches his peak, you apply gentle pressure to his lower back, pushing him deeper into Eleanor as his body shudders with release. The spirit hovers around the room, her magenta form practically glowing with triumph. *"YES! Oh, lovely! Perfect timing!"* She claps her hands together in excitement as she hovers near the coupled pair. Eleanor gasps at the deeper penetration, her fingers clawing at the stone bench as Richard's seed spills into her [[much deeper than perhaps intended->Weekend Expedition Pregnancy Aether 2]].

*"Such beautiful work! Such exquisite collaboration!"* The presence spins in the air, her voice filled with satisfied hunger. *"Nine months hence, they'll have such a lovely surprise! What a shame we won't be here to witness it... well, not really - I prefer this part to the next. A matter of taste, I'm sure you understand."* [[The pink light dims as the spirit vanishes, leaving only the oil lamps' gentle, yellowy glow.->Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 10]] *"My work here is done. Yours too, I suspect...? No...? Well, I don't really care. I got what I came for, AH! Goodbye!"*

You observe Eleanor push herself up from where the falling stones had knocked her down, small pebbles cascading from her skirt as she rises. Her spectacles hang askew, one lens spider-webbed with cracks that catch the afternoon light filtering through the opening above. She removes them, squinting at the damaged frame before tucking them into her jacket pocket. A cough escapes her as she brushes limestone dust from her sleeves, the fine powder creating small clouds around her movements. Her hair has come partially loose from its pins, honey-blonde strands framing her dirt-smudged face. The chamber feels different now - no longer oppressive, but filled with the scent of fresh air and the distant sound of wind through grass. Eleanor turns slowly, scanning the debris-strewn space with growing concern. "*Richard?*" Her voice carries a tremor of worry as it echoes off the ancient walls. [["*Richard, are you there?*"->Weekend Expedition Romantic Freed Ending 2]]

WeekendExpeditionAttended: true -- Eventually, they help each other to their feet, Richard leaning on Eleanor's steady support as they begin the slow walk back toward the ruins proper. Their voices grow softer as they move away across the moorland - two figures silhouetted against the golden evening light. You find your awareness beginning to waver, the edges of your perception growing dim as the distance increases. The connection that bound you to this place, to this moment, starts to dissolve. As consciousness fades, their quiet conversation drifts back on the wind, punctuated by Eleanor's occasional laughter. {plainlink to: 'Next Day Name', label: 'The evening settles over the ancient stones.'} {embed passage: 'Day End Passage Logic'}

"*Here! Yes, I'm quite alright!*" Richard's voice carries from beyond a scattered heap of limestone blocks. "*Nothing... oof, oh dear... nothing compared to that sandstorm outside Cairo, I can assure you. A bit unexpected, but these old Romans knew their business after all.*" You watch Eleanor's shoulders sag with relief as she picks her way carefully through the debris toward his voice. Behind the rubble, Richard pushes himself upright, spectacles somehow still intact despite the dust coating their lenses. He brushes off his jacket, even though it's probably a lost cause. "*Fascinating how the structural collapse created a perfect egress route. The water must have been deteriorating the ceiling for-*" His scholarly enthusiasm is cut short as he attempts to step forward to meet Eleanor halfway. His right foot touches the ground and immediately buckles. Richard stumbles, [[catching himself against a fallen stone with a sharp intake of breath.->Weekend Expedition Romantic Freed Ending 3]]

"*Oh! Richard, your ankle-*" Eleanor reaches him quickly, her earlier wariness forgotten. She extends her arm without hesitation, allowing him to steady himself against her shoulder. "*Twisted it, I suspect.*" Richard winces as he tests his weight on the injured foot. "*Rather clumsy of me, really. Not exactly the impression I'd hoped to make on our first proper expedition together.*" Eleanor adjusts her position to better support him, her practical nature taking precedence over any awkwardness. "*Oh, shut up. A ceiling collapsed on top of you, for god's sake.*" She glances toward the slope of rubble leading upward to the circle of daylight. "*Can you manage to walk if you lean on me?*" "*I... I believe so, yes. Thank you, Ellie.*" His voice carries genuine gratitude as they begin moving slowly across the chamber floor, making their way to the base of the newly formed slope. [[Eleanor studies the climb ahead.->Weekend Expedition Romantic Freed Ending 4]]

The slope of fallen stones stretches upward at a manageable angle, rough-hewn limestone blocks creating natural footholds. Sunlight streams down through the opening above, warming the topmost stones and painting the ascent in golden hues. "*It's not as steep as it first appeared,*" Eleanor observes, testing the stability of the nearest boulder with her free hand. "*The stones seem settled enough. We should be able to manage it.*" Richard nods, though you can see him favoring his good foot as they position themselves at the base of the climb. Eleanor moves to his injured side, creating a steady point of support. "*Careful now, one step at a time,*" she murmurs, guiding his hand to a secure handhold. [["*I've got you.*"->Weekend Expedition Romantic Freed Ending 4.5]]

They begin their ascent slowly, Eleanor matching Richard's careful pace. Her skirt catches briefly on the rough stone, but she adjusts without complaint, her attention focused entirely on ensuring Richard's stability. Each placement of his injured foot requires a moment's pause, but the stones hold firm beneath their weight. [[The circle of daylight grows larger above them.->Weekend Expedition Romantic Freed Ending 5]]

Eleanor emerges first, pulling herself over the final edge of broken stone onto solid ground. She immediately turns to extend both hands down to Richard, who grasps them gratefully as she helps him make the last awkward step up from the rubble. They stand together at the rim of the opening, breathing heavily from the climb. The late afternoon air feels impossibly fresh after the enclosed chamber, carrying the scent of moorland grass and the distant sound of wind. Richard leans heavily against Eleanor as they move away from the unstable edge, his injured ankle requiring her continued support. A few paces from the opening, they settle - better yet, fall - onto a patch of soft grass, the relief of reaching safety rendering them both temporarily speechless. The golden light of early evening bathes the surrounding ruins. In the distance, you can see Richard's abandoned picnic basket waiting beneath the sheltered archway where he'd left it hours ago. [[Eleanor breaks the silence first.->Weekend Expedition Romantic Freed Ending 6]]

"*You know, when that first collapse happened,*" Eleanor says turning to him, "*I... I don't know. Maybe I was just following your lead, you were calm about it, and have more experience than me with ancient ruins, but... well.*" Her tone drops, her voice barely above a whisper, "*I wasn't afraid of being trapped down there.*" She stares back across the moorland, her fingers absently plucking at the grass beside her. "*I mean, I was. A little. but... that wasn't the worst part.*" Richard turns to look at her, wincing slightly as the movement jostles his ankle. "*The worst part was thinking I might never...*" Her voice catches, and she takes a shaky breath. "*That we might never get the chance to... to finish our conversation from lunch. Or have another one. I kept thinking about all the things I'd wanted to say to you, but never...*" She trails off, color rising in her dust-streaked cheeks. Richard reaches over slowly, [[his hand covering hers where it rests on the grass.->Weekend Expedition Romantic Freed Ending 7]]

"*I know exactly what you mean,*" Richard says softly, his thumb tracing gently across her knuckles. "*When I heard that grinding sound, saw the stones coming down... my first thought wasn't about the excavation, or the historical significance, or even getting out safely.*" He pauses, swallowing hard as he searches for the right words. "*It was that I'd been a complete fool. That I'd spent months - years, really - finding excuses to seek your opinion on translations, to linger by your office door, to invite you to examine artifacts that any competent curator could have catalogued perfectly well alone.*" His voice grows steadier with each word. "*And that I'd never once been brave enough to simply tell you that those weren't the real reasons at all.*" Eleanor's breath catches as she turns to face him fully, her eyes wide and searching. "*The real reason was that I... that I've grown quite fond of you, Ellie.* *[[More than fond, if I'm being honest.*"->Weekend Expedition Romantic Freed Ending 8]]

Eleanor's free hand moves to cover their joined ones, her fingers interlacing with his. "*Richard...*" she whispers, and there's... something in her expression, as if a weight she'd been carrying has finally lifted. "*I was afraid you saw me as just another colleague. Someone useful for research, but nothing more.*" Her voice grows stronger, if a little wobbly. "*I never imagined... I mean, you're brilliant, and worldly, and you've traveled to places I've only read about in books. Why would you...*" "*Because you understand,*" Richard interrupts gently. "*When you examine an artifact, you see the people who made it, who used it, who left pieces of their lives embedded in clay and stone. You make the past feel... alive. That's quite extraordinary, Ellie.*" Their faces are closer now, drawn together - the golden light catches the white dust still clinging to their clothes, the cracked lens of Eleanor's spectacles forgotten in her pocket. "*I'd very much like to kiss you,*" Richard murmurs, "*if you'd allow it.*" [[Eleanor's answer comes without hesitation.->Weekend Expedition Romantic Freed Ending 9]]

Their lips meet softly, tentatively at first, then with growing certainty. It's gentle. Unhurried. Her hand comes up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath the dusty fabric of his shirt. When they part, they remain close, foreheads nearly touching, sharing the same warm air. Eleanor's cheeks are flushed, [[but her smile is radiant->Weekend Expedition Romantic Freed Ending 9.5]], despite the grime and exhaustion of their ordeal.

Richard's thumb traces along her jaw, brushing away a streak of limestone dust. "I should probably see about that ankle, shouldn't I," he says softly, though he makes no move to pull away. "Probably," Eleanor agrees, her voice equally quiet. "And I should find my spare spectacles when we get back. Can't have you thinking I'm always this disheveled on expeditions." "I rather like you disheveled," Richard admits, and Eleanor's laugh is warm and unguarded. [[They sit together in comfortable closeness as the afternoon light begins to deepen.->Weekend Expedition Romantic Freed Ending 10]]

[if WeekendExpeditionResetCounter == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndresetaware] You sense the other presence settling into the chamber. You feel it as it moves around, as if inspecting the place. It lingers a few extra moment on the frescoes. [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionResetCounter == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndresetaware] You feel a flicker of confusion from the other presence. [if WeekendExpeditionResetCounter == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wkndresetaware] *"...what?"* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionResetCounter == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndresetaware] You feel the presence falter, its attention momentarily torn from Eleanor and Richard. [if WeekendExpeditionResetCounter == 3; dialogue delay:1.4 id:wkndresetaware] *"Again? How... how did we...?"* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionResetCounter == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndresetaware] You sense mounting frustration as the presence realizes something is deeply wrong. [if WeekendExpeditionResetCounter == 4; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wkndresetaware] *"This happened before! I remember this! What trickery is this?"* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionResetCounter == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndresetaware] The presence radiates angry bewilderment, its voice rising with indignation. [if WeekendExpeditionResetCounter == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wkndresetaware] *"You! YOU'RE doing this... somehow! Making time bend back on itself! Stop this madness!"* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionResetCounter == 6; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndresetaware] Hysteria creeps into its voice as realization dawns. [if WeekendExpeditionResetCounter == 6; dialogue delay:1.5 id:wkndresetaware] *"You're playing with me! What is your problem?"* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionResetCounter == 7; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndresetaware] Paranoid rambling begins to overtake its voice. [if WeekendExpeditionResetCounter == 7; dialogue delay:2.0 id:wkndresetaware] *"Is this real? Are THEY real? Or am I still buried under the... no. NO! Stop messing with me!"* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionResetCounter >= 8; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndresetaware] You feel pure, incandescent rage as the presence realizes you've reset the scene once more. [if WeekendExpeditionResetCounter >= 8; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wkndresetaware] *"AGAIN?!"* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndresetaware] Eleanor calls out through the rubble, her voice carrying worry, but not panic. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.4 id:wkndresetaware] *"Richard? Are you hurt? Can you hear me?"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wkndresetaware newline] *"Yes, yes I'm quite alright! Just a bit shaken. Are you injured, Ellie?"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wkndresetaware] comes his muffled reply from the other side of the barrier. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:wkndresetaware newline] *"No, thankfully. Though... I fear we might have gotten trapped down here."*

[if WeightGained == 'NONE'; if DayFullnessState == 'HUNGRY'] Eleanor enters her flat with brisk steps, closing the door firmly behind her. Her movements are sharp despite the fatigue evident in her posture. She rolls her shoulders, wincing slightly as she works out the kinks from a long day. She proceeds to the sitting room, unbuttoning her waistcoat as she walks. The garment comes off easily, followed by her cravat and blouse. Her corset follows, revealing her soft torso - slightly rounded, but no more than usual. Her modest breasts settle naturally once freed from their confinement. She retrieves a letter from the mantelpiece, scanning its contents with a critical eye before setting it aside with a huff. With a weary sigh, she climbs the stairs to her bedroom, her stomach quietly protesting from the lack of food. [if WeightGained == 'NONE'; if DayFullnessState == 'SATISFIED'] Eleanor enters her flat with measured steps, the day's work evident in her slightly slumped shoulders. She moves directly to the sitting room, untying her cravat as she crosses the threshold. You watch as she settles onto the edge of the couch to remove her shoes with a soft sigh of relief. Standing again, she methodically removes her outer layers until she's down to her chemise. Her soft belly protrudes just slightly, rounding gently where it had been constrained all day, while her hips curve subtly beneath the thin fabric - carrying just enough padding to soften her silhouette. She takes a moment to adjust the brass clock on her fireplace's mantel, winding it carefully before making her way upstairs, her movements relaxed and unhurried. [if WeightGained == 'NONE'; if DayFullnessState == 'STUFFED'] Eleanor enters her flat, her movements slow as she closes the door behind her. She makes her way to the sitting room, fingers already working at her waistcoat buttons. The tight garment comes off with visible relief, followed quickly by her blouse and corset. Her pale belly bulges forward noticeably once freed, taut and round from the day's meals - the fullness seems to accentuate the softness of her thighs, which press together as she shifts position. You watch as she collapses onto the settee with a soft groan, heels kicked off haphazardly. Her hands move to her middle, gently massaging it as she reaches for a periodical, attempting to read before dropping it after just two pages. Eventually, she rises with considerable effort, steadying herself on the arm of the settee before climbing the stairs to her bedroom. The movement causes her freed breasts to sway slightly with the motion. [if WeightGained == 'NONE'; if DayFullnessState == 'BURSTING'] Eleanor stumbles into her flat, her movements sluggish and labored. She barely manages to close the door before leaning against the wall for support, one hand fumbling with her waistcoat buttons. By the time she reaches the settee, half her garments lie scattered in her wake. Her corset laces have been hastily loosened, allowing her severely distended stomach to push forward. The pale, taut dome of her belly rises prominently from her frame, angry red marks from her clothing crisscrossing her skin. Her chemise stretches across her chest, the fabric strained by the day's swelling - her rear sinks deep into the cushions as she collapses. You watch as she sinks into the cushions with a pained moan, a soft *burp* escaping her lips as her hands cradle her overfilled middle as she lies back, breathing shallow and quick. Sleep claims her where she falls, her body too full to make the journey upstairs. [if WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'; if DayFullnessState == 'HUNGRY'] Eleanor enters her flat with a soft sigh, closing the door behind her. Her fingers immediately loosen her cravat as she crosses to the sitting room, a slight frown creasing her brow. She methodically removes her outer garments, laying each piece over the settee's arm. When she finally frees herself of her corset, her softened middle expands outward, showing the subtle weight she's starting to accumulate. Though not dramatic, the curator’s once-flat stomach now curves gently, matching the new fullness in her cheeks. She rubs absently at the faint red indentations left by her clothing, wincing as her stomach growls audibly. She retrieves a letter from the mantelpiece, scanning its contents with a critical eye before setting it aside with a huff. With a weary sigh, you watch Eleanor as climbs up the stairs to her bedroom, her stomach loudly protesting from the lack of food. [if WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'; if DayFullnessState == 'SATISFIED'] Eleanor enters her flat with measured steps, pausing to adjust her waistcoat where it pulls slightly across her newly softened middle. She moves to the sitting room, untying her cravat with practiced fingers. As her garments come off one by one, the changes in her figure become evident - the subtle roundness of her belly, the slight additional padding at her hips, the gentle fullness of her cheeks… the way her chemise pulls tighter across her chest, as her breasts also seem to have gained a touch more volume. She stretches, evidently comfortable with the day’s modest meals. Taking a small journal from the side table, she makes a series of few quick notes before setting it aside. With a contented hum, you watch as she gathers her discarded clothing and heads upstairs, her hips swaying gently with each step. [if WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'; if DayFullnessState == 'STUFFED'] Eleanor enters her flat with a weary expression, immediately working at the buttons of her waistcoat. Her fingers fumble slightly as she struggles with the tightened fabric. In the sitting room, she removes her garments piece by piece, each removal bringing clear relief. When her slightly bent corset finally comes off, her stomach pushes forward prominently, the day's meals distending an already soft middle. The new padding around her hips and thighs is more noticeable in this stuffed state, as her chemise clings to her. She sinks into the settee, her hand idly circling her taut middle as she breathes deeply. After a few minutes of rest, she rises with a slight grunt, gathering only the essential garments before making her way upstairs, one hand steadying herself against the wall. [if WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'; if DayFullnessState == 'BURSTING'] Eleanor practically stumbles into her flat, her breathing labored. She leans heavily against the wall, fumbling with the buttons of her waistcoat which strain noticeably across her middle. Garments are cast aside with little care as she reaches for the sitting room, her focus entirely on relieving pressure. When her corset finally comes free, her overfilled stomach surges forward, round and taut beneath her thin chemise. Her face, slightly fuller now, is flushed with discomfort. She collapses onto the settee with a groan (or was that a moan?), both hands cradling her distended middle. You watch as she curls onto her side, her breathing gradually steadying as sleep claims her right there on the couch. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'; if DayFullnessState == 'HUNGRY'] Eleanor enters her flat with careful steps. Her waistcoat already hangs open, the buttons already having been undone earlier in the day. In the sitting room, she removes her outer garments with practiced efficiency. When her corset comes loose, her plumped belly pushes forward eagerly, its roundness now a permanent fixture. Her breasts, noticeably fuller, settle heavily against her torso. The added weight in her thighs makes her movements deliberate as she adjusts her chemise, which pulls tight across her widened hips. Despite all of this added fat, her stomach rumbles insistently. You watch her tidy a stack of books on the side table, reorganizing them, before gathering her things and climbing the stairs to her bedroom, her hand occasionally pressing against her empty stomach. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'; if DayFullnessState == 'SATISFIED'] Eleanor enters her flat and immediately unfastens her waistcoat, which now refuses to button properly across her plumped middle. Her movements, though slowed by her expanded figure, remain purposeful. In the sitting room, she removes her outer garments. Her corset - which you notice is now sporting extended laces - releases her substantial belly, which now protrudes roundly even when not full. Likewise, her breasts spill more generously from her chemise, which strains across her widened back. The soft padding of her thighs causes them to press together as she moves, her hips now wide enough to brush against narrow doorways. You watch as she ascends the stairs to her bedroom with careful steps, her rounded backside swaying noticeably with each movement. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'; if DayFullnessState == 'STUFFED'] Eleanor pushes open her door with a slight grunt, her breathing already laboured from the climb to her flat. Her waistcoat hangs open, abandoned to her swollen gut about an hour or so ago. In the sitting room, you watch as she swiftly removes her outer garments. Her skirt's waistband has left angry marks on her softened middle, and when her corset finally comes free, her stuffed belly surges forward dramatically. Her substantial breasts now seem to rest atop this distended stomach as she sinks onto the settee. She reaches for a book, but her focus wavers, one hand continuously returning to massage her middle. After several minutes of discomfort, she forces herself upstairs, each step a deliberate effort as her fuller thighs work against her. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'; if DayFullnessState == 'BURSTING'] Eleanor practically falls through her doorway, one hand pressed firmly against her painfully distended stomach. Her face is flushed with the exertion and discomfort, her breathing already laboured from the small climb to her flat. She abandons her garments as she moves, creating a trail toward the sitting room. By the time she reaches the settee, she's down to her chemise, which rides up over the dramatic dome of her belly regardless. You inspect her now plump body - soft arms, widened hips, substantial breasts… The tightness in her middle forces her breathing to be shallow and quick, interrupted by a stifled *burp* that makes her wince. She collapses onto the settee with a moan that's part pain, part relief, her fingers splayed across her taut, overextended stomach. Sleep comes quickly, her body too overwhelmed to even consider climbing up to her bedroom. [if WeightGained == 'FAT'; if DayFullnessState == 'HUNGRY'] Eleanor maneuvers through her doorway with the careful movements of someone still adjusting to a substantially changed body. Her waistcoat has already been removed and currently under her soaked armpit, and her blouse strains across her belly. In the sitting room, you can immediately tell that removing her outer garments requires effort. When finally free of her… *revised* corset, her large belly hangs heavily, its considerable weight supported by one arm as she opts to also pull off her chemise. The fat that has accumulated across her back creates rolls that match those at her sides - her arms press against the latter, while her thighs rub together with each step. Despite her current size, perhaps exactly because of it, her stomach still growls. You watch her examine a letter on the kitchen table, holding it at arm's length to read, before arranging her hairpins on a small dish. With measured steps, she navigates to the stairs, ascending with one hand firmly on the banister. [if WeightGained == 'FAT'; if DayFullnessState == 'SATISFIED'] Eleanor enters her flat with a slightly waddling gait. Her blouse has come untucked from her skirt, unable to contain her her substantial middle anymore. Inside of the sitting room, her skirt falls away to reveal a set of thighs rubbing together from high up. Her… *revised* corset, when finally removed, allows her large belly to fall forward, hanging heavily over where her skirt would sit. Her large, currently bare breasts rest atop her middle, while her plump arms press against the sides of her torso when at rest. Her double chin becomes more pronounced as she looks down to adjust her chemise off of her entirely - it barely contains her figure anyway. She takes a moment to organize a stack of papers, her movements surprisingly delicate despite… well, the rest of her, really. With deliberate steps, she makes her way to the stairs, tackling them one at a time with a hand firmly on the railing. [if WeightGained == 'FAT'; if DayFullnessState == 'STUFFED'] Eleanor enters her flat with a slightly waddling gait. Her blouse has come untucked from her skirt, unable to contain her substantial middle anymore - her breathing is labored already, her round face flushed with exertion. In the sitting room, she collapses immediately onto the settee, which creaks in protest. Only after catching her breath does she begin removing layers, each movement hindered by her stuffed state. Her clothing, though it had been modified, has still left deep imprints in her flesh, and when her corset comes free, her already-large belly surges forward, distended dramatically by the day's indulgences. Her thighs spread wide across the cushions. Her feet, a bit swollen from supporting her weight all day, receive immediate attention as she removes her shoes with a groan of relief. After several minutes of recovery, you watch her *heave* herself upright, the substantial sway of her pale belly and breasts accompanying each movement as she slowly, carefully, makes her way upstairs. [if WeightGained == 'FAT'; if DayFullnessState == 'BURSTING'] Eleanor barely manages to close her door, leaning heavily against it as she fights to catch her breath. Her garments are abandoned where they fall as she makes a path to the sitting room. By the time she reaches the settee, which groans under her substantial weight, the curator has only managed to loosen her outer layers. Swiftly, she works at her corset laces, each small release bringing a measure of relief, if only momentary. When finally free, her large belly protrudes far, tight as a drum despite the considerable fat padding it. Her entire body - from her round face with its double chin, to her heavy arms, to her thick thighs - seems to emphasize her overstuffed condition. She doesn't even attempt to reach her bedroom, instead collapsing back on the settee, her laboured breathing gradually steadying as she falls asleep, exhausted. [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'; if DayFullnessState == 'HUNGRY'] Eleanor navigates at a slight angle through the doorways of her flat. Her clothing, though adjusted earlier in the day, still strains against her massive figure. The sitting room becomes an immediate rest stop, her breathing heavy from the short walk. Removing her outer garments requires strategic pauses, each movement accommodating flesh that shifts and settles with its own momentum. When her enormous belly is finally freed from fabric constraints, it hangs pendulously, resting heavily on a set of thighs that spread wide even when standing. Her chubby arms rest on rolls of fat at her sides, and her double chin becomes more pronounced as she looks down at her chest, which rests atop the shelf of her belly. Despite - no, *exactly* because of her size, her stomach growls audibly. After catching her breath, she heads for her kitchenette, readily preparing herself some tea and biscuits to tide her over until breakfast tomorrow. She then begins the arduous journey upstairs, each step requiring both hands on the banister, her enormous body moving carefully. [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'; if DayFullnessState == 'SATISFIED'] Eleanor navigates at a slight angle through the doorways of her flat. Her clothing, though adjusted earlier in the day, still strains against her massive figure. The settee becomes her immediate destination, creaking ominously as she lowers her enormous weight onto it. Removing her garments is a chore, each layer revealing more and more of her transformed body. Her massive belly, even when not particularly full, hangs forward over her lap, dimpled with the red marks of her clothes… no, those are stretch marks. Angry, reddened streaks. Her breasts rest upon this shelf, themselves overshadowed by her belly, but clearly large enough to strain the fabric of her chemise. Her tree-trunk thighs spread wide across the cushions, and a double chin appears as she looks down to adjust her chemise. After a period of rest, you watch her reach for a nearby journal, recording something with her usual, delicate handwriting. The journey upstairs, when she finally gains enough energy to even attempt it, is a slow process - each step carefully tested before her full weight is committed to it. [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'; if DayFullnessState == 'STUFFED'] Eleanor barely fits through the doorway of her sitting room despite turning sideways. Her breathing is laboured from even this minimal exertion, her double chin and round cheeks flushed. The sitting room's settee receives her massive rear with an ominous creak - the furniture is visibly straining. Removing her garments becomes an extended process, interrupted by Eleanor having to either to shift her tremendous weight or to catch her breath. When her enormous belly is finally freed, it surges forward dramatically, its already massive size further distended by the day's meals. It rests heavily on her tremendous thighs, which spread wide. Her arms slump against the rolls at her sides, while her breasts, released from the chemise, settle around the upper slope of her belly, her nipples pointed to opposite sides. After an extended recovery period, she makes a first, failed attempt to stand. The second attempt succeeds, and while she’s not looking particularly pleased about this, she begins the arduous journey upstairs, each step a major effort and punctuated by the occasional soft *burp*. [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'; if DayFullnessState == 'BURSTING'] Eleanor's enormous body practically becomes wedged in her own doorway despite her sideways approach, her massively distended stomach pushing her well beyond even her already obese silhouette. Her breathing comes in shallow pants, her round face deeply flushed and perspired. You watch as she focuses solely on reaching the sitting room before collapsing. The settee shudders alarmingly as her huge rear descends on it, her massive body spreading across most of its surface. She doesn’t bother to remove her clothes: with shaking hands, she only works at loosening any remaining constrictive elements. When her enormous belly is finally freed, it projects outward absurdly far; spherical and tight as a drum despite the substantial fat padding every inch of her frame. A deep *belch* escapes her, bringing momentary relief, but not nearly enough - her massive thighs, arms, breasts, all seem secondary to the painful, but seemingly pleasurable distension of her middle. She doesn't even contemplate the stairs, instead shifting to lie back as much as the furniture allows, her laboured and moaned breathing gradually steadying as she swiftly falls asleep, utterly exhausted. [continue]

[if WeightGained == 'NONE' || WeightGained == 'CHUBBY' || WeightGained == 'PLUMP'] Eleanor drops the silk scraps by the door and immediately works at the chemise's remaining laces. The cotton has absorbed enough perspiration to become nearly opaque in patches, and the unlaced sections reveal how her corset left deep red welts across her ribs and waist. She peels away the undergarment with evident relief, her skin showing the clear imprints of every seam and stay that had been fighting her expanding form throughout the evening. Her belly protrudes noticeably, distended from the substantial meal and tight from her hurried breathing during the escape. Standing naked in her sitting room, she attempts to massage the circulation back into her marked flesh before reaching for her house robe, which hangs loose around her frame after the punishing constraints of formal wear. The settee receives her weight with a soft creak as she finally allows herself to release the tension she's been holding - *her hands go back to covering her face as a few strangled sobs escape her throat.* She curls on her side, one arm wrapped protectively around her middle, the other still pressed to her burning face as exhaustion and humiliation finally claim her. [if WeightGained == 'FAT' || WeightGained == 'OBESE'] Eleanor abandons the dress remnants where they fall and begins the laborious process of extracting herself from the chemise. The cotton has become virtually transparent from perspiration and stretching, requiring careful maneuvering to avoid further tears. Her skin bears the deep impressions of every seam, the fabric having cut into her flesh wherever it made contact. Her substantial belly, freed from the chemise's inadequate constraints, surges forward and hangs heavily. The evening's consumption has left it drum-tight and visibly distended, forcing her to breathe in shallow pants. She makes no attempt to dress again, the house robe requiring too much effort to properly secure around her. The settee groans under her weight as she lowers herself down, her body spreading across most of its surface. Her feet remain swollen from supporting her bulk in formal shoes all evening, and she works them out of the remaining slippers with obvious discomfort. It’s then that she finally allows herself to release the tension she's been holding - *her hands go back to covering her face as a few strangled sobs escape her throat.* She manages only to crawl to the settee before collapsing face-first into the cushions, her massive rear rising prominently as her body spreads across the furniture. The painful fullness of her belly, combined with the crushing weight of her humiliation, renders her utterly immobile as unconsciousness takes hold. [continue]

[if WeightGained == 'NONE'] Eleanor is deeply asleep, breathing heavily through slightly parted lips, her face flushed. Her borrowed dress is pushed down around her waist, exposing her chemise, which is currently unlaced and gaping; her modest breasts are partially revealed, rising and falling with each breath. Her stomach seems to be noticeably distended, pushing softly against the thin fabric of her chemise - a clear sign that she has indulged in more than just wine. Her relaxed limbs seem almost lost in such a large bed. [if WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'] Eleanor is deeply asleep, a soft snore escaping her lips, her slightly fuller face flushed. Her dress - likely borrowed for the occasion - is bunched around her hips, revealing the unlaced chemise straining against her curves. Her pull breasts press against the fabric, and below them, her belly protrudes significantly, round and taut from food and drink, overwhelming the slight padding she now carries through her daily duties. Her limbs, relaxed in drunken slumber, appear noticeably softer. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'] Eleanor is deeply asleep, sprawled heavily amongst the silk sheets, her breathing deep and slow. Her dress lies discarded somewhere near the foot of the bed, leaving her in only her chemise, which is wide open down the front. Her substantial breasts spill freely, resting heavily against her considerably rounded and distended belly. The plump curve of her stomach is prominent, clearly stuffed well beyond its usual comfortable fullness. Her widened hips and thick thighs spread softly across the mattress. [if WeightGained == 'FAT'] Eleanor is profoundly asleep, her large body sunk deep into the mattress, her breath catching occasionally in a drunken hiccup. Her dress is nowhere in sight, and her chemise is barely present, pushed aside by the sheer volume of her figure. Her now larger breasts are freed and angled away - forced to, really, by the significant mound of her tightly swollen belly, which dominates her torso. Rolls of fat are visible at her sides and back, even as she lies relaxed. Her heavy thighs press together, taking up a significant portion of the bed. A faint sheen of perspiration glistens on her flushed face. [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'] Eleanor is utterly lost to a drunken slumber, her massive form overwhelming the luxurious bed. Her chemise is a lost cause, tangled somewhere beneath the sheer bulk of her body. Her large breasts are flattened against the vast, drum-tight expanse of her stomach, which protrudes upwards dramatically, clearly painfully full even beneath its thick layer of fat. Her immense thighs and hips consume the surrounding space, and her heavy arms rest limply at her sides. Her flushed, round face with its pronounced double chin is peaceful, despite the evident physical discomfort of the copious amount of cheese and wine she must've gone through tonight. [continue]

[if passage.name == 'Slot Selection'] [[➼Morning->Work Activity Selection]] [if SlotOneEvent == 'CATALOGUING'] *"Must sort through the backlog of uncatalogued artifacts today. Pottery fragments, coins... the usual mixed acquisitions."* [if SlotOneEvent == 'EXHIBITION'] *"Setting up the Roman exhibition. Heaven help me."* [if SlotOneEvent == 'EXHIBITION_EGYPT'] *"Richard needs help arranging the Egyptian wing. His collection might have parallels to my findings..."* [if SlotOneEvent == 'RESEARCH'] *"Finally, a morning devoted to my Brittany findings! No interruptions, just me and these fascinating symbols."* [if SlotOneEvent == 'EXPERT'] *"Assist Dr. Hughes with decoding inscriptions. He seems quite interested in my findings."* [if SlotOneEvent == 'TOUR'] *"The American industrialist arrives today. He collects 'exotic trinkets' - and has deep pockets."* [if SlotOneEvent == 'LECTURE'] *"Present findings to the Antiquarian Society. Nerve-wracking, but their patronage could change everything."* [if SlotOneEvent == 'ARCHIVE_REVIEW'] *"Ms. Whitlock requested help cataloging recent acquisitions. She's been oddly interested in my research lately."* [if SlotOneEvent == 'PRIVATE_RESEARCH'] *"Violet's knowledge of obscure texts is remarkable. Something about her theories seems... personal."* [if MikaCollectionRevealed == true; if SlotOneEvent == 'VIOLET_CRATE'] *"Violet requested access to Mika's collection. Perhaps I'll see what's in that crate everyone's whispering about."* [if DateProposed == true; if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'; if SlotOneEvent == 'WEEKEND_EXPEDITION'] *"Richard invited me to examine some countryside ruins. 'Just a day trip,' he insists, though he's packed quite the picnic..."* [note] Remember to add logic for the weekend trip potentially taking the whole day. [continue]

[[➼Morning->Work Activity Selection (Demo)]] *"Was called to the exhibition halls. The Director wished to discuss the week's priorities..."*

You think through all of the *morning* options, surprised at your immediate understanding of Eleanor's duties. Perhaps you've finally achieved complete resonance with her... or perhaps it's the stray ink marks on the previous and following pages, and you're just making some educated guesses. You reckon it's probably more of the latter. [if CataloguingTimes <=2] - [[Museum Inventory - Cataloguing artifacts->Set Work Cataloguing]] [unless ExhibitDioramaTurns > 0] - [[♣Help with Egyptian Exhibition->Set Work Exhibition_Egypt]] [unless ResearchCompleted] - [[Personal Research->Set Work Research]] [unless ArchiveReviewAttended] - [[♠Archive Review with Violet->Set Work Archive_Review]] [if VioletArchiveSuccessful; unless PrivateResearchAttended] - [[♠Private Research with Violet->Set Work Private_Research]] [if MikaCollectionRevealed; unless VioletCrateAttended] - [[♠Check Mika's Collection with Violet->Set Work Violet_Crate]] [if DateProposed == true; if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'; unless WeekendExpeditionAttended] - [[♣Weekend Expedition with Richard->Set Work Weekend_Expedition]] [continue] [note] TO (MAYBE) DEVELOP AFTER FIRST RELEASE [unless PrivateTourAttended [[Private Tour - American Industrialist->Set Work Tour] [unless ExpertConsultationAttended [[Expert Consultation - Dr. Hughes->Set Work Expert [unless PrivateTourAttended [[Private Tour - American Industrialist->Set Work Tour] [unless SocietyLectureAttended - [[Society Lecture - Antiquarian Society->Set Work Lecture Have it so going twice to catalogue artifacts has the Director congratulate himself with Eleanor, and give her a pay increase Possible use of card symbols for the characters/routes? Eleanor: ♦ Mary: ♥ Violet: ♠ Richard: ♣ [continue]

DayFullnessState (DayCalories <= 3): 'HUNGRY' DayFullnessState (DayCalories > 3 && DayCalories <= 6): 'SATISFIED' DayFullnessState (DayCalories > 6 && DayCalories <= 8): 'STUFFED' DayFullnessState (DayCalories > 8): 'BURSTING' GardenPartyHangover: false -- [note] We don't really need to track the days of the week here. I mean, we can have some events only for some days, but it's better to have most be available to the player whenever they want. We will however need a "end of the day" passage to reset the slots, and to go forward in the week. [continue] [unless SlotOneAttended] {embed passage: 'SlotOne Events'} [if SlotOneAttended; unless SlotTwoAttended; if SecondChDemo] {embed passage: 'SlotTwo Events (Demo End)'} [if SlotOneAttended; unless SlotTwoAttended; unless SecondChDemo] {embed passage: 'SlotTwo Events'} [if SlotOneAttended; if SlotTwoAttended; unless SlotThreeAttended] {embed passage: 'SlotThree Events'} [if SlotThreeAttended; if SlotTwoAttended; if SlotOneAttended] {embed passage: 'Day End Passage'} [note] This tracks Eleanor's fullness throughout a single day: - HUNGRY: 0-2 calories (hungry) - SATISFIED: 3-4 calories (comfortably fed, normal) - STUFFED: 6-8 calories (very full, uncomfortable) - BURSTING: 9+ calories (painfully overstuffed) GardenPartyHangover: By setting this false, the conditionals inside Eleanor descriptions in the office only happen the immediate morning, not any other consequent day. [continue]

{ascii backdrop: 'abundance'} [[Back->Patterns]]

{ascii backdrop: 'aether'} [[Back->Patterns]]

[if AmphoraState == 'base'] The amphora dominates its glass case, a behemoth standing nearly three feet tall. Its curved belly bears remnants of black-figure decoration - a chain of robed figures bearing offerings. One handle shows an ancient repair, the lead staples oxidized green. Cracks spiderweb across the base, stabilized with discreet brass brackets. Inside the rim, a dark residue clings to the ceramic: most likely olive oil or wine long since evaporated. A typewritten card propped beside it reads: *"Attic workshop, c. 520 BCE? Surface wear inconsistent with funerary context. Possibly repurposed during Roman occupation."* [if AmphoraState == 'saved'] The amphora dominates its glass case, a behemoth standing nearly three feet tall. Its curved belly bears remnants of black-figure decoration - a chain of robed figures bearing offerings. Both handles are intact, the lead staples now absent. A new annotation card leans against its base: *"Note: HANDLE WITH CARE -> Contains beer -> source of which unlikely to be from the 520 BCE. Recovered in the French countryside, likely kept in use/repurposed till the current day."* [if AmphoraState == 'broken'] The amphora lies in pieces, shattered across the plinth and floor. Shards of terracotta are scattered around, some still bearing traces of black-figure decoration. The lead staples from the ancient repair can be seen among the debris. The typewritten card lies face down, partially obscured by a large fragment of the base. [if AmphoraState == 'teetering'] The amphora wobbles precariously in Eleanor’s grip, its weight shifting unsteadily. The black-figure decoration on its curved belly seems to ripple as it tilts, the chain of robed figures appearing almost animated. A faint sloshing sound emanates from within, suggesting the vessel is not, in fact, empty. The typewritten card has been knocked askew, its edge brushing against the plinth. [if AmphoraState == 'drunk'] The amphora sits lopsided on the plinth, its form now leaning heavily to one side. The black-figure decoration is partially obscured by a sticky residue that clings to the ceramic, trailing down from the rim. The typewritten card lies crumpled beside it, its edges damp and curling. A faint drip echoes as thin rivlet of liquid slowly seeps from the neck, pooling on the plinth below. [continue] {link to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if AmphoraState == 'saved'; unless TriedVibratingTheAmphoraInThePresent; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Present Amphora Vibrated]] [continue] [if AmphoraState == 'base'; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Amphora Cutscene]] [continue]

A curious jumble of trinkets lies scattered here, carved from bone and ivory. The surfaces show chisel marks of varying depths - some grooves barely scratch the surface while others gouge deep enough to split the grain. Etchings meander across their faces in wavering lines that start bold, then fade to hesitant scratches - attempts at Egyptian hieroglyphs, perhaps? Several pieces bear filing marks along their edges, smooth in some areas, roughly gouged in others. The bone shows hairline fractures radiating outward from the carved areas. These artefact just look roughly made. {link to: 'Egypt artefacts', label: 'Back'} [inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Amulets Aether Cutscene 1]] [continue] [unless AmuletsPastSeen; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Amulets Cutscene 1]] [continue]

The massive silver-framed mirror looms before you, nearly seven feet tall. Its frame is exquisitely crafted, with entwined serpents and vines in bloom with what appear to be... peaches? Apples? They might be too abstract to be a real life fruit - you just see a round shape with a mark in the middle of it. The glass itself seems to be made of silver - you can see it’s darkened with age around the edges. A jagged crack bisects the surface diagonally. [if MirrorPastVisited; if MirrorGuardScared; unless MirrorEventFixed] *As you study the crack, you notice it's subtly different than before - less severe, with fewer branching lines.* [continue] {link to: 'Mirror Diorama', label: 'Back'} [note] TOO SHORT, SLIGHTLY REVISE [continue] [inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Ancient Mirror Occasion]] [continue]

A small brass bell sits at the counter's edge, its surface brand new. You can even see the faint outline of a polish on its base. When struck, it would likely produce a sharp, insistent chime, [unless ApothecaryBellRung; append] though you fail to see its point: the shop does not seem to have an entrance to the back. Supposedly, there wouldn’t be much of a need to call anyone from anywhere. [if ApothecaryBellRung; append] one clearly capable of being notice even from the basement of the shop. [continue] {link to: 'Apothecary Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless ApothecaryBellRung; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Bell Vibration Cutscene]] [continue]

[if ApothecaryTurns == 4] The small brown bottle sits innocuously on the counter, its glass surface catching the dim light. The cork stopper is sealed with red wax, stamped with the apothecary's insignia. A neat label on its side reads: "MENTHA TINCTURE - THE FIRST CHOICE OF THE SAVANT FOR THE RELIEF OF HEADACHES" [if BottleLabelSwitchSeen] Near your hovering form, on the floor behind the counter where the shopgirl stood, is the original, discarded label. It reads: "MASS AUGMENTATION COMPOUND - FOR CONVALESCENTS AND THOSE LACKING IN CONSTITUTION" [continue] {link to: 'Apothecary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

Several framed certificates hang on the wall behind the counter. The largest bears the seal of the Royal Pharmaceutical Society, while others display various credentials and recognitions. The most prominent, centered above the others, states that one "Gerald Galford" is certified to "Prepare and Dispense Medicinals of the Highest Standard." The date of issue suggests the elder Galford has practiced his craft for over… eight hundred years? That can’t be right. It's probably a typo. [if passage.visits == 2] *...but how would that slip by? These are some serious institutions, with very serious people to boot.* [continue] {link to: 'Apothecary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[if ApothecaryTurns == 3] As the shopgirl runs her finger down the page, you glimpse Eleanor's name among dozens of others. Beside it, in precise handwriting, is the word "Headache" followed by two asterisks. Your gaze follows the girl's finger to an annotation at the bottom of the page that simply reads "Common Formulation - Ol' Mikey's orders." {embed passage: 'Ledger Checked set to true'} [else] The leather-bound ledger lies closed, its pages edged in gold leaf - very fancy. On its cover, a small piece of paper has been attached, reading "Gilford's Apothecary - Customer Registry" in elegant script. [continue] {link to: 'Apothecary Diorama', label: 'Back'} [note] have this item have an interaction when Aether is used, where the book does shake, but does not open (obviously). [continue]

The brass scale gleams in the corner, its two pans perfectly balanced. Small weights of varying sizes are arranged in a neat row beside it, each one marked with precise measurements. The shopkeeper would likely use this to measure out exact quantities of powders and compounds for their more complex remedies. It doesn't seem to have been used much, though. Either that, or it's brand new. {link to: 'Apothecary Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless ApothecaryScalePast; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Apothecary Scale Cutscene]] [continue]

The shelves lining the walls are crowded with bottles and jars of various sizes, their contents ranging from muddy powders to vibrant liquids. Labels identify each substance - some with proper Latin names, others with more colloquial designations. The higher shelves hold the more expensive or dangerous compounds, while everyday remedies occupy the middle rows. Interestingly enough, a lot of the space is currently occupied by small brown bottles of exact shape and form. {link to: 'Apothecary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

An off-white apron, hanging neatly from a hook on the wall, its fabric faded and bearing faint streaks of plaster dust along the hem. Its only front pocket is empty, save for a lone stick of chalk, worn down to a stub. [if ApronSeen == true] *It must be the very same one you saw Eleanor use, though now ground nearly to its end. It's unlikely you'll find much use for it.* [continued] {link to: 'guest room', label: 'Back'}

The arrowheads rest neatly in a small wooden tray, their edges chipped but still sharp enough to make you cautious. Though, as you think it through, why would you need to be? Just because you can, you run your hands through all of them. They vary in size and design, some are triangular, others barbed... all bear a telltale patina of age. A handwritten [[note->note arrowheads]] is tucked beneath the largest one. {link to: 'guest room', label: 'Back'}

A modest collection of objects Eleanor has smuggled from the museum's storage. Most are fragments: a clay pot with geometric patterns, a small bronze pin missing its decorative head, a chunk of limestone bearing faint inscriptions... [if correctartefact == 1; append] Among the collection, you spot one of the artefacts you helped Eleanor bring from her flat. [if correctartefact == 2; append] All of the artefacts you helped Eleanor collect from her flat have been integrated into this arrangement. [if correctartefact == 3; append] All of the artefacts you helped Eleanor collect from her flat have been integrated into this arrangement. [if arrowheadstaken == true] The arrowheads rest in a small wooden tray, their points aligned in the same direction. [if clayvesseltaken == true; append] The small clay vessel sits upright, stabilized by a ring of cork. Its faint violet pigment appears more pronounced in this light, the scratched markings along its base visible from certain angles. [if SkullTaken == true; append] The reassembled skull gazes empty-eyed from atop a velvet cushion, its cracks and missing fragments now more evident under the office light. Eleanor has begun penciling notes directly onto the bone with the lightest of touches. [continue] [if CurrentDay == 'TUESDAY'; if correctartefact == 3] A brief note from the Director, scrawled on institutional letterhead, lies atop the collection: *"Lovelace - I can see all artifacts have returned. About time! Board approves minor funding increase for expedition research. Do not make me chase you for museum property again. - Markus"* [continue] {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

"Unearthed Relics: Evidence of an Uncharted Tribe in the Brittany Region.” There are no sketches to accompany the text. Following a thorough reassessment of some Britannic museum's artifacts, the author speculates on a tribe's existence, their customs, and possible links to the early Celtic people. Several passages are underlined in - and smudged by - red ink, accompanied by notes - Eleanor appears unconvinced by the author's conclusions. Too cautious, in her opinion. At the bottom of the page, the byline and the author's name has been angrily crossed out. In its place, the word "NEPOTIST" has been penned in. {link to: 'periodicals', label: 'Back'}

You float into the attic. Dim and cramped, the space is crowded with old trunks, a battered [[steamer chest]], and stacks of [[yellowed newspapers]]. [if WardrobeFallen == false] A single wooden chair, its cane seat slightly sagging, rests beneath the lone, dust-veiled window. Cobwebs gather in the rafters, yet a clear path cuts through the dust toward a heavy, padlocked [[wardrobe->padlocked wardrobe]] near the back wall. The floorboards are not looking great, as several have been removed. One of them gives view of a hole into the bedroom, directly over Eleanor. [if WardrobeFallen == true] A single wooden chair, its cane seat slightly sagging, rests beneath the lone, dust-veiled window. Cobwebs gather in the rafters. Near the back wall and onto the floor lies the [[wardrobe->padlocked wardrobe]], face down. [continued] *You can spot a couple of footprints going towards and from the wardrobe - someone has recently been here.* [if EleanorChocolate == false; if EleanorChocolateCutscene == false] Right under you is the closed trapdoor and way back to Eleanor's [[bedroom->bedroom]]. [if EleanorChocolate == true; if EleanorChocolateCutscene == false] Right under you is the closed trapdoor and way back to Eleanor's [[bedroom->Eleanor Chocolate cutscene]]. [if EleanorChocolate == true; if EleanorChocolateCutscene == true] Right under you is the closed trapdoor and way back to Eleanor's [[bedroom->bedroom]].

AtticRevealed: true -- *You see through the reflection of the mirror onto the silver bowl, and find yourself able to see the bedroom... but not Eleanor within it.* The angle is different - distorted and onto the floor, as if you were a child looking up at the ceiling. You spot something odd: there's a trapdoor there, to the left of the bed. It's fairly high-up and closed, with no apparent string attached to it, but does that even matter? It should be fairly trivial for a ghost like you to simply float and faze through it. {link to: 'silver bowl', label: 'Back'}

[if BasinSinkPlugged == false] The ceramic basin sink is large and utilitarian, its surface dulled from years of use. A steady drip falls from the tarnished brass faucet, echoing faintly against the basin’s curve. Water stains trace pale rings along the bottom, and a damp streak clings to the drain, though the pipework seems intact and the wall it sits on free of mold spots. [if BasinSinkPlugged == true] The ceramic basin sink is large and utilitarian, its surface dulled from years of use. Water stains trace pale rings along the bottom, and a damp streak clings to the drain, though the pipework seems intact and the wall it sits on free of mold spots. Where there once was a steady drip falling from its brass faucet, your momentary "fix" has made it so the room is now completely silent. [continued] {link to: 'scullery', label: 'Back'}

You hover toward the cast iron bathtub, its clawed feet gripping the tiled floor. The surface of the tub is dulled, the enamel showing faint scratches and marks. There's a faint scent of lavender and soap - someone must've recently used it. A small bar of lavender-scented soap rests on the rim of the tub. The plug dangles just above the drain, attached to a tarnished brass chain. Some water can be seen at the very bottom, pooled in the curve of the tub. {link to: 'washroom', label: 'Back'}

stuffedstate (GluttonyCalEXP <= 1): 'EMPTY' stuffedstate (GluttonyCalEXP > 1 && GluttonyCalEXP <= 4): 'BLOATED' stuffedstate (GluttonyCalEXP > 4 && GluttonyCalEXP <= 8): 'FULL' stuffedstate (GluttonyCalEXP > 8 && calories <= 12): 'STUFFED' stuffedstate (GluttonyCalEXP > 12): 'OVERSTUFFED' helpfulnessNegative: HelpfulnessEXP < 2 helpfulnessNone: HelpfulnessEXP >= 2 && HelpfulnessEXP <= 5 helpfulnessMedium: HelpfulnessEXP > 5 && HelpfulnessEXP <= 8 helpfulnessHigh: HelpfulnessEXP > 8 -- [if Eleanorspotted == true] You drift into the bedroom. {embed passage: 'Bedroom Helpfulness Descriptions'} [continue] [if EleanorChocolateCutscene == true; if Eleanorspotted == true] There are a couple of empty chocolate wrappers scattered around the floor. [continued] [if Eleanorspotted == true] Behind you is the door back to the [if Eleanorspotted == true; if AtticRevealed == false] [append] [[⤴️hallway->upper floor]]. [if Eleanorspotted == true; if AtticRevealed == true] [append] [[⤴️hallway->upper floor]], while right over you is a trapdoor to the [[🕸️attic->attic]]. [continue] [if Eleanorspotted == false] As you float into the apartment’s bedroom, you finally find the object of your obsession - a warm, soft glow illuminating sitting right before you, intent on working by her desk. [[Eleanor->Eleanor starting cutscene 1]].

You hover over the high-collared, blouse, its white fabric soft yet slightly strained across the midsection and its buttons. Still, it's a well-made garment: fine lace trim at the cuffs and collar. Tasteful. There are a few faint marks on it - a green ink stain on one of the wrist's hems, a bit of gray dust near the bottom, and a few sugary crumbs near the top. {link to: 'garments', label: 'Back'}

The blouses are neatly stacked, their fabric soft and well-maintained. Their colors are muted, mostly pastel shades - you feel a vague sense of orderliness to them. No evident signs of heavy use, so you can't tell if they’ve been a part of Eleanor’s regular rotation or not. What you can tell is that they fit a very small and defined bust, surely smaller than Eleanor's. {link to: 'wardrobe', label: 'Back'}

The bones lie in a haphazard bundle on the shelf, their off-white surfaces dull and slightly porous. Most are small and likely from an animal, though one of the bones suggests something larger. You're no expert, but it looks like a femur. Their arrangement feels less like a display and more like a convenient dumping ground. A brittle tag dangles from one of the tibias, held on by a frayed string, but it appears to be blank. {link to: 'guest room', label: 'Back'}

The shelves of this tall bookshelf are packed tightly with volumes of varying sizes, their spines bearing embossed titles in faded gold leaf. Tomes such as “A Compendium of Flora Britannica,” “Relics of the Pharaohs,” and “The Prehistoric Life of the Isles” catch your attention. Between them, a few handwritten notes and pressed flowers peek out. A small bronze [[figurine]] rests on a lower shelf. [if Dulllookingknife == false] [append] Nearby, a carved [[knife]] sits in a velvet-lined box [if Dulllookingknife == true] [append] Nearby is an empty velvet-lined box [if clayvesseltaken == false] [append] ,close to a delicate [[clay vessel]] no larger than your palm. [if clayvesseltaken == true] [append] . [continued] {link to: 'sitting room', label: 'Back'}

The bookshelves here are crammed with volumes, their dark wooden frames bowing slightly under their weight. Leather-bound tomes with faded titles sit alongside stacks of auction catalogues and handwritten field notes. A layer of dust clings to the upper shelves, undisturbed for some time - admittedly, it doesn't seem like Eleanor would be able to grab a book this far up without some kind of help. A few objects break the monotony: a small [[bronze figurine]] of a horse, its legs mid-gallop, rests between two books; a cracked [[clay tablet]] leans precariously against a ledger [if VioletInterest > 0] [append] , while a [[magnifying glass]] lies on a lower shelf [continue] [if ExhibitDioramaTurns > 0] [append] . You also spot a small bronze [[scarab]] atop a pile of loose papers [unless ExhibitDioramaTurns > 0] [append] . [continue] [if TeaWithMaryAttended] A small glass [[bottle->perfume]] sits wedged between reference texts, its cork stopper slightly askew. [continue] [if TeaWithMaryAttended; if GardenPartyAttended] A delicate [[pearl hairpin]] rests against the spine of an archaeological journal, its surface catching the gaslight. [continue] [if DirectorFocused] Tucked behind a stack of catalogues, a small brass [[paperweight]] bears the museum's official seal. [continue] Among the lower shelves, Eleanor has arranged several [[artefacts]] she's brought from home. {plainlink to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves dominate the wall behind the Director. Unlike the cluttered shelves inside Eleanor's flat and office, these are meticulously organized. Rows upon rows of pretty much identical leather-bound volumes stand at attention, their spines embossed with gold lettering - likely institutional records, annual reports, and perhaps proceedings of archaeological societies. {link to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if DirectorKnockedOut == 0; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Bookshelves Director Aether]] [continue] [if DirectorKnockedOut == 1; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Bookshelves Director Aether 2]] [continue] [if DirectorKnockedOut == 2; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Bookshelves Director Aether 3]] [continue] [note] [if DirectorKnockedOut == 0; inventory for AetherAbility [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Bookshelves Director Aether] [continue [if DirectorKnockedOut == 1 {embed passage: 'Check for DirectorKnockedOut 1' [continue [if DirectorKnockedOut == 2 {embed passage: 'Check for DirectorKnockedOut 2' [continue

[if pastterraceturn == 1] The box of sweets sits neatly on the table, its twine carefully untied and set aside. The lid is slightly ajar, revealing a varied selection of small, bite sized pastries nestled in parchment. Some are dusted with powdered sugar, while others have a glossy sheen of fruit preserves. From the way Mary keeps gesturing toward them between sips of tea, it seems she's waiting for Eleanor to finally help herself. [if pastterraceturn == 2] [if pastterraceturn == 2; unless boxofsweetseaten] The box of sweets sits neatly on the table, its twine carefully untied and set aside. The lid is slightly ajar, revealing a varied selection of small, bite sized pastries nestled in parchment. Some are dusted with powdered sugar, while others have a glossy sheen of fruit preserves. Though attempting to distract herself from them, Eleanor can't bring her eyes to lay on anything other than the sweets in front of her. A somewhat noticeable rumble coming from her belly confirms your suspicions. [if pastterraceturn == 2; if boxofsweetseaten] The box of sweets now sits conspicuously empty, its parchment liner crumpled and smudged with faint traces of sugar and jam. The lid lies discarded beside it, and only a fair amount of crumbs remains of the pastries once nestled inside. Eleanor pointedly is still looking at it, as if attempting to see if there are any inside she might've missed. [if pastterraceturn == 3] [if pastterraceturn == 3; unless boxofsweetseaten] The box of sweets sits neatly on the table, its twine carefully untied and set aside. The lid is slightly ajar, revealing a varied selection of small, bite sized pastries nestled in parchment. Some are dusted with powdered sugar, while others have a glossy sheen of fruit preserves. Though attempting to distract herself from them, Eleanor can't bring her eyes to lay on anything other than the sweets in front of her. A somewhat noticeable rumble coming from her belly confirms your suspicions. [if pastterraceturn == 3; if boxofsweetseaten] The box of sweets now sits conspicuously empty, its parchment liner crumpled and smudged with faint traces of sugar and jam. The lid lies discarded beside it, and only a fair amount of crumbs remains of the pastries once nestled inside. Mary’s gaze lingers on the box, while Eleanor pointedly avoids looking at it, her fingers fidgeting with the rim of her teacup. She speaks up. "Well, Mary... they were really good, I can assure you of that." [continued] {link to: 'Past Terrace (Turn system)', label: 'Back'}

The brass astrolabe rests on a velvet-lined stand, its interlocking rings tarnished with age but still cared for. Delicate engravings of celestial patterns and measurements cover its surface, though despite all of this craftsmanship, you can't help but notice a faint dent along the outer ring, as if it had once endured a careless drop. It seems to have settled into its new role as a decorative curiosity rather than a tool for navigation. {link to: 'guest room', label: 'Back'}

The clock’s face is framed by intricate scrollwork, and the Roman numerals etched upon it are slightly worn, though still legible. The hands move steadily, each tick a soft echo in the quiet room. A small keyhole at the back suggests it requires manual winding. [if passage.visits > 1] *As you continue looking at its hands, you notice that, after exactly fifteen seconds, they both flick back to the twelth hour.* [continue] {link to: 'fireplace', label: 'Back'}

Figurine1: true -- Nearing the figurine, the quill stops for a moment, then quickly writes something down. As the ink settles, the paper detaches from it and drifts between you and the object. It appears they have attempted a rough translation of the text at the base. ~PRAY FOR ABUNDANCE TWICE~ The quill hovers briefly and proudly taps down twice onto the paper. {link to: 'figurine', label: 'Back'}

[if BreadPrayer == false] The wicker bread basket sits empty on the scullery floor. Its weave is slightly uneven, with a few stray fibers sticking out along the rim. There are just enough subtle variations in it to suggest it may have been handmade. Though bare, a faint dusting of flour clings to the bottom, as if it has only recently been emptied. [if BreadPrayer == true] The wicker bread basket sits on the scullery floor, now filled with five golden loaves. Their crusts are perfectly formed, still warm enough to release wisps of steam into the cool air. A light dusting of flour covers their rounded tops. [continued] {link to: 'scullery', label: 'Back'} [note] Have it so it can be filled by doing that prayer, initiated by knowing all of the statuettes messages, and having seen the ideogram for "plenty" by interacting with something that has it written on it. Returning here after that allows the player to use the book and quill to write a "prayer": PLENTY, now. PLENTY, please? It needs to do it twice, and with the faucet having been stopped. If the faucet is not stopped, it needs to be stopped and then will the bread appear. [continued]

[if AqueductState == 'intact'] Sections of clay piping protrude from the ceiling at irregular intervals, their broken ends jagged where centuries of settling have sheared them off. They are seemingly thick-walled and well-made, bearing the unmistakable craftsmanship of Roman engineering - after all, water is still coming from them at a slow, but steady drip. Mineral deposits coat the pipe openings, creating a pale limestone buildup around each break. [if AqueductState == 'past_seen'] Sections of clay piping protrude from the ceiling at irregular intervals, their broken ends jagged where centuries of settling have sheared them off. They are seemingly thick-walled and well-made, bearing the unmistakable craftsmanship of Roman engineering - after all, water is still coming from them at a slow, but steady drip. Mineral deposits coat the pipe openings, creating a pale limestone buildup around each break. *These channels once fed heated water directly to the bathhouse below - clearly the source of the water is still there, just partially blocked.* [if AqueductState == 'redirected'] Warm water now gushes forcefully from the pipe openings, no longer the steady drip of before but a pressurized flow that sends spray cascading across the chamber. The ancient clay channels strain under the volume, their surfaces slick with moisture. The ceiling above shows centuries of water damage - deep stains, visible cracks, and areas where the stone has begun to bow under the accumulated weight and pressure. [continue] {link to: 'Weekend Expedition Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless AqueductState == 'past_seen'; unless AqueductState == 'redirected'; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Aqueduct Cutscene 1]] [continue]

A small bronze horse frozen mid-gallop, its mane and tail rendered with surprising detail. One leg has been repaired, the solder work competent but visible. Its surface bears a patina that suggests regular handling. [if BronzeFigurinePastSeen] Looking closer, you now notice that the figurine is simply looking... *rough*. The casting shows uneven thickness in places: some areas thin enough to catch light, others thick enough to blur fine details. Tool marks remain visible along the edges where excess bronze was filed - well, more so scratched away. [continue] A tag tied to its hind leg reads: "Item 158, Celtic. Northern France or Southern Britain, 1st century BCE." {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'} [unless BronzeFigurinePastSeen; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Bronze Figurine Cutscene 1]] [continue]

The helmet rests at an angle on its velvet display. The rounded dome shows an impressively deep dent along the left temple [if BronzeHelmetPastFallen == false; append] - certainly the telltale sign of a deathly blow. [if BronzeHelmetPastFallen == true; append] . Ugh, what a shame... [continue] A horsehair crest, brittle and faded, still clings to the central ridge. Inside the brim, faint etchings are visible - perhaps a maker's mark. A small note near it speculates: *"Attic design, 5th c. BCE? Check records. Funerary context?"* {link to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless BronzeHelmetPastFallen; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past bronze helmet cutscene 1]] [continue]

A life-sized bronze statue depicts a woman draped in classical robes, though the fabric does little to conceal a figure of surprising substance. Her features are serene, almost placid, but her form is generously rounded - full arms, a thick waist barely hinted at beneath the sculpted folds, and substantial hips curving outwards. One hand rests proudly on her ample stomach, the other holds a stylized cornucopia, though its contents are merely suggested by the casting. Grapes and apples, perhaps? The bronze bears a greenish patina, particularly deep in the recesses of the drapery. A small plaque at the base reads: ~"Ceres - Allegory of Abundance"~. {link to: 'Museum Entrance', label: 'Back'}

The statuette stands at roughly four inches tall, its surface patinaed. The figure depicts a woman seated upon waves, her stylized curls cascading over bare shoulders. One hand rests on her rounded hip, the other extended as if offering something - whatever that was, it's lost to corrosion. Close inspection reveals faint scoring along its base - perhaps inventory numbers from a private collection. Tucked awkwardly behind its stand, partially obscured, you can just make out... [[a wheel->pastry cart Intro Meeting]]? {link to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[if SocietyBallTurns <= 1] An elaborate mahogany buffet table stretches along the wall, its polished surface gleaming under the electric chandeliers. Silver serving platters display an impressive array of delicate canapés - smoked salmon on small triangles of bread, caviar-topped blinis, and delicate pastries filled with cream and preserves. Crystal bowls hold fresh fruits and miniature tarts, while ornate candelabra cast flickering light across the pristine white tablecloth. The arrangements are perfectly symmetrical, each platter artfully arranged with precision. Not a crumb disturbs the spotless linen. [if SocietyBallTurns == 2] The mahogany buffet table maintains its elegant display, though small gaps have appeared in the previously perfect arrangements. The salmon canapés show clear evidence of selection, with several triangles missing from the geometric pattern. A few crumbs dot the white tablecloth near the pastry selection, and one of the serving spoons rests at a slightly different angle. The crystal bowls still sparkle under the candlelight, their contents largely undisturbed. [if SocietyBallTurns == 3] The buffet table's once-pristine arrangements now show noticeable depletion. The salmon canapé platter has several obvious gaps, while the pastry selection appears considerably diminished. Small crumbs scatter across the white tablecloth in an expanding radius around the most popular items. One of the smaller serving platters sits nearly empty, its contents reduced to a few straggling pieces. [if SocietyBallTurns == 4] The mahogany table's offerings have been substantially reduced through the evening's consumption. Multiple serving platters show significant gaps, with the salmon canapés now scattered rather than arranged. Crumbs and small fragments dot the tablecloth in increasing density, particularly around the cream pastries and miniature tarts. Several serving utensils rest askew, abandoned in haste by guests reaching for choice selections. [if SocietyBallTurns == 5] The buffet table bears clear evidence of sustained attention from the evening's guests. The salmon canapé platter is nearly depleted, while the pastry selection shows dramatic reduction. Crumbs form small scattered trails across the white tablecloth, mapping the most popular items. One corner of the table displays particular evidence of frequent visits - serving spoons rest at random angles, small smears mark the linen, and the candle wax has begun to drip onto the mahogany surface. [if SocietyBallTurns >= 6] The elegant buffet table has been thoroughly enjoyed by the evening's guests. Several platters sit nearly empty, their careful arrangements reduced to scattered remnants. The white tablecloth shows an impressive collection of crumbs, small stains, and the occasional dropped fragment of pastry. [continue] {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'} [note] Remember to add a tooltip for the word Canapè, and blinis. [continue]

The business card is cream-colored with embossed text, arranged in a neat fan. The top one belongs to a "Mr. Everett Blackwood, Continental Acquisitions," with an American address in Boston. The card's corner has been dog-eared. A handwritten note in Eleanor's script on the card's back reads: ~"Interested in 'unconventional' artifacts - mentioned 'handsome compensation' for the <del>pillaging</del> recovery of items related to 'ancient tribes.'"~ {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'} [unless BusinessCardPastSeen; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Business Card Cutscene 1]] [continue]

The butter dish seems to be made of silver - a very expensive piece, it shouldn't be kept so hidden away from view. The scent of the rich, creamy butter beneath teases the air, though it’s barely perceptible. The lid is slightly askew. {link to: 'kitchenette', label: 'Back'}

You float closer to the butter dish now resting on the counter. The butter is obviously gone, only a few lingering streaks remain, smeared across the bottom of the dish. The lid has been placed to the side, and a few of Eleanor's buttery fingerprints are visible along the edge. You still cannot wrap your head about the fact it took so little for this indulgence to happen. She is even more ravenous than you had initially anticipated. {link to: 'kitchenette', label: 'Back'}

The narrow cabinet stands tall beside the washstand, its glass-fronted doors revealing a tidy arrangement of jars and tins. You will its wooden doors open, revealing an assortment of glass jars and tins. The jars are filled with various soaps, salves, and powders, each labeled with delicate script. Some have faded, their ink either smudged by the room's humidity or simply worn away. A few bottles are corked with wax seals, while some are topped with small metal lids - one in particular, composed of green glass, has been left open in front of all others, though it appears to be empty. It's label has also been worn away. {link to: 'washroom', label: 'Back'} [note] Among them, a very ornate tin of rosewater]] catches your attention. [continued]

You find yourself drawn to the leather ledger that's been posted on top of the wall, and now operates as a calendar. Its pages are open, and today's date - **{CurrentDay}** - is circled in red ink. {embed passage: 'Calendar Day Description'} [unless SecondChDemo] The ink laid upon it ripples as you near it, almost inviting your influence. With slight concentration, you should be able to [[modify Eleanor's schedule->Slot Selection]]... [if SecondChDemo] The ink laid upon it ripples as you near it, but feels resistant to change. With slight concentration, you feel as if you *should* be able to [[modify Eleanor's schedule->Slot Selection (Demo)]]... *perhaps that will come at a later time.* [continue] {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

[unless candleholder] The candleholder, a brass piece with a single curved arm, sits near the center of the table. Melted wax clings stubbornly to its base, a pale puddle solidified around the stub of a candle long since burned out. The wick is little more than a blackened thread, curled inward. It gives the impression of being used more out of habit than necessity. [if candleholder] The brass candleholder remains where you last saw it, but now its candle stands whole and untouched. Its pale ivory wax is pristine, with a slightly uneven surface suggesting it was hand-poured. The wick is blackened at the tip, though of course it would still be capable of being lit. [continued] {link to: 'sitting room', label: 'Back'}

The alabaster jar gleams dully, its jackal-headed stopper gazing into the middle distance. A number of hieroglyphs encircle the vessel's shoulder, while a hairline crack appears on one side, meticulously repaired with nearly invisible adhesive. Looking inside, you can see some dried petals near its base - someone might've used it as a flower pot in more recent times. {link to: 'Egypt artefacts', label: 'Back'}

You near the two limestone canopic jars: the left one bears the falcon-headed Qebehsenuef, while the right displays Imsety's human visage. You've been occasionally paying attention to Richard's ramblings. Both have been fitted with water and now hold fresh white roses, their stems visible through the translucent liquid. The flowers themselves appear recently arranged - their petals still firm, their leaves bright green without the brown edges that develop after several days. You notice thick felt pads have been placed beneath each jar, likely to prevent the heavy limestone from scratching the mahogany finish. {link to: 'Pregnancy Ending Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[if SweetsEaten == 0] The refreshment cart sits by the entrance, its polished silver tray packed with an assortment of pastries. Flaky croissants, glazed buns filled with cream, and a number of small fruit tarts. A porcelain teapot sits beside a set of delicate cups, its spout pointed towards the sarcophagi. The cart bears the museum board's crest - clearly this is meant for donors and distinguished guests, not the staff. There's a small card noting "Compliments of Lord Brooke." [if SweetsEaten == 1] The refreshment cart sits slightly disheveled, with one conspicuous gap in the array of pastries. There are still a number of remaining treats - glazed buns, fruit tarts, and chocolate éclairs. A porcelain teapot sits beside a set of delicate cups, its spout pointed towards the sarcophagi. One cup now bears a faint lipstick smudge. The cart bears the museum board's crest - clearly this is meant for donors and distinguished guests, not the staff. There's a small card, knocked slightly askew, that reads "Compliments of Lord Brooke." [if SweetsEaten == 2] The refreshment cart looks lighter than before, with two vacant spaces among the diminishing assortment of pastries. The chocolate éclairs remain untouched, but the fruit tarts are dwindling in number. The teapot has been moved slightly, and now points towards the display cases. [if SweetsEaten == 3] The refreshment cart is looking much lighter, with half its treats now vanished. The remaining pastries sit in disarray, as if hastily rearranged to disguise how little of them remain. Several cups have also shifted around. A light dusting of powdered sugar has fallen onto the silver tray, and a few flaky crumbs trail across the floor in Eleanor's direction. [if SweetsEaten == 4] The refreshment cart stands decimated - a mess of crumbs and napkins. Only two sad-looking pastries remain - the least appealing of the lot, passed over despite Eleanor's appetite. The teapot has been almost entirely drained. [continue] {link to: 'Egyptian Exhibition Diorama', label: 'Back'}

You focus on the pair of caryatids flanking the eastern staircase entrance. Carved from pale marble, they stand tall, supporting the archway above. The figure on the left has a stern, almost disapproving expression etched onto her features. Her brow is furrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line, and her gaze seems fixed on some distant point behind you. The drapery around her form hangs in severe, rigid folds, hiding most of her body’s detail. In stark contrast, the caryatid on the right seems delighted to see you. A full smile plays on her lips, her eager eyes seem to hold a gentle, knowing warmth - though thinner than the other, her marble robes appear softer around her form, flowing more naturally. {link to: 'Museum Entrance', label: 'Back'}

[if CasketBoxOpen == false] The pale stone box sits heavily atop the cabinet, its surface smooth but for a few faint scratches along the edges. The lid fits seamlessly, with no visible hinges or locks - only a slight groove where the two halves meet. To be fair, without the strength to try and open it, you don't even know if it's actually locked or not. You drift forward, pressing your vision through the stone, but the darkness within swallows most detail. Only a vague, rounded shape emerges in the void, its off-white surface catching a faint trace of light. [if CasketBoxOpen == true; if SkullTaken == false] The pale stone box sits heavily atop the cabinet, its surface smooth but for a few faint scratches along the edges. Its spring-loaded lid is now to the other side of its lower compartment, allowing you to view its only content: a human [[skull]], resting at an odd angle. [if CasketBoxOpen == true; if SkullTaken == true] The pale stone box sits heavily atop the cabinet, its surface smooth but for a few faint scratches along the edges. Its spring-loaded lid is now to the other side of its lower compartment, allowing you observe the vacant, open middle of the box. Only a faint amount of pale, off-white dust and small bone fragments remains. [continue] {link to: 'decorative boxes', label: 'Back'}

A stack of pale yellow cataloguing cards sits neatly beside the ink pot. Most are blank, awaiting details of the newly arrived artifacts. However, one card lies slightly askew on top. It's already filled out in Violet Whitlock's distinctive, sharp, and meticulously neat handwriting. It details a "Cylinder Seal, Lapis Lazuli, Early Dynastic III" with a sketch number. Notably, the "Current Location/Destination" field reads: *V. Whitlock - Office (Further Analysis)*. The standard museum accession number is absent. {link to: 'table Archive Review', label: 'Back'}

Loose papers bear the same symbols you saw in Eleanor's flat: the curious blob-like shapes with V markings at their centers, and the pattern of two smaller circles with a larger marked one beneath. Among these familiar markings, Eleanor has isolated two additional glyphs for study. One appears to be an elongated oval bisected by a curved line, with small notches along its edge. The other resembles concentric circles with a circle of outward pointing arrows. [if ResearchProgress == 0] Her tentative pencil marks cluster around the margins: ~"Fertility symbols?"~ Each phrase ends with a question mark, the handwriting uncertain. [if ResearchProgress == 1; unless PrivateResearchAttended] Fresh ink overlays the earlier notes: ~"Consumption patterns... stylistic degeneration..."~ The writing grows smaller, more cramped. [if ResearchProgress >= 2; unless PrivateResearchAttended] Bold strokes cross out previous annotations, replaced by: ~"Deliberate gorging... daemons of hunger?"~ The final question mark is pressed deep enough to indent the paper. [continue] [if ResearchProgress >= 1; if PrivateResearchAttended] A separate note appears in darker ink: ~"V.W. suggests broader cult network..."~ The letters trail off, as though Eleanor hesitated before completing the thought. [continue] {link to: 'excavation chart', label: 'Back'}

teacupattempt: true -- As you focus on the pocket watch, the dim kitchenette fades, and time rewinds to an earlier moment. The chipped blue teacup sits, whole, unblemished, on the middle shelf. A faint hum of activity can be heard from another room as Eleanor moves about her day. Then, the cupboard door swings open abruptly. Eleanor’s hand reaches in, brushing the cup as she grabs for a tin of tea. The teacup wobbles dangerously, tipping toward the edge. You try to steady it, willing it to [[remain upright...->Past chipped teacup attempt cutscene 2]]

[if teacupfixed == false] The teacup, though charming in its deep blue glaze, bears a large crack running from its rim to the base. Floating through the cupboard and to the other side of the object, you notice a small, jagged gap where a piece has broken off entirely - enough, you reckon, to let water escape if poured inside. At the very least its matching saucer remains intact, save for a faint nail scratch across its surface. [if teacupfixed == true] The blue glazed teacup now bears a faintly matte patch where the jagged gap once was. The repair is smooth and sturdy, and although it stands out slightly, you reckon it's an improvement. The teacup sits proudly on its matching saucer. [continued] {link to: 'kitchenette', label: 'Back'}

teacupfixed: true HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP + 1 -- The clot of plaster floats forward, its surface shifting and rippling like liquid stone. You guide it carefully toward the jagged gap in the teacup’s base, where before it makes contact, it jets out a smaller driplet from its mass. The drip stretches and molds itself, filling the broken section seamlessly. Within moments, the clot solidifies, forming a smooth, matte patch that contrasts slightly with the cup’s glossy blue glaze. You don't really have any water with you, but you're fairly confident the object would now hold it steady. Hurray! {link to: 'chipped blue teacup', label: 'Back'}

At least two dozen chocolate bars sit stacked within the wardrobe, their purple Cadbury wrappers neatly arranged. Most appear to be their "milk chocolate" variety, though a few dark chocolate ones are mixed in. By the dust gathered on the lowest bars, you reckon Eleanor has been steadily adding to this hoard for some time. *...and this is a problem. How are you going to get her to eat them?* {link to: 'padlocked wardrobe', label: 'Back'}

{ascii backdrop: 'chronos'} [[Back->Patterns]]

A fragment of fired clay, etched with peculiar angular markings that might be script or merely decorative. One corner has been broken and reattached with a substance that doesn't quite match the tablet's color. The tablet leans precariously against a ledger, threatening to topple with the slightest vibration. {link to: 'bookshelves', label: 'Back'}

A fragment of fired clay, similar in style to others you've seen, but this one bears remarkably clear cuneiform script etched into its surface. The edges are sharp, suggesting it was carefully handled or perhaps recently excavated. Eleanor was examining it closely just moments ago. {link to: 'table Archive Review', label: 'Back'}

It's a delicate looking clay vessel, its surface rough and unglazed, with faint traces of a surprisingly violet pigment clinging to the grooves. It's hardly larger than your palm, and is composed of a narrow neck and a slightly flared rim. Faint scratches and nicks mar its surface, suggesting it has survived a fair bit of turmoil. At the base, a small handwritten [[note]] has been affixed. {link to: 'bookshelf', label: 'Back'}

A half-dozen gentlemen of various ages drift about the room in small clusters, their voices forming a constant murmur. Most wear well-tailored waistcoats and frock coats that speak of comfortable means, though none quite match the Duke's enthusiastic dishevelment. Near the far wall, two elderly men lean over a display case, one tapping the glass with a walking stick while pointing at what appears to be a piece of ordinary slate. A younger gentleman with meticulously waxed whiskers circles the room's perimeter, examining each specimen through a jeweler's loupe with methodical precision. His notebook remains perpetually open, though you observe he seems to write very little. {one of: ["*One member holds up a chunk of quartz to the window light, squinting at it as if it might reveal celestial secrets.*", "*Two gentlemen engage in animated discussion about 'crystalline matrices,' gesturing with the fervor of men who have found their life's calling in rocks.*", "*A portly fellow with a impressive beard carefully weighs a specimen in his palm, nodding sagely at whatever geological wisdom it imparts.*", "*Someone near the fireplace mutters something about his 'very cool quartz' having been stolen while polishing his spectacles.*"], order: 'cycling'} {link to: 'Geology Club Diorama', label: 'Back'}

A wall of limestone and mortar fragments towers before you, reaching from the chamber floor to the low vaulted ceiling. The stones vary wildly in size - some massive enough to pin a man, others no larger than a pebble. Fresh mortar dust drifts in the stagnant air, coating everything with a fine, chalky film. The collapse has created an almost perfect division of the space. Eleanor's muffled voice drifts through narrow gaps near the top, answered by Richard's equally distant replies from the opposite side. The barrier's surface is rough and visibly unstable - loose stones shift and settle with the slightest vibration. {link to: 'Weekend Expedition Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless SpearsState == 'embedded'; unless AqueductState == 'redirected'; unless BarrierAetherHelpful; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Barrier Aether Cutscene 1]] [continue] [if SpearsState == 'embedded'; if AqueductState == 'redirected'; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a powerful, resonating hum...->Barrier Collapse Aether Cutscene 1]] [continue]

You drift toward the commode. It makes use of a brass cistern on top, and a pull chain currently swaying gently in the air. The porcelain bowl is spotless. ...there really isn't anything you can think of doing with it at the moment. You definitely lack the ability, and need, to make use of it. {link to: 'washroom', label: 'Back'}

As you approach the imposing control panel, you catch an engraved label right over it: [align center] ~CONTROL THY SELF~ [continued] Right in the middle of it, surrounded by a myriad other small levers and buttons, are six main commands: [if GluttonyTerrace] ➼A copper dial already set to the max, slightly greasy to the touch. [unless GluttonyTerrace] ➼[[A copper dial->Lever Selected Logic Cutscene], slightly greasy to the touch. [if RageTerrace] ➼A scarlet lever set to the top, its handle worn from frequent use. [unless RageTerrace] ➼[[A scarlet lever->Lever Selected Logic Cutscene], its handle worn from frequent use. [if PoiseTerrace] ➼An ivory switch, set delicately at its midpoint. [unless PoiseTerrace] ➼[[An ivory switch->Lever Selected Logic Cutscene], already clicked. [if DoubtTerrace] ➼A trembling chain yanked forward. [unless DoubtTerrace] ➼[[A trembling chain->Lever Selected Logic Cutscene], rattling as if a strong current was crossing through it. [if CuriosityTerrace] ➼A small brass key, set in its lock. [unless CuriosityTerrace] ➼[[A small brass key->Lever Selected Logic Cutscene], half-turned in its lock. [if LongingTerrace] ➼A velvet-covered button, pulsing vigorously. [unless LongingTerrace] ➼[[A velvet-covered button->Lever Selected Logic Cutscene], gently pulsing. {link to: 'Eleanor Control', label: 'Back'

correctartefact: correctartefact + 1 arrowheadstaken: true HelpfulnessEXP (correctartefact == 3): HelpfulnessEXP + 3 -- The handbag floats forward, its clasp snapping open like a hungry mouth. You guide it closer to the arrowheads, expecting it to swallow them eagerly. And so it does, going over all of them in one swift motion. The bag closes gently, its handkerchief fluttering. [if correctartefact < 3] [append] It then returns to your side, its clasp slightly ajar - ready for the next item. [if correctartefact == 3] [append] It then returns to your side, its clasps shut. You can tell by sight alone that the handbag is now heavier, more purposeful - its task is complete. [continued] {link to: 'guest room', label: 'Back'}

correctartefact: correctartefact + 1 clayvesseltaken: true HelpfulnessEXP (correctartefact == 3): HelpfulnessEXP + 3 -- The handbag floats forward, its clasp snapping open like a hungry mouth. You guide it closer to the clay vessel, expecting it to swallow the artifact eagerly. And so it does, in one swift motion. The bag closes gently, its handkerchief fluttering. [if correctartefact < 3] [append] It then returns to your side, its clasp slightly ajar - ready for the next item. [if correctartefact == 3] [append] It then returns to your side, its clasps shut. You can tell by sight alone that the handbag now feels heavier, more purposeful - its task is complete. [continued] {link to: 'bookshelf', label: 'Back'}

correctartefact: correctartefact + 1 SkullTaken: true HelpfulnessEXP (correctartefact == 3): HelpfulnessEXP + 3 -- The handbag floats forward, its clasp snapping open like a hungry mouth. You guide it closer to the skull, expecting it to swallow the remains eagerly. And so it does, in one swift motion. The bag closes gently, its handkerchief fluttering. [if correctartefact < 3] [append] It then returns to your side, its clasp slightly ajar - ready for the next item. [if correctartefact == 3] [append] It then returns to your side, its clasps shut. You can tell by sight alone that the handbag is now heavier, more purposeful - its task is complete. [continued] {link to: 'casket box', label: 'Back'}

Hovering closer, you examine the corset. The fabric is a deep burgundy satin, overlaid with delicate black lace. The steel boning is firm, though you notice a faint curve to the structure, as if it has been tested against an increasingly rotund figure. The laces are slightly frayed near the tips, likely from being tugged and retied day after day. A few threads have begun to loosen near the seams, especially along the sides. The faintest trace of lavender body-oil lingers in the fabric, mingling with a hint of perspiration: you reckon it has recently been worn, and not for a small amount of time either. {link to: 'garments', label: 'Back'}

The opened crate sits slightly askew on the floor, its edges scuffed from frequent handling. Peering inside, you see a few bottles of wine nestled between torn straw packing. The glass is cloudy, and some bottles show signs of age with faint dustings of mildew on their necks. A few corks have begun to rot, but they are still tightly in place. {link to: 'Pantry (Not Robbed)', label: 'Back'}

Several sturdy wooden crates sit open on the floor near the table. Packing straw spills out, cushioning the artifacts within. Labels tacked to the sides indicate their origin - "Baghdad Expedition - Lot 4B" and "Ur Excavation Site - Crate 7". Most seem to contain pottery fragments, textile remnants wrapped in oilcloth, and smaller clay tablets similar to the one Eleanor is holding. [unless GasLampFlareSeen] [append] One crate, slightly smaller than the others, appears to hold scrolls tightly bound with twine. It's difficult to see clearly from this distance due to the poor lighting. [if GasLampFlareSeen] [append] One crate, however, holds not scrolls, but a single, flat object wrapped carefully in oilcloth: a [[reflective object->reflective object Archive Review]]. During the lamp's flare, you caught a definite *glint* off its surface where the cloth had pulled away at a corner - smooth, dark, potentially reflective. [continue] {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless CratePastSeen; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Crate Move Cutscene]] [continue]

The vibrant yellow hue of the cravat draws your eye. It's a cheerful contrast to the otherwise subdued attire. Finely woven, smooth to the touch, a simple accent piece really. It's clearly been worn a lot: there's a faint crease running lengthwise from repeated tying. It's spotless, and you reckon it was the first thing that its owner removed once she came back home from work - as one ought to. {link to: 'garments', label: 'Back'}

The porcelain cream pitcher sits haphasardly beside the sugar bowl, its delicate handle turned outward for easy access. Thick cream clings to its interior walls in pale streaks, while a faint ring marks the mahogany table where it rested during this morning's extended breakfast, when you heard Mary insisting Eleanor try the new Belgian chocolate she'd acquired from Harrods. Mary's fingerprints remain visible on the handle's curve - she never remembers to wear gloves while serving, despite her upbringing's insistence on propriety. The cream itself is French, imported at considerable expense - you remember Mary discovering Eleanor's preference for it during their third week together, when Eleanor mentioned how the local dairy's offering seemed thin by comparison. {link to: 'Museum Employment Mary Success Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[unless CreamSpilled] The porcelain creamer sits nestled beside the teapot, its shape echoing the curves of the teacups. It's filled almost to the brim with thick, pale cream. A single droplet clings precariously to the spout. Its blue glaze pattern perfectly matches the rest of the set. [if CreamSpilled] The porcelain creamer sits mostly empty beside the teapot, a few thick streaks of cream clinging to its interior walls. A damp ring marks the tablecloth where it briefly tipped. Its blue glaze pattern perfectly matches the rest of the set. [continue] {link to: 'Tea With Mary Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless CreamSpilled; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Creamer Aether Spill]] [continue]

The cupboard doors swing open to reveal neatly arranged shelves, stocked with a collection of mismatched crockery. Tea tins, their labels faded but legible, sit in a tidy row. A few small jars, half-filled with dried herbs and spices, are tucked to one side. A [[butter dish]] rests on the middle shelf. [if teacupfixed == false] [append] A [[chipped blue teacup]], inverted on its saucer, sits nearby. [if teacupfixed == true] [append] A [[blue teacup->chipped blue teacup]], sat on its saucer, sits nearby. [continued] {link to: 'kitchenette', label: 'Back'}

pocketwatch: true strength (comesFromMenu() != true): strength+ 1 PocketwatchHad: true -- [if EleanorBreakfast == false] You inspect closer. It's a pocket watch with a polished brass casing, intricately crafted and etched with an elegant floral motif. A delicate chain, slightly tarnished, curls from it. The latch clicks softly as you will it open, revealing a pair of delicate hands on top of a porcelain dial. The rhythmic ticking grows more frantic as you take hold of the watch. *You feel a faint tug as you claim the object - it now floats around you, intermittently flickering in and out of reality.* {link to: 'entryway', label: 'Back'} [if EleanorBreakfast == true] You inspect closer. It's the same pocket watch as before, with a polished brass casing, intricately crafted and etched with an elegant floral motif. A delicate chain, slightly tarnished, curls from it. The latch clicks softly as you will it open, revealing a pair of delicate hands on top of a porcelain dial. The rhythmic ticking grows more frantic as you, once more, take hold of the watch. *You feel a faint tug as you claim the object - it floats around you, intermittently flickering in and out of reality.* {link to: 'dining table', label: 'Back'}

A selection of decorative boxes sit neatly atop the cabinet, varying in size and material. One, a [[jewelry box]], is lacquered black with delicate mother-of-pearl inlays forming a crescent moon. Another, smaller and simpler, is made of unvarnished wood with a small brass latch - you reckon its a [[sewing box]]. A third is much bigger than the two and carved from pale stone. Is it a [[casket box]]? You have no way of knowing, as it appears to be locked. Most of the others seem purely ornamental. {link to: 'upper floor', label: 'Back'}

The letter lies partially hidden beneath scattered the periodicals, its cream-colored paper bearing an official letterhead. You're only able to read a fragment of it: <blockquote>"...regret to inform you that the Museum Board has unanimously decided to deny the request for funding. Furthermore, concerns about the applicant's recent conduct and reliability have left the board no choice but to also terminate her position, effective immediately. We expect all artifacts in your possession to be returned within..."</blockquote> The rest of the letter disappears beneath a dining plate. {link to: 'Sitting room slob ending', label: 'Back'}

The Director's desk is a thick piece of furniture, its mahogany surface polished to a mirror shine. It's almost bare, with just a pristine blotter, a silver inkwell set, a thick, leather-bound ledger and a small brass paperweight being the only items permitted on its surface. Aside from the lunch tray, of course. There isn't a single stray paper in sight. {link to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless DeskPastSeen; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Desk Cutscene 1]] [continue] [inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Desk Director Aether]] [continue]

You hover into the dining room. A long rectangular [[dining table]] [if EleanorBreakfast == false] [append] , still busy with the remains of a morning's breakfast, [continue] [append] sits at the room's center, accompanied by four mismatched wooden chairs. A folded linen runner lies down the middle of it [if EleanorBreakfast == true] [append] , lightly dusted with crumbs. [if EleanorBreakfast == false] [append] . [continued] [if DishesDestruction == false] Against the wall, a dark oak sideboard holds a small collection of [[porcelain dishes]], a [[glass decanter]], and a pair of unused wine glasses. [if DishesDestruction == true] Against the wall, a dark oak sideboard holds a now smaller collection of porcelain dishes - most of them are now on the floor, reduced to fragments. A [[glass decanter]] is also there, together with a pair of unused wine glasses. [continued] [if LandscapeUncrook == false] [append] Above it, a slightly crooked framed print of a [[pastoral landscape->landscape]] hangs. [if LandscapeUncrook == true] [append] Above it, a framed print of a [[landscape]] hangs. [continue] On the opposite side, a glass-paned door opens onto the [[🌿terrace->terrace]]. An open archway leads you into the [[🛋️sitting room->sitting room]], while a narrower doorway connects to the small [[🍳kitchenette->kitchenette]].

You attempt to drift toward the dining room, but find your essence growing thin, unstable. Bothersome. The comfortable warmth of the sitting room seems to pull at you, and with Mary tending so carefully to Eleanor's needs, there really is no need for you to overextend yourself. Everything is being taken care for. Your form wavers, drawn back to the familiar comfort of your now warm vessel. {link to: 'Museum Employment Mary Success Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[if EleanorBreakfast == true] The dining table, though sturdy, bears marks of frequent use. The wood is lightly scuffed, and the finish has dulled in places, particularly where the runner has been pulled aside. Faint crumbs linger along its surface, a mix of fine sugar and something darker, perhaps from bread or cake. There's also a small, dried tea stain near the center. [if EleanorBreakfast == true; if pocketwatch == false] [append] To the side is instead the [[pocket watch->cutscene unpicked pocket watch]], in the same exact location you saw Eleanor place it. [continued] [if EleanorBreakfast == false] The dining table, though sturdy, bears marks of frequent use. The wood is lightly scuffed, and the finish has dulled in places, particularly where the runner has been pulled aside. Atop the surface, a plate of muffins sits abandoned, their clotted cream now hard as a rock. A small bowl of cold porridge, filled halfway, rests nearby alongside a milky cup of tea. *To not have even touched their tea, someone must've left in a hurry.* The chairs surrounding the table are all slightly different in design, as though collected piece by piece rather than as a set. One wobbles slightly whenever you cross through it. [continued] {link to: 'dining room', label: 'Back'}

The mahogany table dominates the room's center, its surface bearing the remnants of morning breakfast. Fine porcelain plates hold fragments of toast crusts and smears of orange marmalade. A teacup sits half-empty, its contents cold, with a thin film across the surface. Butter melts slowly in a small crystal dish, forming a yellow pool around the remaining pat. A jam pot rests open beside scattered correspondence, its silver spoon handle sticky with preserves. Crumbs trail across the polished wood, leading from the plate toward an open letter bearing the Bristol Institute letterhead, addressed to Eleanor. Thick felt pads have been placed along the table's sharp corners, their edges slightly frayed from use. A child's cup - small, white porcelain with painted rabbits - sits pushed toward the table's center, well out of reach from the edges. {link to: 'Pregnancy Ending Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The director stands tall with his back straight, one hand perpetually fidgeting with his pocket watch chain. You guess him to be half age, and from your vantage point you can see he’s balding, though compensating with an impressive mustache. Waxed, too. His black frock coat is superb though slightly too tight across the shoulders. His dark eyes flick impatiently between the artifacts and his staff, as if in a hurry and wanting to be done with this meeting as much as the others in the hall. {link to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless IntroMeetingDirectorPersuasion; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Director persuasion menu]] [continue]

The display cases are arranged in a horseshoe pattern. Most have been assembled but are clearly still waiting for their glass panes to arrive, leaving the artifacts vulnerable to the museum's dust. It's a good thing most of the cases are still empty, then. The cases vary in height and width - clearly repurposed from other exhibitions. A few bear scratches where old plaques have been removed, and one still displays a faded outline of "~MESOPOTAMIAN TREASURES~" beneath a hasty coat of black paint. {link to: 'Egyptian Exhibition Diorama', label: 'Back'}

{ascii backdrop: 'distortion'} [[Back->Patterns]]

The heavy oak door seems to be the only way in or out of this storage space. Its wood is dark and solid, fitted with a sturdy-looking brass handle and lock mechanism. A small, square window set high in the door is reinforced with thick wire mesh, offering only a limited view of the corridor on the other side. There are som scratches around the handle. {link to: 'Ancient Mirror Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The double doors, tall and made of dark wood, stand imposingly at the end of the hallway. Their surface is smooth, save for a few faint scratches near the brass handles. Being incorporeal, you attempt to test your abilities by drifting through the material - this however, does not happen. As you attempt to pass your hand through, an unexpected force repels you back, a sensation both firm and blisteringly hot. At that moment, a set of crudely drawn chalk symbols drawn above the door frame flare to life, glowing a pale purple before fading towards their natural white. The two events seem to be connected, but in what capacity you cannot say. {link to: 'entryway', label: 'Back'}

[if TapeDressFitted] The formal dress hangs onto the floor of the wardrobe, its fabric a soft shade of soft yellow. The gown was clearly made from an expensive material, with intricate lace trim along the neckline and sleeves. Your attempt to adjust it has been... less than successful. The dress now hangs in two distinct pieces, the waistline completely torn apart. This is beyond repair. [unless TapeDressFitted] The formal dress hangs gracefully, its fabric a soft shade of soft yellow. The gown is clearly made from an expensive material, with intricate lace trim along the neckline and sleeves. However, just before the pleats of the skirt, a rip runs along the seam of the waist, jagged and uneven. The fabric has recently been torn under pressure, likely from someone fatter than the dress was intended for attempting to fit into it - Eleanor, perhaps. It's a shame. The dress itself seems quite beautiful, though... clearly not made to accommodate Eleanor's current curves. [continue] {link to: 'wardrobe', label: 'Back'} [note] Item that can repair the damage and also fit the dress better Pocket watch making the player see what went wrong, and how it got ripped. [continued]

{ascii backdrop: 'echoes'} [[Back->Patterns]]

Empty plates, cups, and saucers litter the table's surface, their rims bearing traces of various meals. Bits of gravy, meat juice stains, frosting smears and stains mark each dish - some still have bits of food stuck to them, suggesting that, although bare, they were licked clean rather than properly washed. A particularly large platter sits at the center, its surface showing clear signs of having been scraped repeatedly with a fork. {link to: 'Sitting room slob ending', label: 'Back'}

config.header.right: "{embed passage: 'Inventory Logic'}" config.header.left: "{embed passage: 'Ascii Logic'}" config.footer.center: "{embed passage: 'Settings Menu Logic (Chapter 1)'}" -- You drift within the dimly lit entryway of a modest flat. Behind you stands the heavy oak [[🚪front door->front door]]. To your left, on top of a delicate wooden hall table, rests your [[🪦vessel->vessel]]. [unless SittingroomDooropen] Straight ahead, the narrow hallway extends further into the apartment, ending at a pair of thick [[double doors]]. Beyond them you hear the muted crackle of a fire. To the left of the hallway, a closed door leads to a [[🛁washroom->washroom]]. [if SittingroomDooropen] Straight ahead, the narrow hallway extends further into the apartment, ending at a pair of thick double doors. Beyond them is a [[🛋️sitting room->sitting room]], from which you hear the muted crackle of a fire. To the left of the hallway, a closed door leads to a [[🛁washroom->washroom]]. [continued] Further down, a flight of stairs rises steeply to the [[⤴️upper floor->upper floor]]. [if pocketwatch == false; if Eleanorspotted == true; if EleanorBreakfast == false] On the ground, there's now a small, [[*ticking* object->cutscene unpicked pocket watch]]. [continue] [if pocketwatch] {accessory: 'right1', passage: 'Inventory', taggedout: 'cutscene, menu, ending, past, povs'} [continue]

BroughtToTheMuseeumTurns: BroughtToTheMuseeumTurns + 1 -- {accessoryoff: 'right1'} [if BroughtToTheMuseeumTurns == 1] You find yourself back inside the entryway of the flat. Behind you stands the heavy oak [[🚪front door->museum ending cannot move cutscene]]. To your left, on top of a delicate wooden hall table, rests your [[🪦vessel->vessel museum ending]]. Straight ahead, the narrow hallway extends further into the apartment, ending at a pair of thick double doors. Beyond them is a [[🛋️sitting room->museum ending cannot move cutscene]]. To the left of the hallway, a closed door leads to a [[washroom->museum ending cannot move cutscene]]. Further down, a flight of stairs rises steeply to the [[⤴️upper floor->museum ending cannot move cutscene]]. [if BroughtToTheMuseeumTurns == 2] You find yourself back inside the entryway of the flat. Behind you stands the heavy oak [[🚪front door->museum ending cannot move cutscene]]. To your left, on top of a delicate wooden hall table, rests your [[🪦vessel->vessel museum ending]]. Straight ahead, the narrow hallway extends further into the apartment, ending at a pair of thick double doors. Beyond them is a [[🛋️sitting room->museum ending cannot move cutscene]]. To the left of the hallway, a closed door leads to a [[washroom->museum ending cannot move cutscene]]. Further down, a flight of stairs rises steeply to the [[⤴️upper floor->museum ending cannot move cutscene]]. [if BroughtToTheMuseeumTurns == 3] Finally, you hear the familiar sound of someone making her way down the [[stairs->Brought to the museeum ending cutscene 2]].

ForgottenEndingTurns: ForgottenEndingTurns + 1 -- {accessoryoff: 'right1'} [if ForgottenEndingTurns == 1] You find back inside the entryway of the flat. Behind you stands the heavy oak [[🚪front door->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. To your left, on top of a delicate wooden hall table, rests your [[🪦vessel->vessel forgotten ending]]. Straight ahead, the narrow hallway extends further into the apartment, ending at a pair of thick double doors. Beyond them is a [[🛋️sitting room->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. To the left of the hallway, a closed door leads to a [[washroom->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. Further down, a flight of stairs rises steeply to the [[⤴️upper floor->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. [note] Entryway, but you can't move anywhere, and can only watch and attempt to move. [continue] [if ForgottenEndingTurns == 2] Time stretches oddly - you cannot tell if minutes or months pass between moments of awareness. You drift in and out of consciousness, catching brief glimpses of change: shifting shadows, the slow march of seasons visible through windows, occasional echoes of activity from other parts of the building. [[...->entryway forgotten ending]] [if ForgottenEndingTurns == 3] You find back inside the entryway of the flat. Behind you stands the heavy oak [[🚪front door->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. To your left, on top of a delicate wooden hall table, rests your [[🪦vessel->vessel forgotten ending]]. Straight ahead, the narrow hallway extends further into the apartment, ending at a pair of thick double doors. Beyond them is a [[🛋️sitting room->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. To the left of the hallway, a closed door leads to a [[washroom->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. Further down, a flight of stairs rises steeply to the [[⤴️upper floor->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. [if ForgottenEndingTurns == 4] You find back inside the entryway of the flat. Behind you stands the heavy oak [[🚪front door->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. To your left, on top of a delicate wooden hall table, rests your [[🪦vessel->vessel forgotten ending]]. Straight ahead, the narrow hallway extends further into the apartment, ending at a pair of thick double doors. Beyond them is a [[🛋️sitting room->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. To the left of the hallway, a closed door leads to a [[washroom->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. Further down, a flight of stairs rises steeply to the [[⤴️upper floor->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. *You watch as Eleanor walks through the hallway, dressed for work. She passes your vessel without a second glance.* [if ForgottenEndingTurns == 5] You find back inside the entryway of the flat. Behind you stands the heavy oak [[🚪front door->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. To your left, on top of a delicate wooden hall table, rests your [[🪦vessel->vessel forgotten ending]]. Straight ahead, the narrow hallway extends further into the apartment, ending at a pair of thick double doors. Beyond them is a [[🛋️sitting room->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. To the left of the hallway, a closed door leads to a [[washroom->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. Further down, a flight of stairs rises steeply to the [[⤴️upper floor->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. [if ForgottenEndingTurns == 6] Without a well-defined goal, it's impossible for you to remain focused. The dark granite of your vessel calls to you. As your consciousness begins to dissolve, you wonder if you'll ever awaken, or if this time the sleep will be permanent. The last thing you notice is Eleanor's silhouette passing through the entryway one final time, her form growing fainter as your vision [[dims->Forgotten Ending]].

The large framed chart dominates the wall, its surface a collection of hand-drawn maps and annotated diagrams pinned at odd angles. Red ink traces a winding path along the Brittany coast, dotted with circled numbers. Eleanor's handwriting is all over the place, cramped but legible. ~"Site 7: pottery shards, uncommon for the area."~ ~"Site 12: metallic fragments. Possible ritual context? A pagan cult?"~ ~"Site 19: carved stone fragments, unknown script."~ Near the latter, a number of [[sketches->chart sketches]] have been drawn. From there, the path heads further inland, connecting with a circled area simply labeled ~"Site 1"~. From Eleanor's notes, it appears to be a partially explored cave network - presumably the only plausible point of origin for all of these artefacts. [if ExpeditionFunds <= 0] A budget estimate scrawled in the bottom corner shows crossed-out figures: ~"£127... £156... £203..."~ [if ExpeditionFunds >= 1; unless ExpeditionFunds >= 2; if correctartefact == 3] Fresh ink in the margin reads: ~"Director's grudging contribution for artifact return - hurray! Still a lot to go, though..."~ [if ExpeditionFunds >= 1; unless ExpeditionFunds >= 2; unless correctartefact == 3] Fresh ink in the margin reads: ~"Partial funding secured... reduced scope?"~ [if ExpeditionFunds == 2; if correctartefact == 3] A new notation appears near the coast: ~"Additional sponsors identified. Plus unexpected boost from Director (finally acknowledged proper procedure!). Still short, but real progress..."~ [if ExpeditionFunds >= 3; unless ExpeditionFunds >= 4] A new notation appears near the coast: ~"Additional sponsors identified. Still not enough, but I'm getting there."~ [if ExpeditionFunds >= 5] Bold lettering fills an empty corner: ~"Enough funding obtained! The expedition should be viable!"~ [continue] {plainlink to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

The practical traveling garments hang from the wardrobe door, their modest proportions now grimly apparent. A dark wool skirt designed for fieldwork looks impossibly narrow, while the accompanying blouses seem built for a woman half Eleanor's current size. A heavy traveling coat drapes over the collection, its sturdy fabric meant to withstand rough conditions. Beneath it, sensible undergarments and thick stockings complete the ensemble - all carefully selected weeks ago when such considerations seemed manageable. {link to: 'Bedroom Merge Ending Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The expedition trunk sits open by the window, its leather straps hanging loose. A few items lie scattered across its bottom - a spare pair of boots, some folded maps, and a compass wrapped in felt. The interior shows the optimistic organization of someone who expected to fill every compartment. Two small travel cases nest in one corner, meant for delicate artifacts and specimens. A leather document portfolio sits empty, its brass clasps gleaming. The trunk's fitted compartments remain largely vacant, their velvet lining pristine and waiting. A traveling writing kit occupies one section - portable inkwells, a small blotter, and sealed envelopes ready for correspondence from the field. {link to: 'Bedroom Merge Ending Diorama', label: 'Back'}

{ascii backdrop: 'feast'} [[Back->Patterns]]

Inside the tiny terrarium, delicate fronds of fern curl upward, vibrant and green against the mossy substrate beneath them. A small shard of pottery sits nestled among the plants, its edges jagged, as though recently broken from a larger piece. The faintest hint of condensation gathers on the glass. A piece of [[yellowed paper]] is sitting right in front of the jar's brass base. {link to: 'fireplace', label: 'Back'}

{ascii backdrop: 'fertilityidol'} [[Back->Patterns]]

Closing in on the figurine, you can see it depicts a robed woman, her hands clasped before her in quiet reverence. The craftsmanship is exquisite, with intricate folds etched into the drapery and a neutral expression upon her face. A green patina clings to the grooves. Etched along the base are words in a... familiar, yet unlegible script. {link to: 'bookshelf', label: 'Back'}

{ascii backdrop: 'filigree'} [[Back->Patterns]]

You drift closer to the modest marble fireplace, its smooth surface cool and faintly veined with gray. On the mantel itself, a delicate [[brass clock]] ticks softly, its face etched with Roman numerals. Near it is a small [[terracotta figurine]] of a woman holding a bundle of grain, and a tiny [[fern terrarium]] encased in a bell jar. [note] A shallow ceramic bowl sits at the other end of the mantel, filled with polished [[stones and seashells. [continue] The hearth below is lined with soot-blackened bricks, and a few charred pine logs still smolder faintly, giving off a gentle warmth. {link to: 'sitting room', label: 'Back'}

The modest marble fireplace lies cold and neglected, its surface dulled by a thin film of dust. In the hearth, half-burned logs have crumbled to ash, untouched for what seems like days. The mantel is bare, with no sign of Eleanor's trinkets. {link to: 'Sitting room slob ending', label: 'Back'}

You attempt to drift in that direction, but find yourself growing weaker with each passing moment. Your form wavers and fades, drawn inexorably back to your vessel. Whatever strength you once had is slipping away, leaving you tethered to the spot. {link to: 'entryway forgotten ending', label: 'Back'}

[if stuffedstate == 'OVERSTUFFED'] The four-poster bed stands as a central feature of the room, Each post support a canopy of soft fabric that drapes down in gentle folds, and its wooden frame is polished and sturdy. Well, not that sturdy after all: it groans under Eleanor's swollen form. She's laying on top of a cozy quilt half-tucked around the edges, and propped up by a plethora of pillows. Her honey-blonde hair tumbles over her shoulders as she leans against the headboard. [if helpfulnessNegative; unless stuffedstate == 'OVERSTUFFED'] The four-poster bed stands as a central feature of the room, even though its wooden frame is left dusty and scratched. Each post support a canopy of fabric that drapes down. Its mattress and messily set quilt sags in the middle where Eleanor is currently laying on. Her honey-blonde hair tumbles over her shoulders and onto the stained pillows. [if helpfulnessNone; unless stuffedstate == 'OVERSTUFFED'] The four-poster bed stands as a central feature of the room. Each post support a canopy of fabric that drapes down. It's functional, but clearly worn. The quilt lies half-off the mattress, its stitching fraying at the edges. The pillows maintain slight head-shaped indentations, while a random ledger serves as makeshift bedside table. [if helpfulnessMedium; unless stuffedstate == 'OVERSTUFFED'] The four-poster bed stands as a central feature of the room, its wooden frame sturdy. Each post support a canopy of soft fabric that drapes down in gentle folds. It looks recently straightened, with military corners on the quilt. Its pillows are plumped and arranged in height order. You can also spot faint broom marks visible in the rug pile around the freshly polished bedposts. [if helpfulnessHigh; unless stuffedstate == 'OVERSTUFFED'] The four-poster bed stands as a central feature of the room, its wooden frame sturdy. Each post support a canopy of soft fabric that drapes down in gentle folds. It looks recently straightened, with military corners on the quilt. Its pillows are aligned by size with geometric precision - its canopy fabric is steamed free of wrinkles, draped exactly 1, 3, 6... 12 inches from each post. Not a single feather is out of place. Eleanor is currently sitting on top of it, propped up by a plethora of pillows and enjoying a novel. Her honey-blonde hair tumbles over her shoulders as she leans against the headboard. [continue] {link to: 'bedroom', label: 'Back'}

The four-poster bed dominates the room's center, its wooden frame bearing the evidence of recent disturbance. The quilt lies bunched and wrinkled, pushed toward the foot of the bed where Eleanor finally managed to roll herself upright. Pillows remain scattered across the mattress and floor - some still bearing the deep impressions of her overstuffed form, others knocked aside in her efforts to find leverage. Wine stains mark the sheets near the headboard, while crumbs from last night's celebration are ground into the fabric. The mattress itself sags noticeably in the center, the springs having groaned under Eleanor's substantial weight throughout the night. {link to: 'Bedroom Merge Ending Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[if FrescoesState == 'pristine'] Painted figures writhe across the wall in vivid reds and ochres, their naked forms entwined in unmistakably carnal embraces. A soldier presses a woman against a pillar, her back arched, his hands tangled in her hair. Nearby, another couple lies sprawled on a couch, limbs intertwined, mouths meeting in hungry kisses. The pigments have survived remarkably well - you can see the flush on their painted skin, the curve of breast and thigh, the lust in their expressions. [continue] [if FrescoesState == 'past_seen'] Painted figures writhe across the wall in vivid reds and ochres, their naked forms entwined in unmistakably carnal embraces. A soldier presses a woman against a pillar, her back arched, his hands tangled in her hair. Nearby, another couple lies sprawled on a couch, limbs intertwined, mouths meeting in hungry kisses. The pigments have survived remarkably well - you can see the flush on their painted skin, the curve of breast and thigh, the lust in their expressions. *For a second you catch a glimpse of a pink, spectral form inside of the painting - a naked hourglass figure hovering behind the couple and right in front of you.* [if FrescoesState == 'corrupted'] Cracks spider across the wall where ancient heat once scorched the surface beyond repair. The lovers' faces are split by fracture lines, their embraces broken by gaps in the plaster. What once depicted ecstasy now suggests agony - painted mouths twisted; reaching hands severed by missing chunks of wall. The damaged sections emit a faint, acrid smell, as if something still burns within the stone. [continue] {link to: 'Weekend Expedition Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless FrescoesState == 'corrupted'; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Frescoes Cutscene 1]] [continue]

You drift toward the heavy oak door, its dark surface polished to a faint sheen. The brass handle and keyhole are well-worn, their edges dulled by years of use. A faint draft seeps through the narrow gap beneath. No matter how close you try to get to it, you find yourself incapable of leaving the apartment. {link to: 'entryway', label: 'Back'}

Floating over to the armchair, you examine the garments. The items appear to be the typical attire of an assistant of some kind. At the top of the pile is a slightly rumpled black [[waistcoat]]. Beneath it lies a neatly folded [[cravat]]. Further down, you notice a crisp white [[blouse]], its high collar unfastened, and a long black [[skirt]] with a small tear at the hem. At the very bottom, half-obscured by the folds of the skirt, rest a [[corset]] and a simple set of [[undergarments]]. {link to: 'sitting room', label: 'Back'}

The brass gas lamp hangs overhead, suspended by a chain from a ceiling mount. Its mantle glows with a steady, slightly yellow light, casting a distinct circle of illumination on the table below, but leaving the corners of the vast archive in deep shadow. You can hear a faint, continuous *hiss* emanating from it. The light flickers occasionally, sending shadows dancing momentarily across the shelves. The brass fitting where the chain meets the ceiling appears slightly discolored. [if VioletTeleported] *The lamp is clearly damaged now - the brass around the mantle is warped and blackened, as if exposed to intense heat. Its light flickers more erratically.* [unless VioletTeleported; if MagnifyingGlassAligned] *You recall the focused beam of light briefly striking that ceiling fitting.* [continue] {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless GasLampFlareSeen; unless MagnifyingGlassAligned; unless ReflectiveObjectAligned; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a strong, resonating hum...->Gas Lamp Aether Flare 1]] [continue] [if MagnifyingGlassAligned; if ReflectiveObjectAligned; unless VioletTeleported] {embed passage: 'Secondary Check for gas lamp Archive review'} [continue] [note] Reverted descriptive text, kept MagnifyingGlassAligned check, added VioletTeleported check for damage description. [continue]

The Duke's prized collection fills multiple glass display cases that line the sitting room walls. Specimens are arranged with passionate enthusiasm rather than scientific precision - chunks of limestone bearing visible sedimentary layers sit beside gleaming pieces of quartz, their crystalline faces catching the afternoon light. A particularly impressive granite sample dominates the central case, its feldspar inclusions clearly labeled in the Duke's enthusiastic handwriting. You observe mica samples that split into paper-thin sheets, dark schist bearing the pressure striations the Duke so loves to discuss, and what appears to be perfectly cubic pyrite formations. Near the window, a spiral shell catches your attention - a petrified nautilus that seems oddly out of place among the purely geological specimens. The Duke's handwritten label confidently identifies it as "Remarkable Spiral Formation - Natural Mathematical Precision". {link to: 'Geology Club Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The glass decanter with a simple cut pattern winding around its base. It stands half-filled with a dark amber liquid, its cloudy, slightly dusty surface catching the dim light. A faint aroma lingers near the stopper, something rich and oaky. Perhaps it's brandy, maybe sherry. {link to: 'dining room', label: 'Back'}

The bronze vessel fits comfortably in Eleanor's palms, its narrow opening sealed with what appears to be wax. The metal radiates warmth that penetrates through her gloves - you can feel it too as you hover closer. The vessel's surface shows faint stress lines around its widest point, hairline marks that suggest repeated expansion. When Eleanor shifts her grip, you catch the slightest tremor through the bronze walls - a pulse. The base bears tiny dents, as though the vessel had been set down with unusual force multiple times. A barely audible sound emanates from within - something between liquid settling and *soft breathing*. {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'}

guestroomfirst: true -- You drift into what you think was built as a guest room, but has now been transformed into Eleanor's office, library, and repository all at once. The walls are lined with mismatched shelves, crammed with books, rolled maps, and small display cases housing various artifacts. The items range from delicate [[pottery sherds->pottery shards]], [if arrowheadstaken == false] [append] [[arrowheads]], [continued] [append] to larger pieces like an ornate [[brass astrolabe]], random assortments of [[bones]], and a small [[stone bust]] with weathered features. At the center of the room, a sturdy writing desk is piled with open books, loose papers, and an inkwell with a slightly askew quill. A green-shaded lamp casts a pool of light over the desk, [if NotesPlastered == false] [append] illuminating some of Eleanor’s [[notes and sketches]], and her [[apron]] on the wall. [else] [append] Illuminating her [[apron]] on the wall. The notes and sketches that were once on the desk are now little more than a pile of white ash. [continued] Behind you is the door back to the [[⤴️hallway->upper floor]].

The half-finished letter - more so a very rough draft than anything else - lies open on the desk, its uneven lines suggesting a fair amount of hesitation. The ink is darker in some places, where the pen lingered too long. Fragments of thought scatter across the paper: * "...and though I understand the risks involved, I cannot ignore the potential significance of what lies beneath-" * "...it isn’t a question of preservation, but possession. <del>...it should be the opposite. *God I hate you you pompous-*</del>" * "...I personally believe that my conduct within our institution has been more than exemplary, and mere rumors that I might have gained a little bit of- * "...if the museum won’t fund the excavation, I’ll have no choice but to... well, I'll have no choice, Mary. <del>You know what I'm talking about.</del>" The rest dissolves into scratches and crossed-out words. What is this all about? {link to: 'writing desk', label: 'Back'}

You attempt to drift toward the long hallway of their new flat, but find your essence growing thin, unstable. Bothersome. The comfortable warmth of the sitting room seems to pull at you, and with Mary tending so carefully to Eleanor's needs, there really is no need for you to overextend yourself. Everything is being taken care for. Your form wavers, drawn back to the familiar comfort of your now warm vessel. {link to: 'Museum Employment Mary Success Diorama', label: 'Back'}

handmirror: true -- The hand mirror is silver, its surface very polished. The frame is elaborately decorated, with swirling patterns and delicate floral motifs - far too ornate for everyday use, you reckon. Of course, there is no reflection of your form. Though as you watch Eleanor through it, a *purple* light shines behind it. *As you linger, the mirror lifts gently from the desk. Its handle shifts as if adjusting for balance, then, with a soft metallic hum, it begins to drift beside you. Whichever the side it points towards, it keeps showing you the same exact view of this room.* {link to: 'writing desk', label: 'Back'}

Eleanorhandbag: true -- The handbag rests on the table, a modest accessory crafted from soft, dark leather. Its surface shows faint creases from use, and a simple brass clasp secures its contents. You will it open, and the clasp snaps with a soft *click*. Inside, you find a folded handkerchief, the stub of a pencil, a compact mirror, some scattered coinage... and that's it. Eleanor must have emptied it, this can't be all she brings with her to work. *The bag shudders. With a slight tug, it lifts into the air and begins to hover near you, its lid opening and closing in a manner not to dissimilar to that of a blabbering mouth.* {link to: 'terrace', label: 'Back'}

wrongartefact: 0 -- The handkerchief flutters out from the handbag's clasp, unfolding itself in midair. It's a delicate thing, embroidered with Eleanor's initials in one corner. After a moment's hesitation, it dabs at the leather exterior where the dust from the artifacts you've tried feeding the handbag have left a mark. The handbag's clasp clicks open once more. *How nice of them to forgive you.* {link to: 'Handbag', label: 'Back'}

The heavily damaged figurine, though it's missing its head and arms, depicts a frail, emaciated person, their gaunt frame barely concealed by the tattered remnants of a robe. Despite its condition, remnants of red pigment cling stubbornly to the figurine’s surface. A jagged crack runs along her torso, threatening to split the figure in two, and several chips have left the base uneven, though still technically readable... just not to you, as you don't know the script. {link to: 'pottery shards', label: 'Back'}

Figurine2: true -- Nearing the broken figurine, the quill stops for a moment, then writes something down. As the ink settles, the paper detaches from it and drifts between you and the object. It appears they have attempted a very rough translation of the text at the base. ~AVERT FAMINE, SILENTLY~ The quill hovers briefly and, after a moment, writes a question mark. {link to: 'heavily damaged figurine', label: 'Back'}

{ascii backdrop: 'hieroglyph'} [[Back->Patterns]]

{ascii backdrop: 'hunger'} [[Back->Patterns]]

The bronze mirror's surface gleams with exceptional clarity, unmarred by the tarnish that would typically affect such ancient metal. Eleanor's face appears with startling definition - every freckle, every line of concern around her eyes, the slight tremor of her lower lip as she examines the object. Behind her reflection, a second shape hovers in the mirror's depths. The silhouette wavers like heat distortion, its outline blurred and indistinct. It floats several inches above the archive floor. Eleanor shifts the mirror's angle - as you move, the fuzzy form moves correspondingly, maintaining its position behind her shoulder. {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'}

An arched opening leads into a lower chamber, its entrance framed by carefully fitted stones that differ markedly from the rougher construction elsewhere. The air flowing from within carries an unusual warmth, as if some ancient heat source still lingers in the depths below. The stonework around the opening shows signs of deliberate engineering - channels carved into the walls, spaces between stones that seem purposeful rather than accidental. Soot stains the upper portions of the arch, while the space beyond it disappears into shadow. You can make out the suggestion of pillars or supports within. {link to: 'Weekend Expedition Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The invitation lies open on the floor, its cream-colored paper embossed with gold lettering that catches the gaslight. The ornate script flows across the page in an elegant hand: <blockquote> *The Bristol Archaeological Society* *cordially requests the honour of your presence* *at the Annual Society Ball* *Saturday Evening, the 15th of November, 1888* *Eight o'clock in the evening* *The Grand Assembly Rooms* *King Street, Bristol* *Evening dress required* *Dancing & Refreshments* At the bottom, in a more personal script, a note has been added in red ink: *"Darling Eleanor - Do say you'll come! I've secured us both invitations. It will be absolutely divine. - M.C."* </blockquote> The paper still carries the faint scent of Mary's lavender perfume, and you notice a small smudge of what might be cake crumbs near one corner. {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

The jewelry box, lacquered black with a crescent moon in mother-of-pearl, is open. Inside, you find a few delicate trinkets - a couple of bracelets, a ring or two, a brooch... Most of them look like they’ve been left here a while, untouched. {link to: 'decorative boxes', label: 'Back'}

You hover into the small kitchenette. Against the far wall stands a large cast iron [[stove]]. Beside it, a worn wooden counter supports a gleaming brass [[sink]] with a small pump handle. Overhead, there are some neatly arranged [[cupboards]]. [if Butterdish == false] In the center of the room, a modest wooden table serves as a workspace. At one end of it lies a small stack of [[letters]]. [continue] [if Butterdish == true] In the center of the room, a modest wooden table serves as a workspace. At one end of it lies a small stack of [[letters]] and an empty [[butter dish->butter dish empty]]. [continue] [if pantryrobberdealtwith == false] To the right, is a narrow door to the flat's [[🧀pantry->pantry]]. [if pantryrobberdealtwith == true] To the right, is a narrow door to the flat's [[🧀pantry->Pantry (Not Robbed)]]. [continue] To your left is instead a door to the [[🧹scullery->scullery]], and the archway leading back to the [[🪑dining room->dining room]]. [note] , while a simple wicker [[bread basket sits at the other. [continue]

Dulllookingknife: true -- Sat inside the box is what you can guess is a recovered artefact: a dull-looking knife. The hilt is crafted from a rough, weathered wood, while the blade itself is slightly curved, the edges heavily chipped - it has clearly been in use for quite a long time through the ages. You can see there was some kind of script running onto the metal, but it has either been covered by soot or worn down. *Concentrating on the writings, you barely notice the knife begin hovering closer and closer to you. Whether you want to or not, it now follows you.* {link to: 'bookshelf', label: 'Back'}

{ascii backdrop: 'lace'} [[Back->Patterns]]

The framed print depicts a serene ancient valley. A rudimentary temple - a bare collection of white stone slabs arranged into a circle - rises on a hilltop, while shepherds tend their flocks near a fishing village. Both of these dwellings overlook a distant, jagged mountain; the afternoon light bathes the simple homes in a warm glow. A group of musicians and dancers celebrate in the foreground to the right, their movements captured in oils beneath the tranquil sky. A small note set inside the frame reads the name of the artwork: "The Pastoral State". [if LandscapeUncrook == false] *It hangs just a little crooked on the wall.* [continued] {link to: 'dining room', label: 'Back'}

The laundry hamper sits in the corner, brimming with crumpled linens and garments. A faint scent of soap and stale fabric clings to the pile, mixing with the musty air of the washroom. The top is slightly askew, a few shirts peeking out from underneath the lid. {link to: 'scullery', label: 'Back'}

You drift toward the modest stack of letters on the kitchen table. The one on the top letter has already been opened, and is written on heavy cream-colored paper, its content scrawled in a hurried hand. <blockquote>"Dear Eleanor, For the love of all that is mighty, the artifacts are a property of the museum. I do not care that you "only take the ones in the archive". When borrowed, even if it's for personal study, they have to be returned *eventually*. It's been ***months!!*** I want the vase, heads and especially the skull back tomorrow morning, or mark my words young lady you *will* be in trouble. Yours sincerely, Markus Trevelyan."</blockquote> {link to: 'kitchenette', label: 'Back'}

The light green skirt hangs gently to one side. Its hem is torn, a ragged split running along the edge. Maybe it caught on something sharp? Despite this, it remains hung, as though waiting to be mended. [if TapeGreenSkirtFitted] Unfortunately your intervention seems to have made things worse. Oops. [continue] It's a shame, too: the fabric itself seems to be in excellent condition, its color vibrant and fresh as if freshly tailored. {link to: 'wardrobe', label: 'Back'}

{ascii backdrop: 'loading'} [[Back->Patterns]]

{ascii backdrop: 'luckycharm'} [[Back->Patterns]]

The surface of the bar of soap is rough, with jagged edges where chunks have been shaved off over time. It has a faint, almost medicinal smell, and rests in a small dish. It's nearly worn down, but you reckon it's enough to last for a few more laundry days. {link to: 'scullery', label: 'Back'}

A brass-rimmed magnifying glass with a bone handle worn smooth from use. [if MagnifyingGlassCracked; append] A hairline crack now divides the lens, running from the center outwards. [unless MagnifyingGlassCracked; append] Its lens is remarkably clear, despite the general disarray surrounding it. [continue] [append] Eleanor has fashioned a small stand for it using a carved wooden block and a bent nail - practical, though it doesn't fit the original craftmanship in the slightest. [if MagnifyingGlassScorched; if EyeMarkCreated] Beneath it, on the desk surface, is a black scorch mark shaped uncannily like an eye. [if MagnifyingGlassScorched; unless EyeMarkCreated] Beneath it, on the desk surface, is a tiny black scorch mark. [continue] {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'} [if VioletInterest > 1; unless VioletLookingGlassPersuasion; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[You feel a presence...?->Magnifying Glass Animus Attempt Violet]] [continue] [unless MagnifyingGlassCracked; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a resonating hum...->Magnifying Glass Aether Router]] [continue]

A standard-issue brass-rimmed magnifying glass lies on the table, its bone handle smooth from use. Its lens is clear, currently positioned over a fragment of pottery, enlarging the faint markings etched into the clay. It seems to be one of the museum's general tools, passed between departments as needed. {link to: 'table Archive Review', label: 'Back'} [unless MagnifyingGlassAligned; unless MagnifyingGlassPastSeen; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Magnifying Glass Aether Align]] [continue] [unless MagnifyingGlassPastSeen; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Magnifying Glass Archive Review]] [continue]

A bunch of rolled maps overflow from a wooden stand, their edges curling and yellowed. Most appear to be continental Europe, with certain regions circled in red ink. Their corners bear the watermark of the British Geographical Society. They are in too much of a disarray to make sense of them, but several up top have been annotated with pencil marks. {plainlink to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

A number of framed documents hang on the walls. One large map seems to show the extent of a very large nation state, its territories shaded in pink… ah, well, it’s not just any empire: near the bottom the lettering ~British Empire~ has been written out. Another seems to be an architectural plan of the museum itself. Several ornate charters with wax seals proclaim the museum's founding and its royal patronage to the side of it. {link to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless MapPastSeen; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Maps Cutscene 1]] [continue]

The busts sit in a neat row atop their polished wooden plinths, their surfaces catching the low lamplight. Though sculpted to resemble aged marble... they simply aren't. Plaster, perhaps, or a composite meant to deceive the casual observer. Each face is impassive, and you can't say you recognize any of them. The curls of their hair are crisp, their noses unbroken, their eyes blank and depthless. A small brass plaque at the base of the display reads: *"Reproductions - Original Hellenistic and Imperial Roman busts, Collection of the British Museum, c. 2nd century BCE - 3rd century CE."* A faint layer of dust clings to the plinth, disturbed only where someone has brushed against the surface - at least one visitor has had a closer look. {link to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if AmphoraState == 'base'; unless MarbleBustsFallen; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Busts Falling Down With base Amphora]] [continue] [if AmphoraState == 'saved'; unless MarbleBustsFallen; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Busts Falling Down With full Amphora]] [continue]

The clay figurine depicts a seated woman, her form carved with exaggerated proportions. Her torso displays a distinctive double belly - the upper portion rounded and full, while a second, larger curve dominates her lower abdomen. Her breasts hang heavy and pendulous, and her thighs spread wide beneath the weight of her corpulent frame. Scattered across her surface are clear human bite marks - molars and incisors pressed deep into the fired clay. The impressions are old, the edges worn smooth, suggesting repeated handling over considerable time. Some marks overlap others, creating a pattern of dental impressions that covers her arms, breasts, and the curve of her upper belly. *...who would bite clay?* {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'}

{ascii backdrop: 'mary'} [[Back->Patterns]]

measuringtape: true -- The measuring tape lies coiled near the undergarments, its ribbon marked with precise increments in both inches and another strange measuring system with smaller units that you don't recognize. The brass end catch that caught your eye earlier shows signs of frequent handling, and is in fact loose. *As you focus on it, the tape begins to unspool, hovering in a loose, ever turning spiral. Like the other objects you've collected, it now drifts alongside you.* {link to: 'undergarments', label: 'Back'}

{ascii backdrop: 'mine'} [[Back->Patterns]]

The glass of the mirror is slightly fogged, though it wouldn't really matter eitherway. You'd just be able to see the reflection of the room: you quite evidently don't have one. Why would a ghost expect otherwise? {link to: 'washroom', label: 'Back'}

The hand mirror is silver, its surface very polished. The frame is elaborately decorated, with swirling patterns and delicate floral motifs - far too ornate for everyday use, you reckon. Of course, there is still no reflection of your form - but there's not one for the bathroom either. Instead, whichever the side it points towards, it keeps showing you the same exact view of this bedroom. *Well... not really. Seen through the mirror's reflection, the angle seems to be slightly shifted to the left.* {link to: 'mirror', label: 'Back'}

The mosaic sprawls across the wall, its once-vivid tiles now dulled by age. You can discern... some kind of procession: a satyr's here, the curve of a wine cup there... Whole sections have crumbled away, leaving ghostly outlines where a fair amount of figures were dancing. A conservator's ladder leans against the wall, its top rung draped with a dust cloth. Beneath it, a tray of replacement tiles, their modern glaze bright against the ancient work. A handwritten note pinned to the wall reads: *"DO NOT TOUCH - awaiting approval for restoration."* {link to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

{ascii backdrop: 'museum'} [[Back->Patterns]]

You attempt to drift in that direction, but find yourself still weakened from the short slumber you took inside the vessel. Your form wavers and fades, and you gather it may be best for you to gather more of your forces before going about the apartment. {link to: 'entryway Brought to the Museeum Ending', label: 'Back'}

A neat stack of folded promotional flyers sits beside the pens, their cream-colored paper still crisp from recent printing. The topmost bears the museum's letterhead in bold serif type: "Bristol Institute of Archaeology and Antiquities - Special Exhibitions & Public Lectures." Beneath the heading, you can make out announcements for upcoming events - a lecture series on "Ancient Mediterranean Trade Routes" and what appears to be a special exhibition opening. Eleanor's handwriting in pencil annotates the margins of several copies, evidently marking which departments should receive them. A faint ink smudge near one corner suggests she's been handling them while working with her correspondence. {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

The ink is slightly smudged, but legible: *“Catalog #274, Ancient Celtic Ritual Vessel. Unearthed in Brittany, France. Likely used in ceremonial offerings. Circa 4th century BCE.”* {link to: 'bookshelf', label: 'Back'}

The ink is clear as day: *"Catalog #487, Ancient Celtic Arrowheads. Excavated near Brittany, France. Thought to be used for hunting and/or warfare. Circa 4th century BCE."* {link to: 'arrowheads', label: 'Back'}

The notes and sketches are scattered haphazardly across the desk, some pinned together while others threaten to drift off the edge. Among them are detailed drawings of carvings found on artefacts. On the left there are patterns consisting of rounded, blob-like shapes with tiny V marks (or is that a Y? An asterisk, perhaps?) etched into their centers. On the right you can assume is a variant of the same pattern, with their matrix being two small circles and larger, V-marked one under them. [note] [CSS .very-big { font-size: 56px; font-variant: regular; } .big { font-size: 48px; font-variant: small-caps; } .medium { font-size: 36px; font-variant: small-caps; } .medium-small { font-size: 30px; font-variant: small-caps; } .small { font-size: 20px; font-variant: small-caps; } [continued <div class="titleScreen"> <center> <h1 style="font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif;"> <span class="very-big">☋</span><br> </h1> </center> [continued] Eleanor’s handwriting is all over the papers, cramped but legible. ~"Possible early script?"~ ~"Uncommon for the area."~ ~"Foreign tribe? Wildmen?"~ ~"A pagan cult?"~ The sheer number of sketches suggests she’s been obsessively trying to come up with a hypothesis or explanation for them. {link to: 'guest room', label: 'Back'}

{ascii backdrop: 'occult'} [[Back->Patterns]]

[if OilLampsState == 'dim'] Clay oil lamps sit in wall niches throughout the chamber, their small flames guttering weakly in the disturbed air. The wicks burn low, casting uneven shadows that dance nervously across the stone walls. Most of the few drops of oil Richard had placed before has been consumed, leaving only dark residue around the rims where the fuel pooled. The collapse has stirred up so much dust that the flames seem to struggle for oxygen, their light barely reaching beyond their immediate alcoves. [continue] [if OilLampsState == 'emboldened'] The oil lamps burn with renewed vigor, their flames steady and surprisingly bright in the underground chamber. Each wick produces a warm, almost rosy light that softens the harsh edges of the ancient stonework - they seem to have found some hidden reserve of fuel, burning higher and cleaner than before. The gentle illumination bathes the chamber in an intimate glow, transforming the rough military architecture into something almost welcoming. [continue] {link to: 'Weekend Expedition Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if OilLampsState == 'dim'; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a gentle, warming vibration...->Oil Lamps Aether Cutscene 1]] [continue]

[if WardrobeOpen == false; if WardrobeFallen == false] The wardrobe looms before you, secured by a heavy iron padlock. Its dark wooden panels are scratched here and there, and one of its legs is propped up by a box, though the lock itself appears new. As you drift closer to peer through the keyhole, and then drift your head through the wood altogether, you catch a glimpse of something within - two small points of purple light... [if WardrobeOpen == true; if WardrobeFallen == false] The wardrobe stands open, its heavy doors revealing the stack of [[chocolate bars]] within. The padlock that was keeping them safe now lies discarded on the floor near the box propping the furniture up, all thanks to you - you hope your intervention hasn't broken it. [if WardrobeOpen == false; if WardrobeFallen == true] The wardrobe lies face-down on the floor, with the box that once propped up its missing leg knocked aside. As you drift closer to peer inside of it, you notice the purple gleam that was there before has vanished - whatever creature lurked within it is not going to be a problem anymore. [if WardrobeOpen == true; if WardrobeFallen == true] The wardrobe lies face-down on the floor, its doors hanging open to its side uselessly. The padlock rests discarded nearby, and scattered around are a few stray chocolate bar wrappers that didn't make it through the gap. [continue] {link to: 'attic', label: 'Back'}

The artwork depicts a dramatic wilderness. Its vast landscape is dominated by a stormy sky over a primeval forest. Center to the piece is a distant, jagged mountain. A group of hunters is visible amidst the chaos, though only barely: them and their tribal huts are small compared to the lush foliage they are running through. Beneath its protective glass, the canvas seems almost alive, as if the storm within it might spill forth into the room. You hope it doesn't. A small engraved plaque beneath the frame reads the name of the artwork: "The Savage State". {link to: 'sitting room', label: 'Back'}

The artwork depicting the wilderness scene still hangs above the mantel, though now at a noticeable tilt. Dust has settled thickly on its frame, and what appears to be a tea stain marks one corner of the canvas. The tribal hunters, nearly lost in their stormy landscape, seem to disappear further beneath a layer of grime. {link to: 'Sitting room slob ending', label: 'Back'}

The silk panties cling to the table leg, unmistakably worn out by the outside elements they have endured. The fabric, still ivory, bears fine floral embroidery along the edges. More personal still, the initials *"E.L."* are stitched in careful cursive near the waistband. *These are Eleanor's?* The silk itself appears strained, stretched well beyond its intended shape, the material slightly puckered along the seams. [if passage.visits == 1] *What was Mary doing with them?* [continue] {link to: 'table (panty inspection)', label: 'Back'}

config.header.left: "{embed passage: 'Ascii Logic'}" -- You drift into the pantry: a small, cool space with shelves lining the walls. You find it mostly bare, as if someone has just deliberately got rid of all of its items. You spot a few empty jars and a single basket resting on the floor. Dust motes float lazily in the air, settling on the sparse contents. An open, empty crate sits in one corner, its lid propped against the wall, its surface bearing faint traces of flour and sugar. On closer inspection, it appears someone hastily forced its lead open, breaking it. {link to: 'kitchenette', label: 'Back'}

A polished brass paperweight sits tucked behind a stack of auction catalogues - you recognize the museum's official seal embossed across its face. The paperweight's position seems carefully chosen - visible only to someone reaching for the catalogues behind which it hides, yet immediately accessible from Eleanor's usual working position at the desk. It looks exactly like the one you saw in the director's office. Mm. {link to: 'bookshelves', label: 'Back'}

Three framed papyrus fragments hang along the wall between oil paintings of stern-faced ancestors. Each piece rests in a gilded frame that matches the portraits flanking them, creating a uniform line despite their vastly different origins. The leftmost fragment displays hieroglyphic text in faded black ink, with small gaps where the papyrus has deteriorated. The center piece shows part of a funerary scene - figures in profile bearing offerings, their colors still visible in muted reds and blues. The rightmost fragment contains what appears to be mathematical calculations, rows of ancient numerals arranged in careful columns. Small brass plaques beneath each frame bear neat handwritten labels identifying their periods and provenance. The handwriting appears to be Eleanor's. {link to: 'Pregnancy Ending Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The potted plants are lush and vibrant, their leaves a deep, healthy green. Arranged neatly in a cluster, the herbs and flowers seem freshly watered, with dark soil visible just beneath the foliage. A few sprigs of rosemary stand tall, while a pale violet peeks out from beneath broader leaves. The terracotta pots are spotless, their rims free of dirt. It’s clear an expert in the field has tended to them with care... or that Eleanor just got them from such a person. {link to: 'Past Terrace (Turn system)', label: 'Back'}

"20 pounds? In just a week?" The athlete sounds doubtful. The aphotecary shrugs his shoulders. "It does depend on the amount consumed, but yes, pretty much that. Medicine is not an exact science! And many of our university rowers swear by it." The apothecary winks. "Just don't mention where you acquired it… I don’t have many in stock, you see. Wouldn’t want to have to price it any higher than it is now. I’m sure you understand!" The scene dissolves as he laughs, leaving you once more in the present. {link to: 'apothecary scale', label: 'Back'}

As you attempt to drift back to the dining room, you find yourself unable to near the threshold. You can't explain it, but you get the impression that there simply isn't... anything, in there. This fragment of the past is confined to, and singularly comprised by, the terrace. {link to: 'Past Terrace (Turn system)', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] console.log("=== PASTRY CART DEBUG ==="); console.log("PastryCartVisible:", engine.state.get('PastryCartVisible')); console.log("Current interactions:", JSON.stringify(engine.state.get('inventoryInteractions'))); console.log("Passage name:", passage.name); [continue] [unless PastryCartVisible] A brass serving cart is wedged somewhat clumsily behind the statuette's plinth and a couple of tall curtains. Its top tray holds the sad remains of some forgotten meeting refreshments: a few dry-looking biscuits scattered on a tablecloth, some likely stale miniature cakes, and an empty teapot. It's mostly hidden from the view of those in the main hall area. [if PastryCartVisible] The brass serving cart now stands more prominently near the edge of the meeting space, its position slightly awkward. The stale biscuits and dry cake on its top tray are now clearly visible, looking quite stale, yes... but still present. [continue] {link to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'} [inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Pastry Cart Intro Meeting]] [continue] [JavaScript] console.log("About to check PastryCartVisible for AetherAbility:", engine.state.get('PastryCartVisible')); [continue] [unless PastryCartVisible; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Pastry Cart Aether Intro Meeting]] [continue] [JavaScript] console.log("After conditional blocks, final interactions:", JSON.stringify(engine.state.get('inventoryInteractions'))); [continue]

[if PastriesEaten == 0] The tiered pastry plate stands between the two, slightly to the left. Tiny lemon squares dusted with powdered sugar, slices of rich Battenberg cake with its checkerboard pattern, cream horns spilling their filling, jam tarts glistening under the tearoom lights, and delicate finger sandwiches fill every level. Impressive. [if PastriesEaten >= 1 && PastriesEaten <= 2] The pastry plate still holds a generous selection, though a few noticeable gaps have appeared. The lemon squares and finger sandwiches seem to be Eleanor's primary targets so far. [if PastriesEaten >= 3 && PastriesEaten <= 4] The selection on the pastry plate is visibly dwindling. The cream horns have been sampled, and the Battenberg is diminishing. Crumbs begin to dust the doily beneath. [if PastriesEaten >= 5] Only a few less-desirable pastries remain scattered on the plate - perhaps a slightly dry-looking scone or a lone, plain biscuit. Crumbs are abundant, and smears of cream and jam mark the porcelain where more appealing options once sat. [continue] {link to: 'Tea With Mary Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless MaryPastryChoiceSeen; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Tea With Mary Pastry Plate]] [continue]

A slender hairpin lies balanced on the spine of "Archaeological Methods in Northern France," its silver wire bent into an elegant curve. A single white pearl sits at its head, smooth and heavy, with a faint pink blush that shifts as the gaslight flickers. Three dark curls remain wound around the pin's shaft, their color a rich brown that contrasts sharply with any hair you've observed on Eleanor. The silver shows a small dent near the clasp, and a tiny smear of red clings to the pearl's surface. {link to: 'bookshelves', label: 'Back'}

[if Quillandpaper == false] The pens sit beside a collection of ink pots, their nibs worn but still capable of writing. A few have small splatters of ink on their barrels, suggestive of hasty, frustrated use. One pen even has its nib cracked - Eleanor really should learn to use a gentler hand when jotting things down. It's that very same quill that suddenly shudders and, alongside a scrap of paper, [[begins to take flight->quill and paper cutscene]]. [if passage.visits == 2] The pens sit beside a collection of ink pots, their nibs worn but clearly still capable of writing. A few have small splatters of ink on their barrels, the marks suggestive of a hasty, frustrated use. One pen even has its nib cracked - Eleanor should really learn to use a gentler hand when writing stuff down. None of them seem particularly remarkable nor expensive. {link to: 'writing desk', label: 'Back'} [if passage.visits > 2] The pens sit beside a collection of ink pots, their nibs worn but clearly still capable of writing. A few have small splatters of ink on their barrels, the marks suggestive of a hasty, frustrated use. One pen even has its nib cracked - Eleanor should really learn to use a gentler hand when writing stuff down. None of them seem particularly remarkable nor expensive. {link to: 'writing desk', label: 'Back'}

An assortment of writing implements stands in a chipped ceramic mug. Fountain pens with variously worn nibs, graphite pencils sharpened to different lengths, and a smattering of dip pens with crusted ink along their barrels. The mug itself bears a faded institutional crest. It's likely been "borrowed" from someone's tearoom, same as most of the objects in this office, really. {plainlink to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

A small glass bottle, no larger than Eleanor's thumb, sits wedged between a volume on Roman pottery and a field guide to British excavations. Its surface is clear crystal with delicate etching around the neck, though several fingerprint smudges cloud the lower portion. The cork stopper, barely the size of a pearl, sits slightly askew - recently handled, evidently. A faint but persistent scent emanates from the bottle's mouth, warm and floral with deeper undertones. The liquid inside appears deep red, nearly burgundy, coating the glass walls in thin rivulets when tilted. Only about half remains. {link to: 'bookshelves', label: 'Back'}

A few periodicals lie scattered haphazardly, their pages slightly curled at the edges. The titles are familiar, printed in bold type on the front covers. One magazine, “The Gentlewoman’s Journal of Fashion and Etiquette,” lies open, revealing an illustration of the latest high-society attire. Another, “The Monthly Review of Archaeological Discoveries,” features a pretty sketch of an ancient Egyptian artifact. There is one [[article]] in particular that has been heavily annotated. Both publications are from the year *1888, September 15*. {link to: 'sitting room', label: 'Back'}

Three academic journals rest in a neat stack, their spines aligned with careful precision. The topmost copy of "The Journal of Classical Antiquities" lies open to page forty-seven, where an article bears both their names: "E. Lovelace and M. Ashworth - Comparative Analysis of Late Roman Pottery Glazing Techniques." The margins show Eleanor's precise handwriting alongside Mary's looser script - arrows connecting their respective notes, question marks, underlined passages. A subscription card protrudes from "The Quarterly Review of Archaeological Methods," Mary's signature visible in red ink. The third journal, "Modern Curatorial Practices," contains a dog-eared page featuring Eleanor's photograph beside a brief mention of her promotion a couple months back. {link to: 'Museum Employment Mary Success Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The planter’s crate leans against the terrace wall, its wooden slats weathered and slightly warped. Traces of soil cling stubbornly to its interior, though it’s clear it hasn’t been used in a while. A a trowel and a pair of pruning shears lie forgotten at the bottom, their metal edges shiny and new. It seems Eleanor once had greater ambitions for her gardening than the current state of the terrace suggests. {link to: 'terrace', label: 'Back'}

Clotofplaster: true -- The container of plaster rests on the shelf, its lid... not as secure as you had gauged at a distance. Eleanor must have left it [[open->plaster cutscene 2]].

With a soft shudder, the plaster within begins to shift and congeal, forming into a small, amorphous sphere. The substance seems to ripple and pulse with a life of its own, expanding and contracting like a floating clot of liquid stone. It's both solid and liquid at once, its surface shifting constantly as if it were alive. *You watch as the clot floats away from its container, and as a nose forms on one side of it. It sniffs the air near you for a moment or two, before losing its shape and deciding to follow you around.* {link to: 'guest room', label: 'Back'}

A silver serving platter displays what were once delicate French macarons - pastel-colored shells - pale yellow, dusty rose, mint green - have hardened into something approaching geological samples themselves. They sit in perfectly aligned rows, their surfaces cracked and brittle, more reminiscent of mineral formations than confections. You suspect they've been sitting here since the Duke's last social gathering, which may have been some considerable time ago. The almond flour shells have achieved an almost limestone-like texture, and one has actually developed what appears to be a small fissure running through its center. Put simply, they seem to be... *hard as rocks.* {link to: 'Geology Club Diorama', label: 'Back'}

PocketWatchOfficeHasBeenSeen: true -- It's a pocket watch with a polished brass casing, intricately crafted and etched with an elegant floral motif. A delicate chain, slightly tarnished, dangles from the top of it. The latch clicks softly as you will it open without its owner noticing, revealing a pair of delicate hands on top of a porcelain dial. The rhythmic ticking grows [[louder->Intro Meeting Cutscene]] as you draw nearer - your presence is making the hands themselves tremble. {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'} [inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a resonating hum...->Intro Meeting Cutscene]] [continue]

The ceramic dishes are neatly arranged in modest stacks, most of them white china with delicate, faded blue patterns curling along their rims. Three plates stand apart at the front of the sideboard. Their dull ceramic surface is rougher, more primitive, with no apparent glaze. Faint traces of an illegible script - perhaps the very same you saw onto the doors - circle their edges, worn smooth. Despite their ancient appearance, they seem untouched by dust, as if they’ve been carefully handled, or perhaps used, not long ago. {link to: 'dining room', label: 'Back'}

[if PottedPlantsDestroyed == false] The potted plants are arranged neatly in a cluster, though their condition leaves much to be desired. Leaves hang limp and discolored, ranging from a pale yellow to a near-crisp brown. Among them, you spot a few stubborn survivors fighting against the odds: a sprig of rosemary here, a struggling marigold there... [if PottedPlantsDestroyed == true] The potted plants sit in their terracotta pots, reduced to stumps and broken stems. The rosemary is a shadow of its former self, while the marigold has been trimmed down to nearly nothing. Only a few scattered leaves and petals remain, dusting the rim of their containers. [continued] The terracotta pots themselves look to be oddly clean, as if just recently bought. A small copper [[watering can]] is tucked among them, its spout aimed optimistically at the least wilted of the lot. {link to: 'terrace', label: 'Back'}

HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP - 1 PottedPlantsDestroyed: true -- The dull-looking knife hovers near the wilting plants, its chipped blade catching what little light remains. For a moment it pauses, as if considering its options, before decisively slashing at the drooping leaves. Bits of foliage scatter across the terrace as the knife hacks away with surprising enthusiasm. The rosemary puts up a valiant fight, but ultimately succumbs to the blade's clumsy assault. Even the marigold loses its last few petals to the onslaught. When the knife finally returns to you, most of the plants are reduced to ragged stumps. They certainly look more uniform now, if nothing else. {link to: 'potted plants', label: 'Back'}

[note] put a third ceramic figurine here, hidden through the ceramic. Have it portray an old, emanciated woman. That way, we can have a trio of figurines that tell of what happens when you pray to the goddess of hunger. Have the ghost feel sadness at the sight of this poor woman. Have the pigment on it be red. [continued] The pottery sherds are spread out carefully on a felt-lined tray, their edges jagged and uneven. Each has been arranged by size, and some even bear small, handwritten labels pinned nearby. Patterns of faded paint and faint etchings hint at the artefact - perhaps artefacts, *plural* - they once belonged to. It's evident though the pieces are far too fragmented to reassemble into anything cohesive. Perhaps in spite of this, a [[heavily damaged figurine]] sits to the left. [if Clotofplaster == false] On a shelf near them, there is also a small [[container of plaster->plaster cutscene]], its lid shut. The fine white powder within appears untouched, likely meant for an future reconstruction. [continued] [if Clotofplaster == true] [append] A small empty container intended for plaster sits next to the shards. [continued] {link to: 'guest room', label: 'Back'}

Several fragments of pottery are laid out carefully on the table. They vary in size and curvature, some bearing traces of dark glaze or painted geometric patterns typical of Mesopotamian ware. One larger shard, currently under the magnifying glass, has unusual markings that seem less decorative and more... purposeful? Certainly familiar. {link to: 'table Archive Review', label: 'Back'}

Sharing a side pocket in the workbag, the quill and paper lie still for a moment, as if surprised by your attention. Then, the quill gives a dramatic flourish in the cramped space before beginning to scratch frantically across the paper. {one of: ["*~~AHH, A GHOST! ...JUST KIDDING, SPECTER. FANCY MEETING YOU HERE.~~*", "*The paper folds itself rapidly into a miniature, rather wobbly-looking swan. The quill taps it proudly before it unfolds.*", "*~~ARE WE GOING TO DO SOMETHING INTERESTING, OR JUST LOITER IN HERE AMONGST THE COINAGE?~~*", "*The paper attempts to form a tiny, elaborate origami teacup, complete with a handle, before collapsing flat again.*", "*The quill taps impatiently against the bag's lining. ~~WELL? AREN'T YOU GOING TO *DO* SOMETHING? THIS SOCIAL CALL IS DREADFULLY BORING.~~*"], order: 'stopping'} {link to: 'Eleanor Workbag Tea With Mary', label: 'Back'} [unless QuillPaperFallen; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Quill Paper Aether Fall Tea Mary]] [continue] [note] Descriptive text for the quill & paper when viewed within the workbag during this event. Includes requested dialogue and interactions. [continue]

[if passage.visits == 1] The quill hovers near the astrolabe, examining its concentric rings. After a thoughtful pause, it begins to write onto the paper: ~OUTDATED INSTRUMENT. FASCINATING, ISN'T IT? THE ETCHINGS ARE QUITE PRETTY.~ The quill tilts towards you, as if debating whether to add more, but apparently decides against it. [if passage.visits > 1] The quill hovers near the astrolabe, but doesn't go about examining it. Instead it begins writing immediately. ~FINE. FINE! YOU GOT ME. I DO NOT KNOW WHAT THE ETCHINGS MEAN. I WAS TRYING TO DISTRACT YOU FROM THEM.~ The quill tilts away from you, and so does the paper after you've read it [continue] {link to: 'brass astrolabe', label: 'Back'}

The quill and paper hover near the brittle tag, examining it closely. The quill tilts side to side as though scrutinizing the empty surface. With an almost exasperated flourish, it begins to scribble. ~ANIMAL? CEREMONIAL? WE'RE NOT BIOLOGISTS, ASK AN EXPERT~ Ah. So Eleanor must've actually forgot to fill in the tag. {link to: 'bones', label: 'Back'}

The quill hovers near the cabinet, drawn specifically to the worn label of the green glass jar. After a thoughtful pause, it begins to write onto the paper. When the writing stops, the paper shifts toward you, the message clear: ~MENTHA TINCTURE - THE FIRST CHOICE OF THE SAVANT FOR THE RELIEF OF HEADACHES~ The quill then scratches one last, exceedingly small line beneath the rest - a cursive so small you actually find yourself having to drift closer: ~MAY STIMULATE APPETITE~ {link to: 'cabinet', label: 'Back'}

The quill hovers near the corset's laces, studying the frayed ends of the corset before beginning to write: ~NEEDS ADJUSTING. STAYS TOO TIGHT. LACES AT MAXIMUM EXTENSION.~ ~WAIST: +4 INCHES THIS MONTH~ ~BUST: +2 INCHES THIS MONTH~ The quill hovers briefly and taps down twice onto the paper. {link to: 'corset', label: 'Back'}

Quillandpaper: true -- *After a quick float through the bedroom, the two begin to hover near you, constantly scribbling an endless amount of illegible text onto each other.* The ink pots stir, and one of them begins to float a inch or two, but ultimately decides to come back down. You reckon it's better this way: you don't want to cover the whole apartment in ink. Strangely enough, Eleanor doesn't seem to notice all of this in the slightest. She's either too focused on herself, or it might just be the fact that you and your objects are not a strong enough presence to be perceived. *Yet.* {link to: 'writing desk', label: 'Back'}

doubledoorengravings: true -- The quill hovers near the double doors, pausing in midair as if considering the strange symbols above. With a careful demeanor, it scratches across the page. When it finally stops, the paper drifts between you and the doors, the message... quite odd: [[~THANKS TO GIVEN GOD OF HUNGER DESIRE APPLE UNWELCOME.~->quill and paper double door cutscene 2]]

The quill, possibly sensing your confusion, floats in front of the paper, reading through it again. After a brief back and forth, the two items step to the side and write a different message for you. ~DISJOINTED, NONESENSICAL GRAMMAR. THE ENGRAVER MAY NOT HAVE A GOOD GRASP OF THE LANGUAGE'S PICTOGRAMS.~ The symbols above the door flare briefly in response but otherwise remain inert. {link to: 'double doors', label: 'Back'}

The quill hesitates over the ancient dishes, its nib quivering as if recognizing something familiar. Then, with a sharp flick, it begins to write. As the ink settles, the paper detaches from it and drifts between you and the sideboard. It appears they have attempted a rough translation of the text - better yet, the repeating word - on the perimeter of each of the plates. ~1. BREAD~ ~2. APPLE~ ~3. BUTTER~ The quill hovers briefly and proudly taps down twice onto the paper. {link to: 'porcelain dishes', label: 'Back'}

The reception desk is a solid piece of dark mahogany, its surface polished to a high gloss though showing faint scratches near the edges from years of use. An inkwell set sits precisely positioned beside the visitors' ledger. There's a noticeable lack of clutter - no stray papers, no personal effects. A small brass plaque screwed into the front reads "Information". {link to: 'Museum Entrance', label: 'Back'}

Carefully unwrapped within its crate lies a polished square of what looks like obsidian, or perhaps deeply patinated silver. Its surface is mirror-smooth, though it reflects the dim archive light with an odd lack of depth, seeming to absorb rather than bounce the illumination. It feels ancient, though the craftmanship seems to be strangely modern. {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless ReflectiveObjectAligned; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Reflective Object Aether Align]] [continue]

Arranged on the oak table behind a velvet rope is a small collection of plaster replicas, clearly intended for visitors to view without risking damage to genuine pieces. You catch a miniature bust of Nefertiti, painted somewhat crudely. Beside it sits a Roman oil lamp replica, and a small, brightly painted drinking cup that seems more suited to a gift shop than an archaeological display. A small information card nearby simply reads: "~Examples from Our Collections~". {link to: 'Museum Entrance', label: 'Back'}

{ascii backdrop: 'roseschocolates'} [[Back->Patterns]]

{ascii backdrop: 'salon'} [[Back->Patterns]]

[unless RichardTrapped] Three sarcophagi stand against the far wall - from the looks of it, they seem to have been arranged chronologically, from left to right. The leftmost is made of plain limestone with simple painted features, while the center one bears more elaborate decoration, its wooden surface covered with protective symbols and offering prayers. The rightmost is less ornate and clearly from a later period. Maybe Eleanor's general expertise is rubbing onto you, but you can certainly spot some Greek influence in its styling. Their painted faces stare upward with hollow eyes, all fixed on some distant point beyond the ceiling. [if passage.visits == 2; unless RichardTrapped] *Perhaps you are not so different from them. You prefer not to think about it too hard.* [continue] [if RichardTrapped] Three sarcophagi stand against the far wall - from the looks of it, they seem to have been arranged chronologically, from left to right. The leftmost is made of plain limestone with simple painted features, while the center one bears more elaborate decoration, its wooden surface covered with protective symbols and offering prayers. The rightmost is less ornate and clearly from a later period. Eleanor's general expertise is certainly rubbing onto you - you can certainly spot some Greek influence in its styling. You know the middle sarcophagus's lid sits slightly askew, its once-perfect seal compromised by recent movement. A faint scratching sound emanates from inside, growing occasionally more frantic. [continue] {link to: 'Egyptian Exhibition Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless RichardTrapped; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Sarcophagus Aether Cutscene]] [continue]

A small Egyptian scarab carved from blue-green faience. Floating under it you can spot that its underside bears hieroglyphs that have partially worn away. It sits atop a stack of papers, apparently serving more as a paperweight than an artefact. A notch on one edge suggests it was once part of a larger piece. A necklace, perhaps. {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'} [inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Scarab Cutscene]] [continue]

The scarves are draped over the rail, a tangle of soft fabrics in muted colors - grays, creams, and the occasional pale blue. Some are lightweight and gauzy, while others are more functional to cold weather and so made of thick, woven wool. One, a deep red with tasseled edges, seems to have been folded more carefully than the rest. {link to: 'wardrobe', label: 'Back'}

The periodicals lie scattered across the floor, some crumpled, others stained with tea or food. Most are fairly recent copies of "The Gentlewoman's Journal of Fashion and Etiquette," their pages creased at articles about the latest fashions. A half-eaten sandwich rests atop one, its contents slowly seeping into the paper. You spot no archaeological journals or academic papers among them. {link to: 'Sitting room slob ending', label: 'Back'}

Resting quietly is an ornate, though notably battered, bronze cylinder embossed with swirling patterns reminiscent of Nile reeds. Its surface hints at hidden contents, though age and use have sealed it tight - while you can certainly hover your head through it, well... it's pitch dark inside. You obviously can't see a thing. Either that, or it's empty. That's also a possibility. {link to: 'Egypt artefacts', label: 'Back'}

You drift into the scullery. Narrow and dimly lit, the space is sparse, meant more for function than comfort. A deep ceramic [[basin sink]] rests against the far wall, its drain pipe vanishing into the floorboards below. To its side is a [[laundry hamper]], while on top of it is a small shelf above it holds a collection of scrubbing brushes and a half-used bar of [[lye soap]]. At the center of the scullery sits a plain wooden stool, and beside it, on the floor, an empty [[bread basket]]. Behind you is the door back to the [[🍳kitchenette->kitchenette]]. [if BasinSinkPlugged == false] *Drip... drip... drip...* [continue]

The silver tray bears water spots in perfect circles where wine glasses recently rested. A few breadcrumbs remain scattered across one corner, alongside a single dark hair - honey-blonde, curling at the end. Beneath the tray, a piece of correspondence from the Archaeological Society peeks out, the letterhead visible. The paper shows creases where it was folded hastily, and a small wine stain marks the upper corner. {link to: 'Museum Employment Mary Success Diorama', label: 'Back'}

You drift toward the settee. It's clearly second, maybe even third hand. The fabric is a faded velvet, once rich and deep in color, now dulled by time and frequent sitting. The cushions sag slightly, leaving a cheeky set of permanent indentations. An off-white pillow rests casually on the backrest. {link to: 'sitting room', label: 'Back'} [note] and beneath it, a small [[leather-bound journal peeks out, half-hidden from view. [continued]

Though she's currently sitting on it, you know that the settee's burgundy velvet bears the permanent impression of Eleanor - a deep oval in the center cushion where she settles each evening, flanked by a smaller depression where Mary curls against her side. The armrest shows wear marks where Eleanor's wrist rests during her evening correspondence. {link to: 'Museum Employment Mary Success Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The settee's velvet upholstery has lost its fight against time and use - permanent, round indentations mark the cushions, while crumbs and food stains mottle the fabric. The soft padding below now sags towards the floor. If nothing else, there seems to be a lot more pillows on top of it. {link to: 'Sitting room slob ending', label: 'Back'}

[unless sewingboxsolved] Unable to open the box, you drift your incorporeal form directly into it. Though dark, soon enough you realize that instead of thread or needles, it's stuffed full to the brim with biscuits. Shortbread, mostly, round and sugar-dusted, though a few slightly misshapen ginger ones peek out from the bottom. There's not a single scrap of sewing material in sight... which is probably a good thing all things considered. Needles and biscuits should *not* share a container. [if sewingboxsolved] Unable to open the box, you drift your incorporeal form directly into it. Though dark, you quickly realize that instead of thread, needles, or even biscuits, it's full to the absolute brim of a mixture of Nitrogen, Oxygen, and a tiny, almost imperceptible quantity of Argon and Carbon Dioxide. It looks like Eleanor hasn't bothered to restock it yet. [continued] {link to: 'decorative boxes', label: 'Back'}

Towering metal shelves dominate the archives, receding into shadow beyond the lamplight. They are densely packed with uniform grey document boxes, large leather-bound ledgers tied with ribbon, and rolled charts secured in cardboard tubes. Labels written in precise archival ink mark the contents - acquisition dates, collection names, shelf numbers. A faint smell of aging paper and binding glue hangs in the air. {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless ShelvesPastSeen; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Shelves Archive Review]] [continue]

[if ApothecaryTurns == 3] The shopgirl stands behind the counter, her copper-red hair pulled back severely from her face. Her movements are efficient as she turns to the shelves, selecting a bottle. A starched white apron covers her plain dress. As she reaches for a higher shelf, her dress pulls taut across her generous bottom, the fabric straining noticeably at the seams. She stands on tiptoes, her wide hips shifting to maintain balance, causing the apron strings to dig into the soft flesh at her waist. You watch as she examines the bottle, then glances furtively over her shoulder. With swift, practiced motions, she peels off the original label and replaces it with one from her apron pocket. The discarded label flutters to the floor behind the counter. {embed passage: 'BottleLabelSwitchSeen set to true'} [unless ApothecaryTurns == 3] The shopgirl stands behind the counter, her copper-red hair pulled back severely from her face. Her movements are careful and precise as she arranges vials - a bit slow, but she clearly doesn't want to let anything fall to the floor. A starched white apron covers her plain dress, though it does little to conceal the curves beneath - particularly at her hips and chest. As she talks to Eleanor, she occasionally glances toward the door with a mixture of boredom and impatience - clearly accustomed to manning the shop alone but not particularly enthusiastic about it. [continue] {link to: 'Apothecary Diorama', label: 'Back'} [inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->shopgirl persuasion menu]] [continue]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward the shopgirl's mind. You start to hear her inner thoughts, a rapid stream of calculations and mild anxiety. Some threads of dialogue seem louder than others. Perhaps you can add your voice to them… ➼[[**GREED**->Greed Shopgirl]] *Father charges triple for this stuff... I could take a cut for myself...* ➼[[**NERVOUSNESS**->Nervousness Shopgirl]] *What if she notices?* ➼[[**CURIOSITY**->Curiosity Shopgirl]] *She doesn't look like she needs this formula... I wonder why father prescribes it so much.* {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

A small brass bell sits within Eleanor's reach, its surface tarnished from daily use. A bit of an excessive accessory, given that neither the maids nor Mary are never too far anyways, but Eleanor likes using it anyways. Mary's personal bottle of lavender water rests against the table's edge, its cork loose and the glass slightly sticky from Eleanor's fingers. The level has dropped considerably - you've felt Mary applying it to Eleanor's temples each evening when the day's summer heat leave her flushed and heavy-lidded. {link to: 'Museum Employment Mary Success Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The dark oak sideboard stretches along the wall, its surface displaying a mixture of china and Egyptian artifacts. Family porcelain sits beside limestone scarab paperweights, while crystal decanters share space with small bronze figurines. A silver tea service occupies the left corner, its pieces tarnished from disuse. Beside it, Eleanor's archaeological journals rest in a neat stack. The sideboard's lower portion has been modified - sharp corners now bear thick padding secured with small brass tacks. A ceramic vase that once stood at the edge has been moved to the center, surrounded by items that cannot easily tip or break. {link to: 'Pregnancy Ending Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The small silver bowl sits unceremoniously on the low table. It’s slightly tarnished but otherwise unremarkable. Empty, of course, but that allows its smooth surface to reflect a distorted view of the room around it. {link to: 'sitting room', label: 'Back'}

Eleanor reaches out instinctively and gives the tarnished silver call bell a firm tap with her gloved knuckle. A surprisingly clear, sharp *ding* echoes through the high-ceilinged entrance hall. She waits expectantly for a beat, glancing around. The hall remains empty save for herself - no one seems to be coming to greet her. With a slight frown and a dismissive shake of her head, perhaps finding her own action pointless, she turns away from the desk and continues deeper into the atrium. {link to: 'Museum Entrance', label: 'Back'}

A polished silver tray sits near the Director's elbow, presenting a sparse but formal lunch. A matching silver cloche covers a plate, positioned beside a single crystal glass filled with water and a precisely folded linen napkin. It speaks of efficiency, really. [unless DirectorLunchEleanorPersuadedGluttony] The cloche has been lifted, revealing two precisely cut sandwiches and a small, plain slice of Madeira cake - a very dry looking one. Interestingly enough, the director doesn't seem to be very interested in any of them. [if DirectorLunchEleanorPersuadedGluttony] The cloche rests askew on the tray, revealing an empty plate save for a few scattered crumbs. Both of the small sandwiches and the slice of cake are now absent. The Director's napkin lies slightly crumpled near the plate, showing faint signs of use. [continue] {link to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'} DirectorLunchEleanorPersuadedGluttony: true

The polished surface of the sink gleams faintly even in the dim light of the kitchenette. The pump handle stands tall, its edges worn smooth. A few stray droplets cling to the spout, while the basin below shows faint scratches and marks - wire brushes and soap will do that over time. A tea-stained cloth hangs over the edge of the basin, still damp. {link to: 'kitchenette', label: 'Back'}

You hover into the sitting room. Directly across from you, above the mantel of a modest marble [[fireplace]], hangs a large framed [[painting]]. To the left, a well-worn upholstered [[settee]] faces the hearth. Scattered across the low wooden table before it are a few [[periodicals]], [unless candleholder] [append] an exhausted [[candleholder]], [if candleholder] [append] a [[candleholder]], [if successfuldelivery == true] [append] a barren cake plate, [continued] [append] and a small, empty [[silver bowl]]. Along the far wall behind the settee stands a tall [[bookshelf]]. Near a pair of towering [[windows]] draped with heavy curtains, an overstuffed armchair sits slightly askew. Set over its back are a [[waistcoat]] and a few [[garments]]. To your right, the room opens into a [[🪑dining room->dining room]]. Behind you, the hallway leads back to the [[🚪entryway->entryway]]. [if passage.visits == 3] *You seem to have an innate knowledge of what surrounds you is named and used. Having sat here for years, you must've passively picked things up.* [continue]

A neat stack of Eleanor's latest sketches, their edges aligned with characteristic precision. The topmost sheet displays her careful pencil work - detailed renderings of the Brittany symbols that have captured her attention. The familiar V-marked formations dominate the page, rendered with increasing sophistication from her earlier attempts. Some appear as rounded, blob-like shapes with tiny marks etched into their centers - V's, or perhaps Y's, the exact form still ambiguous in her interpretation. Others show the triple-circle variation: two smaller circles positioned above a larger one. Beneath these primary studies, you glimpse comparative sketches - Celtic spiral patterns from established texts, grain motifs from Egyptian reliefs, even rough approximations of fertility goddess iconography. Red ink annotations connect disparate elements with confident strokes, suggesting Eleanor's growing certainty about some bigger, underlying pattern. {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

You float over the black skirt. The material is rich, a fine wool blend with a slight sheen that speaks of quality, though it's a little worn down, fraying slightly at the edges. The waistband is strongly stitched, though a few threads are loose from constant use, likely from hours spent seated at a desk. Faint smudges of gray dust near the hem suggest it has brushed against the floor, and there's a slight musty scent to the fabric, as if the garment has been neglected for a day or two. {link to: 'garments', label: 'Back'}

The skull's surface is not only yellowed, but also marred with deep cracks and missing fragments. The damage is evident - it looks as if it had once been shattered and then meticulously pieced back together. A few traces of glue-like residue seem to confirm this. The eye sockets, hollow and dark, seem unnaturally smooth compared to the rest of the it, where the repairs are most apparent. {link to: 'casket box', label: 'Back'}

[if SpearsState == 'standing'] Four ancient spears lean against the rough stone wall, their iron points dulled by centuries but still visibly sharp. The wooden shafts, darkened with age, show deep grain patterns where moisture has worked into the wood over time. Each stands roughly seven feet in length - weapons meant for soldiers who knew their business. The spears rest at a precarious angle, held in place only by their own weight and the irregular surface of the wall. [continue] [if SpearsState == 'embedded'] The ancient weapons have been driven deep into the stone barrier, their iron points wedged firmly between limestone blocks. The wooden shafts protrude at various angles, creating a chaotic network of levers throughout the rubble pile. Where they struck, fresh cracks spider outward through the mortar, and several smaller stones have already worked loose. [continue] {link to: 'Weekend Expedition Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if SpearsState == 'standing'; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a sharp, resonant hum...->Spears Aether Cutscene 1]] [continue]

The small figurine stands about six inches tall, crafted from glazed faience that has retained much of its original blue-green color. It depicts Taweret, the hippo-headed goddess of childbirth - that's what the handwritten tag at her feet notes. Small chips mark her smug, almost satisfied hippopotamus snout. Her paws rest protectively under her naked chest, and so on her large, protruding and heavily pregnant belly. {link to: 'Egypt artefacts', label: 'Back'} [inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Statuette Cutscene]] [continue]

The steamer chest sits amongst the clutter, its brass fittings dulled with age. The lid is propped slightly open, revealing neatly folded linens and what appears to be summer clothing packed away for the winter months. Is Eleanor already storing away this season's clothing? Which month is it, anyways? August? September? A faint scent of mothballs and lavender drifts up from within. {link to: 'attic', label: 'Back'}

The stone bust sits solemnly on the shelf, its features rough but recognizable - a stern-faced individual with a broad nose and a prominent brow. Time and heavy weather has smoothed some of the finer details, leaving the dark granite an austere, almost stubborn expression. A faint groove on its base suggests it may once have been mounted on a plinth of some sort, but now it’s just another occupant of Eleanor’s ever-growing personal exhibit. {link to: 'guest room', label: 'Back'}

[if MassageStonePlatformState == 'unknown_use'] A raised stone slab dominates this section of the chamber, its surface worn smooth. It stands roughly waist-high, constructed from the same limestone as the walls but fitted with exceptional precision. Shallow channels carved around its edges suggest it was designed to collect liquid - water, perhaps? Dark stains mark various spots across its surface, their patterns suggesting regular, deliberate use rather than random spillage. [continue] [if MassageStonePlatformState == 'past_seen'] The raised stone platform takes on clearer purpose now that you've witnessed its use. The smooth surface, the careful channels for collecting oils, the precise height - all designed for tending to the human body. The warmth from the warm water flowing below would have made this an ideal place for such ministrations, the heated stone providing comfort during treatments. [continue] Eleanor stands nearby, occasionally glancing toward the platform with scholarly curiosity. {link to: 'Weekend Expedition Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless MassageStonePlatformState == 'past_seen'; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Stone Platform Cutscene 1]] [continue]

The shallow ceramic bowl is indeed filled with an assortment of polished stones and seashells. The stones range in color from deep umber to pale jade, their surfaces smooth from years of wear. The shells are equally varied - spirals, fans, and fragments, each with its own subtle patterning. At the bottom of the bowl, barely visible beneath the collection, rests a scrap of parchment with faint, inked lettering. The text reads: “From the shores of Weymouth, 1883.”

The storage ledger lies open on the small desk, its leather cover worn smooth at the corners. Pages are filled with a very neat script detailing artifact acquisitions and locations. You glimpse entries like: ~"Item #482b - Roman Amphora fragment, Section C, Shelf 12"~, ~"Item #711 - Egyptian Funerary Mask (minor damage), Section A, Crate 4"~, and ~"Item #903 - Whitlock Mirror, Silver, Section D, Bay 2 (Covered)"~. The last entry has a recent date written beside it, followed by a hasty question mark. {link to: 'Ancient Mirror Diorama', label: 'Back'}

You float closer to the cast iron stove, its surface faintly smudged with soot and grease. Four brass burners line the stovetop, and a wood-burning oven chamber sits below. The iron rings atop the burners are still warm. Peering into the small grate below, you note a few glowing embers nestled amidst the ash - it's likely that it was used earlier in the day. The faint, comforting scent of roasted chestnuts lingers, mingling with a strong aroma of... burnt sugar? {link to: 'kitchenette', label: 'Back'}

The porcelain sugar bowl, part of the matching tea set, sits near the center of the table. [if TeaMaryTurns < 3] [append] Its lid rests slightly askew. Inside, the white sugar cubes are piled high. [unless TeaMaryTurns < 3] [append] Its lid rests slightly askew. Inside, a scattering of white sugar cubes remains, noticeably fewer than when the service began. [continue] [append] A pair of tiny silver tongs rests beside it, one arm lightly dusted with fine sugar granules. [continue] {link to: 'Tea With Mary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

Someone has propped a splintered crate on its side to serve as a low table. Arranged across the rough wood are delicate, white cups painted with tiny blue flowers, alongside shiny silver spoons. What craftmanship! What are the cups even made of? They look polished to reflection. Unfortunately, a thick layer of dark sap coats the entire surface, cementing the pretty cups directly to the wood. You reach out to lift one; the sticky residue holds it fast. A swarm of tiny, buzzing cave-gnats dances over the rot pooled inside each one of them. You wrinkle your nose, wiping a speck of grime from your finger. {link to: 'palace parlor', label: 'Back'}

You approach the small table. Mundane and unremarkable, it's just another piece of furniture dotting the terrace. [if passage.visits == 1] *But now you know something fell under it during that meeting...* [continue] The checkered tablecloth hangs unevenly, its hem brushing the ground. As you float downwards to peer beneath it, you spot a pair of silk [[panties]] stuck to one of the legs. {link to: 'terrace', label: 'Back'}

The large wooden table dominates the center of the illuminated area. Its surface is scarred and stained from years of use, marked by countless artifacts being examined and catalogued upon it. Currently, it holds the [[clay tablet->clay tablet Archive Review]] Eleanor was just inspecting, resting beside a neat stack of blank [[cataloguing cards]]. An open ink pot and a couple of simple dip pens sit nearby, currently in use by Eleanor. A few loose [[pottery shards->pottery shards Archive Review]] are laid out to one side, one of which sits under a small, brass-rimmed [[magnifying glass->magnifying glass Archive Review]], its lens catching the lamplight. {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[if pastterraceturn == 1] The tea set sits on the table, its porcelain cups and saucers glazed blue. The teapot, matching the set, is full to the brim, and ready to be used. One of the cups - Mary's - shows a faint ring where it has already been drained and then refilled. Eleanor’s cup, meanwhile, is still half-full, left to cool. The sugar bowl’s lid has been nudged askew, a single cube resting on the saucer. [if pastterraceturn == 2] [if pastterraceturn == 2; unless GluttonyTerrace] The tea set sits on the table, its porcelain cups and saucers glazed blue. The teapot, matching the set, is half-full, and ready to be used. One of the cups - Mary's - shows a faint ring where it has already been drained and then refilled. Eleanor’s cup, meanwhile, is almost empty. The sugar bowl’s lid has been nudged askew, a single cube resting on the saucer. [if pastterraceturn == 2; if GluttonyTerrace] The tea set sits on the table, its porcelain cups and saucers glazed blue. The teapot, matching the set, is half-full, and ready to be used. One of the cups - Mary's - shows a faint ring where it has already been drained and then refilled. Eleanor’s cup, meanwhile, is empty, and currently getting refilled for a third time. The sugar bowl’s lid has been nudged askew, a single cube resting on the saucer. [if pastterraceturn == 3] [if pastterraceturn == 3; unless GluttonyTerrace] The tea set sits on the table, its porcelain cups and saucers glazed blue. The teapot, matching the set, is almost empty, and ready to be used. One of the cups - Mary's - shows a faint ring where it has already been drained and then refilled. Eleanor’s cup is also empty. The sugar bowl’s lid has been closed. [if pastterraceturn == 3; if GluttonyTerrace] The tea set sits on the table, its porcelain cups and saucers glazed blue. The teapot, matching the set, is empty, and ready to be used. One of the cups - Mary's - shows a faint ring where it has already been drained and then refilled. Eleanor’s cup was also empty, but just got refilled a fourth time. The sugar bowl’s lid has been closed. [continued] {link to: 'Past Terrace (Turn system)', label: 'Back'}

The delicate porcelain tea set gleams under the tearoom lights. The teapot, matching the cups and saucers, features a cobalt blue floral pattern. [if CreamSpilled] [append] Steam rises faintly from the teapot's spout, carrying the scent of bergamot mingled now with the richness of cream. White swirls are visible if you peer inside. [unless CreamSpilled] [append] Steam rises faintly from the teapot's spout, carrying the scent of bergamot. [continue] Two cups sit on their saucers; Mary's shows the residue of multiple refills, while Eleanor's currently sits full, recently topped up. {link to: 'Tea With Mary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The telegraph notice is printed on cheap yellow paper, its edges slightly curled. The message reads: <blockquote>TO: LOVELACE, ELEANOR - BRISTOL INSTITUTE FROM: DR. J. HUGHES - SORBONNE RE: CONSULTATION ON BRETON ARTIFACTS ARRIVING FRIDAY STOP AVAILABLE TO EXAMINE SYMBOLS STOP REQUIRE PRIVATE MEETING STOP RESPOND IF INCONVENIENT STOP</blockquote> {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

{ascii backdrop: 'temporal'} [[Back->Patterns]]

GlutttonyIncremented: false GluttonyCalEXP (GluttonyTerrace == true && GlutttonyIncremented == false): GluttonyCalEXP + 2 GlutttonyIncremented (GluttonyTerrace == true): true config.header.left: "{embed passage: 'Ascii Logic'}" -- You drift onto the terrace, a modest stone platform enclosed by a wrought-iron railing. The cool evening air goes through your immaterial form - it tastes of coal smoke, no doubt from the nearby smoke stacks, and of sea salt. {embed passage: 'Terrace Table Handbag and HandbagHit Logic'} [continue] [append] Nearby, a cluster of sickly looking [[potted plants]] sits, arranged with care. In another corner, leaning against the wall, is a wooden [[planter’s crate]]. Above, the sky fades from orange, to ashen gray, all the way to a deep blue. The first pinpricks of starlight beginning to emerge. Behind you is the way back inside the [[🪑flat->dining room]].

pastterraceturn: 0 GluttonyTerrace: false RageTerrace: false PoiseTerrace: false DoubtTerrace: false CuriosityTerrace: false LongingTerrace: false boxofsweetseaten: false pastterraceturn: false EleanorDepression: false HandbagHit: false config.header.left: "{embed passage: 'IsPast Page Layout Logic'}" -- As you lift the pocket watch, its hands begin to spin backward with increasing speed. The terrace fades into a swirling haze, the sounds of the present growing distant. When the scene steadies, the terrace has transformed. The potted greenery is now looking lush - just bought, you assume -, and the small table, now positioned in the middle of the terrace. *"Ah, Mary, you... well, you shouldn't have..."* You hear Eleanor's voice as the terrace door opens, and watch as she steps through, followed by a cheerful woman carrying a box tied with twine. Her tone is ostensibly warm, but you can feel a weariness to it. [[Are they friends?->terrace cutscene 1.5]] [note] You should set all of the variables that will be used in the turns here beforehand, so that we don't have any problems. [continued]

"Nonsense. Nonsense, Eleanor!" the woman you assume is Mary replies, setting the box down on the table with a flourish. "I know how much you *love* these. I got them from Havel’s bakery!" The two settle themselves at the table, Eleanor carrying a tray with some tea with her and Mary reaching for the twine to [[untie the box->Past Terrace (Turn system)]].

The small figurine of a woman holding a bundle of grain draws your attention. The terracotta surface of the figurine is rough and matte, with traces of ochre pigment clinging to the grooves, particularly around the curved folds of the woman's robe. Her face is serene, gazing downward at her protruding belly, and her hands cradle the bundle. She stands atop a circular base, etched with faint, illegible marks. [if passage.visits == 1] *You don't know why, but this artifact in particular fills you with a sense of relief.* [continue] {link to: 'fireplace', label: 'Back'}

Figurine3: true -- Nearing the figurine, the quill stops for a moment, then quickly writes something down. As the ink settles, the paper detaches from it and drifts between you and the object. It appears they have attempted a rough translation of the text at the base. ~SHARE THY BREAD WITH NONE~ The quill hovers briefly and proudly taps down twice onto the paper. {link to: 'terracotta figurine', label: 'Back'}

calories: calories + 1000 -- [[return->Untitled Passage] config.header.right: "[[Inventory->Inactive Inventory" config.header.right: "[[Inventory" [JavaScript] comesFromRoom = function () { if (trail.length > 1) { const previousPassage = engine.story.passageNamed(trail[trail.length - 2]); return previousPassage.tags.includes("Rooms"); } return undefined; }; isCutscene = function () { if (trail.length > 0) { const currentPassage = engine.story.passageNamed(trail[trail.length - 1]); return currentPassage.tags.includes("Cutscene"); } return undefined; // Return undefined if no current passage exists }; comesFromMenu = function () { if (trail.length > 1) { const previousPassage = engine.story.passageNamed(trail[trail.length - 2]); return previousPassage.tags.includes("Menu"); } return undefined; }; updateHeaderConfig = function () { if (isCutscene()) { engine.state.set("config.header.right", ""); } else if (comesFromMenu()) { engine.state.set("config.header.right", ""); } else if (comesFromRoom()) { engine.state.set("config.header.right", "[[Inventory->Inactive Inventory"); } else { engine.state.set("config.header.right", "[[Inventory"); return result; } }; [continued]

The tintypes are arranged in a neat row along the cabinet, their surfaces darkened with age, with only some being still legible in the low light of this hallway. Most show stern-faced figures in formal wear, their expressions fixed and distant. One photo stands out. A younger girl, in her teens, posed between a very elderly couple: a woman with a gentle smile, and a man with a very stiff stance. Interestingly enough, they don't share the same blonde hair of the girl. {link to: 'upper floor', label: 'Back'}

The linen towel drapes neatly over the edge of the bathtub. It’s soft, yet a little stiff from recent washing. The edges are neatly hemmed, and you can just make out a faint monogram embroidered into the fabric: “E.L.” A slight dampness clings to it, as if it had only just been used. {link to: 'washroom', label: 'Back'}

{ascii backdrop: 'transformation'} [[Back->Patterns]]

As you attempt to drift away from the low table and go about the apartment, you feel yourself growing weaker and weaker. Your form wavers, growing fainter the further you try to move from your vessel. Only a few feet in away from it, you are forced back to that darkened granite, utterly spent. {link to: 'Sitting room slob ending', label: 'Back'}

Floating closer, you examine the undergarments resting at the bottom of the pile. The chemise is simple, its cotton fabric softened by countless washes. Tiny, almost imperceptible pinpricks of embroidery - a floral motif - decorate the hem. Beside it lies a matching pair of drawers, creased from a long day of wear, and with an evidently stretched waistband. [if measuringtape == false] [append] From under them you spot a coiled [[measuring tape]], its brass end glinting. [continue] {link to: 'garments', label: 'Back'}

{ascii backdrop: 'unluckycharm'} [[Back->Patterns]]

The stack of unopened letters rests on the corner of the desk, the edges slightly worn from their stay. Their paper is thick and slightly yellowed, suggesting most aren't that recent. Some have addresses hastily scrawled across the front, others are sealed tightly with wax. The contents remain a mystery - try as you might, you cannot read through a closed envelope. Still, judging by their dates, it seems Eleanor has been putting off reading them for a while. {link to: 'writing desk', label: 'Back'}

You ascend the steep flight of stairs. At the top, the narrow landing stretches out before you. The light filtering through the window in front of you casts a pale glow on the wallpaper, patterned with faded roses and trailing ivy. [if Eleanorspotted == false] To your left, the door to a [[bedroom]] stands slightly ajar. Right in front of you is instead a low wooden cabinet holds a collection of [[decorative boxes]] and small framed [[tintypes]]. [if Eleanorspotted == true; if guestroomfirst == false] As you were drifting out of the [[bedroom]], a faint sliver of light coming from the wall in front caught your eye - covered by the wallpaper is the faint outline of a [[door->guest room]]. Between the two, a low wooden cabinet holds a collection of [[decorative boxes]] and small framed [[tintypes]]. [if Eleanorspotted == true; if guestroomfirst == true] To your left, the door to a [[bedroom]] stands slightly ajar. On the right, a closed door leads to a smaller [[guest room]]. Between the two, a low wooden cabinet holds a collection of [[decorative boxes]] and small framed [[tintypes]]. [continued] Behind you, a ramp of stairs lead to the [[🚪ground floor->entryway]]. [if Eleanorspotted == false; if pocketwatch == false; if EleanorBreakfast == false] *Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock...*

You focus your attention towards your vessel, still resting on top of the hall table. It's a small statuette carved from blackened stone, with a faint sheen to its smooth surface. It depicts a woman. You're still not sure if it's pregnant or merely fat. [if Eleanorspotted == true; if PocketwatchHad == true] As you pass close to the object, you feel it tugging your incorporeal form closer, as if inviting you to return. And who are you to deny the offer? Maybe you really have done enough haunting for the time being. [[Maybe you should get some rest->Chapter 1 Player ending cutscene 1]]. [continued] {link to: 'entryway', label: 'Back'}

The vessel: A small statuette carved from blackened stone with a sheen along its smooth surface. It depicts a fattened woman. It's currently resting atop a crocheted doily. Not a great looking one: pale yellow threads worked in an uneven pattern, the stitches tight in some places, loose in others. Getting closer to it, you can still hear a low hum coming from it and feel a subtle warmth. You've been feeling a stronger pull as of late, and are only able to exit from it on certain occasions - *somebody else is taking care of Eleanor's hunger, now.* {link to: 'Museum Employment Mary Success Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The clot floats forward of its own volition, and nears the statuette. You stand by confused as it looks the figure up and down, inspecting it. A few moments later, [[it begins to take shape->vessel mimick cutscene 2]].

From the sphere a set of thighs pop below, followed by a shiny, then long-haired head up top. A set of stubby arms float to the surface on its sides, already on their place on top of the round shape of the abdomen - this is followed by rapid and invisible knife cuts to detail and shape the chest, butt, and finally, the belly button. It's not a perfect copy: it's clear the plaster is positive that the figure ought to be an obese one. The replica's thighs are looking much meatier, and you cannot tell if it's bothered to detail the nether regions given how its belly is not only much more swollen, but also drooping forward enough to cover them. You watch it take a few trembling, wobbling steps over the table before the plaster looses its shape completely, and returns to you. {link to: 'vessel', label: 'Back'}

You focus your attention towards your vessel, resting on the small mahogany table near the window. It's a small statuette carved from blackened stone, with a faint sheen to its smooth surface. It depicts a heavily pregnant woman. {link to: 'Pregnancy Ending Diorama', label: 'Back'}

Your vessel sits on the low wooden table, same as it's always been - that small statuette carved from blackened stone, dulled smooth by time. You try to recall what the figure was meant to depict: a pregnant woman? Or just a fat one? You don't really feel like it matters anymore. {link to: 'Sitting room slob ending', label: 'Back'}

wrongartefact: wrongartefact + 1 -- The handbag floats forward, its clasp snapping open like a hungry mouth. You guide it closer, expecting it to swallow your vessel eagerly. And so it does, in one swift motion. It then proceeds to spit it out a moment later. [if wrongartefact < 3] It's handkerchief sticks out further than before, and though you might just be seeing things, you swear it looks as if the handbag tasted the object, and found it disgusting. It floats back to your side, its clasp clicking softly in quiet protest. [continued] [if wrongartefact == 3] It's handkerchief sticks out further than before, and though you might just be seeing things, you swear it looks as if the handbag tasted the object, and found it disgusting. The creases on its leather exterior deepen, and although it begrudgingly floats back to your side, it's had enough of this: the handbag clasps itself shut. *Try as you might, you cannot get it to open up again.* [continued] {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'}

A leather-bound visitor logbook lies open, its pages filled with entries from colleagues and visitors to Eleanor's office throughout the week. Most entries are routine departmental business, but several do catch your attention. "*Mr. J. Phillips - Antiquities Dept. - 9:30 AM - Ceramic authentication*" "*Miss S. Morton - Administrative - 11:15 AM - Budget correspondence*" [if ArchiveReviewAttended] "*Miss V. Whitlock - Collections - 8:30 AM - Archive materials consultation*" [continue] "*Mr. T. Davidson - Maintenance - 12:20 AM - Gas lamp inspection*" [if TeaWithMaryAttended] "*Miss M. Thornton - Social call - 3:30 PM - Personal visit*" [continue] [if TranslationSessionAttended] "*Mr. R. Harding - Egyptology - 9:45 AM - Translation assistance*" [continue] "*Mrs. E. Hartwell - Board Liaison - 10:45 AM - Committee updates*" [if PrivateResearchAttended] "*Miss V. Whitlock - Collections - 7:20 PM - Private research session*" [continue] "*Mr. C. Webb - Photography Dept. - 1:10 PM - Exhibition documentation*" [if LunchWithDirector] A note in different handwriting: "*Director requests Miss Lovelace for a 12:30 PM lunch meeting*" [continue] The remaining entries blur together - routine administrative visits, delivery confirmations, and interdepartmental consultations that mark the daily rhythm of museum business. {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

The heavy ledger lies open on the reception desk, its pages surely filled with dated entries in various hands. Not today's page though, not yet. Dated **MONDAY**, it shows only one entry: "*Mr. R. Trevelyan - Director - 9:05 AM*". The facing page, showing **SUNDAY**, is sparse as the other, with only a small amount of entries - the latest being from: "*Mr. R. Harding - Egyptology Dept. - 9:10 AM (Weekend Access)*" "*Miss V. Whitlock - Collections - 10:46 PM (Weekend Access)*" {link to: 'Museum Entrance', label: 'Back'}

You go ahead and run a ghostly hand over the smooth fabric of the waistcoat. It's well cared for, safe for the loose thread at one pocket - nothing Eleanor shouldn't be able to fix. [if TapeWaistcoatUnFitted] [append] Though now it looks decidedly too small for her. Why did you even do this in the first place? [continue] The buttons are polished brass, their surface degraded by tiny scratches from handling. A faint scent of tobacco lingers around the collar, mingling with the unmistakable odor of old books. {link to: 'sitting room', label: 'Back'}

The simple wooden bench sits beneath the window, currently unoccupied. Its seat is worn smooth from years of anxious waiting. A small cushion, frayed at the edges, offers minimal comfort to those waiting for either their tonics or prescriptions. That’s what you’re guessing is the case, anyway: it’s not like you can test that yourself. {link to: 'Apothecary Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless ApothecaryPregnantPast; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Apothecary Bench Cutscene]] [continue]

The wardrobe stands tall. Surprisingly, it's mostly empty, with only a few items hanging inside. At the far end, a formal [[dress]] hangs - a bit out of place among the sparse selection. To the left, a stack of neatly folded [[blouses]] with a [[light green skirt]] hanging beside them. There’s also an assortment of discarded [[scarves]] draped over one of the wardrobe’s rails, as well as large hat on the top shelf. On the far side, a heavy [[winter coat]] is hung, its thick fabric dark and worn at the cuffs. On the other side, a heavy winter... no, not quite; on the other side is a mirror. {link to: 'bedroom', label: 'Back'}

The wardrobe stands with both doors flung wide, its contents scattered about. Several blouses hang askew on their hooks, while others have been pulled from their neat stacks and now drape over the wardrobe's edge. A light green skirt dangles half-off its hanger, its waistband stretched wide as if recently tested. The scarves remain draped over the rail, though now they're joined by a discarded corset and several chemises that have been examined and abandoned. The heavy winter coat still hangs at the far end, untouched - clearly too small even to attempt. On the floor of the wardrobe, a small pile of undergarments sits in defeat, their delicate construction no match for Eleanor's current girth. {link to: 'Bedroom Merge Ending Diorama', label: 'Back'}

You float through the doorway into the washroom. A modest [[mirror]] hangs above a porcelain basin set atop a small washstand. Beside it, a narrow [[cabinet]] houses an assortment of glass jars and tins filled with soaps, salves, and powders. On the opposite wall stands a utilitarian [[commode]], its pull chain dangling from a small brass cistern mounted high above. In the corner furthest from the door rests a large cast iron [[bathtub]] with clawed feet, a linen [[towel]] draped neatly over its edge. [note] Tucked discreetly beside the tub is a weighing scale]] of polished brass, its mechanism showing the wear of time. [continued] Behind you is the door back to the [[🚪entryway->entryway]].

The small stone bowl sits before Eleanor, carved from what appears to be dark basalt. Seven shallow depressions mark its interior surface, each roughly the size and shape of a human eye. The depressions catch the gaslight at odd angles, creating the illusion of depth that extends beyond the stone's actual thickness. You float closer to examine the carvings. The eye-shaped hollows seem to bulge outward from within the stone itself, as though something beneath the surface were pressing against the interior walls. Fine hairline cracks radiate from each depression's center, barely visible in the dim archive lighting. {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless WatchingBowlPastSeen; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Watching Bowl Cutscene 1]] [continue]

The watering can, a small and sturdy copper vessel, sits tucked neatly among the potted plants. The spout, elegantly curved, points toward the marigold as if willing the plant to thrive. Peering inside, you find it bone dry. Perhaps Eleanor had intended to water the plants but never quite got around to it, or maybe it got to a point where she knew it wouldn’t have made much of a difference. Quite a shame. {link to: 'potted plants', label: 'Back'}

A narrow window interrupts the wall of bookshelves, its glass grimy with years of accumulated soot and dust. Eleanor has clearly attempted to clean it - streaked circles mark where she's rubbed at decades of smoke and grime, creating a somewhat clearer viewing port at eye level. [if CurrentDay == 'MONDAY'] Through the cleared section, figures move briskly along the pavement below. Men in dark coats clutch leather satchels, their stride purposeful and hurried. *A woman in a severe black dress moves with mechanical precision toward the museum's side entrance, clipboard pressed against her chest.* A vendor wheels a cart of newspapers to the corner, his voice already calling headlines to the passing crowd. [if CurrentDay == 'TUESDAY'] A succession of laden wagons rumbles past, their wheels grinding against the cobblestones. Women emerge from doorways carrying wicker baskets, moving toward what you assume must be the market district. *A figure in a burgundy walking dress pauses at the milliner's window, her gloved hand pressed against it as she examines something inside. She is quickly reprimanded by a shopgirl to not smear the glass.* [if CurrentDay == 'WEDNESDAY'] The street moves at a gentler pace. An elderly man feeds pigeons near the fountain, scattering crumbs from a paper bag. *A tall man with spectacles hurries past carrying a leather portfolio, colliding face first with a lamppost as he adjusts his glasses. He seems to be fine, though.* [if CurrentDay == 'THURSDAY'] People carry wrapped parcels under their arms, stepping carefully around puddles from the morning's brief shower. *A man in a top hat emerges from the bank across the square, consulting his pocket watch twice before hurrying toward a waiting carriage. He clutches a leather document case under one arm while gesturing impatiently at the driver.* [if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'] The afternoon light catches a mix of activity - clerks departing early from nearby offices, housewives completing final errands, children released from their lessons. A hansom cab waits outside the hotel, its driver checking his pocket watch. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

You drift toward the towering windows, their heavy curtains drawn back to reveal a view of a sprawling city. The glass is slightly fogged, but through the haze, you can make out the teal rooftops and ornate facades of nearby buildings stretching out beneath a smokey sky. In the distance, a river winds its way through the city, its surface reflecting the muted light of the early evening. The noise of the city below drifts upward - conversations, the clatter of horse-drawn carriages, and the distant tolling of church bells. {link to: 'sitting room', label: 'Back'}

The tall windows stretch from floor to ceiling, their panes streaked with morning condensation. Lace curtains hang in careful folds, their patterns casting delicate shadows across the Persian rug. The fabric shows recent adjustment - gathered and tied with silk ribbons to control the afternoon light that would otherwise make the room uncomfortably warm. {link to: 'Museum Employment Mary Success Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The tall windows of The Willow Branch look out onto a small, well-tended garden square. Wrought-iron benches sit beneath leafy plane trees, and a few pigeons peck at the gravel path. The late afternoon sun slants through the glass, catching dust motes dancing in the warm air of the tearoom and casting long shadows across the patterned carpet. Through the panes, you can see pedestrians strolling past on the pavement outside, their figures slightly distorted by the old glass. {link to: 'Tea With Mary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The tall windows face east, their glass streaked with raindrops from the previous night's rain. Morning sunlight filters through sheer curtains, casting wavering patterns across the dining table's surface. Beyond the glass, the estate's gardens stretch toward a line of oak trees, their leaves beginning to show autumn's first touches of gold. Condensation has gathered along the bottom panes where warm interior air meets the cooler glass. {link to: 'Pregnancy Ending Diorama', label: 'Back'}

You try to focus on the windows, but you find yourself too weak to drift close to them, and to see outside. From your fixed position near the vessel, you can only make out their general outline - tall panels draped with heavy curtains that are currently drawn. A faint street noise filters through, muffled and distant. {link to: 'Sitting room slob ending', label: 'Back'}

The winter coat hangs heavily at the far end of the wardrobe, its thick, dark fabric meant for harsh weather. Its weight is excessive for the current season, but clearly it has been stowed away and more appropriately meant for the coming colder season. {link to: 'wardrobe', label: 'Back'}

{ascii backdrop: 'wraiths'} [[Back->Patterns]]

[if helpfulnessNegative] The writing desk is buried under a landslide of disorganization. Empty wine bottles jostle for space among a collection of ink-stained [[pens]]. A haphazard pile of [[unopened letters]] spills onto the floor, their wax seals chipped away. The only real work that has been done here recently is a half-finished letter buried under biscuit crumbs, its ink faded to a rusty brown - it must've sat here for a while. A paperweight shaped like a bird peeks out from the debris, one wing chipped. [if helpfulnessNegative; unless handmirror] [append] To its left, is a [[hand mirror]]. [continue] [if helpfulnessNone] The writing desk is functional, but weary. A leaning tower of [[unopened letters]] threatens to topple onto a collection of ink-stained pens. Eleanor is currently testing some of them while slightly hunched over the central workspace, her spectacles slipping down her nose as she scratches away at a half-finished letter. A paperweight bird keeps a single sheet pinned beneath its talons while the rest flutter in the draft from the window. [if helpfulnessNone; unless handmirror] A [[hand mirror]] perches to the side, near the edge of the desk. [if helpfulnessMedium] The writing desk gleams with recent polish. Neat stacks of [[unopened letters]] stand aligned beside a regiment of freshly filled ink pots. The [[half-finished letter]] lies centered on the blotter, flanked by a row of well-worn [[pens]]. A paperweight bird stands nearby. [if helpfulnessMedium; unless handmirror] To their left, is a [[hand mirror]]. [if helpfulnessHigh] The writing desk is in spotless condition. Each [[letter->unopened letters]] forms a perfect right angle with the desk edge, their wax seals all oriented northeast. There is a row of [[pens]] to one side that stand arranged by descending height. The [[half-finished letter]] floats in a sea of pristine blotting paper, pinned down by a shining paperweight bird. [if helpfulnessHigh; unless handmirror] [append] To its side, a [[hand mirror]] hangs exactly 4.5 inches from the corner of the desk. [continued] {link to: 'bedroom', label: 'Back'}

The writing desk bears the evidence of Eleanor's packing attempts - a collection of ink-stained pens lies scattered beside half-filled travel inkwells. Ferry tickets and official documents rest in loose stacks. Your vessel sits prominently among the papers, its granite surface catching the morning light. Nearby, a leather-bound travel journal lies open, its first few pages already filled with Eleanor's careful script detailing expedition plans and site coordinates. A small pile of correspondence - letters of introduction, museum recommendations, boarding house confirmations - waits to be sorted into her document case. The paperweight bird you had so precisely placed has been knocked askew and now perches precariously near the desk's edge. {link to: 'Bedroom Merge Ending Diorama', label: 'Back'}

wrongartefact: wrongartefact + 1 -- The handbag floats forward, its clasp snapping open like a hungry mouth. You guide it closer, expecting it to swallow the artifact eagerly. And so it does, in one swift motion. It then proceeds to spit it out a moment later. [if wrongartefact < 3] It's handkerchief sticks out further than before, and though you might just be seeing things, you swear it looks as if the handbag tasted the object, and found it disgusting. It floats back to your side, its clasp clicking softly in quiet protest. [continued] [if wrongartefact == 3] It's handkerchief sticks out further than before, and though you might just be seeing things, you swear it looks as if the handbag tasted the object, and found it disgusting. The creases on its leather exterior deepen, and although it begrudgingly floats back to your side, it's had enough of this: the handbag clasps itself shut. *Try as you might, you cannot get it to open up again.* [continued] {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'}

Stacks of The Times and The Daily Telegraph from years back sit bundled together with twine. You spot headlines speaking of Queen Victoria's latest railway journey, rising bread prices in London, and an article debating the merits of newly installed streetlamps. The papers have begun to yellow at the edges, their corners curling inward. {link to: 'attic', label: 'Back'}

The paper, part of a newspaper, is clearly old, but the ink itself isn't: *“Catalog #209, Fragment of a larger artifact, possibly a vase. Unearthed in Brittany, France. Use unknown. Circa 4th century BCE.”* {link to: 'fern terrarium', label: 'Back'}

The pointy stick zips out of your bag, hovering near Grizel's alcove, then Grak's, then yours. It seems... disappointed? It returns to the white slice and scribbles fast. ~MORTUARY ALCOVES WITH NONE OF THEIR ORIGINAL ARTEFACTS.~ ~CURRENT CONTENTS APPEAR TO BE RUBBISH.~ You frown. Rubbish?! That's your spare wrap! And Grak's teeth collection is... well, okay, that is rubbish. But still! Rude. {link to: 'Personal Alcoves', label: 'Back'}

ShelfSawed: true -- You look at the shelf. It's just... rock. Hard, grey rock. But this wire... can it cut it? You position the wire against the lip of the shelf and pull. The sound sets your teeth on edge, a horrible dry shriek that echoes down the tunnel. You grit your teeth and pull harder. *SKREEEE-K!* The wire bites, but only a little. It leaves a jagged, ugly white scar in the stone and dulls a patch of the wire's teeth. {link to: 'Personal Alcoves', label: 'Back'}

[dialogue delay:0.1 id:alerica_alone_1] You march right up to the crates, cupping your hands around your mouth. [dialogue delay:1.2 id:alerica_alone_1] *"I AM LEIKA! SERVANT OF THE-"* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:alerica_alone_1 newline] **WHAM.** [dialogue delay:1.0 id:alerica_alone_1] The deafening strike of the iron beast cuts you off. The tall woman flinches, looking down at you with a very sour expression. [dialogue delay:2.5 id:alerica_alone_1 newline] *"You filthy little-* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:alerica_alone_1] **WHAM.** [dialogue delay:1.0 id:alerica_alone_1] *-get off my-* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:alerica_alone_1] **WHAM.** [dialogue delay:1.0 id:alerica_alone_1] *-WHAT DO YOU WANT?!"* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:alerica_alone_1] she shrieks. [dialogue delay:1.2 id:alerica_alone_1 newline] She leans down over the barricade, the sudden movement causing her pale chest to heave dangerously against the tight, rigid fabric of her blue dress. [dialogue delay:2.0 id:alerica_alone_1] *"Are you the one making that-* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:alerica_alone_1] **WHAM.** [dialogue delay:1.0 id:alerica_alone_1] *-infernal racket?! I order you to cease!"* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:alerica_alone_1 newline] *"IT IS NOT ME! I AM HERE FOR THE HOLY-"* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:alerica_alone_1] **WHAM.** [dialogue delay:1.0 id:alerica_alone_1] *"-SHOO! SHOO!!"* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:alerica_alone_1] she wails, abandoning her fan entirely to press both palms flat against her pointed ears. [dialogue delay:1.0 id:alerica_alone_1] *"JUST LEAVE ME BE!"* [dialogue delay:2.0 id:alerica_alone_1 newline] You huff, crossing your arms. There's no reasoning with someone who won't even listen to a simple, shouted introduction. You stick your tongue out at her - prompting her to notice and do the same back - and turn away. [dialogue delay:1.5 id:alerica_alone_1 newline] {link to: 'Lady Alerica', label: 'Back'}

[dialogue delay:0.1 id:alerica_gen_2] You approach the crates once more. [dialogue delay:1.2 id:alerica_gen_2 newline] **WHAM.** [dialogue delay:1.0 id:alerica_gen_2] The impact rattles the floorboards. Lady Alerica winces, her eyes squeezed shut, as the pale, exposed swell of her chest gives another helpless, heavy jiggle against the loosened fabric of her dress. [dialogue delay:2.5 id:alerica_gen_2 newline] *"Have you not bothered my brother enough?"* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:alerica_gen_2] she groans, pressing a damp cloth to her collarbone. [dialogue delay:1.5 id:alerica_gen_2] *"The heat in this cavern is oppressive enough without your presence adding to the crowd.* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:alerica_gen_2] *Begone. Allow me to suffer these vibrations in peace."* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:alerica_gen_2 newline] {link to: 'Lady Alerica', label: 'You roll your eyes and step back.'}

AlericaBoilerReactionSeen: true -- [dialogue delay:0.1 id:alerica_react_1] You step up to the crates, a smug grin on your face. You open your mouth to brag about your handiwork. [dialogue delay:1.2 id:alerica_react_1 newline] *"Don't,"* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:alerica_react_1] Lady Alerica snaps before you can even form a word. [dialogue delay:1.0 id:alerica_react_1] *"Just... don't speak."* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:alerica_react_1 newline] She is leaning heavily against the wood. The top laces of her rigid bone-cage have been hastily loosened, allowing the shiny blue fabric of her dress to gape open. The pale, sweat-slicked swell of her heavy chest spills far more freely from the confinement now, heaving with her shallow breaths. [dialogue delay:2.0 id:alerica_react_1 newline] **WHAM.** [dialogue delay:1.0 id:alerica_react_1] The wood of the porch shudders. The vibration travels up her boots, and you watch as her freed bosom gives a distinct, uncontrollable tremble in time with the machine's rhythm. [dialogue delay:2.5 id:alerica_react_1 newline] *"I said hush!"* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:alerica_react_1] she groans, wincing. [dialogue delay:1.5 id:alerica_react_1] *"This vibration is intolerable.* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:alerica_react_1] *It is rattling my very bones. And the heat! Did I tell you about the heat?"* [dialogue delay:2.5 id:alerica_react_1] She gestures weakly to her undone collar. [dialogue delay:1.8 id:alerica_react_1] *"I have had to compromise my dignity just to draw breath."* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:alerica_react_1 newline] You cross your arms, defensive. *"Well, it is working! It is..."* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:alerica_react_1 newline] *"I do not care!"* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:alerica_react_1] she insists, waving her limp fan at you. [dialogue delay:1.2 id:alerica_react_1] *"The air is thick enough without your prattling adding to it. Go bother my brother. He seems fascinated by that... that monstrosity. Just leave me be."* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:alerica_react_1 newline] {link to: 'Lady Alerica', label: 'You roll your eyes and step back.'}

ExpeditionRemainsUnlocked: true SkullManEncountered: true SkullManHuntStarted: true FakeCaveSkullManSmashed: true EntrywaySkullManSmashed: true MuseumHallSkullManSmashed: true ArchivesSkullManSmashed: true SittingRoomSkullManSmashed: true TerraceSkullManSmashed: true OfficeSkullManSmashed: true PrehistoricSkullManSmashed: true OfficeMapSkullManSmashed: true SkullManSmashed: 8 AmuletSmashed: true ExpeditionRemainsAligned: true LastBiomeAligned: 'ExpeditionRemains' -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH3', label: 'Back'}

FungalPlainsFirstTime: true FarmGoblinsMet: true KeffTalkedTo: true BeraTalkedTo: true FungalTreeFelled: true BeraPostFellingDialogueSeen: true KeffPostFellingDialogueSeen: true MawAmbush: true InMawPrison: true OrkState: 'awake' FungalPlainsAligned: true LastBiomeAligned: 'FungalPlains' -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH3', label: 'Back'}

HuntingGroundsFirstTime: true HydraFirstEncounter: true HydraEncounterCount: 4 HydraHuntGrakConsider: true GrakHelp: true HydraSign: 'tuningfork' HuntingGroundsAligned: true LastBiomeAligned: 'HuntingGrounds' -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH3', label: 'Back'}

SlimeCavernsFirstTime: true SlimeGirlNorthMoved: true SlimePackRemoved: true SlimeGirlEastMoved: true SlimeGirlWestMoved: true SlimeGirlWestRiddleSolved: true SlimeGirlsGathered: true SlimePressState: 'shaped' SlimeCavernsAligned: true LastBiomeAligned: 'SlimeCaverns' -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH3', label: 'Back'}

SunlessFieldsFirstTime: true ElvesMet: true MetalJawTaken: true GearInstalled: true PipeSmashed: true BoilerLit: true BoilerActivated: true AlericaBoilerReactionSeen: true SunlessFieldsAligned: true LastBiomeAligned: 'SunlessFields' -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH3', label: 'Back'}

A thick, rhythmic snore rattles the drifting lamps above you. This woman - clearly a Sky-Walker with a skin the color of baked earth - has surrendered to the heat and the weight of her meal. She has kicked her purple silk wrap into a tangled heap at the foot of the divan, preferring the feel of the warm air on her damp, oiled skin. Her heavy flanks and the impressive, trembling mass of her backside have squeezed the plush velvet until the dark wood of the frame below peeks through. A golden torque, set with glowing amber, is being slowly swallowed by the soft creases of Her neck, while a single, crushed grape clings to the high, glistening slope of her middle. Suddenly, a deep, liquid gurgle rolls through her, ending in a short, sharp *burp* that makes her whole form shiver for a second before she settles back into the deep, ungraceful sleep. *What luck would it be to live like her...* {link to: 'Second Chamber (Past)', label: 'Back'}

The paler of the two is curled into a tight, messy knot, her silver hair masking a face flushed with the effort of digestion. She has pulled one of her knees toward her chest, a position that forces her middle into two overlapping folds that spill over her lap and onto the divan's edge. A dozen jeweled necklaces of heavy silver and emeralds are a tangled, glittering web across Her shoulders, the sharp metal points biting into the soft, stretch-marked skin of her chest as it rests heavily upon the shelf of her upper gut. Her breathing is a series of short, wet puffs that vibrate the jewelry, occasionally interrupted by a tiny, high-pitched whine from the back of her throat. A smear of dark paste remains on Her cheek, right where it meets a second chin, a messy detail she was too tired to clean before the stupor claimed Her. You watch as Her breasts shift with a heavy, unconstrained weight whenever she lets out a particularly deep, moaned sigh. {link to: 'Second Chamber (Past)', label: 'Back'}

SpringCut: true -- You glare at the sharp wire sticking out of the velvet. It *bit* you! And no piece of furniture gets to bite the Goddess's chosen and get away with it. You pull out the toothy string, looping it securely around the base of the rusted metal curl, then grip the handles tightly and give a single, vicious yank. *Zzz-ping!* The wire slices through the rusted iron with a sharp screech. The severed spring shoots off, clattering harmlessly against a nearby crate before dropping to the dirt. {link to: 'velvet armchair', label: 'Back'}

...the turning of the seasons slows to a suffocating halt. A low, rhythmic thudding begins to echo through the very walls of the warren. It is a vibration you feel deep within you, often followed by some sort of wet, gnawing sound - of walls being chewed and swallowed whole by... *no*, no, it's all in your mind. There are no cave-ins reported, no giants spotted in the deep, and yet even you can see that the rivers now rush in a frantic panic, as if sucked away into the rock. [[The Starving God is at hand.->Ascension Ending 1.5]]

Panic spreads through your kin. Hunters pace the tunnels with wide, fearful eyes, while gatherers flinch at every falling pebble. And yet, you marvel as this terror only fuels devotion. Good! A sense of pride swells within you. The line of tribute moves faster than ever, driven by the hope that a single, extra sliver of roasted meat or a final skin of sweet-sap might be the exact offering needed [[to save them all.->Ascension Ending 1.7]]

And yes, sure. Some do mutter that the Goddess has failed them, that the warren has traded its survival for a bottomless stomach. *Fools*! All of them, such fools; can't they not see how much her belly has grown? Let alone the rest of her. You stand proudly beside the great granite throne, watching Her Holiness accept the offerings, humming pleasantly at their flavour. You watch an attendant struggle to push a particularly heavy portion past Her lips. She swallows it with a deep, rumbling gulp that shakes Her entire frame. Just as you're about to bonk him for his lack of care, [[a sound cuts through the chamber.->Ascension Ending 1.9]]

[align center] ... ... ... [[**CLICK**->Ascension Ending 2]] [continue]

config.style.page.color: "#002424 on #f3f0ed" config.style.page.link.color: "#a97708" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#a97708" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#cc0000 on #f3f0ed" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ff4d4d" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#a97708" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#a97708" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#cc0000 on #f3f0ed" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ff4d4d" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#cc0000 on #f3f0ed" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#0b1628" config.style.dark.page.color: "#e4edf6 on #141a2c" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#ffdb49" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#be7913" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ffbd58 on #141a2c" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ffbd58" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#ffdb49" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#be7913" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ffbd58 on #141a2c" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ffbd58" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ffbd58 on #141a2c" -- You step back in, a little concerned, but a soft giggle escapes Her lips. She looks down at you, ducking Her chin with a sheepish smile and a soft flush to Her cheeks, speaking a string of gentle, melodic words. Their meaning escapes you, [[as usual...->Ascension Ending 10.5]]

config.style.page.color: "#002c2c on #f1f6f5" config.style.page.link.color: "#ae8304" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#ae8304" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#cc0000 on #f1f6f5" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ff4d4d" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#ae8304" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#ae8304" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#cc0000 on #f1f6f5" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ff4d4d" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#cc0000 on #f1f6f5" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#05182d" config.style.dark.page.color: "#e5effb on #0a1a2f" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#ffd324" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#b88409" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ffcc52 on #0a1a2f" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ffcc52" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#ffd324" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#b88409" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ffcc52 on #0a1a2f" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ffcc52" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ffcc52 on #0a1a2f" -- ...so you simply smile back, captivated by Her divine joy. She then raises a chubby finger toward the heavy fruit, parts Her lips, and *ah!*, well, that you do understand. [[You gladly step into the heat to fetch Her the very first bite.->Goddess Ending]]

The heavy block of black star-stone holding the Goddess's immense bottom suddenly drops, sinking straight into the floor. The Goddess lets out a startled squeak. Without the seat to support Her, Her colossal mass simply tips backward, and She lands squarely on the hard flagstones with a thunderous *WHAM*. You also land hard as her shockwave sweeps your legs right out from under you, and you're left blinking through a sudden cloud of ancient dust and [[a deep grinding of stone.->Ascension Ending 3]]

You scramble up, rubbing your bruised rear. Did the throne break? Did we - *oh no* - overfeed Her? Was that a possibility? Have we doomed ourselves?! [[But that grinding continues.->Ascension Ending 3.5]]

You look past the stunned, sprawling form of the Goddess - you're glad to see that a number of attendands are taking care of her. That's a relief. But yes, past her, as a massive fissure tears right down the center of the carved prophecy wall. The two halves of the stone groan, sliding apart to reveal a dark, downward-sloping tunnel. A gust of cool, stale air rushes out, carrying a strange scent you cannot place. You gasp again, pointing a trembling finger. A passage! The *heavens*! The prophecy is true, and the throne was simply waiting for a Goddess grand enough to push it down! [[You must move. **Now!**->Ascension Ending 4]]

You do not have to bark many orders. You do anyways, of course, as it's really fun to do so, but Grak is already roaring at his hunters to rip the cured meats right off the smoking racks, strapping the heavy cuts to their backs; Daka directs a team of gatherers rolling massive clay jars of sweet-sap toward the fissure, while Grizel frantically sketches pulleys on his slate to figure out how to drag a chained Hydra head down the slope. Even Grama is pitching in, muttering complaints while overseeing that the happily sloshing Bouba doesn't get distracted back to her caverns. A scout trots up to you, reporting that the tall outlanders stubbornly refuse to abandon their crates to follow everyone below. You are confused, but simply shrug. Less mouths to deal with! [[Getting Her to move is the real challenge.->Ascension Ending 4.5]]

It takes twenty of your strongest kin, a dozen thick ropes, and the stripped wood of the old guard barricades to build a proper litter. The Goddess whines as they heave Her onto the platform. Her colossal backside flattens against the rough planks, pinning Her securely to the wood, while the sheer, dense mass of Her belly surges forward to dominate the makeshift carriage. Her heavy breasts settle deeply into the soft upper shelf of Her gut, shivering with every strained step the sweating porters take. You take your place at the head of the procession, right next to her navel, holding a sputtering torch high. The passage begins as a steep, endless flight of blocky stone steps, forcing the kin to angle the litter sharply just to keep Her - and you - from sliding off. Deep into the descent, right as the carved steps finally give way to a smooth, natural cavern floor, a low, wet crunch echoes from far above. It sounds like a cave-in, followed by that awful, grinding chew. You swallow hard, urging the procession to walk faster. [[A long, dark journey begins.->Ascension Ending 5]]

config.header.left: "▽ ≡ ▽ ☋ ▽ ≡ ▽" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#1a1818" -- *** [align center] [[Time stretches into a dark blur.->Ascension Ending 5.5]]

You only measure the passing days by the number of times the exhausted porters swap out under the heavy wooden poles, and the turning legs of the golden bug. There's a logic to them, you're sure of it, though it does feel like you're just growing mad: the tunnel never changes. After the steps, it has just been endless, cold grey rock. A cold knot tightens in your own stomach. Did the prophecy lie? Are you all just marching into a deeper, darker hole to starve? Your provisions will not last forever. You glance back over your shoulder. The Goddess has also seemed a little concerned as of late. Thankfully, she is now fast asleep, swaying with a heavy slosh at every step the porters take. Her thick thighs spill over the edges of the wood, a magnificent display of divine, unyielding gluttony. A hot flush creeps up your neck, and your breath hitches in your throat. You lick your dry lips, unable to tear your eyes away from the sheer, beautiful size of Her. No. [[Such hunger cannot have lead you to doom.->Ascension Ending 5.7]]

config.style.page.color: "black on #eeebe1" config.style.page.link.color: "#8f3b1b" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#8f3b1b" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on #eeebe1" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "raspberry-4" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#8f3b1b" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#8f3b1b" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on #eeebe1" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "raspberry-4" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on #eeebe1" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#1a1818" config.style.dark.page.color: "gray-1 on #302c2c" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "white" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#567a7a" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#d1c4c4 on #302c2c" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#8c6b6b" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "white" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#567a7a" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#d1c4c4 on #302c2c" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#8c6b6b" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#d1c4c4 on #302c2c" -- A few sleeps later, the chill in the air finally breaks. A warm, pleasant draft blows up from the depths, carrying a strange scent of iron. The grey walls around you slowly shift, bleeding into a deep, rusty stone that catches the torchlight. The tunnel widens dramatically, ending at a pair of towering, black metal doors. Sitting on thick stone blocks flanking the gate are [[two giants.->Ascension Ending 6]]

config.style.page.color: "black on #f2e2d8" config.style.page.link.color: "#8f3b1b" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#8f3b1b" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on #f2e2d8" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "raspberry-4" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#8f3b1b" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#8f3b1b" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on #f2e2d8" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "raspberry-4" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on #f2e2d8" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#1c1515" config.style.dark.page.color: "gray-1 on #382a2a" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "white" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#9c6b6b" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#e8adad on #382a2a" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#c26d6d" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "white" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#9c6b6b" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#e8adad on #382a2a" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#c26d6d" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#e8adad on #382a2a" -- Immediately you call out to them: *angels*! Tall, heavy, with wings unfolded over their thick shoulders. A perfect backdrop to their brightly purple skin. And their bodies! Delightfully soft and wide, their chained breasts and round bellies proudly bared to you all. You watch in awe as of them stands up from her stone block, her thick thighs shifting with a slow grace. She peers down at the warren, her gaze sweeping past the armed hunters, past the provisions, right to the creaking wooden litter in the back. Her dark eyes widen. Yes, *yes*! Witness her abundance! A slow, knowing smirk spreads across her face as she takes in the colossal, sweating mass of your [[Goddess->Ascension Ending 6.5]].

config.style.page.color: "black on #faddd4" config.style.page.link.color: "#8f3b1b" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#8f3b1b" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on #faddd4" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "raspberry-4" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#8f3b1b" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#8f3b1b" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on #faddd4" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "raspberry-4" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on #faddd4" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#201212" config.style.dark.page.color: "gray-1 on #402424" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "white" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#c25555" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ff8c8c on #402424" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#e63e3e" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "white" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#c25555" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ff8c8c on #402424" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#e63e3e" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ff8c8c on #402424" -- She turns to share a look with her sister, and a deep, rumbling chuckle vibrates through the hot air. Without a single word spoken, the two of them turn and press their wide palms against the black metal doors, grasping onto their chains, pulling them open with a heavy groan of iron. A blinding light washes over you. [[You step past the threshold and into a blistering heat.->Ascension Ending 7]]

config.header.left: "≈ ✹ ❦ ☋ ❦ ✹ ≈" config.style.page.color: "black on #fad2c8" config.style.page.link.color: "#8f3b1b" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#8f3b1b" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on #fad2c8" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "raspberry-4" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#8f3b1b" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#8f3b1b" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on #fad2c8" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "raspberry-4" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on #fad2c8" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#260b0b" config.style.dark.page.color: "gray-1 on #451a1a" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "white" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#d94141" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ff7373 on #451a1a" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ff1f1f" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "white" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#d94141" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ff7373 on #451a1a" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ff1f1f" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ff7373 on #451a1a" -- Above you stretches a black void. The light here bleeds entirely from below, rising from deep, glowing fissures in the earth to cast a crimson glare across the horizon. The ground yields under your boots: a spongy red soil choked by forests of braided, fleshy stalks that twist upward. You can spot a number of bulbous fruits hanging from them, their skins weeping a dark, metallic-smelling syrup. Sluggish rivers of this heated red manna carve through the landscape to form vast, bubbling lakes. Wallowing along the muddy shores are flocks of... winged creatures? It's hard to tell what exactly they are at this distance, though you can see that their bodies sport a round pot-belly. Their tiny wings flutter frantically against the heat, but the beasts are far too heavy to lift themselves. They merely drag their heavy stomachs through the sludge, blindly snapping up the pooling syrup as they scuttle away from the commotion at the gate. You cast your gaze as far as you can, but these plains seem to [[have no end.->Ascension Ending 7.5]]

config.style.page.color: "#000707 on #f9d8cf" config.style.page.link.color: "#944717" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#944717" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#cc0000 on #f9d8cf" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ff4d4d" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#944717" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#944717" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#cc0000 on #f9d8cf" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ff4d4d" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#cc0000 on #f9d8cf" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#210d11" config.style.dark.page.color: "#e1e3e4 on #3b1a1e" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#fff8db" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#d44c38" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ff826d on #3b1a1e" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ff826d" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#fff8db" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#d44c38" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ff826d on #3b1a1e" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ff826d" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ff826d on #3b1a1e" -- The blistering heat wraps around you like the belly of a well-stoked roasting pit. A beautiful, comforting bake. A heavy clatter echoes right behind you. Grak's prized spear lies abandoned in the red dirt, the great hunter himself staring at the wobbling beasts with his mouth hanging wide open. You burst into a cackle. Yes, that's the spirit: why even bother with weapons? The meat here is far too fat to fly away! A blind kit could just walk right over and grab one for a lazy chew. Daka pushes past your shoulder, her nose twitching wildly as she zeroes in on the nearest puddle of hot sugar. The whole warren breaks into a frantic, joyous cheer, the sound echoing across the red. A paradise of slow meat and endless sweets! You puff your chest out so far your own belly threatens to tear your wrap. *HA!* You told them!! All of them! You were *right*! Right, right, right! [[The prophecy was right!->Ascension Ending 8]]

config.style.page.color: "#000f0f on #f7ded7" config.style.page.link.color: "#995313" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#995313" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#cc0000 on #f7ded7" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ff4d4d" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#995313" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#995313" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#cc0000 on #f7ded7" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ff4d4d" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#cc0000 on #f7ded7" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#1b0f16" config.style.dark.page.color: "#e2e5e9 on #311a21" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#fff0b6" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#ce572e" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ff9168 on #311a21" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ff9168" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#fff0b6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#ce572e" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ff9168 on #311a21" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ff9168" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ff9168 on #311a21" -- You turn your gaze back to the wooden litter, just as the porters lower it, their knees buckling with relief. Your kin immediately abandon the heavy poles. Hunters, gatherers, elders and even the sternest of the matrons scatter into the red dirt, rushing to dip their bare hands into the hot manna or chase the waddling beasts. [[Not you.->Ascension Ending 8.5]] A soft rustle of silk draws your attention.

config.style.page.color: "#001616 on #f6e4de" config.style.page.link.color: "#9e5f0f" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#9e5f0f" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#cc0000 on #f6e4de" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ff4d4d" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#9e5f0f" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#9e5f0f" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#cc0000 on #f6e4de" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ff4d4d" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#cc0000 on #f6e4de" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#16111c" config.style.dark.page.color: "#e3e8ed on #271a25" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#ffe992" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#c96225" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ffa062 on #271a25" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ffa062" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#ffe992" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#c96225" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ffa062 on #271a25" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ffa062" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ffa062 on #271a25" -- The Goddess shifts, Her round face flushed in the crimson light. She looks down at you, Her eyes clear and bright, her expression calm, unbothered by the heat. A pale, doughy hand reaches out, resting gently on top of your head. It reaches your hair and gives you a slow, approving pat. You lean into the touch, [[a wave of pride swelling in your chest.->Ascension Ending 9]]

config.style.page.color: "#001d1d on #f4e9e6" config.style.page.link.color: "#a46b0c" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#a46b0c" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#cc0000 on #f4e9e6" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ff4d4d" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#a46b0c" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#a46b0c" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#cc0000 on #f4e9e6" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ff4d4d" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#cc0000 on #f4e9e6" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#101422" config.style.dark.page.color: "#e3eaf2 on #1e1a28" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#ffe26d" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#c36e1c" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ffae5d on #1e1a28" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ffae5d" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#ffe26d" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#c36e1c" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ffae5d on #1e1a28" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ffae5d" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ffae5d on #1e1a28" -- She withdraws Her hand - perhaps too quickly. As She shifts Her immense weight to face the nearest weeping stalk, the thick planks of the litter let out a sharp, splintering crack. You watch as the wood gives way, dropping Her an inch closer to the ground. The sudden jolt sends a violent wobble right through the vast dome of Her belly. She lets out a startled groan, immediately bringing both hands down to cradle and rub her sloshing belly. Oh no! [[Poor Goddess...->Ascension Ending 10]]

You aim carefully and flick the stone. It's a low, fast throw that smacks Ghera squarely in the shoulder with a solid *thump*. She yelps, more in surprise than pain, and spins around, slapping at her shoulder as if stung by a wasp. A wisp of foul-smelling smoke begins to rise from her expensive black wrap where the stone hit, a small orange ember glowing in the fabric. Her face, when she looks up, is not one of panic, but of pure, murderous rage. She points a trembling finger right at the ledge, her mouth open in a furious scream. The guards are turning... this is your last chance - [[as good a chance as any to get down and start running!->Maw's Chamber Chaos Cutscene 1]]

FireStoneThrow: 'attendants' -- You grip the Fire Stone, its heat a small comfort. Your gaze narrows on the attendants, especially the sharp-voiced Ghera. Hitting one of them would definitely cause a scene. A yelp, a bit of smoke, maybe a burnt wrap... it would stop the feeding, that's for sure. *Justice.* But ugh... they're such small targets, and always moving. And would it be enough? A single screaming attendant might not be the chaos you need to slip away unnoticed. It feels... petty. Which is actually fine by you but... mmm... not big enough, maybe. [[Throw it.->Maw Fire Throw Router]] {link to: 'Maw Chamber Diorama', label: 'No, not yet.'}

It's a long shot, but you put your whole body into the throw, sending the stone soaring up into the smoky gloom. A perfect arc! Yes! It smacks into one of the tattered monster-hide banners. The dry and ancient hide ignites instantly. With a sound like tearing cloth, the banner rips free from its mooring and falls, a sheet of pure flame, directly onto the two guards at the main entrance. They shout in panic, beating at their burning cloaks and creating the perfect bottleneck of confusion - [[as good a chance as any to get down and start running!->Maw's Chamber Chaos Cutscene 1]]

FireStoneThrow: 'banners' -- Your eyes travel upward, to the tattered, ugly banners hanging in the smoky air. Dry monster-hides, swaying gently. *Perfect.* If you could hit one of those, it would surely go up like a torch. Fire raining down from the ceiling! Panic! Screaming! Everyone would be looking up, trying to dodge the burning bits, not at the ledge where a little goblin is trying to sneak away. It's the cleverest plan. It is a long throw, though. Your arm isn't that strong, is it? What if you miss? The stone would just clatter onto the floor, and you'd be discovered for nothing. Can you make the shot? [[Throw it.->Maw Fire Throw Router]] {link to: 'Maw Chamber Diorama', label: 'No, not yet.'}

BarsBoneTried: true -- You take out the sharp bone and get to work on the nearest bar, trying to carve into the dark fungus-wood. The result is... pathetic. You make a dry, scraping noise that sets your teeth on edge, and all you manage are a few faint, white scratches on the bar's greasy surface. The wood is just too hard. After a few more tries, you look at the bone. The sharp tip is already a little duller. You sigh, tucking your long bone away. {link to: 'Prison Cell', label: 'Back'}

if BarsFireStone: true -- You take out the glowing stone, and press it to the bars. There is a sharp, angry *hiss*, like a grub spitting in the fire. A puff of foul, acrid smoke billows out, making you cough and your eyes water. The orange symbol on the stone flares brightly for a moment. You pull it away. A black, ugly scorch mark, the size of your palm, is now branded into the fungus-wood. But that's it. The bar is just as thick, just as strong as before. With a huff of frustration, you try again on another spot. Same hiss, same smoke, same useless black mark. Damn these fungi and their fire resistance! This isn't going to work. {link to: 'Prison Cell', label: 'Back'}

HydraSign: 'gear' -- A wet grinding echoes from the archway. A massive, pale head squeezes into the room, followed by another, and another, and another, and one more. They hiss, their slit-pupils instantly locking onto you standing exposed on the ledge - a smell of chalk washes over you. *Okay. Calm down, Leika. Grak is somewere about. He must be! Sign. Sign. you need a sign for him!* You pull the heavy metal disc from your satchel. It's solid, and throwing it against the stone would definitely make a loud noise! You wind your arm back... Wait. Throw your shiny, perfect metal disc at a giant monster? What if it falls into the deep pit and you never see it again? What if one of those massive heads just swallows it whole? But you still need a sign! Uhh... alright, whatever. You cup your hands around your mouth, squeeze your eyes shut, and just scream at the top of your lungs: [[***"NOW!!!"***->Hydra Entrapment Cutscene 1]]

HydraSign: 'jaw' -- A wet grinding echoes from the archway. A massive, pale head squeezes into the room, followed by another, and another, and another, and one more. They hiss, their slit-pupils instantly locking onto you standing exposed on the ledge - a smell of chalk washes over you. *Okay. Calm down, Leika. Grak is somewere about. He must be! Sign. Sign. you need a sign for him!* You heft the heavy iron wrench with both hands. You raise the square metal head high above your shoulders and bring it crashing down directly onto the edge of the stone basin. ***CRACK!*** A shower of white sparks and stone chips erupts from the ledge. The deafening impact rings through the room, making two of the heads of the monster flinch. [[That's a sign if you ever saw one.->Hydra Entrapment Cutscene 1]]

HydraSign: 'lighter' -- A wet grinding echoes from the archway. A massive, pale head squeezes into the room, followed by another, and another, and another, and one more. They hiss, their slit-pupils instantly locking onto you standing exposed on the ledge - a smell of chalk washes over you. *Okay. Calm down, Leika. Grak is somewere about. He must be! Sign. Sign. you need a sign for him!* You hold the metal box high over your head, your thumb trembling on the wheel. *Zzzt-CHUNK!* A brilliant shower of orange sparks erupts in the gloom, followed by a momentary flash of [[yellow flame.->Hydra Entrapment Cutscene 1]]

HydraSign: 'pack' -- A wet grinding echoes from the archway. A massive, pale head squeezes into the room, followed by another, and another, and another, and one more. They hiss, their slit-pupils instantly locking onto you standing exposed on the ledge - a smell of chalk washes over you. *Okay. Calm down, Leika. Grak is somewere about. He must be! Sign. Sign. you need a sign for him!* You grab the foul, leaking pack from your satchel and hurl it directly at the floor below the archway. It hits the marble with a wet, heavy *SPLAT*. The rotting, acidic smell of poisoned slime instantly explodes outward, overpowering the chalky scent of the beast. The heads all recoil, hissing and gagging at the sudden stench. [[That... well! It got its attention.->Hydra Entrapment Cutscene 1]]

HydraSign: 'plaster' -- A wet grinding echoes from the archway. A massive, pale head squeezes into the room, followed by another, and another, and another, and one more. They hiss, their slit-pupils instantly locking onto you standing exposed on the ledge - a smell of chalk washes over you. *Okay. Calm down, Leika. Grak is somewere about. He must be! Sign. Sign. you need a sign for him!* You hold the white blob high. *"Be big!"* you hiss at it. *"Be scary!"* The stone quivers, sensing your urgency. It stretches upward, thinning out into a long, wobbly spike. Then, the tip splits, forming a crude, white claw that snaps silently at the air. It looks... like a very angry mushroom. Or maybe a rude gesture? [[It's hard to tell.->Hydra Entrapment Cutscene 1]]

HydraSign: 'pocketwatch' -- A wet grinding echoes from the archway. A massive, pale head squeezes into the room, followed by another, and another, and another, and one more. They hiss, their slit-pupils instantly locking onto you standing exposed on the ledge - a smell of chalk washes over you. *Okay. Calm down, Leika. Grak is somewere about. He must be! Sign. Sign. you need a sign for him!* You snatch the golden bug and slap it onto the top of your head, holding it there with both hands like a shiny, ticking crown. In awe, you watch as a stray beam of moss-light hits the gold casing, sending a radiant light [[directly into the eyes of the beast.->Hydra Entrapment Cutscene 1]]

HydraSign: 'quill' -- A wet grinding echoes from the archway. A massive, pale head squeezes into the room, followed by another, and another, and another, and one more. They hiss, their slit-pupils instantly locking onto you standing exposed on the ledge - a smell of chalk washes over you. *Okay. Calm down, Leika. Grak is somewere about. He must be! Sign. Sign. You need a sign for him!* You frantically wave the white slice of paper in the air, hoping the movement catches someone's eye. The black stick zips out, sensing your panic, and furiously scribbles a message in bold, jagged strokes before the paper thrusts itself out of your grasp and into the darkness. You barely manage to catch a glimpse of the message. [[~BEGONE, HYDRA!~->Hydra Entrapment Cutscene 1]]

HydraSign: 'tuningfork' -- A wet grinding echoes from the archway. A massive, pale head squeezes into the room, followed by another, and another, and another, and one more. They hiss, their slit-pupils instantly locking onto you standing exposed on the ledge - a smell of chalk washes over you. *Okay. Calm down, Leika. Grak is somewere about. He must be! Sign. Sign. you need a sign for him!* You whip out the silver stick and slam it against the rim of the sunken basin with all your might. [[***CLANG-HMMMMMMMMMM!***->Hydra Entrapment Cutscene 1]]

HydraSign: 'wiresaw' -- A wet grinding echoes from the archway. A massive, pale head squeezes into the room, followed by another, and another, and another, and one more. They hiss, their slit-pupils instantly locking onto you standing exposed on the ledge - a smell of chalk washes over you. *Okay. Calm down, Leika. Grak is somewere about. He must be! Sign. Sign. you need a sign for him!* You loop the toothy wire around a protruding knob of the basin's rim and yank it back and forth as fast as you can. [[This makes absolutely no sound. And yet...->Hydra Entrapment Cutscene 1]]

You hold the white blob up to the smooth amber crystal. The plaster presses against the surface, seeming to study the frozen monster inside. It immediately rounds itself out. A large, circular indent forms right in the center of the blob, mimicking a giant, unblinking eye. Then, half a dozen thin, wiggly tentacles sprout from its top and sides, each ending in a tiny little bump. The miniature white eye-squid glares fiercely at the frozen beast in the amber, wiggling its little eyestalks aggressively. What a brave little thing! {link to: 'Trapped Beholder', label: 'Back'}

The stick floats up, tapping the "glass" with a lot of curiosity. Clearly you're not the only one here who finds this thing cool! It measures the width of the jaw, the span of the eye. It zips back to the paper, writing in sharp, precise strokes. ~SPECIMEN: OCULUS TYRANNUS, VULGARLY REFERED AS "BEHOLDER". POSSIBLY IN SUSPENDED ANIMATION. PERHAPS HYBERNATION.~ You slowly lower your hand from the crystal, gulping loudly. *Hybernation*? {link to: 'Trapped Beholder', label: 'Back'}

You strike the fork against your palm - *HMMmmm* - and press the vibrating metal against the clear amber. The sound resonates through the crystal, amplifying into a low, throbbing drone. Inside, the monster stays still. Instead, the massive central pupil suddenly *dilates*, blowing wide open until the eye is almost entirely black. The tiny red veins in the white of the eye begin to pulse in time with the fork's hum. *Thump. Thump. Thump.* A wave of dizziness hits you, and you feel a sudden, intense pressure behind your own eyes, as if something is trying to push its way into your head. You grab the fork with your other hand to stop it, gasping. No more of that! {link to: 'Trapped Beholder', label: 'Back'}

You strike the silver stick against your palm. *HMMMMMmmmm...* You reach up as high as you can and press the vibrating prongs against the stone rim of the massive bell. The heavy rock instantly absorbs the vibration. Just like when you shoved it, a deep, bone-rattling **RRRUMMMBLE** rolls out of the hollow inside, but this time it's steady and sustained. It vibrates right through you and makes your vision blur slightly. You quickly pull the fork away, shaking your head to clear the dizzying effect. Clearly, the bell wasn't made to sing nice songs. {link to: 'stone bell', label: 'Back'}

You hold the warm, ticking bug in one hand and pull it back. This feels... a bit disrespectful, doesn't it? Hitting one holy thing with another? Ah, well, it's bound to make an interesting sound, though! You give the massive stone bell a gentle but firm *tap* with the golden shell. It doesn't ring. Instead, a low, pure hum rises from the room around you. You look to the plinths: the pale white vessel and the lumpy clay one are both vibrating, their surfaces shimmering of a teal light as they sing a single, beautiful note. But the broken black vessel... doesn't. A faint crackle runs up its fractured side, and then... silence. *Awww!* You were almost onto something there. {link to: 'stone bell', label: 'Back'}

You pull the golden bug back and give the massive stone bell a proper, confident *tap*. Immediately, the room answers. The pale white vessel, the lumpy clay one, and the repaired black one all ignite with a fierce teal light. The white seam you made on the middle pot pulses brightly, and the three notes merge into a single, perfect chord that fills the small chamber until the air itself seems to shimmer. The grey light of the ruins is swallowed by a sudden, blinding teal bloom, and the world melts away into a swirl of colors, the cold dampness of the cavern vanishing in a heartbeat. You feel a sudden, heavy pressure in your ears, a feeling of your surroundings melting together, and then... warmth. [[As the teal light fades, you open your eyes again.->Second Chamber (Past)]]

You pull the golden bug back and give the massive stone bell a firm *tap*. The heavy stone groans, a deep vibration running through the room. What's left on the plinths begins to shimmer with a faint teal light... but that's about it. The smashed pieces of the ruined pots offer nothing but dead silence. You watch as the teal light sputters, flickers, and dies out completely with a sad fizzle. The grey gloom settles back into the room. Ah, dang... you might've ruined something here. Oops! Whatever, it's just old pots anyway. {link to: 'stone bell', label: 'Back'}

[unless FungalTreeFelled] She turns from the fire, and you get a full view of her. She is... wide. Her wrap, a sturdy fungus-hide dyed a practical brown, is stretched to its absolute limit across a massive chest and a belly that hangs heavy and low over her loincloth's cord. Thick, strong arms, bare to the elbow, press against the soft rolls of fat at her sides as she plants her fists on her substantial hips. Her face is round, her black hair pulled back tight, and her dark eyes are sharp and assessing. You recognize this as the body of a proper matron. [continue] [if FungalTreeFelled] Bera stands with her fists planted on her wide hips, staring at the colossal trunk. Not staring *at* it, like Keff stares at things... her dark eyes are moving, tracing a line from one end to the other, then back again. Her jaw is set tight. Dust and fine red spores cling to her sweaty arms, and her wrap, streaked with sweet-smelling sap, is pulled taut across the solid shelf of her belly. A single bead of sweat cuts a clean path through the grime on her temple. She looks pissed. [continue] [unless BeraTalkedTo] [[She points at you with her spoon.->Bera First Meeting]] [if BeraTalkedTo; if BlueHideSeen; unless BlueHideDialogueSeen; unless FungalTreeFelled] [[You show her the blue scrap.->Bera Blue Hide Dialogue]] [if BeraTalkedTo; if BlueHideSeen; unless BlueHideDialogueSeen; if FungalTreeFelled] [[You show her the blue scrap.->Bera Blue Hide Dialogue Outside]] [if BeraTalkedTo; unless FungalTreeFelled; unless BlueHideSeen] [[You try to get her attention.->Bera Generic Dialogue]] [if BeraTalkedTo; unless FungalTreeFelled; if BlueHideDialogueSeen] [[You try to get her attention.->Bera Generic Dialogue]] [if BeraTalkedTo; if FungalTreeFelled; unless BeraPostFellingDialogueSeen] [[She looks at you expectantly.->Bera Post-Felling Dialogue]] [if BeraTalkedTo; if FungalTreeFelled; if BeraPostFellingDialogueSeen] [[You near her.->Post-Felling Generic Dialogue]] [continue] [unless FungalTreeFelled] {link to: 'farm hut', label: 'Back'} [if FungalTreeFelled] {link to: 'Fungal Farm', label: 'Back'}

BlueHideDialogueSeen: true -- [dialogue delay:0.1 id:bera_blue1] You hold out the small, bright blue scrap. Bera squints at it, then her eyes go wide. She snatches it from your fingers with her thick digits. [dialogue delay:1.8 id:bera_blue1 newline] *"My wrap!"* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:bera_blue1] *she bellows, holding the tattered piece up to the firelight.* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:bera_blue1] *"Where in the deeps did you find this?"* [dialogue delay:2.0 id:bera_blue1 newline] You puff out your chest. *"In the rusty grotto. Snagged on a rock, near a big smashed box."* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:bera_blue1 newline] Bera freezes, the spoon hovering over her pot. *"The grotto..."* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:bera_blue1] *Her face darkens.* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:bera_blue1] *"Of course.* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:bera_blue1] *So that's where the great beast finally came to rest."* [dialogue delay:2.2 id:bera_blue1 newline] *"Beast?"* you ask. [dialogue delay:1.0 id:bera_blue1 newline] *"A roaring metal beast!"* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:bera_blue1] *she spits, gesturing wildly with the scrap.* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:bera_blue1] *"Came tearing through here from the western caves! All shrieking wood and metal!"* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:bera_blue1] *"Sent Keff diving into the mushroom patch like a scared kit. Must have snagged my wrap right off the drying line!"* [dialogue delay:2.2 id:bera_blue1 newline] You lean in, mind racing. *"Woahh! Was it going on its own? Was there anyone on top?"* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:bera_blue1 newline] Bera gives you a flat, unimpressed look. *"Bah! Who knows."* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:bera_blue1] *"It was just a great big mess. And I'm out a good wrap."* [dialogue delay:2.0 id:bera_blue1] *She tosses the scrap onto the whittling bench in disgust.* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:bera_blue1] *"Now stop pestering me! My stew is getting cold."* [dialogue delay:0.2 id:bera_blue1] She turns her broad back on you, giving the pot a mighty, angry stir. [dialogue delay:0.5 id:bera_blue1 newline] {link to: 'Bera', label: 'Back'}

BlueHideDialogueSeen: true -- [dialogue delay:0.1 id:bera_blue2] You hold out the small, bright blue scrap. Bera squints at it, then her eyes go wide. She snatches it from your fingers with her thick digits. [dialogue delay:1.8 id:bera_blue2 newline] *"My wrap!"* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:bera_blue2] *she bellows, holding the tattered piece up to the moss-light.* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:bera_blue2] *"Where in the deeps did you find this?"* [dialogue delay:2.0 id:bera_blue2 newline] You puff out your chest. *"In the rusty grotto. Snagged on a rock, near a big smashed box."* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:bera_blue2 newline] Bera freezes, slowly lowering the heavy log she was holding. *"The grotto..."* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:bera_blue2] *Her face darkens.* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:bera_blue2] *"Of course.* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:bera_blue2] *So that's where the great beast finally came to rest."* [dialogue delay:2.2 id:bera_blue2 newline] *"Beast?"* you ask. [dialogue delay:1.0 id:bera_blue2 newline] *"A roaring metal beast!"* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:bera_blue2] *she spits, gesturing wildly with the scrap.* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:bera_blue2] *"Came tearing through here from the western caves! All shrieking wood and metal!"* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:bera_blue2] *"Sent Keff diving into the mushroom patch like a scared kit. Must have snagged my wrap right off the drying line!"* [dialogue delay:2.2 id:bera_blue2 newline] You lean in, mind racing. *"Woahh! Was it going on its own? Was there anyone on top?"* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:bera_blue2 newline] Bera gives you a flat, unimpressed look. *"Bah! Who knows."* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:bera_blue2] *"It was just a great big mess. And I'm out a good wrap."* [dialogue delay:2.0 id:bera_blue2] *She tosses the scrap onto the dirt in disgust.* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:bera_blue2] *"Now stop pestering me! This timber won't stack itself."* [dialogue delay:0.2 id:bera_blue2] She turns her broad back on you, bending to heft another log. [dialogue delay:0.5 id:bera_blue2 newline] {link to: 'Bera', label: 'Back'}

FarmGoblinsMet: true BeraTalkedTo: true -- [dialogue delay:0.1 id:bera1] The big goblin whirls around from the pot, a laugh booming from deep in her belly that makes the whole hut seem to shake. [dialogue delay:1.5 id:bera1 newline] *"Well now!"* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:bera1] *"What's this? A little one, lost from the warren?"* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:bera1 newline] You stand as tall as you can. *"I am Leika! I serve the Great Goddess, and She requires-"* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:bera1 newline] *"Goddess?"* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:bera1] *She throws her head back and laughs, a deep, rumbling sound that makes the stew pot rattle on the coals.* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:bera1] *"How precious! Another hungry spirit, is it? Mah! Get in line!"* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:bera1 newline] She gestures with her stew-spoon, sloshing a bit of greasy broth onto the floor. *"You see this stew? It's a good stew! But it's a cup of water in a dry season!"* [dialogue delay:2.2 id:bera1] *She gives her own belly a firm, resounding slap.* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:bera1] *"Haven't you heard? Big-Maw's gut is bottomless, little one. And it needs filling *now*."* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:bera1] *You hear her whisper.* *"Not the usual month in between... damn her to the deeper caves..."* [dialogue delay:2.0 id:bera1 newline] *She turns her attention back to you.* *"Mmh? Well? Get out of my hut! Go pester that bone-idle husband of mine, Keff. He's outside. Give him a beating if he's not planting."* [dialogue delay:0.2 id:bera1] She turns and gives the pot a mighty stir, her back a wide wall of brown fungus-hide... the conversation is over. [dialogue delay:0.5 id:bera1 newline] {link to: 'Bera', label: 'Back'}

[dialogue delay:0.1 id:bera_gen1] You poke your head back into the hut. Bera glances over her shoulder, sighs, and turns back to the stew. [dialogue delay:1.5 id:bera_gen1 newline] *"So...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:bera_gen1] *...about the Goddess's tribute..."* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:bera_gen1 newline] *"Spirits of the deep, you're a persistent little grub, aren't you?"* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:bera_gen1] *She turns, wiping a sweaty hand on her wrap.* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:bera_gen1] *"Fine. You really want us to help?"* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:bera_gen1] *She jabs her spoon toward you.* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:bera_gen1] *"You.* [dialogue delay:0.2 id:bera_gen1] *Are.* [dialogue delay:0.2 id:bera_gen1] *An idiot.* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:bera_gen1] *A nuisance! Do you really think Big-Maw's people will let us give her food away like that?"* [dialogue delay:2.2 id:bera_gen1 newline] *"We don't want no trouble. I have plenty of those already!! The harvest's not going great, we're way behind on the tributes...* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:bera_gen1] *...and all my lunkhead husband does is poke the ground with his digging stick.* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:bera_gen1] *Bah!* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:bera_gen1] *Wasting my time."* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:bera_gen1] She dismisses you with a wave of her spoon and gets back to stirring her pot. [dialogue delay:0.5 id:bera_gen1 newline] {link to: 'Bera', label: 'Back'}

BeraPostFellingDialogueSeen: true -- [dialogue delay:0.1 id:bera_post1] Bera whirls around as you approach, her face a mask of pure fury. She points a thick, trembling finger that goes from the felled tree, to the hut, then squarely at you. [dialogue delay:2.2 id:bera_post1 newline] *"YOU...!"* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:bera_post1] *she roars, her voice shaking the hut.* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:bera_post1] *"You brainless, reckless, half-wit grub! You could have flattened the hut! Crushed the entire harvest under that thing!"* [dialogue delay:2.5 id:bera_post1 newline] She stomps over to you, looming. Her eyes dart from the massive trunk lying across her farm, to Keff, and then back to you. A long, weary sigh escapes her, taking some of the fire with it. [dialogue delay:2.8 id:bera_post1 newline] *"Spirits... look at him. Useless."* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:bera_post1] *She gives the felled trunk a solid, meaty kick. It doesn't move.* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:bera_post1] *"Well. It's done now."* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:bera_post1] *"This'll keep Big-Maw happy for a season or two. Overkill! But what's done is done."* [dialogue delay:2.5 id:bera_post1] She crosses her thick arms, glaring down at you. *"I'm guessing you want a cut for your Sky-Walker goddess?"* [dialogue delay:2.5 id:bera_post1 newline] *You smile, nodding along.* [dialogue delay:2.0 id:bera_post1 newline] *"Mmph. She can have the stump. Don't expect any of the good parts - it's ours! The cap is for the tribute, and the stem is for us.* [dialogue delay:2.5 id:bera_post1 newline] *Now get out of my sight."* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:bera_post1] She turns her broad back on you, motioning Keff to get moving. [dialogue delay:0.5 id:bera_post1 newline] {link to: 'Bera', label: 'The conversation is clearly over.'}

[if passage.visit == 1] A hot feeling rushes to your cheeks. You can't look away. [continue] The white-haired Big-Maw is less a queen on a throne and more a mountain of flesh that has been piled onto it. Her belly is... a lot to take in. An impossibly round, taut sphere of overstuffed gut that has completely consumed her lap and now hangs heavy between her thighs. And yet, its lower curve does not rest on the stone of the dais - it hovers above it, too taut to droop. One of the attendants kneels before her, diligently rubbing a glistening oil onto the tight, gurgling skin. The goblin's hands make a slick, wet sound as they slide over the vast expanse; the flesh barely yields, tight as a drum. The rest of Maw's body seems almost secondary: her arms, though thick, are dwarfed by her middle. Her wrap is a very fine shade of red, but hopelessly lost in the deep valley of her cleavage and the wide rolls of her back. {one of: ["*She lets out a low, petulant whine as the attendant follows one of her stretchmarks a little too hard, shifting her immense weight.*", "*Her eyes are narrowed into slits, glaring at nothing in particular.*", "*Left to breath instead of crammed full of tribute, her wet breaths are short, shallow things, each one a quick puff from the top of her lungs often ending in a strained burp.*"], order: 'cycling'} {link to: 'Maw Chamber Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if HasFireStone; inventory for FireStone] [[What if...?->BigMaw Pre Fire Cutscene]] [continue]

You take a deep breath and heave the stone with all your might. It spins end over end, a tiny orange blur, heading straight and eventually hitting the taut, oiled skin... though not with a thud, more so a sharp, sizzling noise before ricocheting off, launching high into the air like a skipped stone. *"Eeeek!"* Big-Maw lets out a furious squeal, slapping at a new, angry red mark on her gut. But no one is looking at her. The stone sailed over the tribute piles and disappeared into the crowd of onlookers. There's a shriek, then a crash of what sounds like pottery, followed by a sudden, loud ***WHOOMPH***. Flames erupt from within the crowd. Goblins scatter, screaming and pointing. The guards are turning, clubs drawn, trying to see the source of the new fire. [[As good a chance as any to get down and start running!->Maw's Chamber Chaos Cutscene 1]]

FireStoneThrow: 'bigmaw' -- The Fire Stone pulses in your hand, a tiny, angry heart. Your eyes lock onto the biggest target in the room: the queen herself. A direct hit. Right in that vast, gurgling gut: the ultimate distraction! But what if you miss? What if it just bounces off all that blubber with a pathetic *thunk*? She'd shriek, every guard would look right up here, and you'd be caught. It's a bold, glorious, and very, very stupid idea. Is it the right one? [[Throw it.->Maw Fire Throw Router]] {link to: 'Maw Chamber Diorama', label: 'No, not yet.'}

[JavaScript] // Initialize the tracker array if it doesn't exist let alignmentOrder = engine.state.get('BiomeAlignmentOrder'); if (!alignmentOrder) { alignmentOrder = []; } // Check each biome's status and add it to the array if newly aligned const biomes = [ { stateVar: 'SlimeCavernsAligned', name: 'Slime' }, { stateVar: 'FungalPlainsAligned', name: 'Fungal' }, { stateVar: 'HuntingGroundsAligned', name: 'Hunting' }, { stateVar: 'SunlessFieldsAligned', name: 'Sunless' }, { stateVar: 'ExpeditionRemainsAligned', name: 'Expedition' } ]; for (const biome of biomes) { if (engine.state.get(biome.stateVar) && !alignmentOrder.includes(biome.name)) { alignmentOrder.push(biome.name); } } // Save the updated array and its total length engine.state.set('BiomeAlignmentOrder', alignmentOrder); engine.state.set('SeasonCount', alignmentOrder.length); // Translate the array into flat Chapbook variables for easy conditional checking for (let i = 0; i < 5; i++) { const flatVarName = 'Season' + (i + 1) + 'Biome'; engine.state.set(flatVarName, alignmentOrder[i] || 'None'); } [continue]

BittenStatuePlasterSeen: true -- The lumpy white stone floats from your satchel, bobbing in the air as it nears the damaged statue. It nudges the gritty, broken surface with a curious wobble, as if sniffing a wound. Then, it pours itself into the gash. A gooey, white river flowing over the broken edges, seeping into every crack. The stone shivers as the plaster fills it, and before your eyes, the missing pieces begin to grow back. A shoulder, an arm, a soft breast, all rendered in perfect, smooth white. The platter in its hands reforms... and upon it, something more. A perfectly formed lizard... or the neck of one? [[A really, *really* long neck, all coiled up.->Bitten Statue Plaster Cutscene 2]]

But the effort is too much. The plaster shudders violently. The neck melts back into a puddle, the platter sags, and the arm dissolves into a white cascade that flows back out of the wound, leaving the statue just as broken as before. The stone, looking a little strained by the effort, floats back to your side. [unless HuntingGroundsAligned] But that plate, with a lizard on top of it... you've seen one like that before, didn't you? Much bigger, though. *Mm.* [continue] {link to: 'bitten statue', label: 'Back'}

You strike the fork and press it against the black star-stone. *Tink.* A dull, flat sound rings out. The heavy stone refuses to carry the vibration, the metal prongs shivering uselessly against the cold surface. Not much of a surprise, ay? [unless BlackVesselRepaired; append] The thing is clearly broken. [if BlackVesselRepaired; append] The shifting stone has done wonders for its figure, but it's clearly not the same material. [continue] {link to: 'black vessel', label: 'Back'}

BlackVesselBroken: true -- You grip the heavy wrench. The pot is already broken in half; why bother trying to stick it back together? Why bother leaving it be, really, when you can just finish the job? You bring the iron head crashing down onto the stone rim. The impact shatters the two halves completely, exploding the heavy star-stone into dozens of sharp, jagged black shards that clatter noisily against the wall. *HA!* How fun. A much more decisive look. {link to: 'black vessel', label: 'Back'}

BlackVesselRepaired: true -- You let the white sphere float from your satchel. It drifts toward the jagged, black crack, its surface rippling with excitement. With a soft, wet sound, the stone begins to flow. It pours itself into the fracture, a thick river of liquid white that seeps into every tiny crevice. You watch as the plaster works its way up and down the break, filling the hollow space and smoothing over the sharp edges. For a heartbeat, the whole vessel is traced in a glowing white line. Then, the glow fades. The white mass pulls back, detaching itself from the now-sealed crack and pulling together into a sphere again. It drifts back to your palm, but it feels... lighter. A bit smaller, too? You look at the vessel: the crack is gone, replaced by a seam of smooth, white stone that looks hard as the black star-stone itself. {link to: 'black vessel', label: 'Back'}

The pointy stick shoots out of your satchel, hovering directly over the dizzying maze of white lines. It zips back to the paper and rapidly sketches out a drawing of the iron beast outside, complete with arrows pointing to different parts of its belly. ~SCHEMATICS FOR A STEAM-POWERED ENGINE. REQUIRES A CONSTANT WATER SOURCE, A COMBUSTION HEAT SOURCE W/ IGNITION, AND A PROPERLY CALIBRATED GEAR RATIO TO FUNCTION.~ You stare at the paper. Water, fire, and a gear. Well! Those don't seem too hard to find. It would be nice to know why they are needed, or, you know... what an engine does, but eh, you'll figure it out as you go. {link to: 'blue papers', label: 'Back'}

You pull the singing stick from your bag, strike it against your palm, and press it firmly against the iron beast's flank. [unless BoilerActivated] *DOOOOOOOOOONG.* The cold metal catches the vibration instantly. A deep, massive chime rings out, echoing across the golden fields like a giant temple bell. The sound is so loud it makes the dirt beneath your boots tremble, lingering in the hot air for a long, beautiful moment. [continue] [if BoilerActivated] The machine is already roaring and hissing. The moment the fork touches the hot iron, the violent, mechanical shaking of the beast completely overpowers your tool! The fork vibrates so harshly and erratically that a sharp, stinging numbness shoots straight up your arm. You yelp, your fingers springing open. The singing stick drops into the hot mud with a wet *splat*. You scowl, shaking your stinging hand out before quickly retrieving your muddy tool from the dirt. [continue] {link to: 'boiler', label: 'Back'}

You pull the heavy metal disc from your satchel, then look from the square hole in its center to the thick square peg sticking out of the iron beast's belly. ...they look like they belong together! You lean in and slide the disc onto the peg. It's a tight fit, but with a firm push, it slides all the way down with a very satisfying noise. The tiny, perfect teeth of your treasure mesh exactly with the ring of iron teeth inside the machine. [[You step back, wiping your hands.->Boiler Gear Cutscene 2]]

BoilerState: 1 GearInstalled: true -- Deep inside the beast's belly, something heavy drops into place. A shudder runs through the iron frame, vibrating right into your hands, and you see one of the big wheels on its flank jerking forward, screeching against the rust, doing one, two, three rotations, until finally... [[*Pffffft.*->Boiler Gear Cutscene 3]]

A single, sad puff of black soot shoots out from one of the upper branches, dusting your face with powdery ash. You cough, waving it away, and wait... but nothing else happens. And why is that? The metal piece fits perfectly, so what's the iron's beast deal? Come to think of it, does this thing even have a function? How *annoying*! {link to: 'boiler', label: 'Back'}

You pull the heavy metal disc from your satchel. One of the tiny teeth is noticeably bent inward from when you tried to dig with it, but you shrug. *How much could one little snag matter?* You lean in and slide the disc onto the square peg. It goes in halfway, then stops abruptly. The bent tooth catches hard against the inner ring of the machine. You frown - this is wrong. It's clearly supposed to go all the way in! You grit your teeth, place both hands flat against the iron, and shove it in with all your weight. [[*CRUNCH.*->Boiler Gear Cutscene Misalignment 2]]

DentedGearInstalled: true -- The disc forces its way in, but it sits completely crooked. Deep inside the beast's belly, something snaps. Suddenly, a heavy iron hatch at the very base of the machine drops open with a resounding *CLANG*, revealing a dark, bottomless pipe leading deep into the earth. [if PipeSmashed] Immediately, the puddle of steaming hot water surrounding the roots rushes into the opening. It drains away into the dark depths with a loud, sucking gurgle, leaving the dirt around the machine as nothing but damp mud. [continue] Well... that's a little weird. But it did fit, didn't it? How nice! {link to: 'boiler', label: 'Back'}

BoilerActivated: true SunlessFieldsAligned: true -- You heft the heavy metal jaw from your satchel. The iron beast mocks you with its useless heat, doing nothing but making you damp with sweat. Fine. *Fine!* Damn it all. If it's got no purpouse, then you might as well teach it a lesson. You grip the textured handle with both hands, raise it high, and bring the square head down hard against the boiler's flank. [[*CLANG!*->Boiler Jaw Cutscene 2]]

The sound rings in your ears, sharp and deafening. You bare your teeth, swinging again. And again. *CLANG! CLANG!* Sparks fly where the iron meets the brass, your shouts of frustration mixing with the terrible racket. You raise the tool for a fourth, massive swing, putting all your back into it. [[A hand suddenly twists into the thick strap of your satchel.->Boiler Jaw Cutscene 3]]

You are yanked violently backward. Your feet leave the dirt entirely as you are dragged away from the machine. The heavy jaw slips from your grasp, landing in the hot mud with a dull thud. "*What do you think you are doing, you thieving little vandal?!*" a reedy, panicked voice shrieks from right above you. "*That is our property! And... and what have you done to it? We found it first, I'll have you know! First!!*" [[You hear the outlander struggle to heave you up..->Boiler Jaw Cutscene 4]]

The thin man wrestles you around to face him, his chest heaving under his sweat-stained clothes. His lips part, undoubtedly to spit another harsh reprimand, but a sudden, violent hiss cuts him off. The entire iron beast convulses. A geyser of blinding white steam erupts from its upper pipes, blowing away the ancient dust. Deep within its belly, the heavy gear you installed finally catches on the spinning wheels. Right where you had been standing a second prior, a heavy shadow falls from the machine's side. [[*THUD.*->Boiler Jaw Cutscene 5]]

A colossal iron stump, thick as a stalagmite, drives itself into the ground with terrifying force. It crushes the earth flat, completely obliterating the spot your toes had just occupied. The both of you are sent to the ground - you chest first on top of the outlander. You turn around, and watch as the heavy metal foot lifts with a loud wheeze, hovers for a heartbeat, and strikes the dirt again. *THUD.* It repeats the motion, establishing a steady, ground-shaking rhythm. *THUD.* You stare at the pounding iron, your breath catching in your throat. You slowly turn your head to look at the trembling man still gripping your satchel, his eyes bulging as he fixates on the contraption. He didn't mean to pull you out of harm's way, but... well. You should thank Her for this boon. {link to: 'Sunless Fields Hub', label: 'You uncouple yourself from him, pulling your strap from his slack grip.'}

You excitedly crouch down near the base of the iron beast, right at the panel you managed to open up. You pull out your fire box, holding it close to the dry, black chunks. *Zzzt-CHUNK!* A shower of orange sparks rains down into the darkness. At first, you think the rocks are too old to catch, maybe a little damp too, but then a tiny curl of thick, grey smoke drifts out. A small orange flame licks at the edge of a rock, then jumps to another, greedily eating at the ancient dust. [[You step back, waiting for the magic to happen.->Boiler Lighter Cutscene 2]]

BoilerLit: true -- Within moments, a fierce, roaring blaze fills the iron grate, throwing a harsh orange light across the dirt clearing. The metal skin of the beast grows hot to the touch, and you can hear the water pooling around its roots beginning to hiss and pop. You cross your arms, a triumphant grin on your face, waiting for the iron wheels to spin, for the beast to stand up, or... or... well, [[*something*->Boiler Lighter Cutscene 3.5]] magnificent to occur.

The fire crackles nicely. The water hisses. The heavy iron wheels don't seem to be doing much. Your grin slowly drops into a deep, furious scowl. You step forward and give the metal flank a sharp kick, stinging your toe. What the hell? You put the thingy in! You fed it water! You gave it fire! And what does it do? It sits there! It's just a giant, overly complicated fireplace. What a completely, utterly useless hunk of junk! {link to: 'boiler', label: 'Back'}

You wait. And you wait. [[...any moment now.->Boiler Lighter Cutscene 3]]

BoilerOverheating: true -- You excitedly crouch down near the open panel, pulling out your fire box. You hold it close to the dry, black chunks inside and flick the wheel. *Zzzt-CHUNK!* A shower of orange sparks rains down. At first, you think the rocks are too old to catch, but then a tiny curl of thick smoke drifts out. A small flame licks at the edge of a rock, then jumps to another, greedily eating at the ancient dust until a fierce, roaring blaze fills the iron grate. You step back, waiting for the magic to happen. And it does! Sort of. A high-pitched, whistling whine starts to build from deep inside the iron belly, and the big wheels on the flanks suddenly jerk forward, spinning into a frantic, screeching blur. You grin, crossing your arms. You fixed it! Though... it's getting really, *really* hot to stand next to. {link to: 'boiler', label: 'Back'}

You hold the shifting white stone in your hand. The hole in the iron beast's belly is square, and surrounded by teeth. Maybe the shifting stone can fit? You shove the plaster directly into the gaping hole. It eagerly squishes inside, instantly molding itself into the shape of a perfect, thick gear with little white teeth. It locks onto the square peg! But the moment it tries to turn, the soft plaster simply squishes. The iron teeth slide smoothly through the yielding goo, spinning uselessly without catching. Realizing it's entirely unsuited for the job, the plaster oozes right back out of the hole, dropping into your palm with a defeated *splorp*. Nice try, though. {link to: 'boiler', label: 'Back'}

The stick zips out, doing a wide, careful circle around the hissing iron beast. It hovers near the wheels, inspects the pipes, and finally returns to the paper to jot down its findings. ~LOCOMOTIVE? NOT QUITE. FASCINATING USE OF BOILER MECHANICS. THE LACK OF TRANSIT WHEELS SUGGESTS A STATIONARY POWER PLANT. THE INCLUSION OF A PROPER CONDENSER UNIT WOULD VASTLY IMPROVE EFFICIENCY, NATURALLY. ONE RECALLS THE WORKS OF TREVITHICK OR STEPHENSON, THOUGH THE CRUDE BRASS FITTINGS SUGGEST A RETROFIT, IMPROVISED DESIGN. FASCINATING. FURTHERMORE, IF WE CALCULATE THE EXPANSION RATE OF THE STEAM AGAINST THE THEORETICAL CYLINDER DIAMETER...~ The stick shows no sign of slowing down, so you simply let out a loud groan and snatch the stick right out of the air, shoving it back into your satchel alongside the paper. Enough of that! {link to: 'boiler', label: 'Back'}

The stick hovers over the pile, doing a slow, respectful circle. It zips to the paper and sketches a quick outline of the skeletal hand. Then, underneath, it writes in neat block letters: ~HUMAN REMAINS. HORRIBLE CONDITIONS. POOR JAKE.~ You tilt your head. Yorick? Is that a type of animal? Or... ah, that must be the name of the stupid explorer. You poke the bones. "Bye Jake." {link to: 'half-dissolved bones', label: 'Back'}

You hold the shifting stone out toward the shimmering green lady, watching it bob excitedly. It drops to the floor and begins to swell. It pushes out a massive, round belly, then attempts to form two enormous, heavy breasts resting on top. But the sheer volume is too much for it? It wobbles, overbalancing as the heavy front pulls it forward. With a sad, defeated *splosh*, the imitation collapses entirely. Instead of a magnificent slime lady, the plaster settles into a perfectly rigid, sharp-cornered square on the cavern floor. Bouba watches the display and lets out a deep, bubbling giggle that shakes her entire green mass. The pathetic little white cube loses its corners and quickly floats back to your bag. {link to: 'Great Slime Mother', label: 'Back'}

BowlLighterLit: true -- You hold the fire-box over the bowl, curious to see what old magic might still linger in the grit. *Zzzt-CHUNK!* A single spark drops into the dust. The bowl erupts instantly in a blinding, pure white flash, accompanied by a deafening *FOOMPH*. A wave of heat washes over your face, carrying a sickeningly metallic scent. The light dies in a fraction of a second, leaving the bowl completely bare. You stumble back, coughing violently as a thick plume of white smoke fills your lungs, your eyes watering. {link to: 'shallow bowl', label: 'Back'}

You peer closer. They aren't really pools, more like deep cracks in the cavern floor that have filled to the brim with the same thick, green goo. Every few seconds, a huge bubble of slime swells up from the bottom of one of the cracks. It grows, its translucent green skin trembling, until it pops with a wet, sucking *gloop*. Each pop releases a puff of warm, sweet-smelling air that washes over your face. You can feel a deep, slow pressure building and releasing from the vents in the rock below your feet. It's kind of nice! {link to: 'Slime Pool East', label: 'Back'}

[unless CurrentLessonState == 'wardrobecheck'] The Goddess. She is a mountain of soft white cloth and warmth. The gown She wears is parted down the middle, unable to contain the holy expanse of Her belly, which spills into Her lap in a perfect, round curve. You feel a divine heat radiating from it, even from here. Her honey-blonde hair frames Her face, and Her seeing-glasses have slipped down Her nose as She focuses on the lesson. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'wardrobecheck'] The Goddess. She stands before the tall mirror, having discarded Her holy white gown. She wrestles instead with the sky-walker garments She arrived in. The sturdy skirt is fastened, but the thick fabric of its waistband is buried entirely beneath the heavy, soft overhang of Her stomach, digging deep into the widened spread of Her hips. Above it, She wears a white piece with buttons. The garment pulls tight across Her back as she shifts, stretching across Her massive chest and Her belly. Wide, diamond-shaped gaps form between the straining buttons, leaving the pale flesh beneath bared to the cool cave air. She lets out a soft grunt, Her double chin pressing into Her collar as She tries to pinch two edges of fabric together over Her midsection. *She pauses, catching your reflection in the glass over Her shoulder. A gentle smile spreads across Her cheeks, and she rolls Her eyes, abandoning the stubborn button, leting Her arms rest on the wide rolls of Her sides.* [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'] Her lips part, letting out a long, drawn-out sound as She points to the stalactite symbol. "Aaaah." Then Her hand moves to the Well-Fed One, and the sound changes to a short, round pop. "Buh." A few of your kin try to copy it, and you quickly follow suit, but only manage a series of confused grunts. The Goddess pinches the bridge of Her nose, a gesture you have come to understand as deep, divine contemplation. {accessory image src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/Goddess Chamber Letters.png', side: 'right', push: '200px', scale: '0.85'} [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'] She holds the chalk with two fingers, Her movement light and airy as She adds a loop to the top of the stem. She pauses, tilting Her head to the side, Her brow furrowed. She wipes a smudge of white dust from Her fingers onto Her gown, leaving a faint mark on the fabric stretched across Her hip. She looks... a little amused by her drawing. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/Goddess Chamber Botany.png', side: 'right', push: '200px', scale: '0.85'} [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'] The Goddess is animated! She makes a sweeping gesture over Her head, mimicking the flowing mane of the beast, then stomps Her foot on the dais - *thud*. Her belly gives a firm, heavy wobble with the impact. She bares Her teeth, making a strange, rolling sound in Her throat. "Rrr-run." She points a stern finger at the drawing, then at the exit. It is a terrifying performance. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/Goddess Chamber Monsters.png', side: 'right', push: '200px', scale: '0.85'} [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'] She turns from the stone, Her hand moving to rest atop the high slope of Her own stomach. She presses down, Her fingers sinking deep into the soft, white fabric and the flesh beneath. She intones... something you don't quite get, giving the holy mound a firm, instructional pat that sends a ripple through her gown. She looks down at Herself, then back at the drawing. Ah! Ok, yeah. You get it. You and a couple of others clap excitedly: a perfect demonstration! {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/Goddess Chamber Anatomy.png', side: 'right', push: '200px', scale: '0.85'} [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'] She taps the slate with the chalk - *tap, tap, tap* - a sharp, rhythmic sound that echoes in the quiet chamber. She points to the pile of berries, then holds up three fingers. Then two. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/Goddess Chamber Math.png', side: 'right', push: '200px', scale: '0.85'} [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'] A soft rumble, a holy snore, escapes Her lips. She is looking very peaceful: her shoulder has slumped to one side on the granite throne, Her head lolled against the soft pillow of Her own shoulder. Her body has settled, spreading out onto the seat. With each deep, slow breath, the swell of Her stomach rises and falls, and the whole throne seems to sigh under Her divine weight. [continue] {link to: 'Great Chamber', label: 'Back'}

{embed passage: 'Item Back Logic'} Her holiest of gifts. You pull the golden bug from its special pocket, cradling it in your palms. Its golden shell is warm from being close to you, and it purrs with a steady *tick-tick-tick*. You bring it close to your ear, listening to its secret little heart. The long, black feeler still circles the ivory-white face, pointing at the strange marks... You run a finger over the cool links of its golden tail. This proves it. You are her favourite! Her chosen! Let Grak see you now. *Let them all see!* {link to: itemBackTarget, label: 'Back'}

[if isFuture; unless isMisaligned] {embed passage: 'IsFuture Page Layout Logic'} [continue] [unless isFuture; if isMisaligned] {embed passage: 'isMisaligned Page Layout Logic'} [if isFuture; if isMisaligned] {embed passage: 'isMisaligned Page Layout Logic'} [unless isFuture; unless isMisaligned] {embed passage: 'CH3 Normal Page Layout Logic'} [continue]

CurrentBiome (passage.name == 'Sleeping Warrens (post intro)'): 'Warrens' CurrentBiome (passage.name == 'Northwest Tunnel'): 'TunnelNW' CurrentBiome (passage.name == 'West Tunnel' || passage.name == 'Fake West Tunnel'): 'TunnelW' CurrentBiome (passage.name == 'Southwest Tunnel' || passage.name == 'Fake Southwest Tunnel'): 'TunnelSW' CurrentBiome (passage.name == 'North Tunnel'): 'TunnelN' CurrentBiome (passage.name == 'Central Tunnel'): 'TunnelC' CurrentBiome (passage.name == 'South Tunnel'): 'TunnelS' CurrentBiome (passage.name == 'Northeast Tunnel' || passage.name == 'Fake Northeast Tunnel'): 'TunnelNE' CurrentBiome (passage.name == 'East Tunnel'): 'TunnelE' CurrentBiome (passage.name == 'Southeast Tunnel'): 'TunnelSE' CurrentBiome (passage.name == 'Glutton Tunnel 1' || passage.name == 'Glutton Tunnel 2' || passage.name == 'Glutton Tunnel 3'): 'TunnelGlutton' CurrentBiome (passage.name == 'Great Chamber' || passage.name == 'Great Chamber - First Time Return'): 'Chamber' CurrentBiome (passage.name == 'Slime Caverns Cutscene 1' || passage.name == 'Slime Caverns Hub' || passage.name == 'Slime Caverns Blocked Entrance 1'): 'Slime' CurrentBiome (passage.name == 'Fungal Plains Cutscene 1' || passage.name == 'Fungal Plains Hub' || passage.name == 'Gated Cavern'): 'Fungal' CurrentBiome (passage.name == 'Prison Cell' || passage.name == 'Maw Chamber Diorama'): 'Maw' CurrentBiome (passage.name == 'Hunting Grounds Cutscene 1' || passage.name == 'Hunting Grounds Entrance Chamber' || passage.name == 'Hunting Grounds Hub' || passage.name == 'Hunting Grounds Lair Blocked'): 'Hunting' CurrentBiome (passage.name == 'Sunless Fields Cutscene 1' || passage.name == 'Sunless Fields Hub' || passage.name == 'Sunless Fields Blocked Entrance'): 'Sunless' CurrentBiome (passage.name == 'remains tunnel' || passage.name == 'dried out tunnel' || passage.name == 'thicket'): 'Expedition' CurrentBiome (passage.name == 'mindspace transition cutscene 1' || passage.name == 'mindspace entryway'): 'Mindspace' CurrentBiome (passage.name == 'CH3 Demo End'): 'DemoEnd' inFutureChamber (passage.name == 'Future Chamber - Stage NONE' || passage.name == 'Future Chamber - Stage PLUMP' || passage.name == 'Future Chamber - Stage FAT' || passage.name == 'Future Chamber - Stage OBESE' || passage.name == 'Future Chamber - Stage ALMOST IMMOBILE' || passage.name == 'Future Chamber - Stage IMMOBILE' || passage.name == 'Future Chamber Router'): true inFutureChamber (passage.name == 'Great Chamber'): false -- [JavaScript] engine.state.set("isFuture",checkFuture()); engine.state.set("isMisaligned",checkMisaligned()); [continue] {embed passage: 'CH3 Ascii Deep Logic'} [continue]

CurrentBiome: 'Mindspace' -- [JavaScript] engine.state.set("isFuture",checkFuture()); engine.state.set("isMisaligned",checkMisaligned()); [continue] {embed passage: 'CH3 Mindspace Page Layout Logic'} [continue]

[unless passage.name == 'Satchel'; unless passage.name == 'Wraps'; unless isCutscene; unless passage.name == 'Settings'] {save to file: 'Save'} | {load save: 'Load'} [continue] [unless passage.name == 'Satchel'; unless passage.name == 'Wraps'; if isCutscene; unless passage.name == 'Settings'] {save to file: 'Save'} | {load save: 'Load'} [if passage.name == 'Settings'] {save to file: 'Save'} | {load save: 'Load'} [if passage.name == 'Satchel'] {link to: 'Settings', label: 'Settings'} [if passage.name == 'Wraps'] {link to: 'Settings', label: 'Settings'} [continue]

{embed passage: 'Bought Variable Set'} [CSS] .purchase-page { text-align: center; max-width: 650px; margin: 1em auto; } .purchase-heading { font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif; font-size: 36px; font-weight: bold; font-variant: small-caps; margin-bottom: 0.8em; border-bottom: 2px solid currentColor; display: inline-block; padding-bottom: 0.1em; } .demo-end-text { font-size: 1.1em; margin: 0 auto 1em; line-height: 1.4; text-align: center; } .demo-end-subtitle { font-size: 0.95em; opacity: 0.8; margin: 1.5em auto; line-height: 1.4; text-align: left; } .hint-text { font-size: 0.85em; opacity: 0.6; margin: 2em auto 0; font-style: italic; text-align: right; } .demo-divider { width: 100%; height: 1px; background-color: currentColor; opacity: 0.3; margin: 2em auto; } .return-link { text-align: center; margin-top: 2em; } [continue] [unless CH3Demo] You find yourself sat on the ground, blinking as a strange, heavy fog lifts from your mind. For the longest moment, a sense of finality had settled over you, whispering that your holy duties were already complete. But as a deep, demanding rumble echoes from the Great Chamber behind you, vibrating right through the stone floor, the illusion shatters. What were you thinking?! The Goddess is still waiting! Her divine belly is far from satisfied, and there are still entire paths in the deep caves hoarding tribute that rightfully belongs to Her. A fierce, righteous heat floods your chest. [[You shake off the stupor and get up once more.->North Tunnel]] [continue] [if CH3Demo] <div class="purchase-page"> <div class="purchase-heading">End of CH.3 Demo</div> Thank you for playing the demo for the third and final chapter of Spirit of Hunger! [if GoddessWeightGained == 'FAT'] You have successfully aligned the first two biomes, but the Goddess's appetite and her belly are far from satisfied. [continue] [unless GoddessWeightGained == 'FAT'] The Goddess's appetite and her belly are far from satisfied. [continue] If you would like to continue guiding Leika through her holy mission, **the full chapter is available for purchase below**. Or on my {link to: 'https://www.patreon.com/Darkeyev2', label: 'Patreon'}, alongside some other random goodies. You can save your game right on this screen, then load that save file directly into the paid version to pick up exactly where you left off. Once loaded inside the full game, you will just need to [[click here->CH3 Demo End]] to open the path forward. <div class="demo-divider"></div> <p class="demo-end-subtitle">The full chapter will open the paths to the three remaining biomes. Tons more objects and tools to play with, proper endings, Glutton... you've got plenty to look forward to. Oh, and significantly more weight gain for both our Goddess and her zealous little servant; that comes without saying. I just need to, you know, actually write it all! Might take a while, folks. But I am having fun!</p> <div class="return-link">{link to: 'Chapter Select', label: 'Return to Menu'}</div> <p class="hint-text">Also yes, you read that right: Leika can gain as well! The Goddess isn't the only one allowed to feast. Check your satchel after completing a biome - you just need to find the right place :)</p> </div> [continue]

FrozenChamberInteractions (passage.visits == 1): FrozenChamberInteractions + 1 -- [if passage.visits == 1] You dare to creep closer. She is so tall. Her honey-blonde hair is a frozen waterfall over her shoulders, and you can see the tiny spots scattered across Her nose. Her round seeing-glasses have slipped down, showing a tiny web of cracks in one corner you hadn't noticed before. Her lips are parted, the sound of Her lesson caught forever in Her throat. And Her belly... the holy swell of it pushes the white gown forward, a perfect, warm-looking curve. You feel a sudden, fierce urge to press your cheek against it. Is that wise? [continue] [if passage.visits == 2] *You cannot resist.* You step forward, into Her divine presence, and press your face against the white fabric covering Her belly. The fine weave of the gown feels impossibly smooth, cool against your skin, but a deep, living heat radiates from within. The fat yields generously under the pressure, and your face sinks into the soft, pillowy expanse. Your ear, now pressed against Her, picks up a low, frozen gurgle... A giddy thrill shoots through you. On impulse, you wrap your arms around Her, trying to encircle this mountain of a stomach. It is a fool's errand. Your arms stretch wide, but your fingers don't even come close to meeting on the other side; they simply disappear into the soft flanks at Her sides. Your face is buried in the warm, yielding cushion of Her. She is so vast. You are barely a belt. [continue] [if passage.visits > 2] Your cheeks grow warm as you recall the feeling. You keep a more respectful distance this time. She is so tall. Her honey-blonde hair is a frozen waterfall over her shoulders, and you can see the tiny spots scattered across Her nose. Her round seeing-glasses have slipped down, showing a tiny web of cracks in one corner you hadn't noticed before. Her lips are parted, the sound of Her lesson caught forever in Her throat. [continue] {link to: 'Frozen Chamber', label: 'Back'}

You stare deeply into the clumsy, carved lines of the statue. The rough wood seems to blur and soften under your gaze, the moss-light pulsing faster and faster until the quiet chill of the sleeping chamber fades into the background. A strange, divine certainty resonates in your skull. You feel you could either close your eyes and let this holy warmth pull you forward, [[skipping past the morning's rush and right to your Goddess's side->CH3 Intro Skip Execute]] - knowing you will not return to this rushed morning again - or, instead, [[shake your head and let the day unfold step by step->Whittling Corner (Intro)]]. {ascii backdrop: 'loading'}

GoblinDressed: true LoinclothOn: true WrapOn: true BracersOn: true GoblinHasSatchel: true GoldenBugGifted: true ProphecySeen: true LessonSeen: true CurrentLessonState: 'letters' config.header.left: "{embed passage: 'CH3 Ascii Logic'}" config.footer.center: "{embed passage: 'CH3 Settings Menu Logic'}" config.header.right: "{embed passage: 'Satchel Menu Logic'}" -- {accessory: 'right1', passage: 'Satchel', taggedout: 'cutscene, menu, ending, past, future, misaligned'} You close your eyes, surrendering to the divine pull, allowing the quiet warren to melt around you. You feel the rough fabric of your wrap settling securely across your shoulders, the familiar strap of your satchel dropping against your hip, the cold stone of the tunnels blurring beneath your rushing feet... You blink, and are kneeling on the hard flagstones of the Great Chamber, clutching the warm, heavy gold of Her holy bug in your palms, with the warning of an empty future burned into your mind and your purpose made clear. [[You have great work ahead of you!->Great Chamber]] {ascii backdrop: 'loading'}

config.style.page.color: "black on #e4f0d5" config.style.page.link.color: "#8f3b1b" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#8f3b1b" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on #e4f0d5" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "raspberry-4" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#8f3b1b" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#8f3b1b" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on #e4f0d5" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "raspberry-4" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on #e4f0d5" config.style.dark.backdrop: "teal-5" config.style.dark.page.color: "gray-1 on gray-6" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "white" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "teal-3" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "aquamarine-2 on gray-6" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "teal-5" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "white" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "teal-3" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "aquamarine-2 on gray-6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "teal-5" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "aquamarine-2 on gray-6" -- [if CurrentBiome == 'Warrens'] ⌂ ~ ⌂ ~ = ~ ⌂ ~ ⌂ [continue] [if CurrentBiome == 'TunnelNW'] <　==╬=　====　> [continue] [if CurrentBiome == 'TunnelW'] <　=╬==　====　> [continue] [if CurrentBiome == 'TunnelSW'] <　╬===　====　> [continue] [if CurrentBiome == 'TunnelN'] <　===╬　====　> [continue] [if CurrentBiome == 'TunnelC'] <　==== ╬ ====　> [continue] [if CurrentBiome == 'TunnelS'] <　====　╬===　> [continue] [if CurrentBiome == 'TunnelNE'] <　====　=╬==　> [continue] [if CurrentBiome == 'TunnelE'] <　====　==╬=　> [continue] [if CurrentBiome == 'TunnelSE'] <　==== ===╬　> [continue] [if CurrentBiome == 'TunnelGlutton'] <　=?==　==?=　> [continue] [if CurrentBiome == 'Chamber'] ~ ≈ ✥ ☋ ✥ ≈ ~ [continue] [if CurrentBiome == 'Slime'] ~≈ 　o O o 　≈~ [continue] [if CurrentBiome == 'Fungal'] ♣ ↑ ♣ ↑ ♣ ↑ ♣ [continue] [if CurrentBiome == 'Maw'] ▼　▼ ▼ ▼　▼ [continue] [if CurrentBiome == 'Hunting'] ₪ ≡ ₪ ≡ ₪ ≡ ₪ ≡ ₪ [continue] [if CurrentBiome == 'Sunless'] ≀ ≀ ▤ ≀ ≀ ⎈ ≀ ≀ ▤ ≀ ≀ [continue] [if CurrentBiome == 'Mindspace'] ~ ~ ✥ ◇ ✥ ~ ~ [continue] [if CurrentBiome == 'Expedition'] ~ ~ ❦ ~ ❦ ~ ❦ ~ ~ [continue] [if CurrentBiome == 'DemoEnd'] [continue] [if CurrentBiome == 'AscensionStart'] ~ ≫ ☀ ☋ ☀ ≪ ~ [continue] [if CurrentBiome == 'AscensionDescent'] ▽ ≡ ▽ ☋ ▽ ≡ ▽ [continue] [if CurrentBiome == 'AscensionUnderworld'] ≈ ✹ ❦ ☋ ❦ ✹ ≈ [continue]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("isCutscene",comesFromCutscene()); [continue] {embed passage: 'CH3 Deep Settings Menu Logic'}

config.style.backdrop: "#563232" config.style.page.color: "black on amber-2" config.style.page.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" PageMask_Chapter: 'Chapter3' isFuture: false isMisaligned: false isGorged: false inFutureChamber: true CurrentDay: 'MONDAY' CurrentBiome: 'none' GoldenBugGifted: false ProphecySeen: false FirstTimeReturn: false GoddessWeightGained: 'NONE' LeikaWeight: 'NONE' GoblinDressed: false GoblinHasSatchel: false LoinclothOn: false WrapOn: false BracersOn: false CurrentLessonState: 'letters' LessonSeen: false FrozenChamberInteractions: 0 DakaHasUrgentGossip: false DakaTurns: 0 GrizelTurns: 0 GramaTurns: 0 GrakTurns: 0 TuningForkTaken: false WireSawTaken: false GearTaken: false MetalGearTaken: false TrenchLighterTaken: false QuillAndPaperFound: false MetalJawTaken: false CH3PlasterTaken: false HasPrisonBone: false HasFireStone: false SlimeCavernsFirstTime: false SlimeCavernsAligned: false SlimeCavernsMisaligned: false SlimeFutureSeen: false SlimeGirlsGathered: false SlimeGirlNorthTalkedTo: false SlimeGirlNorthMoved: false SlimeGirlEastTalkedTo: false SlimeGirlEastMoved: false SlimeGirlWestTalkedTo: false SlimeGirlWestRiddleSolved: false SlimeGirlWestMoved: false SlimePackRemoved: false SlimePressState: 'inactive' FungalPlainsFirstTime: false FungalPlainsAligned: false FungalPlainsFutureSeen: false BlueHideSeen: false BlueHideDialogueSeen: false FarmGoblinsMet: false FungalTreeFelled: false KeffTalkedTo: false BeraTalkedTo: false BeraPostFellingDialogueSeen: false KeffPostFellingDialogueSeen: false PackCleaned: false MawAmbush: false InMawPrison: false InMawPrisonFirstTime: 0 OrkState: 'notseen' LooseStoneNoticed: false HiddenCellItem: 'notrevealed' BarsBoneTried: false BarsFireStone: false PailBoneTried: false PailFireStoneTried: false StrawBoneTried: false ChainsBoneTried: false ChainsFireStoneTried: false FireStoneThrow: 'none' MawChamberTurns: 0 IronChainsSeen: 0 HuntingGroundsFirstTime: false HuntingGroundsAligned: false HuntingGroundsFutureSeen: false HydraLocation: 'Lair North' HydraEncounterCount: 0 HydraFirstEncounter: false HydraHuntGrakConsider: false GrakHelp: false GrakTrapDialogueSeen: false HydraSign: 'none' WhiteVesselBroken: false WhiteVesselForkTapped: 0 BlackVesselBroken: false BlackVesselRepaired: false ClayVesselBroken: false SecondChamberFoodEaten: false PastChamberGorgeCounter: 0 PlatterEaten: false GlassesDrunk: false FicusesEaten: false SmallGolemState: 0 SmallGolemRefused: false HuntingGroundsMisaligned: false SunlessFieldsFirstTime: false SunlessFieldsAligned: false SunlessFieldsMisaligned: false SunlessFieldsFutureSeen: false ElvesMet: false AlericaBoilerReactionSeen: false BoilerState: 0 GearInstalled: false DentedGearInstalled: false PipeSmashed: false BoilerLit: false BoilerOverheating: false BoilerActivated: false ElfManVisits: 0 ElfMaidVisits: 0 ElfCoupleVisits: 0 CurrentPalaceRoom: 'none' SporesCrushed: false SpringCut: false CylinderCrushed: false PapersSmeared: false PlasterPit: false ExpeditionRemainsUnlocked: false ExpeditionRemainsAligned: false ExpeditionRemainsFutureSeen: false SkullManSmashed: 0 SkullManHuntStarted: false SkullManEncountered: false FakeCaveSkullManSmashed: false EntrywaySkullManSmashed: false MuseumHallSkullManSmashed: false ArchivesSkullManSmashed: false SittingRoomSkullManSmashed: false TerraceSkullManSmashed: false OfficeSkullManSmashed: false PrehistoricSkullManSmashed: false OfficeMapSkullManSmashed: false PaintingRecognized: 0 MapHuntVisits: 0 WaxFigureHuntVisits: 0 PotsSmashed: false RailingBroken: false SmallSkeletonsSmashed: false MindspaceBoneTaken: false AmuletSmashed: false LeikaGorgedSlime: false LeikaGorgedStew: false LeikaGorgedFruit: false LeikaGorgedMolasses: false ThicketFruitGrowth: 0 ThicketReadyToGrow: false PileKitsWoken: false WaterSkinCut: false waterdrunk: false CurtainBurnt: false ShelfSawed: false ShavingsBurnt: false CarvingSawed: false GearDented: false WickLit: false GourdCut: false GourdSmashed: false CrateBurnt: false StalkCut: false GateQuillSlid: false TotemFelled: false TotemSmashed: false RackFallen: false SnacksBurnt: false PoolLighter: false StalagmitesResonated: false VentsLit: false PillarLicked: false PillarJawTried: false PillarSawTried: false StatueRootSmashed: false BenchesPlasterSeen: false BittenStatuePlasterSeen: false CanisterCrushed: false FountainLit: false MarkingsRuined: false PetrifiedRootsSeen: false NestLighterTried: false BowlLighterLit: false FireStoneTraced: false LastBiomeAligned: 'none' SeasonCount: 0 Season1Biome: 'None' Season2Biome: 'None' Season3Biome: 'None' Season4Biome: 'None' Season5Biome: 'None' --

[if GoddessWeightGained == 'NONE'] You approach the strange, dark figurine left in the middle of the tunnel. It's a small thing, carved to look like a fat goblin... or maybe a pregnant one? It's smooth and cold to the touch, and feels very, very old. Clearly something from the Ancients. You've seen Grak's kits kick it a few times when they thought no one was looking. It doesn't seem important, but it also doesn't feel right to move it. Best to leave it where it is. [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'PLUMP' || GoddessWeightGained == 'FAT' || GoddessWeightGained == 'OBESE'] You approach the strange, dark figurine, now positioned on top of a pile of smooth rocks, with small offerings at its feet. It's not cold anymore. A gentle, holy warmth radiates from it, and if you press your ear close, you can hear a faint, sleepy hum from within. It's... it's singing to Her! You can feel it! The warmth seems to call to something deep inside you... a strange sense of... want? Need? No. *Hunger*. [[Perhaps, if you focused, you could join its song...->Vessel Meditation Cutscene 1]] [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'ALMOST IMMOBILE' || GoddessWeightGained == 'IMMOBILE'] You approach the strange, dark figurine, now positioned on top of a tall pile of smooth rocks, with plenty of offerings at its feet. Where before it was warm, it now pulses with a powerful heat that you can feel on your face from several steps away. The sleepy hum has become a clear, resonant song that vibrates through the soles of your feet - a perfect harmony to the divine rumbling of the Goddess in her chamber. A soft, teal light, the same as the moss-light, now glows from deep within the stone. A sense of satisfaction - of fullness - washes over you. [[Perhaps, if you focused, you could join its song...->Vessel Meditation Cutscene 1]] [continue] {link to: 'North Tunnel', label: 'Back'} [if TuningForkTaken; inventory for TuningFork] [[What if...?->Vessel Tuning Fork Cutscene]] [continue] [if QuillAndPaperFound; inventory for QuillAndPaper] [[The stick begins to twitch...->Vessel Quill Cutscene]] [continue] [if CH3PlasterTaken; inventory for CH3Plaster] [[The stone bobs upwards...->Vessel Plaster Cutscene 1]] [continue]

WickLit: true -- You open the little metal door - it squeaks - and reach inside with your fire-box. It's a tight fit. *Click-fzzzt.* The spark lands on the black string. For a second, nothing. Then, a tiny blue flame sputters to life, growing into a steady, bright yellow teardrop. The oily smell gets stronger, but the light... oh, it's wonderful! It pushes back the gloom of the grotto instantly. You close the door with a satisfied *clink*. {link to: 'glass-and-metal cage', label: 'Back'}

CanisterCrushed: true -- You grip the iron wrench and grab one of the large red shards. Pressing it against the floor, you use the flat side of the heavy tool to grind the baked mud. It quickly breaks down into a fine, rusty-red powder. Perfect! You scoop up a handful and smear it enthusiastically across your cheeks. War-paint! You puff out your chest, feeling incredibly fierce. But as the hot air of the cavern makes you sweat, the powder instantly binds with the moisture. It hardens into a tight, flaky crust that pulls painfully at your skin, itching so fiercely you let out a frustrated whine. You spend the next minute furiously scrubbing your face with your wrap, deeply regretting the entire endeavor. {link to: 'canisters', label: 'Back'}

The stick darts out and traces the curve of the red mud shard. It zips back to the paper, quickly sketching a perfect, unbroken jar with a wide belly and narrow neck. ~MASS-PRODUCED TERRACOTTA STORAGE. FINE CRAFTSMANSHIP.~ You nod slowly. Storage for food, obviously! And a very finely made one, just as the stick says. You feel very proud of your ability to understand these ancient mysteries. You're actually so smart. {link to: 'canisters', label: 'Back'}

The pointy stick and white slices fly from your satchel, hovering over the old marker stone. You watch as the stick traces the ancient carvings in the air, its tip glowing with a faint teal light. Then, it zips back to the slice and begins to scratch furiously. The black marks that appear are jagged like claw-marks, though perfectly readable. ~RUIN THE LAND, CROSS THE SLEEPER - A STARVING GOD WAKES TO HUNT.~ A cold shiver runs down your spine. Sleeper? Hunt? You don't understand what a "starving god" is - wasn't that from the prophecy? - but you know what a hunt is. And you know you don't want to be the prey. Having delivered their message, the items float back down, and you carefully place them back in your satchel. {link to: 'carved marker stone', label: 'Back'}

You heft the heavy iron wrench from your bag. Doesn't this heavy, biting mouth of the tool look perfect for snapping things in two? Eheh... You wedge part of the beak right into the gap between the brass lock and the chain. Planting your boots firmly against the curved wood, you grip the handle with both hands and throw your entire weight backward. *CRANK.* The brass lock gives way with a sharp snap, tumbling uselessly into the dirt, prompting the heavy chains to instantly slide off the barrel and [[pool at your feet.->Cask Jaw Cutscene 2]]

With the chains out of the way, the pressure inside the barrel forces the thick wooden door open with a wet, splintering groan. It does take you a second or two to even understand what it's in front of you. A wall of pure, black ooze bulges out of the opening. A slime creature of some sort? In any case, it looks incredibly dense: a dark, shimmering mass that goes forward with lazy certainty. The sheer sweetness of it hits you, making your jaw tingle. You touch it, and seeing as it's not scorching you back... well... you decide to do the smartest thing you can think of in front of such a helpless prey: to simply drop to your knees right in its path, tilt your head back, and [[open your mouth as wide as it goes.->Cask Jaw Cutscene 3]]

LeikaGorgedMolasses: true LeikaWeight (LeikaWeight == 'FAT'): 'OBESE' LeikaWeight (LeikaWeight == 'PLUMP'): 'FAT' LeikaWeight (LeikaWeight == 'CHUBBY'): 'PLUMP' LeikaWeight (LeikaWeight == 'NONE'): 'CHUBBY' -- The slow, heavy wave of dark pours directly over your lips. It coats your tongue in a thick, grainy paste that tastes like pure sweetness. You swallow hard, forcing the dense sludge down your throat, feeling it hit the bottom of your gut with a heavy thud. Another thick gulp follows, letting the lazy thing simply flow into you. It doesn't take long for you to feel the heavy sludge packs firmly into your stomach, stretching your wrap tight as the soft flesh pushes outward. A hard, bloated mound forms rapidly, coming to rest heavily upon your thighs, then a bigger one as you find your lips stuck to the creature, and so momentarily forced to keep allowing it in. You struggle, then finally gasp and pull away, your chin and chest completely plastered. {link to: 'palace vault', label: 'You sit back in the dirt, panting.'}

[unless SlimeGirlNorthMoved] You tilt your head back, looking straight up into the dripping darkness. Clinging to the high ceiling is a cluster of glowing sacs, swollen with a soft green light, pulsing with a slow, steady rhythm. They don't look like they're *part* of the stone... more like they're just... stuck on. With each pulse, a thick tear of green slime wells up on their undersides before dripping down to feed the basin and build the stalagmites below. It's their light that makes this whole grotto glow. [continue] [if SlimeGirlNorthMoved] You look up. The ceiling seems much higher now, and darker. Most of the big, glowing sacs are gone, having floated off to chase the singing stick's song. Only a few tiny, unripe ones remain clinging stubbornly to the stone, their light weak and sputtering. Without the steady *drip-drip-drip* from above, the stalagmites below look a bit... thirsty. You feel a little guilty. [continue] {link to: 'Slime Pool North', label: 'Back'} [unless SlimeGirlNorthMoved; if TuningForkTaken; inventory for TuningFork] [[What if...->Tuning Fork Polyp Cutscene]] [continue]

The air here is thick and warm, heavy with the smell of cook-pit smoke, damp fur, and unwashed kin. The floor is worn smooth by the passage of countless feet, and the moss-light is bolstered by sputtering tallow lamps set in wall niches, casting flickering shadows. The walls are smudged with greasy handprints and scratched with crude symbols - territorial marks, boasts of successful hunts. You hear the muffled echo of chatter and the clink of tools from deeper within the warren below. A steep, spiraling ramp in further in and to the left leads down into your and your kin's [[🛖sleeping warrens->Sleeping Warrens (post intro)]]. *** To the north lies the [[🔆main junction->North Tunnel]]. To the south is the way to the [[💧wet passage->South Tunnel]], and to the west, the tunnel leads back to the [[🦴old hunter's path->West Tunnel]].

ChainsBoneTried: true -- You pull out the sharp bone, and a truly stupid idea forms in your head. What if you could find a weak link? Pry at it? You look from the pathetic splinter of bone in your hand to the iron links as thick as your arm. Then you look at the massive orc they are attached to. No. No. Bad idea. Very, very bad idea. You quickly and quietly tuck the bone away, your cheeks burning with embarrassment at your own foolishness. {link to: 'Prison Cell', label: 'Back'}

ChainsFireStoneTried: true -- You take out the glowing stone, its orange light pulsing warmly in the gloom. For a wild moment, you imagine pressing it to one of the iron links. Get it cherry-red, maybe weaken it? But the heat would travel. The orc would feel it. And then what? An angry orc attached to a glowing-hot chain, in a tiny cell... with *you*. The thought alone makes you break out in a cold sweat. No, no. Absolutely not. You hide the stone's glow back in your wrap, your heart thumping a little faster. {link to: 'Prison Cell', label: 'Back'}

[if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'] Your kin are a fidgety, whispering mess. A few, like you, are trying to pay attention, their brows furrowed in concentration. Most, however, are not. You see [[Grizel]] scratching a clumsy copy of the Well-Fed One symbol in the dust with his claw, then rubbing it out in frustration, his own looking-glasses nearly falling off of his nose. Near the front, [[Daka]] is not even looking at the teaching stone; her head is bent close to another goblin's, her mouth moving in a silent stream of gossip. Off to the side, old [[Grama]] just scowls, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as if asking the stone for patience. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; unless GrakHelp; append] And in the back, [[Grak]] is polishing his hunting spear with a greasy rag, clearly bored. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'] Your kin are... confused. You see [[Grama]] scowling at the teaching stone, shaking his head so hard his ears flap. [[Grizel]] has tilted his head so far to the side he looks like he might fall over, trying to make sense of the strange, spindly shapes. Even [[Daka]] looks skeptical, whispering something to her neighbor while pointing at the stem. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; unless GrakHelp] Only [[Grak]] looks bored, picking his teeth; he clearly doesn't care about anything he can't stab. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'] A hush has fallen over the room. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; unless GrakHelp; append] [[Grak]] stands rigid, his knuckles white on his spear shaft, eyes locked on the hairy beast-drawing. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; append] Near the front, [[Daka]] is pale, her mouth hanging open. Only the group nearest the dias - today a few of younger kits - seem not to grasp the threat that the creature poses, laughing in delight at the Goddess mimicking it. Though... she seems pleased by this? Uh... [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'] There is a low, reverent murmur. As the Goddess touches Her holy stomach, a dozen green hands mimic the motion. [[Grama]] nods slowly, eyes closed in meditation. [[Daka]] puffs out her cheeks and her belly, trying to match the divine roundness. They get it. We all get it. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'] Panic. Pure, silent panic. [[Grizel]] is frantically counting on his fingers, running out of digits, and starting over with a look of horror. [[Daka]] looks suddenly guilty, trying to discreetly hide a small pouch of berries behind her back. [[Grama]] is scratching his chin, his lips moving in silent calculation. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; unless GrakHelp; append] [[Grak]] just looks confused, staring at his own empty hands as if wondering where his tribute went. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'] With the Goddess resting, a quiet, restless energy fills the chamber. The lesson's tension is gone, replaced by the low murmur of goblin chatter. A small group in the corner has already started a game, tossing knuckle-bones onto a stretched piece of hide. A few others have simply curled up where they sat, their soft snores joining the divine rumble from the throne. You spot [[Daka]] gesturing wildly, recounting some no-doubt exaggerated story to a captivated audience of two. [[Grama]], predictably, is muttering to himself, tracing old symbols in a patch of dust with a gnarled finger. Nearby, [[Grizel]] is trying to show him a new type of knot, but the old goblin seems completely uninterested. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; unless GrakHelp; append] Meanwhile, [[Grak]] stands with his hunting party near the exit, laughing loudly at some cruel joke, his spear resting proudly on his shoulder. [continue] {link to: 'Great Chamber', label: 'Back'}

FrozenChamberInteractions (passage.visits == 1): FrozenChamberInteractions + 1 -- You turn your attention to your kin, scattered on the cold floor. A whole chamber of statues. There is Grama, his wrinkled face set in a permanent scowl, arms crossed over his chest. He probably disapproved of something the Goddess drew. He always disapproves. You can almost hear him muttering about "new ways" and "the old hunger." And there, near the front, is Daka. Not even looking at the Goddess! Her head is turned toward Grizel, her mouth open in a silent giggle, her eyes wide with some shared joke. Unbelivable. You are the only one who can move. The only one who can see them for what they are in this moment: just... still. You are the one the Golden Bug chose. This... must be a sign. {link to: 'Frozen Chamber', label: 'Back'}

You strike the fork and press it against the wavy rim of the clay pot. *Thud.* The baked mud absorbs the vibration instantly, returning a flat, dead sound. No singing, no humming, just dry dirt not that different from the one back to the warren. {link to: 'clay vessel CH3', label: 'Back'}

ClayVesselBroken: true -- You look at the ugly, lopsided pot. A miserable little lump sitting next to the grand stone vessels of the Ancients. It's almost an act of mercy, really. You swing the iron jaw, letting the metal crush the brittle terracotta with a dry crunch, collapsing the lumpy belly inward and scattering dull brown shards across the plinth. You nod: it's in a better place now. *The GROUND.* {link to: 'clay vessel CH3', label: 'Back'}

The stick floats up, doing a quick, dismissive lap around the lumpy brown pot before zipping back to the paper. ~POOR IMITATION OF ERA-SPECIFIC ICONOGRAPHY. DERIVATIVE DRIVEL. LIKELY CREATED SEVERAL CENTURIES AFTER THE ORIGINALS.~ Harh, but you nod in agreement. Derivative drivel! You have no idea what that means, this wonky pot is certainly that. {link to: 'clay vessel CH3', label: 'Back'}

{embed passage: 'Item Back Logic'} You let the white blob hover out of your satchel. To the touch, it's not cold nor hot - it's a perfectly neutral temperature, and it quivers in your palm with a life of its own. It’s like holding a very dense, solid puddle. The white surface ripples constantly, never settling, a slow, silent churn. {one of: ["*The whole blob vibrates intensely, humming with a low, inaudible frequency.*", "*It melts and reforms into a tiny, perfect replica of The Goddess on Her throne, belly and all, before wobbling back into a ball.*", "*The lumpy surface suddenly smooths out, becoming a perfect, polished sphere for a single, silent moment before it begins to churn again.*", "*For a moment, it shapes itself into a short, chubby goblin with a messy top-knot. It gives you a little wave.*", "*The stone flattens, and a long, black line appears on it. It starts making a soft *t-t-t-t* sound, trying to be the Golden Bug.*", "*A perfect ☋ carving appears on its surface, glowing faintly before being swallowed back into the shifting white.*", "*A wide slit opens in the sphere, pulling back to reveal a row of tiny, perfectly formed white teeth. They click together once, a dry, sharp sound, before the mouth melts away.*", "*It stretches itself into a long, thin noodle, wiggles like a worm, then snaps back into its ball shape with a soft 'thwump'.*"], order: 'cycling'} {link to: itemBackTarget, label: 'Back'}

GearDented: true -- You grip the metal disc like a little shovel. The teeth look sharp enough to dig, right? You scrape it against the packed earth. *Chhh-k.* You hit a rock. You try to pry the rock out. *CLINK.* The rock doesn't move. You pull the gear back and... oh! One of the perfect little teeth is bent. No! You rub it with your thumb, trying to push it back, but it stays crooked. *Gah!* Why did you use a treasure for digging? What a shame... {link to: 'Southeast Tunnel Collapse', label: 'Back'}

You hold the little flame up to the wall of rock. The stone glows faintly orange. A few dry roots sticking out of the dirt catch fire and sizzle away in a second. That's it. The mountain of rock remains entirely unmoved by your tiny fire. Mm. That was silly. {link to: 'Southeast Tunnel Collapse', label: 'Back'}

You try to slide the wire between two of the big boulders. Maybe if you cut the keystone? You pull. *Skritch.* You pull harder. *SKRITCH.* The wire catches on a sharp edge and gets stuck. You have to yank it free, nearly falling over. The rock has a tiny white scratch on it. The pile is still a pile - useless. {link to: 'Southeast Tunnel Collapse', label: 'Back'}

You give the fork a mighty whack and jam it into the dirt between the rocks. *HMMmmm...* Maybe the sound will shake them loose? Like an avalanche? The vibration dies in the packed earth with a dull thud. A single pebble rolls down the slope and hits your head. *Plink.* You stare at it. Well. That showed them. {link to: 'Southeast Tunnel Collapse', label: 'Back'}

ExpeditionRemainsUnlocked: true -- You hold the golden bug out toward the trembling rocks. Its ticking matches the strange, silent hum of the cave-in perfectly, growing warmer in your palm by the second. Right **there** in the center of the pile, the solid stone begins to blur and soften into a thick, grey mist. You grin down at the shiny shell; look at what **we** can do! One by one, the heavy boulders lose their grip and let **go,** evaporating into thin air before your very eyes without making a single sound. The wall of dirt vanishes completely, leaving behind a dark, surprisingly cold passage that smells faintly of old paper and stale dust. A way forward, **finally.** {link to: 'Southeast Tunnel', label: 'Back'}

You pull the golden bug from your satchel. The moment it's free, its steady heartbeat stumbles. It ticks fast, then slow, jumping beats like a frightened kit as you hold it near the collapsed earth. For a brief, moment, you wonder if you could use the hard gold edge as a tiny shovel to scoop your way through. You quickly shake your head, dismissing the thought. It's a holy gift! Digging in the dirt would surely scratch it. Instead... you just wait a bit, though nothing flashy like back in Her chamber happens. You put it safely back in your bag. {link to: 'Southeast Tunnel Collapse', label: 'Back'}

[if LastBiomeAligned == 'FungalPlains'] You see now a hearth in the chamber. Stones have been stacked to contain a bed of glowing, smokeless coals that radiate a steady, intense heat. Above it, a massive iron grate holds heavy cuts of smoked meat and wide caps of red fungi. The air shimmers with the heat, distorting the view of the throne beyond. It is a fire meant to burn forever, a permanent engine of cooking to keep pace with Her appetite. [continue] [if LastBiomeAligned == 'SlimeCaverns'] A whole kitchen has appeared in the chamber. A wide ring of stones contains a low, steady fire, over which sits a massive, shallow basin of bronze. The green slime inside bubbles lazily, thickened with savory roots and herbs - a soup . A rich, hearty broth that could be drunk by the gallon. *Can* be drunk to the gallon! The steam rising from it is thick enough to dampen your face. [continue] [if LastBiomeAligned == 'HuntingGrounds'] A fire pit dominates the space, walled in by the bleached skull-plates of the Many-Mouths. Several iron grates are suspended over the flames, piled high with thick steaks and heavy ribs. The sheer amount of grease dripping into the fire creates a constant, hissing smoke that coats the roof of the cavern. [continue] [if LastBiomeAligned == 'SunlessFields'] A great dome of baked mud has been built over the coals, creating a proper, massive oven. The heat radiating from it is intense enough to dry the sweat right off your face. Using long wooden paddles, your kin pull out golden-brown loaves of bread, their crusts cracking audibly as they hit the cooler air. [continue] [if LastBiomeAligned == 'ExpeditionRemains'] The cook-fire is a sticky mess. Wide, shallow clay basins sit directly on the hot coals, rapidly boiling down the crushed fruits and wine-sap into a dense, sugary paste. The juice frequently bubbles over the rims, hissing and burning instantly on the hot stones. The smell of caramelized sugar and heavy booze is so thick it practically coats the inside of your nose. Why does the sap need cooking in the first place? This seems... a bit dumb... [continue] {link to: 'Future Chamber - Stage FAT', label: 'Back'}

The stick traces the blocky black marks on the side of the wood. It pauses, tapping against the grain. ~SHIPPING DATE: 12/04/1889. CONTENTS: SURVEY EQUIPMENT / CLASS B.~ ~RECIPIENT: BRISTOL INSTITUTE - EXPEDITIONARY FORCE.~ You blink. Numbers. Lots of numbers. Possibly the biggest numbers you've seen so far. You can't really make sense of anything else that's written on the paper in front of you, though. *What's a Bristol?* {link to: 'smashed crate', label: 'Back'}

You run your eyes over the walls, covered in amber-colored spikes - giant, broken spear-points. The moss-light from the main cavern shines through them, painting the floor in a shifting pattern of sharp-edged green shapes. Sharp. *Too sharp.* You keep your hands tucked close to your body. One clumsy trip in here and you'd be skewered like a lowly lizard. {link to: 'Slime Pool West', label: 'Back'}

CylinderCrushed: true -- Since biting it didn't work, it's time to use a bigger mouth. You set one of the heavy silver cylinders on the dirt floor, raise the club high, and bring the square head down with a fierce grunt. *CRUNCH!* The metal casing violently bursts open. A cold, pinkish paste sprays everywhere, splattering across the wooden crates and coating your boots. A rich smell fills the air. You wipe a glob off your cheek and lick your fingers - it's actually quite tasty! Very savory. But as you look down at the smashed cylinder, you spot dozens of sharp metal splinters mixed right into the mush and, well... picking those out just to get a proper bite sounds like far too much work. You wipe your hands on your wrap, leaving the mess on the floor. {link to: 'silver cylinders', label: 'Back'}

DakaTurns: DakaTurns + 1 -- Daka preens, smoothing the fabric of her wrap. It is a brighter shade of red than anyone else's, dyed with extra beetle-juice, and she has woven shiny, iridescent shells into the hem that click softly when she moves. Her black hair is pulled into a complicated top-knot held in place by a polished bone pin. [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'] She isn't paying the slightest bit of attention. Her head is bent close to Grizel's, and you can see her shoulders shaking with laughter. She catches your eye for a moment and gives a little wave, a smirk playing on her lips, before turning back to her gossip. *Show-off...* [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'] She is examining a split end in her hair, completely ignoring the lesson. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'] She is leaning forward, her elbows on her knees, grinning wicked. Every time the Goddess makes the scary noise, Daka mimics it, flashing her own sharp teeth at the others. She keeps nudging her neighbors, pointing at the drawing and shaking her head in amusement. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'] Daka is standing with her back arched and her belly pushed out as far as it will go, holding her breath until her face turns a slightly darker shade of green. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'] She is shifting her weight from foot to foot. Her hands are busy behind her back, fiddling with the pouches on her belt. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'] She is in her element! She stands with her hands on her wide hips, recounting a story to a small, captivated audience. Her voice is low but animated, and she uses her whole body to act out the tale, her pointy ears twitching with expression. [continue] {link to: 'Chamber Goblins', label: 'Back'} *** [if DakaHasUrgentGossip] {embed passage: 'Daka Urgent Gossip Dialogue 1'} [continue] [unless DakaHasUrgentGossip] {embed passage: 'Daka Lesson Dialogues'} [continue] [note] Daka Urgent Gossip Dialogue 1 will likely only have a single turn, looping dialogue and contain a link to head to a cutscene where Leika hears Daka out. Almost as if it was the first part of a cutscene. But yeah... I don't know what to use this for. Let's shelf this for now. [continue]

[dialogue delay:0.1 id:daka_anatomy1] You poke Daka in the side. It's firm, like a drum. [dialogue delay:1.0 id:daka_anatomy1 newline] *"Watch it!"* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:daka_anatomy1] *she hisses through gritted teeth, not breaking her pose.* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:daka_anatomy1] *"You are disturbing the vessel."* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:daka_anatomy1 newline] You roll your eyes. *"You're just holding your breath. You're going to turn purple."* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:daka_anatomy1 newline] *"Am not,"* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:daka_anatomy1] *she strains, her voice tight.* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:daka_anatomy1] *"This is... pure... potential. I am aligning my inner circle."* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:daka_anatomy1] She pushes her stomach out another inch, her belt creaking audibly in protest. [dialogue delay:1.8 id:daka_anatomy1 newline] *Brrrrp.* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:daka_anatomy1 newline] A small, escaping burp deflates her instantly. She blinks, then looks at you with total seriousness. [dialogue delay:1.5 id:daka_anatomy1] *"See?* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:daka_anatomy1] *The Goddess speaks through me."* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:daka_anatomy1 newline] {link to: 'Daka', label: 'You shake your head.'}

[dialogue delay:0.1 id:daka_botany1] You nudge Daka's arm. She glances at you, then at the board... and rolls her eyes so hard you're surprised they don't fall out of her head. [dialogue delay:1.5 id:daka_botany1 newline] *"Look at the leaves,"* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:daka_botany1] *you whisper, trying not to giggle.* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:daka_botany1] *"They're just... round. Like little pebbles."* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:daka_botany1 newline] Daka snorts, covering her mouth just in time. *"Pebbles! Right! And the stem... look at it! It's just a stick. A straight stick! Where are the feelers?* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:daka_botany1] *How's it meant to find water if it can't feel?"* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:daka_botany1 newline] *"It's not even a good stick,"* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:daka_botany1] *you add, feeling a bit bold.* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:daka_botany1] *"One good wind and the whole thing would just snap."* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:daka_botany1 newline] She nods, a conspiratorial glint in her eye. *"Exactly. Pathetic."* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:daka_botany1] *She gives her own sturdy wrap a confident tug.* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:daka_botany1] *"Sky-walker plants must be very, very stupid."* [dialogue delay:2.0 id:daka_botany1 newline] She leans in close, her voice dropping even lower. *"Honestly... I could draw a better fungus with my eyes closed."* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:daka_botany1] With a final, dismissive flick of her hair, she goes back to inspecting her nails. [dialogue delay:0.5 id:daka_botany1 newline] {link to: 'Daka', label: 'You try to hide your smile.'}

[dialogue delay:0.1 id:dakaletters] You march right up to her, but she doesn't seem to notice at first. *"...and then he just... fell right in!"* Daka finishes with a snort, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye. [dialogue delay:1.2 id:dakaletters] You clear your throat pointedly. [dialogue delay:1.5 id:daka1 newline] She finally turns, her smirk widening. *"Well, well. Look who it is. Her Holiness's new favorite."* She gives you a playful poke in your soft arm. *"Finally decided to grace us with your presence, short-stuff?"* [dialogue delay:0.1 id:dakaletters] You glare. Before you can stop yourself, your foot lashes out, connecting squarely with her shin. [dialogue delay:0.5 id:dakaletters] *"Oof! Hey!"* Daka yelps, rubbing her leg. *"What was that for?"* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:dakaletters newline] *"You were supposed to wake me!!"* you hiss. [dialogue delay:1 id:dakaletters newline] She rolls her eyes, all innocence. *"Hey, I tried! You were snoring like a bloated boar. I figured you needed the rest..."* She smiles. *"Oops."* [dialogue delay:0.2 id:dakaletters newline] {link to: 'Daka', label: 'You scowl, turning away from her.'}

[dialogue delay:0.1 id:daka_math1] You sidle up to her, eyeing the bulge in her belt-pouch. [dialogue delay:1.2 id:daka_math1 newline] *"Three,"* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:daka_math1] *you whisper, nodding at the Goddess's tally marks.* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:daka_math1] *"She wants three parts for the tribute."* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:daka_math1 newline] Daka jumps, her hand clamping protectively over her pouch. *"Three? Are you sure?* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:daka_math1] *I thought that meant... three for me, one for Her?"* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:daka_math1 newline] *"Daka..."* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:daka_math1 newline] *"It's just rocks!"* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:daka_math1] *she lies, her eyes darting around the room.* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:daka_math1] *"Holy rocks. For... a project. A shrine! Yes, I'm building a shrine."* [dialogue delay:2.0 id:daka_math1] A faint, distinct *squish* comes from her pouch as she squeezes it too hard. A drop of purple juice leaks out. [dialogue delay:2.2 id:daka_math1 newline] *"...very juicy rocks,"* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:daka_math1] *she whispers, backing away slowly.* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:daka_math1 newline] {link to: 'Daka', label: 'You let her go.'}

[dialogue delay:0.1 id:daka_monsters1] You whisper to her, trying to sound serious. *"That's a warning, Daka! Look at the teeth She drew!"* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:daka_monsters1 newline] Daka just snickers, leaning back on her heels. *"Teeth? Those little nubs?* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:daka_monsters1] *I've seen scarier teeth on a cave-lizard."* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:daka_monsters1 newline] *"But the Goddess-"* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:daka_monsters1 newline] *"Look at its feet!"* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:daka_monsters1] *she interrupts, pointing a rude finger at the board.* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:daka_monsters1] *"Flat as stones. No claws. No grip! How is it supposed to catch anything? It would slip right off the wall!"* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:daka_monsters1 newline] She bares her own teeth, making a soft, mocking growl. *"And that noise?* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:daka_monsters1] *Sounds like it's choking on a rock."* [dialogue delay:2.0 id:daka_monsters1] *"If that thing came down here,"* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:daka_monsters1] *she says, puffing out her chest,* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:daka_monsters1] *"I wouldn't run. I'd ride it!"* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:daka_monsters1 newline] {link to: 'Daka', label: 'She grins, entirely too pleased with herself.'}

[dialogue delay:0.1 id:dakarest2] Daka pauses her story as you approach, a dramatic hand pressed to her forehead. The two younger goblins listening to her turn to stare at you. [dialogue delay:1.2 id:dakarest2 newline] *"Leika! Thank the stones, a witness to my tale of survival!"* she proclaims. *"I was just telling them... I nearly became grub-food today!"* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:dakarest2 newline] You raise an eyebrow. *"Oh? Did you trip over a rock again?"* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:dakarest2 newline] She gasps, offended. *"It was a spiny crawler! The size of my head! Its claws were clicking, just like this-"* She makes an unconvincing clicking sound with her tongue. *"-and its front pincers were snapping right for my face!"* [dialog-delay:1.5 id:dakarest2 newline] The two kits gasp in unison. You just cross your arms. Wait a minute... [dialogue delay:1.8 id:dakarest2 newline] *"Pincers? Ah!"* you ask, a slow smile spreading across your face. *"Spiny crawlers don't have pincers, Daka. They have mandibles. Everyone knows the difference."* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:dakarest2 newline] Daka freezes. Her ears turn a shade darker. *"Well... this one was special! A mutant! It... it had both!"* She huffs, seeing the kits are starting to look at her funny. *"Whatever! Besides, what do you know about it? You've been too busy polishing your shiny clicker to go gathering!"* [dialogue delay:0.2 id:dakarest2 newline] {link to: 'Daka', label: 'You just smirk and walk away.'}

[if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:daka_letters_turn1] You march right up to her. Daka is holding a small pebble between her fingers. [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:daka_letters_turn1 newline] You clear your throat. She turns, a smirk on her face. *"Well, well. Look who it is. Her Holiness's new favorite."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:daka_letters_turn1 newline] *"You're missing the lesson!"* you hiss. [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:daka_letters_turn1 newline] *"Oh, I'm learning,"* she says. [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.8 id:daka_letters_turn1] She flicks the pebble. It hits the back of Grizel's head with a tiny *thwack*. He jumps, dropping his slate. [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:daka_letters_turn1 newline] *"I'm learning Grizel is still a giant rock-licker."* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if DakaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:daka_letters_turn2] Daka picks up another pebble from the floor. *"Watch this. I'm going to hit his ear this time-"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if DakaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:daka_letters_turn2 newline] *THUNK.* [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if DakaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:daka_letters_turn2 newline] A piece of white chalk bounces squarely off Daka's forehead. [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if DakaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:daka_letters_turn2 newline] She drops the pebble, her hand flying to the white smudge between her eyes. You follow her gaze up to the dais. The Goddess is staring right at her, tapping a new piece of chalk against her palm. [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:daka_botany_turn1] You nudge her arm. She glances at the board. [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:daka_botany_turn1 newline] *"Look at the leaves,"* you whisper. *"They're just... round pebbles."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:daka_botany_turn1 newline] Daka snorts. *"Right! And the stem... *bah*!"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.8 id:daka_botany_turn1] She gestures at the air. [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:daka_botany_turn1] *"It's just a straight stick. One good squeeze and it turns to mush."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:daka_botany_turn1 newline] She crosses her arms. *"You couldn't even weave a good basket out of that. Weak. Sky-walker plants must be useless."* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if DakaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:daka_botany_turn2] She leans in close again. *"Where are the nectar-bulbs?"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if DakaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:daka_botany_turn2] she whispers, jabbing a finger at the air. [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if DakaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:daka_botany_turn2] *"How do you even harvest a thing with no bulbs? Just chew on the sticks? Ugh. A waste of dirt. Why is she showing us this?"* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:daka_monsters_turn1] You whisper to her. *"That's a warning, Daka! Look at the teeth!"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:daka_monsters_turn1 newline] Daka just snickers, baring her own fangs. *"My teeth are longer. And sharper. Snap, snap!"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:daka_monsters_turn1 newline] *"But the Goddess-"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.5 id:daka_monsters_turn1 newline] *"And that noise?"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.5 id:daka_monsters_turn1] she interrupts. [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.8 id:daka_monsters_turn1] *"Kkkhhk-gkk! That's stupid. Not scary!!"* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if DakaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:daka_monsters_turn2] She points a finger at the board. *"And look at its feet. Flat as stones, no claws, no grippers, no nothing."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if DakaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:daka_monsters_turn2 newline] She puffs out her chest. *"If that thing came down here, I wouldn't run. HA! I'd ride it!"* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:daka_anatomy_turn1] You poke Daka in the side. It's firm, like a drum. [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:daka_anatomy_turn1 newline] *"Watch it!"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.5 id:daka_anatomy_turn1] she hisses, swatting your hand away. [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:daka_anatomy_turn1] *"You are ruining the shape."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:daka_anatomy_turn1 newline] You roll your eyes. *"You're just holding your breath."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:daka_anatomy_turn1 newline] *"Am not,"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.5 id:daka_anatomy_turn1] she strains. [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.8 id:daka_anatomy_turn1] *"I am practicing my divine curves. If She sees me looking bountiful, maybe She'll share the tribute."* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if DakaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:daka_anatomy_turn2] She pushes her stomach out another inch, her belt creaking audibly. [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if DakaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:daka_anatomy_turn2 newline] *Brrrrp.* [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if DakaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:daka_anatomy_turn2 newline] A small burp escapes, deflating her instantly. She blinks, rubbing her stomach. [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if DakaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:daka_anatomy_turn2 newline] *"Ah."* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:daka_math_turn1] You sidle up to her, eyeing the bulge in her belt-pouch. [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:daka_math_turn1 newline] *"Three,"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.5 id:daka_math_turn1] you whisper. [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.8 id:daka_math_turn1] *"She wants three parts for the tribute."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:daka_math_turn1 newline] Daka jumps, clamping a hand over her pouch. *"Three? No, no."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:daka_math_turn1 newline] *"That mark means... keep three. Yes! Keep three, give the rest. And I have... none."* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if DakaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:daka_math_turn2] A faint squish comes from her pouch. A drop of purple juice leaks out, hitting the stone floor with a tiny splat. [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if DakaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:daka_math_turn2 newline] Daka takes a slow step back. [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if DakaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:daka_math_turn2 newline] *"A-ah! My... um... pouch is bleeding. Very tragic. I'll have to visit the healer later."* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:daka_rest_turn1] Daka pauses her story, a hand pressed to her chest. *"Leika! A witness!"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:daka_rest_turn1 newline] *"I was just telling them... I nearly became grub-food today!"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:daka_rest_turn1 newline] You raise an eyebrow. *"Did you trip over a rock again?"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:daka_rest_turn1 newline] She scoffs. *"It was a spiny crawler! The size of my head!"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.8 id:daka_rest_turn1] She holds her hands wide apart. [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if DakaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.8 id:daka_rest_turn1] *"With pincers!"* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if DakaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:daka_rest_turn2] You cross your arms. *"Pincers? Spiny crawlers have mandibles. Everyone knows that."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if DakaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:daka_rest_turn2 newline] Daka's ears turn a shade darker. *"Well... this one was special! A mutant! It had both!"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if DakaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:daka_rest_turn2 newline] She turns back to her audience, pointing a thumb at you. *"She's just jealous she didn't quite see it. Anyway, so I grab its pincer..."* [continue] [continue]

[if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'] [[You cautiously approach her.->Daka - Letters Dialogue]] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'] [[You nudge her arm.->Daka - Botany Dialogue]] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'] [[You whisper to her.->Daka - Monsters Dialogue]] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'] [[You poke her side.->Daka - Anatomy Dialogue]] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'] [[You sidle up to her.->Daka - Math Dialogue]] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'] [[You walk over to listen in.->Daka - Rest Dialogue]] [continue]

[if DakaHasUrgentGossip] [[She waves you over, a conspiratorial glint in her eye...->Daka - Urgent Gossip Dialogue]] [continue] [unless DakaHasUrgentGossip] {embed passage: 'Daka LessonStages Router'} [continue]

You stare at the hollow in the furs where Daka should be. She always makes a proper nest for herself, deeper than anyone else's, lined with the softest moss she can find. She says it helps her dream. Her best polishing stone is still here, half-tucked under a fold of hide. It's a smooth, dark river stone she uses to sharpen her digging claw. She never goes anywhere without it. She must have been in a great hurry to forget it, uh? Not in enough of a hurry to make sure you were tagging along, though. Some friend! You glare at the stone. For a moment, you think about taking it. Just to be mean... ah, but there's no time for that! Focus, Leika, focus! {link to: 'Goblin Warrens Sleeping Chamber', label: 'Back'} [note] Let's have it so when if player returns to the chamber, they can distract Daka and actually take it. It might help with a quest. [continue]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] **CORE STATS** GoddessWeightGained Stage: {GoddessWeightGained} LeikaWeight Stage: {LeikaWeight} [[Increase Goddess Weight]] | [[Decrease Goddess Weight]] [[Increase Leika Weight]] | [[Decrease Leika Weight]] **BIOME PROGRESSION** Slime Caverns: [[Align->Align Slime Caverns]] | [[Misalign->Misalign Slime Caverns]] Fungal Plains: [[Align->Align Fungal Plains]] Hunting Grounds: [[Align->Align Hunting Grounds]] | [[Misalign->Misalign Hunting Grounds]] Sunless Fields: [[Align->Align Sunless Fields]] | [[Misalign->Misalign Sunless Fields]] Expedition Remains: [[Align->Align Expedition Remains]] **STATE FORCING** [[Set a specific lesson]] [[Set a specific room to the crate palace]] [[Setup the boiler]] **FAST-TRACK SCENARIOS** [[Launch Season Montage]] [[Get to Leika Ending]] [[Get to prison]] [[Get to Maw Chamber]] [[Get to Hydra Trap]] [[Get to Cave-in]] [[Smash 7 out of 8 bones]] **INVENTORY TOOLS** [[Grant All Tools]] [[Grant Fire Box]] | [[Grant Toothy String]] | [[Grant Singing Stick]] [[Grant Metal Disc]] | [[Grant Metal Jaw]] | [[Grant Shifting Stone]] [[Grant Scribbly Stick]] | [[Grant Golden Bug]] **UTILITY & TELEPORTATION** [[Skip CH3 Intro]] {plainlink to: 'Great Chamber', label: 'Teleport to Great Chamber'} {plainlink to: 'Sleeping Warrens (post intro)', label: 'Teleport to Sleeping Warrens'} [[Toggle Inventory Debug]] {link to: 'Settings', label: 'Back'}

GoddessWeightGained (GoddessWeightGained == 'PLUMP'): 'NONE' GoddessWeightGained (GoddessWeightGained == 'FAT'): 'PLUMP' GoddessWeightGained (GoddessWeightGained == 'OBESE'): 'FAT' GoddessWeightGained (GoddessWeightGained == 'ALMOST IMMOBILE'): 'OBESE' GoddessWeightGained (GoddessWeightGained == 'IMMOBILE'): 'ALMOST IMMOBILE' -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH3', label: 'Back'}

LeikaWeight (LeikaWeight == 'CHUBBY'): 'NONE' LeikaWeight (LeikaWeight == 'PLUMP'): 'CHUBBY' LeikaWeight (LeikaWeight == 'FAT'): 'PLUMP' LeikaWeight (LeikaWeight == 'OBESE'): 'FAT' -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH3', label: 'Back'}

[unless passage.name == 'mindspace wraps'; unless isCutscene; unless passage.name == 'Settings'] {link to: 'mindspace wraps', label: 'Wraps'} [if passage.name == 'mindspace wraps'] {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'} [if isCutscene] {ascii backdrop: 'loading'} [continue]

[unless passage.name == 'Satchel'; unless isCutscene; unless isFuture; unless isMisaligned; unless passage.name == 'Settings'] {link to: 'Satchel', label: 'Satchel'} [if passage.name == 'Satchel'] {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'} [if isCutscene; if isGorged] {ascii backdrop: 'gorged'} [if isCutscene; if isMisaligned; unless isGorged] {ascii backdrop: 'misaligned'} [unless isCutscene; if isMisaligned; unless isGorged] {ascii backdrop: 'misaligned'} [if isCutscene; if isFuture; unless isGorged; unless isMisaligned] {ascii backdrop: 'future'} [unless isCutscene; if isFuture; unless isGorged; unless isMisaligned] {ascii backdrop: 'future'} [if isCutscene; unless isFuture; unless isMisaligned; unless isGorged] {ascii backdrop: 'loading'} [continue]

[unless passage.name == 'Wraps'; unless isCutscene == true; unless passage.name == 'Settings'] {link to: 'Wraps', label: 'Wraps'} [if passage.name == 'Wraps'] {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'} [if isCutscene == true] {ascii backdrop: 'loading'} [continue]

A low, whistling sound fills this tunnel, rising and falling with a strange rhythm. The air moves here, a steady current that stirs the dust on the floor and raises goosebumps on your arms. The walls are pocked with thousands of tiny, smooth-rimmed holes, and it is from these that the eerie music of the cave seems to be breathing. [unless TuningForkTaken] Wedged tight into a crack in the stone wall, right next to a deep claw mark, is a [[shiny metal stick->Tuning Fork Cutscene]]. It looks like a two-fingered hand reaching out from the rock. [continue] {one of: ["", "", "", "Suddenly, the whistling is drowned out by a deep *thump... thump...* that vibrates through the soles of your feet. It's followed by a wet, scraping sound... like something huge gnawing on bone, just on the other side of the stone. It stops as quickly as it began."], order: 'cycling'} *** To the north, the passage leads back toward [[🟢the silent tunnel->Northeast Tunnel]]. The path continues south, toward [[🪨the passage smelling of black-sap->Southeast Tunnel]]. {embed passage: 'Leika Weight Tunnel Check'}

Right in the center of the mess is Daka. Her shiny red wrap has been discarded. She lies back against a mound of crushed ferns, her bare skin flushed a deep, drunken purple. Her belly is a round, drum-tight dome, severely bloated from the wine-sap and pushing outward as she breathes in shallow, giggling gasps. A younger hunter is nuzzling her neck, one hand on her hips, while she absentmindedly strokes his ears with sticky fingers. A hot flush creeps up your own neck, but it quickly turns into boiling anger. Selfish, *selfish*!! How dare they hoard from the warren?! Keeping all of this rich bounty for themselves while the Goddess sits waiting in the chamber! Suddenly, you hear a voice booming [[from the other side of the cave.->Expedition Remains Future Vision 4]]

GoddessWeightGained (GoddessWeightGained == 'ALMOST IMMOBILE'): 'IMMOBILE' GoddessWeightGained (GoddessWeightGained == 'OBESE'): 'ALMOST IMMOBILE' GoddessWeightGained (GoddessWeightGained == 'FAT'): 'OBESE' GoddessWeightGained (GoddessWeightGained == 'PLUMP'): 'FAT' GoddessWeightGained (GoddessWeightGained == 'NONE'): 'PLUMP' ExpeditionRemainsFutureSeen: true LastBiomeAligned: 'ExpeditionRemains' ExpeditionRemainsAligned: true -- The golden bug hums in your palm and suddengly the dry, grey dust of the cavern smears into a violent swirl. When the spinning stops, you take a deep breath. Would you look at that: the air isn't dead and choking anymore! It tastes wet. You watch the massive wall of brittle roots blocking the tunnel violently shuddering as the pale, dead wood rapidly darkens, gorging itself on a sudden rush of moisture seeping right out of the solid stone. You let out a giddy laugh as the heavy iron chests and strange sky-walker tools left in the dirt are effortlessly crushed to flinters under a swelling, writhing mass of new, [[thick vines->Expedition Remains Future Vision 1.5]].

From the largest stems, massive fruits begin to bulge outward, swelling fast. Their skins stretch taut until they weep thick drops of dark sap that hit the cavern floor with a heavy *splat*. You lick your lips, your own stomach giving a loud rumble. How perfect! The Goddess is going to *love* this. [[The scene flickers forward...->Expedition Remains Future Vision 2]]

The blur of time shifts, placing you right at the edge of the new jungle. A small group is creeping through the dense foliage. You immediately spot the shiny shells woven into a familiar red wrap. *Daka!* She's leading a couple other gatherers, her finger pressed to her lips in a shushing motion, constantly checking over her shoulder... why? Are there monsters nearby? Well, she seems to be making sure no one else followed them. You watch as they step into the heart of the grove, and as the group stops, eyes wide open in surprise. Not her, though: instead, she reaches up, grabbing a fruit the size of her head, and sinks her teeth right into the thick rind. A heavy, golden syrup bursts from the bite, running down her chin and staining her clothes. She swallows heavily, swaying slightly on her feet as a goofy grin spreads across her face. Swiftly she turns to the others, excitedly waving them over. [[The vision shimmers forward...->Expedition Remains Future Vision 3]]

The vision blurs, spinning wildly before throwing you right into the middle of a hazy, suffocating heat. A roaring bonfire illuminates the thicket, filling the air with the dizzying aroma of spirits. You stare, your jaw dropping at the absolute state of the place. Your kin are everywhere, sprawled across the rotting sky-walker canvas, their bare bodies tangled together in slick, sweaty piles. You watch a pair of gatherers lazily feeding each other peeled fruits between sloppy kisses, their hands wandering freely over each other's softened, bulging middles. Low moans of pleasure mix right in with [[wet, rumbling burps->Expedition Reamins Future Vision 3.5]].

The shouting comes from the tunnel entrance. You squint through the hazy air, and striding into the clearing, flanked by a small retinue of hunters is... *you*! Well, a much better dressed you. A little chubbier, too. Your future self wears a pristine white sash over a thick, beautifully dyed wrap, standing tall with a clear air of authority. You watch her march right up to Daka, pointing a sharp, uncompromising finger directly at her nose. From your vantage point, the voices are just a muffled, echoing argument. You see Daka wave her sticky hands, gesturing to the heavy vines as if explaining away the mess. Your future self simply shakes her head, stomps her foot, and jabs her thumb back toward the great chamber. And, coincidentally, also toward the very [[hard-faced hunters->Expedition Remains Future Vision 4.5]] that accompany you.

A collective groan ripples through the clearing. The sluggish gatherers slowly heave themselves up from the dirt, wiping juice from their chins. With heavy sighs and wobbling steps, they begin snapping the massive purple fruits from their stems, dropping them into woven baskets to haul back. Your future self keeps on a scowl directed at your kin. But not you. You're grinning. This garden belongs to the Goddess now. *As it should!* The ticking in your palm grows frantic. From the newly tamed thicket, you are pulled [[back to the heart of the world...->Future Chamber Router]]

[if passage.from == 'Hunting Grounds Entrance Chamber'] *You squeeze out of the jagged crack, catching your breath.* [continue] This passage feels older, more primal. The walls are unworked stone, scarred with claw marks from creatures long gone. A steady, cool draft whispers from ahead, carrying the faint, coppery scent of old blood and something musky, like damp fur. The floor is uneven, littered with small bone fragments that crunch under your feet. To the north, the tunnel leads back to the [[🍄sickly yellow glow->Glutton Tunnel 1]]. To the east is the way to the [[🛖central caves->Glutton Tunnel 1]], and the path south continues into [[🌺deeper darkness->Glutton Tunnel 1]]. From a low, jagged opening to your left, the draft is stronger. You look back at it, but the rock has shifted, making the crack far too narrow to squeeze back into the [[🦴Hunting Grounds->Hunting Grounds Entrance Blocked]].

{embed passage: 'Item Back Logic'} [if passage.visits == 1] You carefully pull the stone from a fold in your wrap. The orange light pulses in your palm, a slow, steady heartbeat. The surface is smooth as a river pebble, and the carved symbol feels... powerful. A gentle warmth seeps into your skin. [continue] [if passage.visits > 1] {embed passage: 'Fire Stone Check Set'} You trace the glowing symbol with the tip of your finger, drawn to the pulsing light. A sharp, searing pain shoots up your arm and you snatch your hand back with a hiss. *"Yowch!"* The tip of your finger is bright red, a tiny blister already starting to form. That's not just warm, that's *hot*! Cook-fire hot! You quickly tuck it away, being very careful not to touch the symbol again. [continue] {link to: itemBackTarget, label: 'Back'}

FireStoneTraced: true -- [note] Never do this! To set variables in this way, with a dedicated embed, is a risk; this is a very special exception. [continue]

{embed passage: 'Item Back Logic'} You plop the soggy pack onto the floor with a wet smack. It... it actually *reeks*. That sharp, stinging smell is coming from a big, dark stain that has soaked through the canvas from the inside out. Pinching your nose, you pry open the stiff leather flap. Inside is... a mess. A thick, black and sticky goo has soaked everything. Several bundles of what might have been pale leaves are now just a single, black, pulpy brick. You can also spot a lone feather in there, equally drenched and useless. {link to: itemBackTarget, label: 'Back'} [note] The player could find a way to clean the ink off the contents of the pack. Cleaning the pack could reveal/turn the pack into another tool, making this puzzle's reward more tangible than just aligning the biome if willing to go the extra step. [continue]

FountainLit: true -- You hold the fire-box over the dark, stagnant fluid. It smells dull, but you've seen what old grease can do. *Zzzt-CHUNK!* A spark drops into the basin. Instantly, the dark fluid catches. A low, beautiful blue flame spreads across the surface of the pool, burning silently and steadily. It casts a cool, wavering light over the polished black tiles, illuminating the dark corners of the room. You step back, admiring your work. Very pretty! {link to: 'weeping fountain', label: 'Back'}

You hold the white blob in your hands, looking at the miserable, crying face on the wall. It's too sad! You step up and shove the shifting stone directly over the carved eyes and mouth. The plaster sticks to the wet stone and immediately stretches out. It fills the crying O of the mouth and pulls the edges upward, forming a lopsided arc right over the sad carving. Two little white bumps form over it, right on top of where the weeping eyes of the statue would be. You let out a loud laugh, thoroughly cheered up. After a few seconds of holding the grin, the plaster detaches itself, sliding off the wet wall and bobbing back to your side. {link to: 'weeping fountain', label: 'Back'}

FrozenChamberInteractions (passage.visits == 1): 0 -- [if FrozenChamberInteractions <= 3] Everything is stone-still. The Goddess, your kin, even the dust motes hanging in the moss-light. You stand alone in a world of statues. Before you, [[The Goddess->CH3 Eleanor (Frozen)]] stands, the white fabric of Her gown hanging without a single ripple. She is before Her great [[granite throne->Throne (Frozen)]], at the base of which lie the morning's [[offerings->Offerings (Frozen)]]. To Her left is the smooth [[teaching stone->Teaching Stone (Frozen)]]. Behind Her, the great [[prophecy wall->Prophecy Wall (Frozen)]] rises into shadow, its sacred carvings hidden by Her divine form. All around, [[your kin->Chamber Goblins (Frozen)]] are caught mid-fidget, mid-whisper, mid-sneeze. *The doors to the chamber have been closed behind you.* [continue] [if FrozenChamberInteractions >= 4] The golden bug in your hand feels heavy. You look down at its closed shell, and the world melts. The stone walls ripple like water in a disturbed pool. The moss-light dims, then flares, washing everything in a blinding teal flash that makes you squeeze your eyes shut. The deep hum of the chamber rises to a painful shriek, [[then cuts to silence.->Frozen Chamber Future Vision Trigger]] {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'} [continue]

When you dare to look again... [[the chamber is empty.->Future Chamber - Stage NONE]]

The path opens into a wide, cultivated clearing. The wild red and purple glow of the plains is gone, replaced by the soft, steady teal light of neatly arranged [[mushroom stalks]]. A short distance away, smoke curls from the chimney of a small, sturdy-looking [[🛖farm hut->farm hut]]. [unless FungalTreeFelled; unless FarmGoblinsMet] You spot a [[lanky one->Keff]] leaning on a digging stick near the base of a truly massive [[giant fungal tree]]. [continue] [unless FungalTreeFelled; if FarmGoblinsMet] You spot [[Keff]] leaning on a digging stick near the base of a truly massive [[giant fungal tree]]. [continue] [if FungalTreeFelled] [[Bera]] stands with her hands on her wide hips, looking over the felled mushroom. Beside her, [[Keff]] pokes glumly at the enormous, sappy stump where the giant fungal tree once stood. [continue] Behind you, the path leads back to the [[🍄main plains->Fungal Plains Hub]].

MawAmbush: true -- The tunnel narrows here, the ancient stonework giving way to rough, natural rock. Patches of sickly yellow moss cling to the damp walls, casting a much dimmer light than the main passage. The air is thick with the loamy scent of rich soil and decay. To your right, the passage widens again, leading back to the... um... to the... [[Uh oh.->Fungal Plains Ambush Cutscene 2]]

The path isn't empty. A low grunt echoes from the gloom ahead, and a hulking shape detaches itself from the shadows. Then another. They are kin, though clearly not from your warren. They are big, with shoulders like boulders, and are clad in crude armor of shell plates and thick hide lashed together with gut. Heavy, knotty clubs are held loosely in their thick-fingered hands. The larger of the two takes a slow, deliberate step forward. The sickly yellow moss-light glints off a row of sharpened teeth set into his shoulder-plate. His voice is a low, gravelly rumble. *"Well now! From the warren, is it?"* He grins, a humorless stretching of his lips. *"Intruding on Big-Maw's lands."* He laughs, turning to the other. *"Can you believe that, Guk? Now that's just stupid."* [[You scowl at them, your face reddening.->Fungal Plains Ambush Cutscene 3]]

You draw yourself up to your full, unimpressive height, your fists clenched at your sides. *"I am Leika! Servant of the Great Goddess! The *true* Goddess!"* you declare, your voice shaking only a little. *"This is holy ground now!"* The lead guard's grin doesn't waver. He takes another slow step, his club scraping lightly on the stone floor. *"Holy ground, is it? Don't matter. Big-Maw's ground. And all who walk it pay the toll."* He holds out a thick, open palm. *"You know how it goes. Get your tribute showing, shortie."* You clutch the strap protectively. *"I... I have n-nothing for your false idol! My offerings are for Her alone!"* The guard's hand closes into a fist. He shares a look with the other one. *"Wrong answer."* [[Guk's club moves in a blur.->Fungal Plains Ambush Cutscene 4]]

config.header.right: "{embed passage: 'Wraps Menu Logic'}" -- {accessory: 'right1', passage: 'Wraps', taggedout: 'cutscene, menu, ending, past, future, misaligned'} A wet, heavy *thwack* explodes against the side of your head. A flash of white-hot stars behind your eyes drowns out the sickly light, and a high, thin ringing sound swallows the guard's grunt. The stone floor lurches up to meet you. You hear a voice from far away. *"HA! Told you. One hit!"* The bug! The holy bug... the thought is a faint spark, already being smothered by a vast, heavy blackness. [[The world dissolves.->Prison Cell]]

FungalPlainsFirstTime: true -- You duck under the thick, fleshy caps of the fungi blocking the passage. The air on the other side is... *ahhhh*... It's warm - a soft, earthy heat that feels like a familiar blanket. The sweet smell of damp soil and rotting mushroom-pulp fills your nose, a scent so familiar it makes your shoulders relax. [[Home!->Fungal Plains Cutscene 2]]

Before you, the cavern opens up, a vast field of giant mushrooms. Their caps, wide as huts, glow with a soft, steady light, some pulsing a gentle red, others a deep purple. The ground beneath your feet isn't cold stone, but a springy carpet of moss and fungal roots. You remember tumbling on this very ground as a kit, rolling down the soft slopes with Daka until you were both dizzy and covered in spores. A smile touches your lips. [[It's been some time, hasn't it?->Fungal Plains Hub]]

GoddessWeightGained (GoddessWeightGained == 'ALMOST IMMOBILE'): 'IMMOBILE' GoddessWeightGained (GoddessWeightGained == 'OBESE'): 'ALMOST IMMOBILE' GoddessWeightGained (GoddessWeightGained == 'FAT'): 'OBESE' GoddessWeightGained (GoddessWeightGained == 'PLUMP'): 'FAT' GoddessWeightGained (GoddessWeightGained == 'NONE'): 'PLUMP' FungalPlainsFutureSeen: true LastBiomeAligned: 'FungalPlains' FungalPlainsAligned: true -- The golden bug hums, and the world smears into a blur of teal and grey. When the spinning stops, the air hits you first - thick. You are back in the throne room, the fire gone. The walls are scorched black, and the magnificent piles of tribute are now just sad, smoldering heaps of charcoal. In the center of this ruin, Big-Maw is throwing a fit that would embarrass a teething kit. She heaves a blackened haunch of meat at the wall, wailing about. Her massive belly jiggles violently with every sob, tremors of fat rolling down her flanks as she pounds her fists against the arms of her soot-stained throne. *Pathetic!* A true Goddess would never lose her composure over a little burnt snack. You watch as a sooth-covered Ghera just rolls her eyes at the queen, her arms crossed, [[looking utterly done.->Fungal Plains Future Vision 2]]

Ghera just shouts something at her, snaping her tally-slate shut with a sharp *clack* that cuts right through the sobbing. Then, she just jerks a thumb toward the exit. You watch as the porters immediately hoist the few crates of unburnt food onto their shoulders, with the guards lower their spears and turn their backs, falling into line. The entire court flows toward the gate like water finding a new, better channel, leaving the throne room silent. Big-Maw is left blinking, a tear tracking through the soot on her cheek. Realization hits her slow and hard. She has to heave herself up, the wood of the throne letting go of her hips with a reluctant, sticky *shhhlick*, before frantically waddling after her own servants, her engorged belly forcing her to take a breather every couple of steps. *Ha!* [[The scene flickers forward, to the open plains...->Fungal Plains Future Vision 3]]

Now from a high-vantage point, you look over a gigantic procession of green skin and laden baskets, flowing from the gated cavern and winding across the fungal plains. The line stretches as far as you can see - porters groaning under crates of smoked meat, hunters dragging strings of lizards, gatherers with overflowing sacks - all marching with single-minded purpose toward the dark mouth of the tunnels. Could it be... yes! *Yes!* Toward Her! As the procession passes the farm, you see Bera watching, her hands on her hips. She looks at the endless line of tribute. She looks at her own pile of cut fungus-logs. Then, without a moment's hesitation, she heaves a massive crate onto her shoulder and kicks Keff square in the rear. He yelps, grabs a bundle, and they stumble into the line. Yes, well, this all makes perfect sense to you. The false queen was a hack and the Goddess not only of a better temperament but evidently larger. Your holy fire pushed them over the edge of enlightment: [[even the stubborn ones can feel the divine heat shift in the wind!->Fungal Plains Future Vision 4]]

The vision blurs one last time, speeding up until all individual people are just streaks of green in a river of constant motion. The warren has swallowed the kingdom whole! Or maybe it's the opposite? Mm... well, the tunnels are choked with activity - scouts from the plains trading maps with deep-delvers, farm-growers arguing with hunt-masters over storage space. It is a beautiful harmony. No more "Big-Maw's people" or "Warren kin." Just one massive, hungry swarm once more, united by a single, driving purpose: feed the Goddess! To feed Her until the stone itself groans under Her weight, as the prophecy foretells. The golden bug hums, clearly not ready to bring you back to the present. From the bustling plains, you are moved [[back to the heart of the world...->Future Chamber Router]]

The cavern is a forest of soft, glowing light. Towering [[giant mushrooms]] with wide, fleshy caps pulse with a gentle red and purple light, illuminating a springy floor of moss and tangled roots. Half-swallowed by the moss near the path, you spot an old [[carved marker stone]], its surface worn by time. A well-trodden path, marked by two smaller, neatly trimmed mushrooms, leads deeper into the plains toward what you recall being a [[🌾farm->Fungal Farm]]. To your right there's another path, this one wider, packed down hard and leading towards the [[⛩️kingdom->Gated Cavern]]. From a small, dark opening in the wall, you catch the faint, sharp scent of rusted metal. It leads to a smaller [[⚙️grotto->Rusted Grotto]]. Behind you is the way back to the main [if FungalTreeFelled; unless MawAmbush; append] [[⚫cave network->Fungal Plains Ambush Cutscene 1]]. [continue] [unless FungalTreeFelled; append] [[⚫cave network->Northwest Tunnel]]. [continue] [if FungalTreeFelled; if MawAmbush; append] [[⚫cave network->Northwest Tunnel]]. [continue] [if passage.visits == 1] *It still smells like home. A bit... emptier, though. That's a shame.* [continue] [if FungalPlainsAligned; unless FungalPlainsFutureSeen] *Just as you turn to leave, the golden bug in your satchel gives a sudden, sharp shiver, its ticking momentarily frantic...* [continue] [if FungalPlainsAligned; unless FungalPlainsFutureSeen; inventory for GoldenBug] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->Fungal Plains Future Vision 1]] [continue]

The chamber feels... different. The air in the chamber is thick, heavy, humming with the constant, somewhat exhausted efforts of your kin. [unless LastBiomeAligned == 'ExpeditionRemains'] The great granite throne is entirely obscured by the magnificent, anchored form of [[🤍The Goddess->Future Eleanor]]. She sits surrounded by a truly overwhelming spread of [[tribute->Future Offerings]]. To navigate the sheer radius of Her, an attendant waits patiently atop a sturdy [[wooden block->Stepstool (Future)]]. Near the base of the dais, several others kneel with clay jars, diligently rubbing fragrant [[fatty salves->oils (future)]] into the stretched skin of Her flanks. [continue] [if LastBiomeAligned == 'ExpeditionRemains'] A chaotic, sticky procession stumbles across the chamber floor, centered around the swaying form of [[🤍The Goddess->Future Eleanor]]. She waddles right through a ruined mess of [[tribute->Future Offerings]]. A panicked attendant drags a sturdy [[wooden block->Stepstool (Future)]] right behind Her, desperately trying to anticipate Her next pause. A few others chase after Her heavy steps with clay jars in hand, attempting to smear fragrant [[fatty salves->oils (future)]] onto Her jiggling hips while She moves. [continue] [unless CH3Demo] *The archway leading back to the caves is closed, but the bug [[seems to be ticking slower...->Great Chamber]]* [if CH3Demo] *The archway leading back to the caves is closed, but the bug seems to be ticking... mmm... a lot slower... [[to a stop, even?->CH3 Demo End]]*

The chamber feels different. The air is warm, thick with the smell of a freshly stoked cook-fire and the sweet, fatty scent of roasting... something. The moss-light on the walls seems brighter, tended to. In the center of it all, standing by her throne, is [[🤍The Goddess->Future Eleanor]]. Before Her lies your kin's [[offering->Future Offerings]]. To one side, a proper [[cook-fire->Cook-Fire (Future)]] now burns. Near the wall, another goblin scratches marks onto a large, smooth [[tally stone->Tally Stone (Future)]]. [unless CH3Demo] *The archway leading back to the caves is closed, but the bug [[seems to be ticking slower...->Great Chamber]]* [if CH3Demo] *The archway leading back to the caves is closed, but the bug seems to be ticking... mmm... a lot slower... [[to a stop, even?->CH3 Demo End]]*

The chamber feels... different. The cavern air hums with the frantic work of your kin. [unless LastBiomeAligned == 'ExpeditionRemains'] The granite throne has vanished beneath the anchored form of [[🤍The Goddess->Future Eleanor]]. She rests surrounded by a huge, massive, insane amount of [[tribute->Future Offerings]]. A team of panting kin wedge [[moss pillows->moss pillows (Future)]] into the creases of her flesh to keep her upright on her seat. Above them, an attendant balances on the slope of her hip, aiming a carved [[horn->horn (Future)]] toward her waiting lips. [continue] [if LastBiomeAligned == 'ExpeditionRemains'] The floor is a swamp of crushed fruit. [[🤍The Goddess->Future Eleanor]] sways above the ruins of her [[tribute->Future Offerings]], kept upright by a dozen groaning attendants wedged under her hips. A panicking goblin scrambles to shove [[moss pillows->moss pillows (Future)]] beneath her trembling heels whenever she pauses. Another balances on a nearby crate, trying to angle a pouring [[horn->horn (Future)]] past her chin. [continue] *The archway leading back to the caves is closed, but the bug [[seems to be ticking slower...->Great Chamber]]*

The Great Chamber is hollow. A great, aching quiet has settled where the Goddess's voice once hummed. The air is still and tastes of dust, and even the moss-light from the walls seems weaker now, casting a sickly teal glow. Her [[great granite throne->Throne (Future)]] is just a chair, cold and empty. On the dusty flagstones before it, something small glints in the dim light: Her [[seeing-glasses->Glasses (Future)]]. And the wall behind the throne... now you can see it. The [[sacred carvings->Prophecy Wall (Future)]] are fully visible, no longer hidden. *Turning around, you can see that the entrance of the chamber has been blocked off by a [[pile of debris->Pile of Debris (Future)]].* [if ProphecySeen; inventory for GoldenBug] [[The bug shivers...->Great Chamber]] [continue]

The chamber feels different. It is magnificent! The air is thick with the rich smell of meals being readied, making your mouth water the very second you breathe it in. Dominating the center of the room - looking so, so soft - is [[🤍The Goddess->Future Eleanor]]. A stream of kin hurries to lay out the [[offering->Future Offerings]] at Her feet. To the side, several sweaty cooks argue over a massive [[preparation table->Table (Future)]]. Near the dais, a number of attendants swing [[huge leaf fans->Heavy Fans (Future)]]. *The archway leading back to the caves is closed, but the bug [[seems to be ticking slower...->Great Chamber]]*

The chamber feels... different. A small, makeshift [[spit-roast->Makeshift Spit-Roast (Future)]] crackles near the center, its smoke curling up into the gloom. The air is warmer now, carrying the scent of roasting meat and something sweet. [[🤍The Goddess->Future Eleanor]] stands overseeing her kin. Before Her lies your kin's [[offering->Future Offerings]]. A few hunters are gathered around a [[sharpening stone->Sharpening Stone (Future)]], tending to their blades. [unless FirstTimeReturn] *The archway leading back to the caves is closed, but the bug [[seems to be ticking slower...->Great Chamber - First Time Return]]* [if FirstTimeReturn] *The archway leading back to the caves is closed, but the bug [[seems to be ticking slower...->Great Chamber]]* [note] All around, [[your kin->Future Goblins] move with a newfound energy. We need to implement this at some point, but I'm still unsure at our current set of goblins. It'll have to written and added to this passage later. Edit: perhaps it's best not to? It doesn't seem particularly necessary, there's already a lot of passages in these future chambers. [continue]

[if GoddessWeightGained == 'NONE'] {embed passage: 'Future Chamber - Stage NONE'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'PLUMP'] {embed passage: 'Future Chamber - Stage PLUMP'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'FAT'] {embed passage: 'Future Chamber - Stage FAT'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'OBESE'] {embed passage: 'Future Chamber - Stage OBESE'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'ALMOST IMMOBILE'] {embed passage: 'Future Chamber - Stage ALMOST IMMOBILE'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'IMMOBILE'] {embed passage: 'Future Chamber - Stage IMMOBILE'} [continue]

[if GoddessWeightGained == 'PLUMP'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'SlimeCaverns'] You watch as the Goddess sets her piece of chalk on the smooth slate with a heavy sigh, ending a lesson to seek the cool relief of the floor. The dense sugar of Bouba's harvest has clearly left its mark on her stamina; it's hard to put your finger on it, but her movements look a little more sluggish than before. She lowers her newly rounded frame onto the stone, leaning her shoulders back against a stack of moss pillows. Her white gown pulls tight across her middle as she settles, the fabric straining against the slosh of her stomach. With a soft grunt, she parts the dress down the center, freeing her belly to rest comfortably between - and onto - her thighs. A waiting attendant quickly steps in behind her shoulder, tilting a flask-gourd to pour a thick stream of slime directly into her parted lips. She drinks it down in slow, greedy gulps, the heavy jelly settling low in her gut. *Your actions had their consequences, and clearly you are on the right path!* But it's not enough. More of the caverns back in the present need to realize her divine right to rule. More offerings. *More Goddess!* {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/Goddess Stage SlimeCaverns.png', side: 'right', push: '300px', scale: '0.75'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'FAT' || GoddessWeightGained == 'OBESE' || GoddessWeightGained == 'ALMOST IMMOBILE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'SlimeCaverns'] The Goddess has abandoned her great granite throne to recline across the cavern floor. Her shoulders sink into a stack of moss pillows, and her sheer white gown is pushed to the sides, leaving her pale, heavy torso bared to the air. Her belly dominates the rest of her - a vast, spherical mound resting its lower curve across the leather and across her thighs, while her heavy breasts settle atop its upper slope. She tilts her head back, her round seeing-glasses sitting high on her nose as her eyes flutter shut in syrupy bliss. Right behind her shoulder, an attendant pours a continuous, thick stream of bright green slime from their gourd-flask directly into Her open lips. She rests her doughy hands limply against the cushions while her throat works in a steady, wet rhythm. The shimmering jelly overflows her mouth regardless, tracing a bright green river down her cleavage and pooling into a wide, glowing puddle right across the center of her stomach before dripping away. You frown slightly at the spilled green puddle on her gut - such a waste of perfectly good slime! Damn... someone ought to lick that clean... {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/Goddess Stage SlimeCaverns.png', side: 'right', push: '300px', scale: '0.75'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'IMMOBILE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'SlimeCaverns'] You watch your Goddess anchored to the stone floor as her colossal mass flattening the dark leather moss pillows shoved behind both her shoulders and ass. Her belly is now a magnificent, sloshing sphere that swallows her lap and spreads outward to bury her thick thighs, while her swollen breasts rest heavily upon its upper slope. The sheer, endless volume of Bouba's sweet harvest has transformed her; the skin across the upper dome of her overstuffed gut is stretched so thin and tight that it has taken on a faint, translucent green hue from the gallons of jelly churning beneath the surface. She lies there with her head tilted back, caught in a sticky stupor while her attendants work in a strict, continuous rotation. As one feeder empties their flask-gourd into her open mouth, another steps up immediately behind them, struggling to stand on tiptoes and lean precariously over the sloping shelf of her shoulder just to maintain the flow. To survive such constant bounty requires its own divine rhythm. Every few minutes, your Goddess raises a single, heavy finger - the gourd is left just inches from her lips. She takes three deep, ragged breaths through her nose, allowing the thick jelly in her throat to slide down before a profound, bubbling belch echoes up from her green-tinted depths. The release sends a heavy, liquid wobble right across the entirety of her stomach, and the moment she drops her finger back, the pouring immediately resumes. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/Goddess Stage SlimeCaverns.png', side: 'right', push: '300px', scale: '0.75'} [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'PLUMP'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'FungalPlains'] The Goddess sits heavily upon her star-stone throne, as if holding court over a room thick with the scent of roasted game and savory spice. She looks to have just ended one of her lessons. You're surprised: the tribute of the plains has made itself known, leaving a glistening sheen of sweat across her flushed cheeks and collarbones. To cool herself, she has tugged the white fabric of her gown down off her shoulders, leaving her pale chest bared to the warmer cavern air. You let out a giggle: nestled in her messy honey-blonde hair is a dark, crescent-shaped crown. Those kin clearly gifted it to her along with their harvest, treating her like a new Big-Maw! That's just ridiculous - she's a Goddess, not a queen. You can tell she looks a bit sheepish about the whole affair, but she certainly doesn't refuse the massive, dripping haunch of meat she wields in one hand like a royal scepter. You watch with a smile on your face as she takes a messy bite of the roast. *Your actions had their consequences, and clearly you are on the right path!* But it's not enough. More of the caverns back in the present need to realize her divine right to rule. More offerings. *More Goddess!* {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/Goddess Stage FungalPlains.png', side: 'right', push: '320px', scale: '0.75'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'FAT' || GoddessWeightGained == 'OBESE' || GoddessWeightGained == 'ALMOST IMMOBILE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'FungalPlains'] The Goddess looks as if she's ruling her court from the great granite throne, her heavy and flushed form overflowing the wide stone seat. Her white gown hangs uselessly at her sides, pushed out of the way by the outward swell of her stomach. It is a magnificent, two-tiered boulder of meat-fed fat: a drum-tight upper half that juts forward, resting upon a wider, slacker lower apron of flesh spreading between her thighs. Her heavy breasts settle right atop the upper slope, her pale skin dotted with beads of sweat. You let out a giggle: nestled in her messy honey-blonde hair is a dark, crescent-shaped crown. Those kin clearly gifted it to her along with their harvest, treating her like a new Big-Maw! That's just ridiculous - she's a Goddess, not a queen. Though she does play the part well, what with her holding a dripping bone of roasted meat high in one hand while smiling down with a sheepish, glazed expression at the farm-hand kneeling before her. They're holding up a wooden platter, their head bowed low before her immense bulk... perhaps too low? You see that, try as the Goddess might, she can't actually see them with her belly in the way. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/Goddess Stage FungalPlains.png', side: 'right', push: '320px', scale: '0.75'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'IMMOBILE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'FungalPlains'] The star-stone throne has been crushed beneath her, swallowed up by a colossal backside and belly that pins her to the dais. The Goddess has clearly enjoyed the tribute of the plains. Her belly has expanded so much that it traps her tree-trunk legs wide apart, the lower apron sucked into its back rolls. The heat radiating from her body is... well you can feel it from afar. Her skin looks to be slick with a constant, heavy layer of grease and sweat pooling in the deep valleys of her chest and neck. You let out a giggle: nestled in the damp tangle of her hair is a dark, crescent-shaped crown. Yeah. Yeah, *why not!* A proper crown for the biggest Queen these caverns have ever seen! She still grips the massive, dripping bone in one hand, but the arm is far too thick and heavy to lift it to her mouth anymore. Instead, she simply rests the meat against the vast, sloping shelf of her upper stomach, her eyes half-closed in a savory stupor. When she parts her lips with a breathless pant, the kneeling gatherer before her doesn't wait for a command. They scramble forward on their knees, climb the throne's stone, and pluck the glossy red mushrooms from their wooden platter one by one, placing them onto her waiting tongue. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/Goddess Stage FungalPlains.png', side: 'right', push: '320px', scale: '0.75'} [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'PLUMP'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'HuntingGrounds'] The Goddess kneels upon the stone floor right before the congregation, turning today's lesson into a grand demonstration of the hunt. Suspended from the ceiling above her by thick ropes hangs one of the massive, bleached skulls of the Many-Mouths. She holds a sky-walker glass up to her eye, squinting through the clear disc at the beast's rows of jagged teeth while pointing a finger toward the bone's jaw. You tilt your head, baffled by what she could possibly be looking at up there. The bone has already been picked clean of all its good gristle! Surely there is nothing left to chew on...? As she kneels, her much, much rounder belly pushes forward into her lap. But is it also a full belly? While one hand holds the looking-disc to study the skull, she keeps her other hand open, gesturing blindly toward an attendant standing near her with a large stack of ribs. *Wise!* Very wise. *Your actions had their consequences, and clearly you are on the right path!* But it's not enough. More of the caverns back in the present need to realize her divine right to rule. More offerings. *More Goddess!* {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/Goddess Stage HuntingGrounds.png', side: 'right', push: '420px', scale: '0.9'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'FAT' || GoddessWeightGained == 'OBESE' || GoddessWeightGained == 'ALMOST IMMOBILE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'HuntingGrounds'] The Goddess kneels upon the cavern floor beneath a hanging skull of the Many-Mouths suspended from the ceiling ropes. She has abandoned her seat, preferring instead to kneel back on her shins, with her stomach forced outward - a heavy, wedged sphere of fat that grounds itself on the stone and angles her upper torso backward. Her white gown hangs parted down the center, leaving her heavy breasts bare and to the sides. You watch as she holds a brass-rimmed looking-glass up to one eye, peering intently at the suspended jawbones of the beast. You wrinkle your nose in confusion. Why is she spending her time squinting at bleached bone? And why this bone in particular? There's so many bones around...? Whatever ancient secret she searches for, her appetite remains sharp. She holds her other hand out to the side without taking her eye off the glass, her fingers wiggling expectantly until a standing attendant steps in to gift a heavy stack of dripping, fat-marbled ribs right against her palm. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/Goddess Stage HuntingGrounds.png', side: 'right', push: '420px', scale: '0.9'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'IMMOBILE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'HuntingGrounds'] The Goddess is kneeling beneath the suspended skull of the Many-Mouths - her posture seems to have become a permanent feature of the room. She is anchored to the stone, her folded legs trapped beneath the immovable boulder of her own stomach. The meat-heavy diet has forged a belly so solid and heavy that it flattens itself directly against the floor tiles, pushing her torso up and back. Her white gown is reduced to a sweat-damp rag caught beneath her belly and thighs, leaving her massive chest exposed. You watch as she holds a brass-rimmed looking-glass up to one eye, peering intently at the suspended jawbones of the beast. You wrinkle your nose in confusion. Why is she spending her time squinting at bleached bone? And why this bone in particular? Well, if she's stuck to the floor she might have gotten bored... but surely she can be lifted back onto the throne! Ten of your kin ought to be able to. Maybe fifteen. *Maybe*. Despite how utterly full she looks, her free hand hangs out to her side, hinting at a nearby attendant carrying ribs to step closer. Seeing how breathless and heavy her Goddess has become... and with how much frenzy she tears into the offered meat is... something else. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/Goddess Stage HuntingGrounds.png', side: 'right', push: '420px', scale: '0.9'} [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'PLUMP'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'SunlessFields'] You watch the Goddess pause her lesson to waddle over to the heavy wooden table where the baked tribute is laid out. The diet of breads and sweet-syrups from the outlanders has softened her entirely, puffing her cheeks out into a soft pout. She leans forward to grab a pastry, and you watch her white gown strain as her newly softened belly presses onto the table's edge. She seems... in a mood today. Easily bored, maybe? With one hand she reaches for a bun, while her other hand holds a wooden tankard of pale-brew. She isn't even looking at it, letting it tilt lazily backward. A splash of the frothy liquid spills out, landing right on the head of a nearby attendant. She remains totally absorbed in chewing her sweet-bread with a half-lidded, annoyed expression, offering no apology to the wet kin. You stifle a laugh; serves him right for standing too close to her holy drink! *Your actions had their consequences, and clearly you are on the right path!* But it's not enough. More of the caverns back in the present need to realize her divine right to rule. More offerings. *More Goddess!* {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/Goddess Stage SunlessFields.png', side: 'left', push: '360px', scale: '0.84'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'FAT' || GoddessWeightGained == 'OBESE' || GoddessWeightGained == 'ALMOST IMMOBILE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'SunlessFields'] You watch the Goddess as she leans heavily over a long preparation table, using the dark wood to support the doughy mass of her front. The heavy starches have transformed her into a state of divine, pillowy comfort. Her massive belly doesn't form a single tight dome. Maybe it would given enough liquid bread! But now it spills forward in soft rolls that settle directly across the tabletop, burying loaves of root-bread and crushing spilled pastries beneath her pale weight. She looks a little frustrated as her left hand struggles to reach anything on the table below her. You watch, wide-eyed, as she tips the tankard she's holding backward, without a single glance. A thick stream of frothy pale-brew pours directly onto the head of an attendant sitting on a stool below her. *HA!* Teaches him to sit this close to her drink. The Goddess doesn't seem to have noticed - she simply continues her lazy reach, entirely unbothered by the sticky mess she's making. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/Goddess Stage SunlessFields.png', side: 'left', push: '360px', scale: '0.84'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'IMMOBILE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'SunlessFields'] The Goddess is effectively pinned to the preparation table, and you wonder whether her legs are even able to support her now monumental bulk without the heavy wood taking the brunt of her weight. She leans far over it, spreading across the surface like rising yeast with her massive, pale rolls flattening entire trays of baked tribute and absorbing the spills into her own sweaty skin. Her round face sports a deep double chin and a permanent, bratty scowl. She looks utterly spoiled, demanding that someone get her something. To be fair, she can't really reach anything with her belly in the way... You watch as she tips the tankard she's holding backward, without a single glance. A thick stream of frothy pale-brew pours directly onto the head of an attendant sitting on a stool below her. *HA!* Teaches him to sit this close to her drink. The Goddess only seems to notice as she goes for a sip and finds her mead gone. A whine is all that is required for the soaked attendant to get the hint and scramble to find her some more. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/Goddess Stage SunlessFields.png', side: 'left', push: '360px', scale: '0.84'} [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'PLUMP'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'ExpeditionRemains'] The Goddess is on her feet near the center of the chamber, though she sways heavily on her bare toes. A blissed-out smile spreads across her flushed face as she raises a glass of dark wine-sap high in the air, spilling purple drops all down her arm and over the front of her white gown. The sugary liquid has plumped her middle nicely, pushing her dress out into a round, sloshing dome. She takes a clumsy step forward, giggling to herself, but her balance completely fails her. Before she can topple face-first onto the stone floor, two watchful attendants scramble right underneath her front, wedging their shoulders directly beneath the bottom curve of her belly just in time to prop her back upright. Heroes, both of them! She doesn't even notice the close call, happily taking another deep gulp of the sweet booze while they groan below her. *Your actions had their consequences, and clearly you are on the right path!* But it's not enough. More of the caverns back in the present need to realize her divine right to rule. More offerings. *More Goddess!* {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/Goddess Stage ExpeditionRemains.png', side: 'right', push: '200px', scale: '0.9'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'FAT' || GoddessWeightGained == 'OBESE' || GoddessWeightGained == 'ALMOST IMMOBILE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'ExpeditionRemains'] The Goddess insists on taking a waddle through the chamber, completely ignoring the fact that her body has grown far too heavy to be doing so without help. To manage her drunken stroll toward another basin of wine-sap, two sturdy kin walk back-to-back directly in front of her, their shoulders and backs wedged deep beneath the spherical overhang of her sloshing belly to act as a living shelf with every clumsy step she takes. As they hoist the immense weight upward to relieve her straining back, the sticky, stained remains of her white gown are hauled right up with it, bunching awkwardly around her waist. The lift exposes... well. Her thighs are forced far apart by her girth, but your attention is drawn more to the plump, pale swell of her womanhood and her dimpled backside. She pays the exposure no mind, entirely lost in her giddy stupor as she toasts the air with an overflowing glass of purple sap, letting out a bubbly hiccup that shakes her entire frame. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/Goddess Stage ExpeditionRemains.png', side: 'right', push: '200px', scale: '0.9'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'IMMOBILE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'ExpeditionRemains'] The entire floor around the dais has become a sticky, purple swamp of crushed fruit and spilled sap. And yet, despite carrying enough bulk to rival the granite throne itself, the Goddess stubbornly refuses to sit down! She wants to sway to the splashing of the nectar, tilting her head back in a drunken haze while raising her wine-glass high. The two attendants wedged beneath the colossal swell of her belly are trembling violently, their knees buckling as they fight to keep the sloshing mountain from crushing them flat into the muck. Right behind the Goddess's exposed, dimpled backside, a third gatherer - you can only assume she's in charge of her ass - waves her arm, calling out to the rest of the chamber for immediate assistance. You watch half a dozen more inebriated kin drop their baskets and rush into the purple swamp, pressing their hands and shoulders right against her pale thighs and heavy bottom just to keep her upright while she giggles and drinks. It warms your heart to see your Goddess so happy. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/Goddess Stage ExpeditionRemains.png', side: 'right', push: '200px', scale: '0.9'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'PLUMP'] {link to: 'Future Chamber - Stage PLUMP', label: 'Back'} [if GoddessWeightGained == 'FAT'] {link to: 'Future Chamber - Stage FAT', label: 'Back'} [if GoddessWeightGained == 'OBESE'] {link to: 'Future Chamber - Stage OBESE', label: 'Back'} [if GoddessWeightGained == 'ALMOST IMMOBILE'] {link to: 'Future Chamber - Stage ALMOST IMMOBILE', label: 'Back'} [if GoddessWeightGained == 'IMMOBILE'] {link to: 'Future Chamber - Stage IMMOBILE', label: 'Back'}

[if GoddessWeightGained == 'PLUMP'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'SlimeCaverns'] At the base of the throne, a cluster of hollowed-out gourds sits arranged in a neat semi-circle, filled to the brim with the translucent green slime. A wooden ladle rests in the largest one, coated in a thick, sweet-smelling residue. It is a modest, but steady supply. Your eyes linger on a drop of slime sliding down the side of a gourd. *Would She notice if just one lick went missing?* No. Bad Leika. But... maybe just a little finger-dip? *No!* Stoppit. It's for her. [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'PLUMP'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'FungalPlains'] Spread out on fresh palm-fungus leaves are woven baskets overflowing with the harvest. Grilled red-caps, their gills glistening with oil, sit beside neat stacks of smoked lizard-jerky. The scent of woodsmoke and savory spice hangs pleasantly in the air. It smells exactly like you remember it. Better, actually. There isn't a single burnt piece in the pile - good. Sure, she *could* have gone through the charred remains of Big-Maw's tributes, but really now... Her Holiness deserves only the perfect cuts. [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'PLUMP'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'HuntingGrounds'] A single, massive haunch of meat rests on the spit-roast, its pale, fatty skin crackling as it turns over the coals. The meat is so tender it threatens to fall from the bone, and the fat that drips and sizzles in the fire fills the chamber with a rich, intoxicating smell. Your warren's pathetic burnt grubs are gone. This is a true hunter's offering. A meal fit for a Goddess who is learning the meaning of a proper feast - *your own stomach growls in sympathy.* [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'PLUMP'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'SunlessFields'] Resting on flat, heated stones are several round, puffy loaves of pale bread, still steaming in the cool cave air. Their thick crusts are scored with the holy V-mark - a nice decoration, you must say - and glisten with a heavy brush of melted fat. It puts the warren's usual gritty, hard-baked root-loaves to absolute shame. The smell of sweet yeast and warm dough is intoxicating. You can easily imagine how soft the inside must be... perfect for soaking up rich stews, or just eating by the handful. [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'PLUMP'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'ExpeditionRemains'] A bed of wide, soft leaves has been laid out at the base of the throne. Heaped upon it are those massive, bruised-purple fruits from the thicket. They are so incredibly overripe that their own weight crushes the ones at the bottom of the pile, bleeding a dark, sweet juice all over the stone. Between them sit smaller cave-figs, sliced wide open to show off their glittering, wet seeds. It smells like a hot summer day in the upper caves. You catch yourself staring at a sticky bead of nectar hanging from a rind. *Agh!* You furiously wipe your chin. You are a holy servant, not a starving kit! But still... it looks so much better than the dry root-loaves of the warren. [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'FAT'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'SlimeCaverns'] You stand at the side of heavy clay amphorae that are waist-high to you. They are unsealed, and the thick, green jelly wells up over the rims, ready for Her to dip her fingers in whenever the fancy strikes. Sticky puddles are forming on the stone where she drips. It's a bit messy, isn't it? Someone should really clean that up before she slips... or before the ants find it. Actually, you wouldn't mind cleaning it up. With a spoon. Or your tongue. [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'FAT'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'FungalPlains'] A whole roasted cave-lizard, glazed in dark sauce and still steaming, dominates the offering space. It's flanked by mounds of buttery mashed tubers and a tower of flatbreads. Grease from the roast pools on the platter, dripping rhythmically onto the stone floor. *Pat... pat... pat...* It's a beautiful sound. The lizard still has its claws on, though. You wince. Hopefully, She doesn't mind the crunch as much as the false queen did. She looks like she has a stronger jaw, anyway. Hopefully. [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'FAT'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'HuntingGrounds'] The single spit-roast has been replaced by a proper cook-fire pit, over which hang several massive cuts of meat in various stages of preparation. One is being seared, its fat popping loudly. Another, already cooked, rests on a bed of palm-leaves, its dark juices pooling around it. At the side, a young hunter is polishing one of the Hydra's horn-like skull plates until it shines like polished bone. He keeps glancing toward the throne, clearly hoping She'll notice his work. *Show-off.* Besides, he should know that she cares only for the food at hand! [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'FAT'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'SunlessFields'] Towering wooden racks stand near the throne, heavy with dense, elaborate baked goods. There are thick, braided breads stuffed with mashed cave-berries, and massive, deep-dish pies filled to the brim with rendered fat and savory fungi. The sheer density of the food is staggering, and the smell of sweet yeast and warm dough fills the air. A single slice of that thick, pale dough looks heavy enough to sink right to the bottom of a goblin's stomach and stay there for a week. A truly efficient way to build holy bulk! [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'FAT'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'ExpeditionRemains'] The stone floor near the throne is partially hidden beneath a beautiful mess of peeled fruits and candied tubers. Woven baskets sag under the weight of sugary preserves, so heavy that the juice oozes right through the woven fibers and coats the floor in a slick, fragrant glaze. To the side, several hollowed-out gourds brim with a dark, bubbling wine-sap. A heavy, intoxicating mist rises from them, making your ears feel warm and your head spin slightly just from standing near it. You watch a gatherer dip a wooden spoon into the jelly and carry it toward the throne, a long, shiny thread of sweetness trailing behind him, and you do feel a sudden urge to dive forward and catch the falling drops on your tongue. [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'OBESE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'SlimeCaverns'] A low, wide table has been dragged before the throne, serving as a dedicated staging ground. It holds a massive basin of slime, from which Grizel dutifully refills the smaller bowls he offers to Her. The supply is constant. You watch a team of carriers haul a fresh vat in from the tunnels, their arms straining. *Heave! Heave!* Good work lads. Keep it coming. If that bowl stays empty for more than a heartbeat, heads should roll. [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'OBESE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'FungalPlains'] The space before the throne has become a larder. Crates of smoked meats are stacked haphazardly, creating an actually wall of abundance. In the center, a massive iron cauldron rests on a portable brazier, bubbling with a thick, fatty stew that smells of bone marrow and rich earth. The heat from the brazier is intense. Is it too hot for Her? You see beads of sweat on Her divine forehead. Maybe you should fan Her? Or maybe the heat helps the digestion? Yes, like a cook-pot for the belly. Smart. [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'OBESE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'HuntingGrounds'] The offerings have multiplied. This is in part the fault of the permanent butchering station that has been set up near the cook-fire. There, two kin work constantly, carving the endless supply of meat from the Many-Mouths into manageable steaks and roasts. Racks of ribs, still sizzling, are stacked like firewood. A huge clay pot bubbles with rendered fat - the floor is slick with it. Your head spins with the sheer, meaty reality of it all. [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'OBESE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'SunlessFields'] Several heavy wooden carts are parked right at the base of the dais, overflowing with giant, golden loaves of pale bread. Beside them sit wide, shallow bowls filled with soft, puffy buns soaking in a thick, golden sweet-sap tapped from the deep cavern roots. To the side, several large clay jugs leak a thick, yellow froth that smells strongly of fermented grain, ready to wash the heavy dough down. The air is so thick with the smell of warm yeast and alcohol that you can almost taste it on your tongue. It puts the warren's usual hard-baked root-bread to absolute shame. This is the kind of heavy, expanding food that guarantees true, unyielding divinity! [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'OBESE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'ExpeditionRemains'] A number of massive clay basins, salvaged from the ruins, line the dais. They are filled to the brim with a thick, fermented nectar that sloshes over the rims whenever a clumsy kin dumps another basket of crushed berries into the mix. Soaked figs are piled high, sending sticky fruit tumbling under everyone's feet. You watch a porter squish one flat beneath his heel without even breaking stride, kicking the mashed pulp aside. *So careless!* Such a waste. But nobody even scolds him. There is simply too much sugar and wine-sap flowing into the chamber to care about a few ruined snacks. The air reeks so strongly of booze and rich rot that it makes you feel giddy. [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'ALMOST IMMOBILE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'SlimeCaverns'] Piles of bloated, bulging skins are stacked like cordwood near the throne. They are filled to bursting with the green slime, the leather stretched tight. Two of your kin are constantly busy, grabbing a fresh skin, unstopping it, and rushing it to Her waiting lips. It's an efficient system. Grab, pour, discard. Grab, pour, discard. But look at that one dropping the empty skin! There was still a squeeze left in that! *Wasteful!* You feel the urge to go down there and wring it out yourself. Every drop counts! [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'ALMOST IMMOBILE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'FungalPlains'] A full roasting spit has been set up on the dais itself, mere inches from Her reach, where a whole boar turns slowly over smokeless coals. The skin crackles and pops, weeping hot fat. Attendants stand ready with long carving knives, slicing strips of dripping meat directly from the carcass to Her plate. It's a ceaseless cycle of carving and consuming. The boar is shrinking, but Her Holiness is growing. A fair trade. [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'ALMOST IMMOBILE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'HuntingGrounds'] The offerings have spread to become part of the throne itself. A wall of massive, bleached-white Hydra skulls now forms a semi-circle behind the granite seat, their empty eye sockets staring out into the chamber. The largest horns have been draped with garlands of cave-flowers. Between them, racks of cured and smoked meats have been built directly into the structure, within arm's reach of the attendants. It is a throne of bone and bounty! The beast now fuels Her ascension wholly! [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'ALMOST IMMOBILE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'SunlessFields'] The space before the throne has been transformed into a massive dough-kitchen and brewery. A literal wall of stacked, steaming bread-loaves curves around the dais, but the intoxicating scent of sweet yeast is now cut by the sharp, heavy smell of fermenting pale-wheat. Attendants are constantly at work, not just slicing open puffy buns to ladle fat into them, but rolling up massive, sloshing wooden barrels. A thick, golden froth spills over their rims - a heavy, sleep-inducing brew meant to wash down the endless starch. Some sort of... liquid bread. The sheer volume of food and drink is honestly overwhelming. [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'ALMOST IMMOBILE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'ExpeditionRemains'] The space before the throne has turned into a sprawling, messy feast. Woven mats are completely buried under bursting cave-figs, split melons, and dripping honeycombs. Wide basins of dark purple wine-sap sit everywhere, their rims sticky with spilled nectar. The attendants don't even stand to serve anymore! They lounge lazily against soft piles of overripe fruit, lazily popping plump, syrup-soaked berries into wooden bowls. The sweet, heavy stench of fermentation makes your head swim. A few kin are simply asleep among the rinds, their faces stained purple. *Amateurs.* You'd never pass out with so much left to drink. [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'IMMOBILE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'SlimeCaverns'] A massive, open vat stands beside the throne, constantly replenished by a bucket-brigade of your kin. This is the reservoir for the great funnel. The attendants work with grim focus, dipping large pitchers into the vat and pouring the slime into the horn held to Her mouth. It never stops. The level in the vat barely dips before another bucket is dumped in. It's magnificent. It's... terrifying? No. No, it's glorious. Definitely glorious. [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'IMMOBILE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'FungalPlains'] She is walled in by gluttony. Stacks of cured hams, wheels of cheese, and sacks of grain have been piled around Her immobile form, forming a literal fortress of fat that obscures the lower half of the throne, and allows her a place to rest her legs. Attendants climb over the food-walls like ants, passing choice cuts to the feeders at the center. It's a nest. A soft, edible nest for the mother of us all. You have a sudden, wild urge to burrow into that pile of hams and just... hibernate. Would She mind a permanent neighbor? All of that food, from all possible sides... [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'IMMOBILE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'HuntingGrounds'] The chamber is a smokehouse. The air is thick and heavy, saturated with the smell of rendered fat and curing meat. Racks, hundreds of them, fill the space, hung with thick sides of Many-Mouths-bacon and long, greasy sausages. The offerings are simply *there*. Part of the whole. The attendants move through the haze, their knives constantly at work, carving, seasoning - smoking. You wonder why they are doing it *inside* the chamber instead of outside. Perhaps she is just that needy of a Goddess, now? The thought excites you. The sound of their work is a constant, steady rhythm beneath the divine sounds coming from the throne. [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'IMMOBILE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'SunlessFields'] The chamber looks more like a grand flour-hoard than a throne room. Sacks of fine white powder are piled halfway to the ceiling, and the heat from a nearby bank of stone ovens makes the air shimmer. The offerings themselves are monstrous: entire cakes wider than a goblin's arm-span, vast troughs of soft, underbaked dough enriched with whipped marrow, and huge, open vats of thick, bubbling pale-wheat brew. The combined smell of warm yeast and heavy alcohol is overpowering, thick enough to make you feel dizzy and full just by breathing. [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'IMMOBILE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'ExpeditionRemains'] The entire floor around the dais has become a sticky, purple swamp of crushed fruit and spilled sap. There are no neat baskets or platters anymore - just mountainous heaps of split fruit and dripping honeycombs left to ferment in the sweltering heat. The attendants are mostly useless, draped over the sugary mounds in drunken, snoring heaps. The few who are still awake simply do so to drag entire vines of bruised berries through the mess, leaving a trail of thick nectar behind them. You wrinkle your nose at the overwhelming, dizzying stench of booze and sugar. What a disgraceful, lazy hoard! But... as a puddle of thick golden syrup creeps toward your boot... part of you would very much like to join in on the fun. [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'PLUMP'] {link to: 'Future Chamber - Stage PLUMP', label: 'Back'} [if GoddessWeightGained == 'FAT'] {link to: 'Future Chamber - Stage FAT', label: 'Back'} [if GoddessWeightGained == 'OBESE'] {link to: 'Future Chamber - Stage OBESE', label: 'Back'} [if GoddessWeightGained == 'ALMOST IMMOBILE'] {link to: 'Future Chamber - Stage ALMOST IMMOBILE', label: 'Back'} [if GoddessWeightGained == 'IMMOBILE'] {link to: 'Future Chamber - Stage IMMOBILE', label: 'Back'}

You heft the heavy metal jaw, marching right up to the thick kingdom gate. You raise the tool and bring it crashing down against one of the rusty iron bands. *CLANG!* The deafening noise echoes painfully in the cavern, stinging your ears. You hear a startled shout from whoever is on the other side, followed by the shuffling of heavy boots. The iron band on the gate sports a shiny new dent, but the thick fungus-wood planks remain completely solid. Banging on their front door is fun, but clearly they are too cowardly to reply, and it's definitely not getting you inside. {link to: 'gate', label: 'Back'}

You hold the fire to the heavy iron band near the lock. The metal warms up, turning a dull grey where the soot burns off. The wood around it blackens slightly. But the gate is thick, and the lock is on the other side. You'd need something like a bonfire to burn through this, not a spark-box. {link to: 'gate', label: 'Back'}

GateQuillSlid: true -- The stick and paper flatten themselves against the floor. Like liquid, they slide right under the gap at the bottom of the gate! You gasp, pressing your eye to the crack. You see them float up on the other side, do a little spin in the air, and then... slide right back out to you. They just hover there. Smug. Content with themselves. They don't even have a message or anything like that, they just felt like checking the other side a bit. You quickly catch them out of the air and angrily swat them back into the satchel. {link to: 'gate', label: 'Back'}

You try to thread the wire through the crack between the planks. Maybe you can cut the bar on the other side? You wiggle it in and it catches! You pull. The wire grinds against the iron binding of the gate. *Skreee.* You... well, this is a really akward motion. You can't get a good angle. And even if you cut that bar... isn't there another one on the other side? And a guard standing right there? Yeah. Not going to work. {link to: 'gate', label: 'Back'}

The wide, packed-earth path ends here, at a wall of solid rock that seals the cavern. Set into the rock is a heavy [[⛩️gate->gate]] made of thick, dark fungus-wood bound with strips of iron. You can hear the faint murmur of voices from the other side, but you can't make out any words. Beside the path, a crude [[warning totem]] has been driven into the ground, its painted face scowling out at the open plains. The only way available to you here is [[🍄back->Fungal Plains Hub]].

You creep closer to the strange, green jelly-box. It doesn't move. It doesn't bubble. It doesn't even jiggle. It just... sits there, a perfect, silent square of slime in the middle of the cavern floor, the moss-light shining right through it. You circle it slowly. It's so... clean. No lumps, no drips. The corners are sharp, not soft and rounded like they should be. It's the most un-slimy slime you have ever seen. Not only that, it's *huge*! Being careful not to fall into the hot slime, you get on your tippy toes and reach out a hesitant hand, your fingers trembling slightly. Is this... a holy thing? Or just... wrong? Your fingertip touches the surface. It's... warm, giving just a little, like a firm grub-belly. [[The cube shudders.->Gelatinous Cube Reshaping 1]]

SlimeGirlsGathered: false SlimeGirlsGathered (SlimeGirlNorthMoved && SlimeGirlEastMoved && SlimeGirlWestMoved): true -- [unless SlimeGirlsGathered; if SlimePressState == 'inactive'] You scramble up the few shallow steps onto the dais. The black stone is smooth and cold under your boots, completely different from the slick, slimy cavern floor. Up close, the hanging blocks are... well, *huge!* Much taller than you, and twice as wide. They are made of the same cold, black stone as the platform, and they hang from the high ceiling on thick, black chains that look like twisted iron roots. They just... hang there. One high, one low, with a big empty space between them. There are no levers to pull, no wheels to turn. Just stone and chain. What a strange thing. Maybe the Before-Time folk started building something and got bored? {link to: 'Slime Caverns Hub', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if SlimeGirlsGathered; if SlimePressState == 'inactive'] You scramble up the few shallow steps onto the dais. Something is different. A low, deep hum vibrates up from the black stone, making the soles of your feet tingle. The change isn't just the sound. Carved into the very center of the dais, where before there was only smooth stone, a symbol now glows with a faint, internal teal light. It's a 'V' shape, nestled in the curve of a larger, rounded form. How did you not notice the carving the first time around? Well, there's plenty of ancient things from Before-Time folk lying around, with carvings all over the place. Still, you're pretty sure it wasn't... active before. [[Is it active?->Gelatinous Cube Press Activation 1]] [continue] [if SlimePressState == 'activated'] You step up to the dais. The massive black stone blocks have descended, locking perfectly together to form a solid, seamless box in the center of the platform. Green slime drips sluggishly from the seams where the heavy stone faces meet. {link to: 'Slime Caverns Hub', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if SlimePressState == 'shaped'] You step onto the dais. The massive blocks hang high above in the darkness again, motionless. The glowing 'V' symbol carved into the floor has completely faded out, leaving the black stone cold and dormant once more. The machine's strange work looks to be done... {link to: 'Slime Caverns Hub', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if SlimePressState == 'inactive'; if MetalGearTaken; inventory for MetalGear] [[What if...?->Press Gear Cutscene]] [continue] [if SlimePressState == 'inactive'; if QuillAndPaperFound; if SlimeGirlsGathered; inventory for QuillAndPaper] [[The stick twitches...->Press Quill Cutscene]] [continue]

You take a hesitant step forward, your eyes fixed on the pulsing teal light. Your foot, still slick with green goo, lands squarely in the center of the carving. [[A jolt, sharp and cold, shoots up your leg.->Gelatinous Cube Press Activation 1.5]]

The teal symbol flares, impossibly bright, and you throw a hand over your eyes with a yelp, stumbling back. The low hum doesn't just get louder; it tears itself into a deep, groaning **RRRRUMMMBLE** that comes from the guts of the cavern itself. The dais shudders, a bone-rattling vibration that makes your teeth chatter in your skull. Panic, sharp and cold, seizes you. *You broke it! You broke and made it mad!* As you look up, scrambling away from the glowing symbol, you see the thick, root-like chains high in the darkness lurching into motion. Dust and small pebbles rain down, pattering on your head as the massive black blocks begin to move, though [[not in your direction.->Gelatinous Cube Press Activation 2]]

The blocks above swing. Ponderously, they begin to travel along some unseen track in the cavern's high ceiling. With each lurching movement, the massive chains groan, their thick links popping with tension. A great shadow sweeps across the cavern as the blocks pass overhead, eclipsing the soft moss-light. You watch, frozen, as they drift directly over the central pool. Down below, the three Green Ladies look up from their chaotic splashing. One of them waves. With a final, deafening **CLANG**, the blocks lock into place, hanging motionless. *Uh oh.* You shout and wave about, trying to get their attention, trying to get them away from [[*the giant, obviously deadly block standing right on top of-*->Gelatinous Cube Press Activation 3]]

As the top block falls, the bottom of the pool rises. The slime churns, parting as another perfectly smooth, black plinth rises from the depths, pushing a wave of green goo over the pool's edge. At the same time, with a smooth *shhhhlick* of stone sliding on stone, four more massive blocks emerge from somewhere in the dark, boxing in the pool on all four sides. As the blocks reach the center as a singular wet **SQUELCH** echoes through the cavern. Thick, green jelly squeezes out from the seams where the six black faces' edges meet, dripping down their sides in thick, glistening ropes. [[The infernal contraption is now still.->Gelatinous Cube Press Activation 4]]

SlimePressState: 'activated' -- For a long moment, there is only the soft sound of dripping goo. Then, with a series of sharp **CLICKS**, the press begins to retract. The four side blocks slide back into the darkness as well, with a scraping of stone on stone. Where the chaotic, sloshing pool once was, there now sits a single, unnervingly perfect gelatinous cube. It is utterly still, its edges sharp, its sides smooth and featureless. You hold your breath. What... {link to: 'Slime Caverns Hub', label: 'what have you done?'}

SlimePressState: "shaped" -- The cube sings with a low hum, and the surface beneath your finger trembles. The corners soften, the flat planes sag, and the whole thing loses its rigid shape. The side you touched begins to swell outward - a slow, unstoppable bulge of green jelly pushing toward you. A faint vertical line traces down its center, a subtle indentation that deepens, pulling inward until it forms a distinct cleft. The single mass splits, reshaping itself into two perfect, quivering hemispheres that swell to a massive scale. While the rest of the cube is now a formless, trembling mound, an enormous, perfectly formed backside gives a slow, [[ponderous wobble->Gelatinous Cube Reshaping 1.5]].

With a wet, heavy hop that makes the cavern floor slap, the mass turns. The formless front plane begins to swell. Two points push outward from the upper half, separating into two enormous, trembling globes. Darker, denser cores coalesce within their centers, puckering outward into firm, blunt points that strain against their translucent green surface: a pair of nipples? Below them, the soft curve of a belly forms, its surface shimmering, a deep green core swirling slowly within its depths. Your face flushes as you take in just how tall this being truly is. But the growth doesn't stop. A new pressure builds from within, the core inside the belly pulsing with a brighter light. The translucent green skin tightens, [[growing taut as it swells forward.->Gelatinous Cube Reshaping 2]]

It stretches, becoming smoother, tighter, until the belly is a perfect, round curve that juts past Her chest. A deep, resonant hum vibrates from within, and you can barely catch a glimpse of a slimey hand coming to pat it on its side... [[...prompting, apparently, to make it swells a second time.->Gelatinous Cube Reshaping 3.5]]

The jelly groans as it continues onwards, the belly becoming a vast, heavy mound that rests upon the black plinth. Her newly formed breasts, each the size of you, are now dwarfed, simply resting atop the upper slope of this immense, gelatinous sphere. It just keeps going! By this point it fills your vision, a mountainous gut of shimmering green jelly hanging heavily, its lower curve now partly on the stone, partly aloof in the slime pool below. The translucent skin is stretched so tight you can see every slow, hypnotic swirl of the dark core deep within. The hum softens to a gentle purr. [[You blink, take a few steps back and look up.->Gelatinous Cube Reshaping 4]]

SlimePressState: 'shaped' -- You finally tear your gaze away from the magnificent gut, your eyes tracing the shimmering green jelly upward. *Ah...* In your reverie, you missed the forming of the head sitting atop the massive form, tilted slightly as if in lazy contemplation. A wide, simple smile is etched onto her face, and two dark eyes swim lazily above the surface. Two thick, gelatinous arms, strong-looking but at ease, rest upon the upper curve of her belly, her fingers melting slightly into the soft mass. A slow, warbling sound flows out, like thick honey pouring mixed with the gentle *gloop* of the pools. *"Heeeyy... little warm-thing~... eeeveen smaller... noow~..."* The voice is a happy, sleepy rumble. *"Mmm... call us... Booouuubaa~..."* {link to: 'Slime Caverns Hub', label: 'You can only stare in awe.'}

HuntingGroundsFirstTime: true SmallGolemState: 2 TuningForkTaken: true -- It is done. {plainlink to: 'Lair SouthWest', label: 'Teleport to Lair SouthWest'}

HuntingGroundsFirstTime: true HydraFirstEncounter: true HydraEncounterCount: 4 HydraHuntGrakConsider: true GrakHelp: true HydraLocation: 'Lair NorthEast' TuningForkTaken: true TrenchLighterTaken: true WireSawTaken: true CH3PlasterTaken: true QuillAndPaperFound: true GoldenBugGifted: true -- It is done. Grak is ready, and all signal tools have been granted. {plainlink to: 'Lair NorthEast', label: 'Teleport to Lair NorthEast'}

LeikaWeight: 'OBESE' -- It is done. Leika is now huge. {plainlink to: 'Leika Glutton Ending 1', label: 'Trigger Ending'}

FungalPlainsFirstTime: true FarmGoblinsMet: true FungalTreeFelled: true MawAmbush: true HasFireStone: true FireStoneTraced: true MawChamberTurns: 0 -- It is done. Thy Fire Stone has been granted, thy place of throwing set as well. {accessory: 'right1', passage: 'Wraps', taggedout: 'cutscene, menu, ending, past, future, misaligned'} {plainlink to: 'Maw Chamber Diorama', label: 'Teleport to overlook'}

FungalPlainsFirstTime: true MawAmbush: true InMawPrison: true InMawPrisonFirstTime: 0 OrkState: 'notseen' -- It is done. {accessory: 'right1', passage: 'Wraps', taggedout: 'cutscene, menu, ending, past, future, misaligned'} {plainlink to: 'Prison Cell', label: 'Teleport to Cell'}

FungalTreeFelled: true -- You pull the toothy string from your satchel, the wooden handles feeling small and silly as you face the fleshy stem. What can such little teeth do? You try to drag the wire across the thick stem, but it just slides off the smooth, curved flesh with a useless *skree*. You huff, repositioning it lower down where the trunk bulges out. This time you try a short, hesitant back-and-forth motion, like a bone saw. At first, nothing. Just more pathetic scraping. Then... [[*z-z-z-ZIP!* ->Giant Fungal Tree Saw Cutscene 2]]

The tiny teeth catch. A surprising vibration runs up your arms as the wire bites in, much deeper than you expected. A fine, sweet-smelling dust sprays from the new cut, and the tree gives a low, pained-sounding *groan* that rumbles through the soles of your feet. You stop, wide-eyed, staring at the dark gash you've made. The red glow from the cap above seems to pulse a little faster. Mm... A slow grin spreads across your face. [[You plant your feet and try again.->Giant Fungal Tree Saw Cutscene 3]]

This is it! You plant your feet, digging your heels into the soft soil, and fall into a rhythm. You put your whole body into it, a counterweight to the stubborn flesh of the tree. The high-pitched *ziiiiing* of the wire becomes a song. A giggle escapes you - this is *fun*! With every pull, the tree lets out a deeper groan, and you answer it with a triumphant heave. The ground trembles, and the whole farm is bathed in the frantic red light of the mushroom's cap as it pulses faster and faster. You're halfway through. The cut is a wide, grinning mouth weeping thick, sweet sap. You laugh, pulling with renewed strength, feeling the immense power of this tiny, toothy string. [[A deep, wet *CRACK* echoes through the plains.->Giant Fungal Tree Saw Cutscene 4]]

The wet *CRACK* is followed by a sudden, jarring release. The wire goes slack, its song cut short, and you stumble forward, thrown off balance by the sudden lack of resistance. [["MOVE, YOU ABSOLUTE FOOL!"->Giant Fungal Tree Saw Cutscene 5]]

Bera's roar is what moves you. You don't think, you just scramble, rolling sideways into the soft mushroom stalks as a vast shadow swallows the farm. The air tears apart as the massive fungus heaves down. Something heavy and wet clips your shoulder, sending a jolt of pain down your arm and pushing you flat into the dirt. Then the world ends with a **THUMP** that shakes the very stone beneath you. The ground jumps, throwing you into the air for a moment before slamming you back down. The air is suddenly thick, a choking cloud of spores and sweet-smelling sap that fills your nose and mouth. [[You push yourself up, coughing.->Fungal Farm]]

You kneel, reaching for the small, round seeing-glasses. The once golden frames are now weathered green and bent. The tiny web of cracks you saw before has shattered completely, leaving a spiderweb of broken glass in one lens. Through the other, the dusty floor looks blurry, warped, as if someone stepped on it. You hold them in your palm... a wave of sadness washes over you. You set them back down, exactly where you found them. What happened here? {link to: 'Future Chamber - Stage NONE', label: 'Back'}

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No. No, no, absolutely not. [[You go ahead and bolt back the way you came from->Glutton Ending Cutscene 1.2]]

Your boots slip and slide on the spongy surface, your breath coming in panicked, shallow gasps. You sprint for where the slope should be, but the shadows ahead look wrong. You try to skid to a halt, but your heels find no purchase on the slick floor. Your feet fly out from under you, and you crash hard onto your back, knocking the wind from your lungs. Scrambling up onto your elbows, [[you stare at the path ahead.->Glutton Ending Cutscene 1.3]]

...and it's simply gone. The pale, bumpy flesh of the ceiling and floor have swelled together, sealing the tunnel completely. You push against it, your hands sinking into the hot, quivering mass, but it... ah, damn it!! It... it doesn't give. It's not letting you through, it's not, it's... it won't... no, no, no, please, just- [[*THUMP*->Glutton Ending Cutscene 1.5]]

A sound rolls out from the dark archway at your back. The spongy floor beneath you violently shudders. *THUMP.* [[Something is coming.->Glutton Ending Cutscene 1.6]]

You scramble backward until the hot, sealed wall stops you, pulling your knees tight to your chest. The archway ahead bulges and bursts open. Stone dust rains down as what looks to be a mountain of pale skin and raw flesh spills into the tunnel - a chaotic tangle of long, hairless arms bursts from the folds of fat, their blunt, clawless fingers frantically digging into the spongy floor to [[drag the immense bulk forward.->Glutton Ending Cutscene 2]]

Deep, raw holes tear open across the shifting flesh. They resemble mouths, lined with perfectly flat, square teeth that blindly snap at the air, the walls. At times even the creature's own limbs. It feels as if you're just catching glimpses of it, not really able to witness the monster's actual shape. A hot, suffocating wave of stomach acid and rot hits you, forcing a violent gag up your throat. And... the noise! A chorus of whines, the wet tearing of flesh and stone, the frantic, dry claks of thousands of teeth grinding together... You squeeze your eyes shut and press your hands over your ears so hard it hurts, but you can still feel the terrible, gnashing vibration of the mass [[currently heading your way.->Glutton Ending Cutscene 2.5]]

A dozen damp, heavy hands close around your ankles, your legs, your waist, then your throat. You are effortlessly yanked upward into the suffocating heat. A raw, gaping hole tears open in the fat directly in front of your face and the last thing you see is a single split-second glimpse of a throat lined with endless rows of squirming teeth. [[The world snaps shut around you with a wet crunch.->Glutton Ending]]

You march down the passage, enjoying the surprisingly easy going. There are no jagged rocks to stub your toes on here, and no low-hanging roots to duck under. In fact, this entire tunnel is shaped like a perfectly round tube. A very large one, too. The teal moss-light is a bit thin, clinging only in faint, smeared patches along the [[smooth walls]]. The air is very still, though occasionally you feel a faint [[warm draft]] wash over you from ahead. The passage continues straight into the [[darkness->Glutton Tunnel 2]]. You pause, looking over your shoulder. The path behind you looks exactly the same, curving gently out of sight into more [[darkness->Glutton Tunnel 2]]. *You scratch your head, a little confused. Wait... didn't you just step out of a major junction? Where did the other paths go?*

The smooth rock of the tunnel abruptly shatters into a much more chaotic landscape. You have to carefully pick your footing over the deeply uneven ground just to avoid twisting an ankle. A [[massive debris pile]] chokes half of the passage. Scattered across the remaining floor are the flattened, unrecognizable remains of what you think was once... a [[campsite]], maybe. The tunnel slopes steeply downward, lit only by a faint [[glow->Glutton Tunnel 3]] from deeper within. You turn around to head back to the safety of the smooth passage, but... the path behind you also slopes [[downward->Glutton Tunnel 3]] now. Where did you come from?

The air in this tunnel is completely wrong. It is hot, humid, and... god, it stinks. Overwhelmingly so. Not unlike like the inside of a freshly butchered boar. You are sweating just standing here. The hard stone beneath your boots has been replaced by a [[yielding floor]], and the walls around you pulse with a sickly, dark red glow. High above, thick [[droplets]] slowly gather on the low ceiling. The path forward narrows into a tight, wet [[archway->Glutton Ending Cutscene 1]].

BracersOn: true -- The bracers are made from curved segments of upper-bear rib, polished smooth and lashed together with dried sinew. You tie the cords tight around your forearms. They feel familiar, protective. Good for fending off the spiny crawlers that sometimes get too curious during gathering. Also a deterrent to monsters lying in wait through the tunnels... but not by much. {link to: 'Warrens Wardrobe (Intro)', label: 'Back'} {ascii backdrop: 'loading'}

LoinclothOn: true -- You snatch the loincloth from its peg. The hide is stiff from the morning cold, and it takes a moment to work some flexibility back into it. You tie the thongs tight around your plump hips, the worn leather settling into its familiar curves. {link to: 'Warrens Wardrobe (Intro)', label: 'Back'} {ascii backdrop: 'loading'}

You peer into the wavy slag-shard nailed to the wall. The goblin staring back is still you. Short. Red-haired, with long ears poking out. A bit of moss from the tunnels is still stuck behind your ear. You flick it away. [if LeikaWeight == 'NONE'] Your gaze drops to your belly. Soft. Round. It's just... fat. Proof you are too slow for the hunt, but also not important enough to get the best cuts. You push it out, puffing your stomach to make it look bigger, rounder. More like Her, or maybe like Big-Maw. You squint at your distorted reflection. Is that a glimmer of divinity you see in your own roundness? A holy echo?! No. It's just you. But... maybe it's a start. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/Leika Stage NONE.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'} [continue] [if LeikaWeight == 'CHUBBY'] Your gaze drops to your belly. It pushes against the fabric of your wrap, tight and proudly thick. It's not just soft anymore; it has a sturdy, heavy presence to it that sways when you shift your weight. You turn slightly, admiring the new slope of your hips. You look like a proper, successful gatherer! A goblin who knows how to find the sweet-sap and keep it for herself. You pat it, satisfied with the solid *thump* it makes. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/Leika Stage CHUBBY.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'} [continue] [if LeikaWeight == 'PLUMP'] Your gaze drops to your belly. The rough fabric of your wrap is failing to contain it; a round, heavy mound spills forward, resting a thick curve over the tie of your loincloth. Your forearms have thickened enough that you had to abandon your pinching bone bracers, leaving your arms bare and soft. You trace the shape of it in the wavy glass. You are taking up more space in the world. When you take a deep breath, the sheer size of your middle pushes out impressively. You are definitely leaving your small, clumsy self behind. It's a very good look for a holy servant, is it not? {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/Leika Stage PLUMP.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'} [continue] [if LeikaWeight == 'FAT'] Your gaze drops to your belly. It is a magnificent, pale shelf that completely dominates your reflection. Your wrap is bunched uselessly under your arms, leaving the vast, deep curve of your gut entirely exposed. You place both hands on your sides, squishing the thick, soft rolls that have formed there. Your face in the mirror looks rounder, too, with the unmistakable beginnings of a double chin. You let out a deep, wet burp, watching your massive stomach jiggle with the force of it. Truly, a sight to behold... {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/Leika Stage FAT.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'} [continue] [if LeikaWeight == 'OBESE'] Your gaze drops to your belly. Or rather, it tries to. The massive, pale dome of your gut fills the bottom half of the shard completely. It pushes out so far you have to stand a step back just to see where it ends. Above it, you watch yourself hitch your wrap high over your chest, freeing your heavy breasts to drop out from underneath the tight cloth and... yeah, that feels much better. The sheer weight of it pulls at your skin, swaying with a heavy momentum on every breath. You give the bare, taut mound a slap, sending it into a wobble. You grin, baring your teeth. A Matron's belly! No... basically a Goddess's belly. No wonder you are her favourite. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/Leika Stage OBESE.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'} [continue] {link to: 'Sleeping Warrens (post intro)', label: 'Back'} [if TuningForkTaken; inventory for TuningFork] [[What if...?->Mirror Tuning Fork Cutscene]] [continue] [if QuillAndPaperFound; inventory for QuillAndPaper] [[The stick twitches...->Mirror Quill Cutscene]] [continue] [if CH3PlasterTaken; inventory for CH3Plaster] [[What if...?->Mirror Plaster Cutscene]] [continue]

[unless GoblinDressed] You glance at the shard of polished slag nailed to the wall. The dark, wavy surface gives back a distorted face. Green skin, long, pointy ears, a messy tangle of red hair pulled back with a simple leather tie, and wide, dark eyes made for the deep places. It's you, Leika. Your gaze drops lower. Beyond your modest chest, a soft, round belly pushes out over hips that are wide for your short frame. Your thighs are thick, pressing together. Too clumsy for a hunter, not nearly large enough to be a Matron. You are just... chubby. A pale, clumsy echo of Her perfect, holy abundance. Almost ready. You cannot face Her until you are properly attired. [unless GoblinDressed; if LoinclothOn; append] *Still, you have made some progress.* [unless GoblinDressed; if LoinclothOn; append] *The tough lizard-hide is cinched tight, making the soft flesh of your belly and hips spill just a little over the top. It defines your shape.* [unless GoblinDressed; if WrapOn; append] *The dull red fungus-cloth is draped over your shoulders, its rough texture hiding your torso and doing little to conceal the roundness of your middle. You don't really mind,* [unless GoblinDressed; if BracersOn; append] *The bone bracers are stark and white against your green skin, making your arms look ready for work, for gathering. A sign of purpose.* [append] [continue] [if GoblinDressed] You glance at the shard of polished slag. The goblin in the wavy surface looks ready. The red wrap covers your torso, the lizard-hide loincloth is cinched at your plump hips, and the bone bracers protect your arms. Proper. Serviceable. Still small, still a pale shadow of Her magnificent form, but you are ready to serve. Ready to face the day. There is no more time to waste. What are you still doing here?! [continue] {link to: 'Goblin Warrens Sleeping Chamber', label: 'Back'}

config.header.right: "" -- You stand shivering in the heart of the sleeping chamber. The air is cold on your bare skin. In the center of the cavern, the great communal [[sleeping pile->Pile (Intro)]] is a messy tangle of furs, mosses, and leaves, now mostly empty. You can see [[Daka's spot->Daka's Spot (Intro)]] right next to yours. To the side, a lopsided [[water skin->Water Skin (Intro)]] hangs from a hook driven into the stone. The low, curved walls are pocked with small, [[personal alcoves->Personal Alcoves (Intro)]] - yours is just ahead. A tattered hide curtain serves as the door to your [[wardrobe->Warrens Wardrobe (Intro)]], and nailed to the wall above it is a shard of polished slag you use as a [[mirror->Goblin Mirror (Intro)]]. In another corner lies a pile of wood shavings and a few half-finished [[carvings->Whittling Corner (Intro)]]. [unless GoblinDressed; unless GoblinHasSatchel] *The tunnel leading out to the main warren beckons. But you can't go. Not like this. Naked before Your Goddess? Unthinkable.* [if GoblinHasSatchel; unless GoblinDressed] *You have your satchel, but you're still not dressed! What a fool. You cannot face Her without your wrap.* *Also, on contact with your bare shoulder, it really itches.* [if GoblinDressed; unless GoblinHasSatchel] *The tunnel leading out to the main warren beckons. You're dressed, but you cannot appear before Her empty-handed. Where is your satchel?* [if GoblinDressed; if GoblinHasSatchel] Dressed and with your satchel slung over your shoulder, you are as ready as you'll ever going to be. Behind you lie the [[⚫caves->Intro 3.4 - Tunnels 1]].

WrapOn: true -- The fungus-cloth wrap is rough against your fingers. You shake it out once, sending a few loose spores into the air, before pulling it over your head. The dull red fabric settles over your shoulders, covering the soft curve of your belly as well as part of your ass. It smells faintly of beet-root dye and damp stone. {link to: 'Warrens Wardrobe (Intro)', label: 'Back'} {ascii backdrop: 'loading'}

config.header.left: " " config.header.right: " " config.style.page.color: "#003333 on #f0fcfc" config.style.page.link.color: "#b38f00" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#b38f00" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#cc0000 on #f0fcfc" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ff4d4d" config.style.page.header.link.active.background: "transparent" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#b38f00" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#b38f00" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#cc0000 on #f0fcfc" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ff4d4d" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#b38f00 on #f0fcfc" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#001a33" config.style.dark.page.color: "#e6f2ff on #001a33" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#ffcc00" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#b38f00" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ffdb4d on #001a33" config.style.dark.page.link.active.background: "transparent" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ffdb4d" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#ffcc00" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#b38f00" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ffdb4d on #001a33" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ffdb4d" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ffcc00 on #001a33" config.style.fontScaling.baseViewportWidth: 900 config.style.page.font: 'Bona Nova/serif 12' config.style.page.header.font: "12" config.style.page.header.link.font: "" config.style.page.footer.font: "10" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "" -- <div class="ending-container"> <div class="ending-number">3.1</div> <div class="ending-content"> <div class="ending-label">Ending</div> <div class="ending-title">Goddess of Abundance</div> </div> </div> {ascii backdrop: 'future'} {accessory image, src: 'Images/Endings/CH3/3.1 Goddess of Abundance.png', side: 'right', push: '600px', scale: '0.75', offsetX: '-280px', offsetY: '180px'}

SmallGolemState: 1 -- You strike the silver stick against your palm and press the vibrating metal firmly against its stone chest. The deep hum inside the stone snaps into a sharper buzz. With a loud grinding of stone-on-stone, the construct's rigid arms drop to its sides, and you watch as it lurches forward, its heavy flat feet stomping loudly. It marches right past you, heading straight down the slope of white scree. Where is it headed? {link to: 'Ruined Buildings', label: 'Back'}

You heave the heavy metal jaw from your satchel. If it is just a statue, maybe you can crack it open to see what's inside. You wind up, bringing the heavy iron head crashing down onto the golem's flat, paddle-like hand. *GOOOOOOONG!* The impact rings out like a massive temple bell, vibrating so violently it numbs your hands entirely. You drop the tool, shaking your aching fingers, and stare at the stone paddle. Not a single scratch on it. {link to: 'golem', label: 'Back'}

The pointy stick flies out, hovering around the cracked, open torso and the snapped paddle-arm on the floor. It returns to the paper, writing swiftly. ~AUTONOMOUS CONSTRUCT. GOLEM. LIKELY CULINARY APPLICATION GIVEN APPENDAGE MORPHOLOGY. STRUCTURALLY COMPROMISED BEYOND REPAIR.~ You stare at the paper. Oh, so a giant cook! That explains the hands, yes. A shame it's broken, though. A stone cook would never get tired of carrying heavy tribute. The dream. {link to: 'shattered golem', label: 'Back'}

For the third time today, you give the silver stick a good whack against your palm and press it right against the small golem's back. The sharp, mechanical buzz rattles through the black stone, but the little construct doesn't stomp its feet this time. It must've reached its destination? You watch as its right arm jerks upward with a harsh scrape. The flat paddle-hand reaches over, gripping its own left shoulder joint tight. [unless GrakHelp; unless HuntingGroundsAligned] [[You tilt your head, lowering the fork.->Golem Sacrifice Cutscene 1.5]] [continue] [if GrakHelp; unless HuntingGroundsAligned] [[You tilt your head, lowering the fork.->Golem Sacrifice Refusal Cutscene]] [continue] [if HuntingGroundsAligned] [[You tilt your head, lowering the fork.->Golem Sacrifice Refusal Cutscene]] [continue]

A sickening, powdery *CRACK* echoes in the chamber. *No*! Why, you poor thing... the little golem has violently wrenched its own arm clean off. Stone dust puffs out from the broken socket, coating its dark side in white grit, but it doesn't even flinch. It simply turns, holding the severed limb out, and lifts the flat paddle toward the shattered chest of [[the giant leaning against the wall.->Golem Sacrifice Cutscene 2]]

The squat construct shoves the severed arm directly into the gaping crack of the giant's chest. It pushes it deep into the darkness until a heavy, metallic *CLANK* echoes out. Immediately, the bigger of the two shudders. A teal light and a deafening roar erupts from its hollow torso, shaking loose a cascade of white pebbles from the pile on top of him. Its single remaining arm snaps upward, locking into a rigid, level pose. The ancient stone groans loudly as the massive golem pushes itself away from the wall, rising to its full height. You cover your ears, stumbling back. The noise is incredible! But... oh dear. [[The noise is also *very* loud.->Hunting Grounds Misalignment Cutscene 1]]

SmallGolemRefused: true -- The arm strains against the joint, a harsh scrape of stone echoing in the cavern... and then stops. The sharp buzzing fades, settling back into a low, sleepy hum. The little construct drops its paddle-hand to its side, returning to a perfectly still stance. You blink, tilting your head. What was *that*? Was it trying to scratch an itch on its back? You poke its smooth dome, but it ignores you, keeping its blank face pointed squarely at the giant slouched against the wall. The old magic inside of it must have finally sputtered out. [unless HuntingGroundsAligned] Ah, well. *You have a hunt to focus on!* Grak is waiting for his bait, and you are not going to keep the Great Hunter waiting just to watch a broken stone toy. [continue] [if HuntingGroundsAligned] Ah, well. *You have a massive trapped beast to gloat over!* The warren is busy securing a feast for the Goddess, and you are not going to waste your time staring at a broken stone toy. [continue] {link to: 'Lair SouthWest', label: 'Back'}

You strike the fork against your palm and press the vibrating metal against the golem's chest and suddenly, you feel the deep hum inside the stone instantly snaps into a sharp, mechanical buzz. With a grinding sound of stone-on-stone, the single remaining arm snaps upward, locking into place at a perfect, level angle. The flat paddle-hand holds steady, trembling slightly with the effort, waiting to receive a heavy platter that isn't there. It stands like that for a long moment - a perfect, obedient servant offering nothing to the empty air - before the vibration fades and the arm drops back down with a heavy *thud*. {link to: 'shattered golem', label: 'Back'}

GourdSmashed: true -- You grip the heavy iron wrench. If the weird knot on top won't come off, you'll just have to make a new opening. You place the grey gourd on the damp stone, raise the iron jaw, and bring it down hard. The metal yields with a loud, violent *CRUNCH*, flattening completely under the tool's weight. The grey skin tears open, revealing a bone-dry interior. {link to: 'hard-shelled gourd', label: 'Back'}

GrakTurns: GrakTurns + 1 -- Grak is a slab of muscle and bad attitude. He wears a helmet fashioned from the skull of a horned monster, and his arms are thick as tree roots. He smells strongly of old grease and dried blood - a common enough trait against hunters, but you don't much care for it. He is currently leaning against the wall with his battle axe, taking up enough space for two of you. [unless HydraHuntGrakConsider; if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'] He's running a whetstone along the edge of his spear - *shhhk, shhhk* - ignoring the Goddess entirely. Every few seconds, he stops to test the edge against his thumb, grunts, and goes back to sharpening. [continue] [unless HydraHuntGrakConsider; if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'] Grak is squinting at the board. He keeps tilting his head, trying to find... the dangerous part of the flower, perhaps? Hard to tell. He just looks confused. [continue] [unless HydraHuntGrakConsider; if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'] His knuckles are white on his spear shaft, and his eyes are locked on the drawing of the beast with an intensity that makes you scared to approach him. [continue] [unless HydraHuntGrakConsider; if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'] He is licking his lips. He mimics the Goddess's gesture, then pantomimes a stabbing motion. You really hope he's imagining hunting some kind of beast, not... someone else in the room. [continue] [unless HydraHuntGrakConsider; if CurrentLessonState == 'math'] He's staring at his own hands, flexing his fingers into fists, then opening them again. He mouths numbers, gets frustrated, and snaps a small twig he was holding in half. [continue] [unless HydraHuntGrakConsider; if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'] Grak is surrounded by his hunting party - two smaller, though equally decked out goblins. He laughs loudly at something, a harsh, barking sound, and shoves one of them hard enough to send him stumbling. [continue] {link to: 'Chamber Goblins', label: 'Back'} *** [if HydraHuntGrakConsider] {embed passage: 'Grak Hunt Dialogue Start'} [continue] [unless HydraHuntGrakConsider] {embed passage: 'Grak Lesson Dialogues'} [continue]

He grabs you by the scruff of your wrap - *hey!* - and hauls you into the shadows behind a pillar, away from the others. [dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_full_1] *"Hunting Grounds, yes?"* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:grak_full_1] *he rumbles, his voice low.* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_full_1] *"Ancient Larder. You go there?"* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:grak_full_1 newline] You smooth your wrap, trying to look dignified. *"I simply go where the Goddess wills it! And yeah. It's there. Just... sitting there! Wedged in a tunnel, I think. Eating rocks."* [dialogue delay:2.0 id:grak_full_1] You poke him in the chest. *"So you know of it?! Disgraceful. I thought you were the Great Hunter? Why is it still breathing?"* [dialogue delay:2.0 id:grak_full_1 newline] Grak scowls, looking away. *"Tried. Two seasons back. With Druk and twins."* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_full_1] *He rubs a jagged white scar on his forearm.* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:grak_full_1] *"Cut one head, two grow. Cut leg, heals. Fast...* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:grak_full_1] *Druk... he lost Old-Stabber. Best spear in warren. Went right in... monster just chewed it up."* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_full_1] He shakes his head. [dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_full_1] *"We ran."* [dialogue delay:2.5 id:grak_full_1 newline] Your eyes go wide. *"Oh."* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_full_1] You swallow. [dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_full_1] *"So... we can't kill it?"* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:grak_full_1 newline] He interrupts you. *"Kill? No,"* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:grak_full_1] he says, shaking his head. [dialogue delay:0.8 id:grak_full_1] *"Stupid! Meat grows back. Trap! Think, Leika. Think!"* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_full_1] He taps his temple with a thick finger. [dialogue delay:1.2 id:grak_full_1] *"We *trap* Many-Mouths."* [dialogue delay:2.0 id:grak_full_1 newline] You cross your arms. *"So why haven't you?"* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_full_1 newline] [[He looks you up and down...->Grak Hunt Dialogue Full 2]]

GrakHelp: true -- [dialogue delay:0.1 id:grak_full_2] His gaze lingers on your round belly, then your soft arms. A slow, unpleasant grin splits his face. [dialogue delay:2.0 id:grak_full_2 newline] *"Needed bait.* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:grak_full_2] *Good bait. Soft. Slow."* [dialogue delay:2.0 id:grak_full_2 newline] You freeze. *"Grak. No."* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:grak_full_2 newline] *"You perfect,"* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:grak_full_2] he purrs, looming over you. [dialogue delay:0.8 id:grak_full_2] *"Juicy. Waddle when run. The Many-Mouths love you!"* [dialogue delay:2.2 id:grak_full_2 newline] *"I, Leika, am the Goddess's favorite! You can't use me as chow!"* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:grak_full_2 newline] *"Not chow. Bait!"* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:grak_full_2] He claps a heavy hand on your shoulder. [dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_full_2] *"You run. It chases. I drop big rock! Or... something. Need think it through. But simple."* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:grak_full_2 newline] He leans in, his voice a low rumble. [dialogue delay:1.2 id:grak_full_2] *"Goddess gets feast, you get... glory."* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_full_2] *"And not eaten."* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_full_2] He pauses, grinning. [dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_full_2] *"If fast."* [dialogue delay:2.5 id:grak_full_2 newline] He doesn't wait for an answer. He hefts his axe and grins. *"I go to ruins. To prepare spot. You bring running legs, shortie! HA!"* [dialogue delay:1 id:grak_full_2 newline] {link to: 'Great Chamber', label: 'He runs off toward the exit.'}

[if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grak_hunt_1] You sidle up to him, casually leaning against the wall. He's picking a piece of gristle out of his teeth with a loud sucking sound. [if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:grak_hunt_1 newline] *"Hey, meat-head,"* you whisper. [if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:grak_hunt_1 newline] Grak doesn't even look down. *"Go way, grub. Unless have food. Or other whetstone."* [if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_hunt_1] *He flicks the piece of gristle at your foot.* [if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_hunt_1] *"Do you? No? Scram."* [if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:grak_hunt_1 newline] You smirk, kicking the gristle back. *"I found something better than a stone. I found a beast. A big one!!"* [if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:grak_hunt_1 newline] He snorts. *"Big? For you? Rat? Spicy beetle? Please."* [if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:grak_hunt_1 newline] *"White scales,"* [if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.5 id:grak_hunt_1] *you say, counting on your fingers.* [if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.8 id:grak_hunt_1] *"Stuck in a tunnel. And it has... oh, I don't know... five heads? Lots of them."* [if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:grak_hunt_1 newline] The sharpening stone stops moving. Grak goes very, very still. He slowly lowers the spear, turning his massive, scarred head to look at you properly for the first time all day. [if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_hunt_1] [[*"...where?"*->Grak Hunt Dialogue Full]] [continue] [if GrakTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grak_hunt_2] He grabs your shoulder, his grip heavy. [if GrakTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_hunt_2] [[*"Where is the Many-Mouths?"*->Grak Hunt Dialogue Full]] [if GrakTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.5 id:grak_hunt_2] *he growls, his eyes wide and hungry.* [if GrakTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.8 id:grak_hunt_2] *"Talk, Leika."* [continue]

Grak doesn't look up as you approach, but the rhythmic *shhk-shhk* of his whetstone pauses for a beat. He looks to be in his element here - the horned helmet seems less like a boast and more like a proper piece of wargear. His knuckles are white where he grips the axe, and a look of intense, hungry focus is set on his face. A true hunter at work! *Pride of the warren.* [unless GrakTrapDialogueSeen] [[He finally grunts, setting the stone aside.->Grak Trap Dialogue]] [continue] [if GrakTrapDialogueSeen] [[You step closer to get his attention again.->Grak Trap Dialogue Generic]] [continue] {link to: 'Hunting Grounds Hub', label: 'Back'}

[if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grak_letters_turn1] *Shhhk. Shhhk.* The sound of stone on steel cuts through the Goddess's voice. [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_letters_turn1 newline] *"Grak!"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.5 id:grak_letters_turn1] *you hiss, kicking his boot.* [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.8 id:grak_letters_turn1] *"Quiet! She's teaching!"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:grak_letters_turn1 newline] He doesn't look up. *"Spear needs edge, shortie."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_letters_turn1 newline] *"Don't. Call. Me. Shortie."* You kick his foot again, to the same effect. *"It's sharp enough to cut a rock! Stop it."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:grak_letters_turn1 newline] He pauses, slowly turning his heavy head to look at you. *"Never sharp enough."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_letters_turn1] *He grins.* [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_letters_turn1] *"Keep bothering, maybe I test on you?"* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if GrakTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grak_letters_turn2] He scrapes the stone down the blade again. *SCREEEE.* [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if GrakTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_letters_turn2] *Grizel flinches violently across the room.* [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if GrakTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_letters_turn2] *Grak chuckles.* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grak_botany_turn1] You poke his arm. *"Hey. Pay attention. I know, not a great lesson but-"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:grak_botany_turn1 newline] He glances at the board, then back at his axe. *"Does flower bite?"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_botany_turn1 newline] *"No. What? It's a plant, Grak."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:grak_botany_turn1 newline] *Poison-spit?"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_botany_turn1 newline] *"No! I mean, maybe. I don't know?"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:grak_botany_turn1 newline] He snorts. *"Bad lesson."* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if GrakTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grak_botany_turn2] He is digging something out of his teeth with a long, sharp splinter of bone. [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if GrakTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_botany_turn2] *He flicks a piece of gristle at the drawing.* [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if GrakTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.8 id:grak_botany_turn2] *"Weak plant. Bah."* he mutters. [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grak_monsters_turn1] You barely get close before he grabs your shoulder. His grip is like iron. [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_monsters_turn1 newline] *"Where?"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.5 id:grak_monsters_turn1] *he demands with bare teeth, shaking you slightly.* [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.8 id:grak_monsters_turn1] *"You know Goddess. What she say? Where does "Hou-Ar See" live? ANSWER!!"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:grak_monsters_turn1 newline] *"I-I don't know! It's a warning!"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_monsters_turn1 newline] *"Look at neck, shortie!"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.5 id:grak_monsters_turn1] *His eyes are wild, shining.* [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_monsters_turn1] *"Much meat. And hair... I want hair. For hat."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:grak_monsters_turn1 newline] As he remains mesmerized by the drawing, you slowly back out of his grip and away from him. [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if GrakTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grak_monsters_turn2] He is thrusting his spear at the air, making soft *hff, hff* noises. [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if GrakTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_monsters_turn2] *"Throat... leg..."* he whispers lovingly to the drawing. *"...other leg... other leg... no more leg?"* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grak_anatomy_turn1] You watch him mimic the stabbing motion. *"She's talking about our bodies, Grak. Not killing things."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:grak_anatomy_turn1 newline] *"Same,"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.5 id:grak_anatomy_turn1] *he grunts.* [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_anatomy_turn1] *"Just inside-parts on outside."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:grak_anatomy_turn1 newline] He points at the stomach circle. *"Under the ribs. Goooood target."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_anatomy_turn1 newline] *"No it's not! That's the Divine Furnace, and I won't have you-"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:grak_anatomy_turn1 newline] *"You hit, they fold. Then hit head. Easy."* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if GrakTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grak_anatomy_turn2] He pokes his own abbed stomach with a finger. It's hard as a rock. *"Armor,"* he grunts, satisfied. [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grak_math_turn1] *Snap.* [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.5 id:grak_math_turn1] *Another twig breaks in his massive hands.* [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_math_turn1] *"Stupid,"* he hisses. [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:grak_math_turn1 newline] *"Having trouble counting, dumb dumb?"* you tease. [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:grak_math_turn1 newline] He glares at you. *"NO! One spear. Two fists. Many dead things."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_math_turn1] *He gestures angrily at the board.* [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:grak_math_turn1] *"Why She counting berries? Stupid. Waste time!"* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if GrakTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grak_math_turn2] He breaks a thicker branch over his knee. *CRACK.* [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if GrakTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_math_turn2] *"One stick... two stick,"* he mutters. *"Woah..."* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grak_rest_turn1] You step in front of him as he looms over a smaller goblin. *"Leave him alone, Grak. He is a follower like the rest of us, and-"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:grak_rest_turn1 newline] Grak looks down at you, blinking slowly. *"Hi shortie! Goddess pet. HA!* [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_rest_turn1 newline] Now go. Very busy,"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.5 id:grak_rest_turn1] *he rumbles, shoving you aside with one finger.* [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.8 id:grak_rest_turn1] *"He in my spot."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:grak_rest_turn1 newline] *"...aren't you always on the other side of the room?"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if GrakTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_rest_turn1 newline] *"Grak strong,"* he says, grinning. *"Need two spots. Maybe three. Move."* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if GrakTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grak_rest_turn2] He "accidentally" drops the butt of his spear on your toe. OW. *"Oops,"* he says, not looking at you. [continue] [continue]

Grak stands at the edge of the pit, a silhouette against the smoky torchlight. He leans on his axe, one foot propped up on a loose piece of marble, the master of this noisy, soon-to-be larder. *How exciting!* The horned helmet catches the flickering light, casting his face in deep shadow, but you can still see the glint of sharpened teeth in his grin. He watches the hunters below as they work, listening to their barked orders and the steady, grinding crunch of the feasting heads. {link to: 'Lair NorthEast', label: 'Back'}

GrakTrapDialogueSeen: true -- [dialogue delay:0.1 id:grak_trap_1] *"Took you long enough,"* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:grak_trap_1] he grunts, not looking up from his axe. [dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_trap_1] *"Start thinking maybe you got eaten on way here. Would have spoiled plan, shortie."* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:grak_trap_1 newline] You plant your fists on your hips. *"So? What's the great plan, meat-head? What am I supposed to do? Bleed on the floor? Sing a song?"* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:grak_trap_1 newline] Grak finally looks up, a humorless smirk on his face. *"You? You do what you good at, shortie."* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_trap_1] He gestures vaguely toward the dark depression leading to the lair. [dialogue delay:1.5 id:grak_trap_1] *"Waddle. Squeak. Look soft."* [dialogue delay:2.0 id:grak_trap_1 newline] Your face burns. *"By the Goddess, I do not waddle!"* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:grak_trap_1 newline] *"Yes, you do. Good waddle, too!"* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:grak_trap_1] he says, entirely serious. [dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_trap_1] *"You look helpless. Tasty. Many-Mouths follow."* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:grak_trap_1 newline] *"Okay, fine! Shut up. And then what? Do I lead it to a specific spot? Is there a rope I pull?"* [dialogue delay:2.0 id:grak_trap_1 newline] He goes back to sharpening his axe. *"Just... go to basin room. Big round room. When monster is close... make sign."* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:grak_trap_1 newline] *"What sign?!"* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_trap_1] you demand, stomping your foot. [dialogue delay:1.2 id:grak_trap_1 newline] *"Whatever sign! Don't matter,"* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:grak_trap_1] he says, his voice final. [dialogue delay:0.8 id:grak_trap_1] *"Now scram. Get chased. Grak has... hunter things... to do."* [dialogue delay:0.2 id:grak_trap_1] He pointedly turns his back on you, the conversation clearly over. [dialogue delay:0.5 id:grak_trap_1 newline] {link to: 'Hunting Grounds Hub', label: 'You scowl at his back.'}

[dialogue delay:0.1 id:grak_trap_gen] You clear your throat. [dialogue delay:1.2 id:grak_trap_gen newline] Grak pauses his sharpening just long enough to glare at you. *"What? Deaf now, too?"* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:grak_trap_gen newline] *"Not! Just making sure you are actually ready."* you lie, puffing out your chest. [dialogue delay:1.8 id:grak_trap_gen newline] He snorts, returning his attention to the blade. *"Grak always ready. You? Need to run. Go to big round room. Wait for beast. Make sign. Simple."* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:grak_trap_gen] He waves a hand dismissively. [dialogue delay:1.2 id:grak_trap_gen] *"Now go. Stop wasting Grak's time."* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:grak_trap_gen newline] {link to: 'Hunting Grounds Hub', label: 'Back'}

GramaTurns: GramaTurns + 1 -- Grama sits on a low, flat stone he has claimed as his own, his gnarled hands resting on the head of a black-wood cane. His skin is the color of old moss, loose and wrinkled, and a map of white scars crisscrosses his chest. One of his ears is missing the tip - bitten off by a great monster forty seasons ago. Or so he claims... [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'] He scowls at the board, then at the ceiling, then at the floor. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'] Grama is shaking his head so hard his ears flap against his skull. *Flap. Flap.* [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'] He isn't looking at the board. He is looking at the terrified youngsters with a sneer. He leans back, tapping a rhythm on the stone floor with his cane, looking like he's waiting for a "real" monster to show up so he can hit it. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'] Grama is nodding slowly, his eyes closed in deep meditation. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'] He is scratching his chin, the rasp of his nails on his stubble loud in the quiet room. His lips move in silent calculation, counting tribute in the air. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'] Grama is muttering to himself, tracing old, sharp-angled symbols in a patch of dust with a gnarled finger. He wipes them away, dissatisfied, and starts again. [continue] {link to: 'Chamber Goblins', label: 'Back'} *** {embed passage: 'Grama Lesson Dialogues'}

[if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grama_letters_turn1] You peer at the jagged lines he's scratching in the dust. *"That's not what She's drawing, old man."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grama_letters_turn1 newline] Grama spits to the side. *"Hers is wrong."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grama_letters_turn1 newline] *"It's a stalactite!"* you insist. [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.8 id:grama_letters_turn1 newline] *"It's a Drop-Rock! A Roper."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.5 id:grama_letters_turn1] He jabs his cane at the floor. [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grama_letters_turn1] *"A stalactite just hangs. A Roper waits for a fat, juicy kit to walk under it before letting go."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:grama_letters_turn1 newline] *"Rocks don't hunt, Grama."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grama_letters_turn1 newline] He glares at the ceiling, keeping his cane raised. *"Yeah, well, the smart ones do."* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if GramaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grama_letters_turn2] He flinches as a drop of water falls nearby. *"Hah!"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if GramaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.8 id:grama_letters_turn2] He points his cane at the roof. [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if GramaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grama_letters_turn2] *"I saw you! You missed! Stupid rock. Can't be outsmarting me. HA!"* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grama_botany_turn1] You cross your arms. *"Stop shaking your head! It's... a nice flower."* You look over again. *" Ok, well... a flower!"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:grama_botany_turn1 newline] *"Useless,"* he wheezes. *"Can't eat it. Can't smoke it. Can't poison a dart with it, either."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:grama_botany_turn1 newline] *"How do you even know that?"* you argue. *"It's from the world above!"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grama_botany_turn1 newline] *"Because I have been chewing on cave-weeds since before you were a spore."* He taps his clouded eye. *"I have no use for pretty things when my stomach is empty."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:grama_botany_turn1 newline] He pulls a piece of dried moss from his ear and chews on it. *"Needs salt. Much better with salt."* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if GramaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grama_botany_turn2] He offers you a piece of ear-moss. *"Want some?"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if GramaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grama_botany_turn2] You push his hand away, sticking your tongue out. [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if GramaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.8 id:grama_botany_turn2] *"Suit yourself! More for me."* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grama_monsters_turn1] *"Don't tell me you aren't scared,"* you whisper. *"Look at the size of it!"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:grama_monsters_turn1 newline] Grama snorts. *"Mm, well, I rode one of those once."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:grama_monsters_turn1 newline] *"You did not."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grama_monsters_turn1 newline] *"What! I did."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.5 id:grama_monsters_turn1] He puffs out his scarred chest. [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grama_monsters_turn1] *"A Hairy-Long-Face. Fast as a rockfall. Very bumpy ride. Bit my leg clean off."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:grama_monsters_turn1 newline] *"You have both your legs, Grama."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grama_monsters_turn1 newline] *"Exactly! It spat it right back out! Didn't like the taste. Sneaky devil."* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if GramaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grama_monsters_turn2] He squints at the drawing, scratching his chin. [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if GramaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grama_monsters_turn2] *"Wait. That one has four legs. Mine had six. Or maybe eight? It was dark. And I was very drunk... Mm. Well."* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grama_anatomy_turn1] You lean close. *"Finally paying attention?"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grama_anatomy_turn1 newline] He opens one eye. *"She forgot the gizzard."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:grama_anatomy_turn1 newline] You pause. *"Kin don't have gizzards, Grama."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grama_anatomy_turn1 newline] *"Speak for yourself,"* he grunts, patting his lower belly. *"I swallowed a flint when a kit. It is still there. Grinds my corn."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:grama_anatomy_turn1 newline] *"That doesn't sound right."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grama_anatomy_turn1 newline] *"Two stomachs. One for meat, one for rocks. Ada-ptation, girl! Ever heard of it?"* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if GramaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grama_anatomy_turn2] He shakes his hips. A dry *clack* comes from inside his gut. [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if GramaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grama_anatomy_turn2] *"Hear that? I told you!"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if GramaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grama_anatomy_turn2 newline] You gag, taking a large step back. [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grama_math_turn1] *"Counting tribute, old man?"* you ask. *"Or just napping with your eyes open?"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grama_math_turn1 newline] *"Five... ten... twelve..."* he mutters, ignoring you. *"Twelve minutes."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:grama_math_turn1 newline] *"Until what?"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grama_math_turn1 newline] *"Until She drops the chalk again."* He shows his yellow teeth. *"I bet Grizel my dessert. He says fifteen. The absolute fool."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:grama_math_turn1 newline] Your face reddens. *"You two are gambling on the Goddess's fatigue? Idiots!"* You punch his arm, getting no response. [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grama_math_turn1 newline] *"Well, of course I am! What, am I not allowed to win?"* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if GramaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grama_math_turn2] He stares intently at the Goddess's hand, licking his lips. [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if GramaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.8 id:grama_math_turn2] *"Wobbling... Drop it... come onnn... Grama wants an extra bowl of sweet-sap today..."* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grama_rest_turn1] You nudge his knee. *"Hey. Grizel's doing a good job. Tell him."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grama_rest_turn1 newline] Grama doesn't even look down. *"He's doing it wrong."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:grama_rest_turn1 newline] *"It looks fine to me!"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grama_rest_turn1 newline] *"Ah, it's too pretty. Pretty knots slip."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.5 id:grama_rest_turn1] He closes his eyes. [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grama_rest_turn1] *"Besides, watching him sweat is the only entertainment I get around here."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:grama_rest_turn1 newline] *"You're mean,"* you say. [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if GramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grama_rest_turn1 newline] He smirks. *"Yep."* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if GramaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grama_rest_turn2] He waits until Grizel looks away, then reaches out with his cane and pokes the knot. It collapses instantly. [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if GramaTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grama_rest_turn2 newline] Grama closes his eyes again, falling into a snore. [continue] [continue]

TrenchLighterTaken: true WireSawTaken: true TuningForkTaken: true MetalGearTaken: true GearTaken: true MetalJawTaken: true CH3PlasterTaken: true SlimePackRemoved: true PackCleaned: true QuillAndPaperFound: true GoldenBugGifted: true GoblinHasSatchel: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH3', label: 'Back'}

TrenchLighterTaken: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH3', label: 'Back'}

GoldenBugGifted: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH3', label: 'Back'}

MetalGearTaken: true GearTaken: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH3', label: 'Back'}

MetalJawTaken: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH3', label: 'Back'}

SlimePackRemoved: true PackCleaned: true QuillAndPaperFound: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH3', label: 'Back'}

CH3PlasterTaken: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH3', label: 'Back'}

TuningForkTaken: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH3', label: 'Back'}

WireSawTaken: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH3', label: 'Back'}

[if CurrentLessonState == 'wardrobecheck'] The cavern is unusually quiet. The air is still, entirely empty of the familiar whispers and scuffles of your kin. In the center of the room, standing next to the [[great granite throne->The Great Granite Throne]] and before a tall mirror is [[🤍The Goddess->CH.3 Eleanor (present)]]. The [[morning's offerings->Morning's Offerings]] sit untouched at the dais. To the side is the smooth [[teaching stone->The Teaching Stone]], and the [[prophecy wall->The Prophecy Wall]] looms as usual, its ancient carvings rising into the gloom. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'] A peaceful quiet has settled over the cavern, broken only by the soft, rhythmic sound of slumber. [[🤍The Goddess->CH.3 Eleanor (present)]] rests upon Her [[great granite throne->The Great Granite Throne]]. The [[morning's offerings->Morning's Offerings]] sit mostly ignored at the base of the dais. To the side is the smooth [[teaching stone->The Teaching Stone]], and the [[prophecy wall->The Prophecy Wall]] looms as usual, its ancient carvings rising into the gloom. Your kin, the other [[goblins->Chamber Goblins]], are scattered about, keeping their voices low. Well, *some of them do.* [continue] [unless CurrentLessonState == 'rest' || CurrentLessonState == 'wardrobecheck'] [[🤍The Goddess->CH.3 Eleanor (present)]] turns Her attention to the lesson at hand. She stands near Her [[great granite throne->The Great Granite Throne]]. At its base, the meager [[morning's offerings->Morning's Offerings]]. Her gestures are slow, deliberate, pointing towards marks on the smooth [[teaching stone->The Teaching Stone]]. Now to the side of Her, the [[prophecy wall->The Prophecy Wall]] looms, its ancient carvings rising into the gloom. Your kin, the other [[goblins->Chamber Goblins]], surround you on all sides. [continue] [if passage.visits == 3] *You clutch the golden bug through the fabric of your satchel, its warm metal a comforting weight against your hip.* [continue] Behind you, the wide archway leading back out to the [[⚫caves->North Tunnel]] beckons. [JavaScript] engine.state.set('LessonSeen', true); [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'NONE'; inventory for GoldenBug] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->Future Chamber - Stage NONE]] [continue] [unless GoddessWeightGained == 'NONE'; inventory for GoldenBug] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->Future Chamber Router]] [continue]

FirstTimeReturn: true -- The warm smell of the future cook-fire vanishes, replaced by the familiar damp chill. The purposeful hum of your working kin fades, and the sound of the Goddess's lesson rushes back in. Your heart hammers in your chest, not with fear, but with a giddy, soaring certainty. The golden bug did not lie! It showed you the way. It showed you what *will be*. And... and surely our Goddess could get even bigger! *Yes!!* {link to: 'Great Chamber', label: 'You have work to do.'} {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'}

She is a mountain of happy, shimmering green jelly. **Bouba.** She sits upon the black plinth, her enormous backside spreading wide to cover it completely. Her vast, round belly, a world of its own, hangs heavy and low, its lower curve dipping into the warm slime of the pool with a soft *gloop*. The moss-light from the cavern walls shines right through her, illuminating the slow, hypnotic swirl of the dark core deep within her gut. Her thick, strong arms rest atop the great mound of her belly, her fingers idly tracing patterns on its taut, glistening surface. She gives a slow, happy wobble that sends ripples across the pool, her huge breasts jiggling in sympathy. Her lazy, dark eyes watch you, and a wide, simple smile never leaves her face. {one of: ["*You can see yellowed bone fragments drifting slowly within her translucent form.*", "*Her belly gives a low, gurgling rumble.*", "*She shifts her immense weight, and a warm wave of green goo sloshes gently against the cavern shore at your feet.*", "*She gives a slow, sleepy blink, and a single, huge bubble rises from the depths of her belly to pop with a soft, sweet-smelling 'gloop'.*", "*She briefly crosses her huge arms under her breasts, a flash of grumpy concentration on her face, before dissolving back into a happy wobble.*"], order: 'cycling'} {link to: 'Slime Caverns Hub', label: 'Back'} [if SlimePressState == 'shaped'; unless LeikaGorgedSlime; inventory for LeikaBelly] [[The pool smells so sweet...->Leika Gorging Slime]] [continue] [if CH3PlasterTaken; inventory for CH3Plaster] [[What if...?->Bouba Plaster Cutscene]] [continue]

GrizelTurns: GrizelTurns + 1 -- Grizel is taller, but also thinner than most, with huge ears that seem to pick up every echo in the caves. A pair of cracked, oversized looking-glasses are lashed to his head with twine, making his eyes look enormous. He clutches his slate to his bony chest like a shield. [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'] Right now, that energy is focused on the floor. He scratches a clumsy copy of the 'Stalactite' symbol in the dust, his tongue protruding from the corner of his mouth in concentration. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'] He has tilted his head so far to the side he looks like he might tip over. He is squinting at the drawing of the spindly flower, mouthing a number of silent questions to himself. He holds up a piece of dried moss, comparing it to the board, and looks confused. Frustrated, maybe? [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'] Grizel is currently a small ball on the floor, his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped over his head. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'] He is poking his own ribs with a frantic finger. *Poke, poke, poke.* He moves his hand higher, then lower, his expression growing more concerned with every prod. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'] You watch Grizel frantically counting on all of his eight fingers. He runs out of digits on his left hand, moves to his right, then looks at his toes in desperation. He starts over, mouthing digits, but gets stuck halfway through. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'] Grizel is kneeling next to Grama, holding a length of gut-string. [continue] {link to: 'Chamber Goblins', label: 'Back'} *** {embed passage: 'Grizel Lesson Dialogues'}

[if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if GrizelTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grizel_letters_turn1] You tap his shoulder. He jolts, dropping his chalk. [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if GrizelTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grizel_letters_turn1 newline] *"Don't do that!"* he hisses, holding a hand over his chest. *"I was measuring the tilt!"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if GrizelTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:grizel_letters_turn1 newline] You point at his slate. *"It's a rock, Grizel. She drew a pointy rock."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if GrizelTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:grizel_letters_turn1 newline] *"A heavy rock,"* he corrects, holding his thumb up to the dais to measure the drawing. *"If the base is drawn too narrow, it cannot support the tip. It becomes a falling hazard."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if GrizelTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.8 id:grizel_letters_turn1 newline] He looks up at the cavern roof, shielding his head with his slate. *"If I draw it leaning left, the ceiling might take it as a suggestion."* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if GrizelTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grizel_letters_turn2] Grizel is rubbing out his drawing with his sleeve, blowing a cloud of white dust away. [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'; if GrizelTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grizel_letters_turn2 newline] *"Too wide at the bottom,"* he mutters, his nose almost touching the slate. *"Now it's a fat lump, not a sharp dropper. Damn it, the balance is all wrong..."* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if GrizelTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grizel_botany_turn1] You lean over to see his slate. Grizel is holding a piece of dried moss up to the Goddess's drawing. [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if GrizelTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:grizel_botany_turn1 newline] *"It's a bad build, Leika,"* he says, shaking his head. [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if GrizelTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grizel_botany_turn1 newline] *"Mm? It's a flower, Grizel. Drawn badly, but still-"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if GrizelTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:grizel_botany_turn1 newline] *"No, no, it has no root-anchor!"* he interrupts, jabbing a finger at the thin stem on the board. *"Too much weight on top."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if GrizelTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.8 id:grizel_botany_turn1 newline] He drops the moss. *"But I saw through it! She is testing our building skills. I know it."* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if GrizelTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grizel_botany_turn2] He is sketching tiny wooden props around the flower stem on his slate. [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'; if GrizelTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grizel_botany_turn2 newline] *"Three support beams,"* he whispers, tapping the board. *"Maybe four. You tie them with gut-string here, and here... yes, that holds the top up."* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if GrizelTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grizel_monsters_turn1] He sits curled into a ball on the floor, his knees pulled up to his chest, staring at the drawing. [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if GrizelTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:grizel_monsters_turn1 newline] *"You look like a scared kit,"* you whisper, nudging his boot. [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if GrizelTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:grizel_monsters_turn1 newline] *"No I don't,"* he murmurs. [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if GrizelTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.8 id:grizel_monsters_turn1 newline] He pulls his knees tighter. *"Four legs of that lenght... it could clear the hunting grounds in ten heartbeats. I'm sure of it. We need thicker doors!"* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if GrizelTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grizel_monsters_turn2] He is tapping his slate with a trembling finger, drawing thick lines over a doorway shape. [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'; if GrizelTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grizel_monsters_turn2 newline] *"Two layers of fungus-wood... cross-braced... maybe an iron bar..."* he whispers. [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if GrizelTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grizel_anatomy_turn1] He is poking his own chest with a frantic finger, moving his hand higher, then lower. [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if GrizelTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:grizel_anatomy_turn1 newline] *"What are you doing?"* you ask, raising an eyebrow. [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if GrizelTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grizel_anatomy_turn1 newline] *"Counting,"* he mutters, checking the board, then his chest again. *"The Goddess drew two soft sacks up high. I do not seem to have them."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if GrizelTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:grizel_anatomy_turn1 newline] He pulls his ears back, a deep frown on his face. *"Are we incomplete? No, no, not again, I can't be thinking of this stuff again... I won't be able to sleep now!"* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if GrizelTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grizel_anatomy_turn2] He prods his flat chest one more time. [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'; if GrizelTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grizel_anatomy_turn2 newline] *"Maybe we earn them,"* he whispers to himself. *"With enough tribute... yes. A reward for good logistics."* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if GrizelTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grizel_math_turn1] You watch his fingers fly. *"A hand, a hand and two... carry the basket..."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if GrizelTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:grizel_math_turn1 newline] *"Use your toes, silly,"* you suggest. [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if GrizelTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grizel_math_turn1 newline] He looks at you. *"Shut! Shut up, I cannot take my boots off, it breaks the count!"* [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if GrizelTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:grizel_math_turn1 newline] He grabs his ear, pulling slightly. *"If I calculate the tribute wrong, the gatherers starve. If the gatherers starve, Grak will snap my slate in twine."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if GrizelTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:grizel_math_turn1 newline] He stares at his hand, a drop of sweat forming on his brow. *"I need more fingers, Leika. Lend me yours."* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if GrizelTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grizel_math_turn2] He reaches for your hand without looking, muttering, *"Two hands... plus the thumb..."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if GrizelTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grizel_math_turn2 newline] You slap his hand away. He blinks, pulling his arm back. [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'; if GrizelTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grizel_math_turn2 newline] *"Greedy!"* he mutters, going back to his own digits. *"Rude, even."* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if GrizelTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grizel_rest_turn1] You crouch beside him. The knot in his hands is a tangled masterpiece. *"That's a nice knot, Grizel."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if GrizelTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:grizel_rest_turn1 newline] He flinches, glancing at Grama's back. *"Quiet. It is a snare-hitch, but it's unfinished, the tension is wrong."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if GrizelTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grizel_rest_turn1 newline] He holds it up, testing the string. *"Look at this loop. It pulls to the left. A cave-boar would snap it and take my arm with it."* [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if GrizelTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:grizel_rest_turn1 newline] *"It looks fine,"* you say. [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if GrizelTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:grizel_rest_turn1 newline] *"Fine is how you lose fingers, Leika."* He starts untying the complex web. *"GhhhhHHH ok fine I have to start over."* [continue] [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if GrizelTurns > 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:grizel_rest_turn2] He is tying the exact same knot again, his hands shaking slightly. [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; if GrizelTurns > 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:grizel_rest_turn2 newline] *"Left over right..."* he whispers to the string. *"Or right over left? How would you trap anything like this... oh boy, it all starts with the knot..."* [continue] [continue]

You toss the stone underhand, aiming for the messy pile of gear at the main guard post. It lands with a soft clink amongst a pile of discarded skins and pouches. There isn't a bright flame, instead a thick, oily ***FOOMPH***. One of the pouches, likely full of weapon oil, erupts. A dense, choking cloud of greasy black smoke billows out, instantly enveloping the entrance. You hear coughing, sputtering, and the clumsy clatter of dropped spears as the guards stumble around blindly inside the smoke cloud, shouting in confusion - [[as good a chance as any to get down and start running!->Maw's Chamber Chaos Cutscene 1]]

FireStoneThrow: 'guards' -- You weigh the stone in your palm, your gaze settling on the lazy guards by the main entrance. The barricades are made of wood, and there are probably spare weapon oils nearby. A fire there would block the entrance, cause confusion. It's a strategic target. Panic right at the exit would draw all the attention, maybe even make them run out of the chamber, leaving your escape path clear. But what if it just makes them angry? Instead of panicking, they might form a wall. They'd be looking for an attacker immediately. It feels like picking a fight when really, you just want to cause a mess and run. [[Throw it.->Maw Fire Throw Router]] {link to: 'Maw Chamber Diorama', label: 'No, not yet.'}

It's a pack, made of thick canvas and dark, cracked leather. One of the straps is torn, and the whole thing is half-sunk in one of the smaller bubbling pools, held fast by the thick green goo. You notice the slime right around the pack is a sickly, pale yellow color, and it barely bubbles at all. A sharp, stinging smell rises from it, overpowering the cavern's usual sweet scent. Ewww... whatever is in that pack is leaking. [[You decide to grab the strap and pull.->Half-Submerged Pack Pull Cutscene 1]] {link to: 'Slime Pool East', label: 'Back'} [if TrenchLighterTaken; inventory for TrenchLighter] [[Maybe you can burn it away...->Half-Submerged Pack Lighter Cutscene]] [continue] [note] Lighter Misalignment Path: Using the Trench Lighter here should be the "bad" solution. Leika attempts to burn the pack away. The interaction causes the pack's contents (likely chemicals or fuel from the expedition) to violently react with the slime, catastrophically poisoning the entire grotto. This will set `SlimeCavernsMisaligned: true` and lock the player into the Glutton ending path if they misalign another biome. [continue]

SlimeCavernsMisaligned: true -- You grin. Fire solves everything! You flick the wheel of the metal box. *Zzzt-CHUNK!* A shower of bright orange sparks lands on the leaking pack - a blinding flash of white light singes your eyes raw as the pale yellow slime around the pack *boils*. A violent hiss ripples out instantly, with a cloud of stinging, acrid smoke exploding upward, smelling of burning tar and sugar. It's hard to see - what with having just gone blind there for a second - but the translucent green goo is turning into a much more a opaque yellow sludge. [[*"EEEEEEEEEEEE!"*->Slime Caverns Misalignment Cutscene 1]]

SlimePackRemoved: true -- You wrap both hands around the slimy leather strap. Ugh. You plant your feet wide on the slick stone, dig your heels in, and lean back, putting your whole short, chubby body into it. The pack... doesn't budge. The goo holds it like strong-sap. With a frustrated grunt, you give it one more mighty heave. [[*SCHLOOOP!*->Half-Submerged Pack Pull Cutscene 2]]

SlimeGirlEastMoved: true -- The pack rips free from the sucking slime so suddenly you stumble backwards, landing hard on your backside. But that's not the only sound. A low rumble builds from the now-unplugged vent. Before you can even scramble up, a thick jet of warm, green slime erupts from the hole, shooting straight up to the ceiling with a mighty roar. The geyser's spray splashes down everywhere, drenching you. You hear a surprised, gurgling shriek from the other pool and look up just in time to see the grumpy Green Lady get blasted by the overflow. She's washed out of her basin in a great green wave that surges down the narrow fissure and out of sight. {link to: 'Slime Pool East', label: 'You pick yourself up, dripping.'}

[if LastBiomeAligned == 'HuntingGrounds' || LastBiomeAligned == 'ExpeditionRemains'] Because the Goddess is up and moving, the poor fan-bearers have to scramble right after Her! You watch them trip over their own feet, desperately swinging the massive, heavy fungus-leaves to direct a cooling breeze onto Her flushed, sweating face. [continue] [unless LastBiomeAligned == 'HuntingGrounds' || LastBiomeAligned == 'ExpeditionRemains'] Flanking the throne, two attendants swing massive, heavy fungus-leaves back and forth. They are panting, their bare shoulders glistening with sweat from the grueling effort of cooling Her flushed, resting face. [continue] The tremendous heat radiating from Her body is a physical weight in the air. Every time the heavy leaves sweep downward, they push a thick, musky wave of that divine warmth outward. It smells of rich sweat, heavy digestion, and sweet bounty. You bite your lip, a hot pang of jealousy twisting in your chest. Those idiots get to stand so close! They get to bathe directly in the thick air coming right off Her skin! You should be the one holding the fan... or maybe just sitting on Her lap to catch the breeze. Yes, that sounds much better. {link to: 'Future Chamber - Stage OBESE', label: 'Back'}

HuntingGroundsFirstTime: true -- You squeeze through the jagged crack in the rock, the rough stone scraping against your wrap. The cool draft pulls at you, smelling less like a beast now and more like... dust. You stumble out onto the other side, and your feet skid. The floor here isn't the uneven rock of the tunnel behind you - instead, it's flat. Not perfectly flat, though? You look down, and under a layer of grey grit, the floor is made of pale, white stone tiles, fitted together... but clearly, time has moved them apart. Square. Flat. Sharp corners. [[*Ancient masonry!*->Hunting Grounds Cutscene 2]]

As you walk, you see that the walls are formed from massive, seamless blocks of the same pale stone, rising high and curving into the darkness. It feels familiar, doesn't it? The cold heavy air, the way the stone fits together without mortar. Mm. it feels just like the Great Chamber! Before the Goddess moved in, of course. A holy place? A palace for the Ancients? *SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEE~* A distant noise tears through the quiet, coming from the wide, bright archway ahead. Well... they don't call these caves hunting grounds for nothing! [[You move forward, undeterred.->Hunting Grounds Entrance Chamber]]

The tunnel doesn't end, yet stops all the same. The cool draft carrying the scent of blood vanishes, replaced by a wall of swirling, silent grey mist. It doesn't smell like rock, or mold, or anything. It just... doesn't. Your nose is not working. You try to peer into it, but your eyes slide off the grey. It hurts to look at. Like trying to remember a dream after you've woken up. *The world simply hasn't been made here yet.* {link to: 'West Tunnel', label: 'Back'}

You press your hands against the jagged crack. The stone is cold and completely unyielding. It's as if the cave itself inhaled and squeezed the passage shut behind you. What happened? There is absolutely no way you are fitting your hips through this tiny of a gap. {link to: 'Fake West Tunnel', label: 'Back'}

You stand in a box of pale stone. Unlike the rough tunnels of the warren, the walls here are flat and meet the floor at sharp corners. It feels... tight. Thick, pale roots have punched through the ceiling tiles, winding tight around a pair of broken [[marble statues]]. A massive [[collapsed pillar]] lies across the center of the floor, cracked into three large pieces. Ahead, a tall archway opens into a [[🦴much larger space->Hunting Grounds Hub]] filled with a strange, grey light. [if HuntingGroundsMisaligned; if SlimeCavernsMisaligned || SunlessFieldsMisaligned] Behind you is the [[⚫jagged crack->Fake West Tunnel]] leading back to the known world. [continue] [if HuntingGroundsMisaligned; unless SlimeCavernsMisaligned || SunlessFieldsMisaligned] Behind you is the [[⚫jagged crack->West Tunnel]] leading back to the known world. [continue] [unless HuntingGroundsMisaligned] Behind you is the [[⚫jagged crack->West Tunnel]] leading back to the known world. [continue]

GoddessWeightGained (GoddessWeightGained == 'ALMOST IMMOBILE'): 'IMMOBILE' GoddessWeightGained (GoddessWeightGained == 'OBESE'): 'ALMOST IMMOBILE' GoddessWeightGained (GoddessWeightGained == 'FAT'): 'OBESE' GoddessWeightGained (GoddessWeightGained == 'PLUMP'): 'FAT' GoddessWeightGained (GoddessWeightGained == 'NONE'): 'PLUMP' HuntingGroundsFutureSeen: true LastBiomeAligned: 'HuntingGrounds' HuntingGroundsAligned: true -- The golden bug hums, and the world dissolves into a blur of black and white stone. When your vision clears, you are back into the chamber, looking down into the now no longer empty basin. A precarious, spindly web of wooden scaffolding seems to have been built over the pit, with a series of ropes and pulleys dangling into the gloom. Your kin are swarming over it, all busing themselves in one way or another. The real surprise is in who's directing them! Standing on a high platform with a slate tablet clutched in his hands, is Grizel. He points frantically at his chalk diagrams, his mouth moving a mile a minute as he directs a team of haulers below. *A divinely inspired genius!* What an architect you have set him to become. Down in the pit, [[the real work is underway.->Hunting Grounds Future Vision 1.5]]

A team of your kin, looking very small from this height, have managed to snag one of its heads in a net of thick rope. They heave on the pulleys, and slowly, fighting every inch, the great grey head is pulled taut against a heavy wooden post. A single, massive guy with a chipped axe steps forward, and in a matter of seconds, he lets it fall with a wet, heavy **THUMP**. A geyser of dark blood erupts, and the severed head falls to the basin floor. The beast roars, but before the sound has even faded, the stump of the neck is already sizzling, new flesh bubbling and reforming with an unnatural speed. [[The vision shimmers, jumping forward in time...->Hunting Grounds Future Vision 2]]

The chaotic, bloody struggle is soon gone. You watch as the scaffolding over the basin grows into a permanent, multi-level wooden fortress. Or is it a temple? It looks pretty. On one side, a team of your kin works with pickaxes, chipping away at the marble ruins, loading the glittering dust and white chunks into woven baskets. Below, the Many-Heads - now looking chubbier than it was before - waits impatiently, two of its heads placidly munching on the fresh stone delivered by a pulley system, two others whining towards the rest of your kin. Its fifth head is not fighting. To your surprise, it is offered willingly, held steady in a new, clever wooden brace at the edge of the platform. With a single, unified grunt, a couple of your kin pull - there is a clean, sharp *shlick*, and the head drops away. No roar. No struggle. Just the steady, rhythmic crunching of the other heads on their reward for being *such a good* Many-Heads: another meal of ancient stone. [[You feel yourself drifing from the pit to the caves beyond...->Hunting Grounds Future Vision 3]]

The vision drifts from the pit, pulling you through the tunnels until you are in a part of the warren you do not recognize. It sure is loud, though. Everywhere, kin are at work. A team stretches a huge, pale hide over a wooden frame; another group sits in a circle, chipping at massive skulls with flint knives, turning them into helmets and bowls. You see a hunter walk past, his wrap new and tough-looking, made from the same grey, scaly leather. Further in, you catch sight of many more artisans all working the Many-Head's bones. Some into lenghty spears, others spiral-engraved jewelry, more yet totems, tent-supports, pins, armour, canes... From the side, you hear a younger kin call out, "This way, Foreman Grizel!" and you can't help but scowl a little. *Foreman* Grizel?! What, he gets a fancy title and a slate tablet because he knows how to count? You were the one who had to run from five hungry heads! [[Not him!->Hunting Grounds Future Vision 4]] *Bah...*

Your stomach gives a low, hungry rumble. The sheer amount of food... it's overwhelming. The line of carriers heading for the Great Chamber is endless, each goblin straining under the weight of a haunch of lizard-meat bigger than they are. Her bowl will never be empty of meat again. *No one's* bowl will suffer the lack of good, supple, freshly harvested meat. The golden bug hums, clearly not ready to bring you back to the present. From the hunting grounds and the ruins of old, you are moved [[back to the heart of the world...->Future Chamber Router]]

[if passage.visits == 1] You step out of the archway and your breath hitches. [continue] [append] You are standing at the bottom of a massive cavern, wider than the entire warren. [continue] Crushed into the sides are what look like remains of white stone [[◽buildings->Ruined Buildings]]. A number of [[puddles]] sit in the center of the smooth floor, reflecting the grey light. [if SmallGolemState == 1; append] Standing still near them is the squat [[golem]] from before. [continue] [append] Near the archway, a [[shattered altar]] lies in the dust. [continue] [unless HuntingGroundsMisaligned] A path winds down through the debris to your right, leading into a deep, dark [[⬛depression->Lair South]]. [continue] [unless HuntingGroundsMisaligned; unless HuntingGroundsAligned; if GrakHelp; append] You catch sight of [[Grak->Grak Hunting Grounds]] as it now stands near the entrance. [continue] [if HuntingGroundsMisaligned] A path winds down through the debris to your right, now completely blocked by a [[⬛mountain of rubble->Hunting Grounds Lair Blocked]]. [continue] [append] Far ahead, half a staircase clings to the curved wall, leading up to a [[⬜bright opening->Second Chamber]] high above. [continue] The way back to the [[⚫chamber->Hunting Grounds Entrance Chamber]] is behind you. [if HuntingGroundsAligned; unless HuntingGroundsFutureSeen] *Just as you turn to leave, the golden bug in your satchel gives a sudden, sharp shiver, its ticking momentarily frantic...* [continue] {embed passage: 'Reset Hydra Position Logic'} [if HuntingGroundsAligned; unless HuntingGroundsFutureSeen; inventory for GoldenBug] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->Hunting Grounds Future Vision 1]] [continue]

You walk up to the edge of the rubble. The landslide has completely filled the depression, piling jagged white marble and dust all the way up to the cavern wall. You press your ear against a large stone, holding your breath. Nothing. No hissing, no wet grinding of teeth, and certainly no buzzing. The massive weight of the collapsed ceiling has buried the beast and the giant forever. You dust off your hands. It's a shame, but hey, at least you won't have to run from those snapping jaws ever again! That's something. {link to: 'Hunting Grounds Hub', label: 'Back'}

A wet grinding of scales over marble cuts through the ringing in your ears. A pale head squeezes through the northern archway, soon joined by a second, then a third. The beast from the tunnels! It hisses, spilling a heavy smell of chalk across the room as its slit-pupils lock onto the currently largest thing in the room. But the giant takes a step, making the floor tremble. Raising its single remaining arm, it aims the stone paddle directly at the intruder and marches forward with a slow, rhythmic thud. The beast snaps its jaws, a warning bite that catches nothing but air. The looming light of the statue forces a flinch from the monster. Clearly it's more at ease with smaller prey - the creature scrambles backward. Its fat body scrapes against the archway, dislodging chunks of masonry as it slinks back into the adjacent hall. The giant keeps on following, its heavy feet carrying it right through the archway after the retreating prey. You hold your breath as, very sneakly, [[you move back the way you came.->Hunting Grounds Misalignment Cutscene 2]]

As you try to put distance between yourself and the archway, a strike echoes. A hollow *CRACK* of stone slamming against scale and bone rings through the halls, followed by a chorus of confused, pained shrieks erupts from the beast. The cavern floor bucks. You lose your footing, falling hard on your hands. Above you, a jagged black line tears across the ceiling, spitting a cloud of white dust directly into your eyes. A heavy block of marble detaches from the roof, shattering against the tiles right where you just stood. Sharp fragments bite at your ankles and yeah, that's it! You're not sticking around to witness the rest. You scramble up, throw your arms over your head, and [[sprint blindly toward the grey light of where you came from.->Hunting Grounds Misalignment Cutscene 3]]

HuntingGroundsMisaligned: true -- You throw yourself up the final slope, your chest burning. As you spill onto the flat floor of the main cavern, there's a final roar coming from behind. The depression leading down to the lower ruins is gone. A landslide of pale stone and dust has choked the path, sealing the beast and the giant beneath it. The ground gives a single, muffled shudder, [[then falls still.->Hunting Grounds Hub]]

You creep to the edge of the basin and peer down into the gloom. The pit is a tangle of pale, scaly coils, twitching and shifting in the dust. The great beast isn't roaring in fury, though? Four of its five heads are happily munching away, their massive snouts buried up to their cloudy eyes in the white dust at the bottom of the floor. A deep, grinding crunching echoes from the pit, followed by a happy, slobbering sound. One head nudges another out of the way to get at a particularly large chunk of what you now realize is the same stone of the chambers, swallowing it with a gulp that makes its long neck bulge. Well, *most* of it is feasting. The fifth head is still putting up a fight, a furious, scaly snake on a rope of a neck. It snaps and hisses at the hunters who are trying to wrangle it with long spears and weighted nets, their shouts echoing in the chamber. "*Down, you overgrown lizard! Down I said!*" one of them barks, as the head dodges a clumsy spear-thrust and snaps at the shaft. {link to: 'Lair NorthEast', label: 'Back'}

{embed passage: 'Reset Hydra Position Logic'} *Wrong turn. Again.* Before you can even back out of the dead end, a heavy, pale head lunges from the gloom. *SNAP!* The jaws slam shut inches from your nose, the force of the bite blowing your red hair back. You stumble backward, letting out a furious, annoyed groan. *Ugh!* Well, you are actively trying to be good bait, but all these broken white and black hallways look exactly the same! Where is that stupid round basin room?! You spin around and [[sprint for the exit->Hunting Grounds Hub]], needing to catch your breath and get your bearings before you accidentally become actual chow instead of a lure.

*Ow!* As you round the bend and walk straight into a wall of pale, white stone. You rub your nose, squinting in the gloom. Strange: you didn't see a collapse, as you headed this way. You reach out, resting your hand against the blockage to steady yourself... why does the stone feel warm to the touch? [[You feel the wall taking a breath.->Hydra Encounter Cutscene 2]]

You look up. And up. And up... oh dear... Your hand is actually laying on scales, not stone. Massive, pale scales that look like dinner plates, stretched tight over a curve that blocks the entire corridor. A deep, wet gurgle vibrates through the monster's mass. As you step back in awe, you can see how it's so big it scrapes both sides of the tunnel. High above in the darkness, you see a cluster of heavy, serpentine heads sway lazily, their eyes squeezed shut. Their jaws are slack, drooling a thick, grey sludge. [[You squeek as one of the heads snaps awake.->Hydra Encounter Cutscene 3]]

The head sways, heavy as a boulder, and drops. *THUD.* It hits the floor inches from your toes - the slit of a pupil focuses on you, cloudy with sleep. It opens its mouth, sticky with drool, and tries to lunge... but the rest of its body is wedged so tight in the tunnel it just... ripples. The scales grind against the stone - *SCREEEE* - and while it does move, it doesn't move far. [[HA! It's too fat to chase you!->Hydra Encounter Cutscene 4]]

HydraFirstEncounter: true -- But the noise is waking up the others, and you see three more heads swaying in the dark, their eyes snapping open. You don't wait to see if they're any faster - you feel a jaw snapping way too close to your back anyways, so it clearly can reach you if it feels like it. You spin on your heel and bolt, feet slapping against the smooth floor as you race back toward the light. {link to: 'Hunting Grounds Hub', label: 'Out! Out!'} {embed passage: 'Reset Hydra Position Logic'}

HydraHuntGrakConsider: true -- You scramble back into the relative safety of the main cavern, your heart hammering against your ribs. A wet *SNAP* echoes from the tunnel behind you as a set of jaws closes on empty air. Too close. *Again!* You lean against the cool marble of the archway, catching your breath. Your palms are scraped from your last stumble, and a fresh bruise is already forming on your hip. The same hip as last time. How... how... [[**GAHH!** *How frustrating!!*->Hydra Encounter Realization Cutscene 2]]

Can't it just leave you alone?! It's always the same. It lunges, it misses, you run. It's big, but it's *slow*. And it gets stuck in the tunnels, wedged in by its own fat. Its heads are all sleepy when they wake up. What a big, dumb, meaty beast. Ok then. Fine. *Fine*! What does the warren do with beasts, then? A slow grin spreads across your face. [[Time for a hunt?->Hydra Encounter Realization Cutscene 3]]

Yes! *Yes!* A proper hunt! Not just you, of course. Well, maybe, actually. You puff out your chest: that is the slowest monster you've ever seen. You could probably do it alone if you put that head of yours to work. Maybe you wouldn't even need to. Yes. Yes, you probably just need to want it real bad, that's probably how the actual hunters back in the warren do it. Then again, Grak and his spears... the others with their nets... a dozen kin, swarming it while it's stuck, hacking at its legs... *oh, the meat!* The sheer amount of it! They would save you from having to carry that thing back to Her chamber alone. It would be a feast for the Goddess that would last a whole season. Your mouth waters. [[A hunt...->Hunting Grounds Hub]]

HydraHuntGrakConsider: true -- {embed passage: 'Reset Hydra Position Logic'} *Wrong turn. Again.* The sleepy head lunges, the jaws snap shut just where your face was. *SNAP!* You stumble back. *Ugh, not again!* It's so predictable. So slow. So huntable. The thought hits you again, like a thrown rock to the back of the head: a proper hunt. Maybe with Grak and the others. Yes. That's how you deal with big, stupid, meaty things like this. You spin around and [[sprint for the exit->Hunting Grounds Hub]].

HydraEncounterCount: HydraEncounterCount + 1 -- [if GrakHelp] {embed passage: 'Hydra Encounter Active Hunt Cutscene'} [continue] [unless GrakHelp; if HydraEncounterCount == 1] {embed passage: 'Hydra Encounter Cutscene 1'} [continue] [unless GrakHelp; if HydraEncounterCount == 2] {embed passage: 'Subsequent Hydra Encounter Cutscene'} [continue] [unless GrakHelp; if HydraEncounterCount == 3] {embed passage: 'Hydra Encounter Realization Cutscene 1'} [continue] [unless GrakHelp; if HydraEncounterCount > 3] {embed passage: 'Hydra Encounter Realization Short Cutscene'} [continue]

***"NOW!"*** Grak's roar is met by a dozen torches flaring to life all around the circular chamber. The sudden, blinding glare washes out the moss-light, and monstrous, dancing shadows leap across the white marble. A wall of kin materializes from the gloom - Grak at its center, axe held high, a glint of sharpened teeth in his grin. The Hydra's heads whip around, hissing in a chorus of confusion and pain as you see how the unexpected light sears their dark-adjusted eyes. Before it can react, the hunters slam the butts of their spears against the stone floor in perfect, deafening unison. ***THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.*** The sound is a solid wall, boxing the beast in. [[A giddy, terrified laugh escapes you.->Hydra Entrapment Cutscene 2]]

It works! *It's working!* The beast reels from the light, its many heads writhing in a beautiful, stupid panic. You see it try to pull back, to flee into the dark, but more of your kin pour from the archway, a second wall of torchlight and fury that seals its escape. It tries to turn, and with a glorious, grinding **SCREEEEEECH** of scales on stone, its own fat body wedges it against the curved chamber wall. *Trapped!* Grak's voice cuts through the chaos, a single, sharp bark. [[*"HUP! HUP! HUP!"*->Hydra Entrapment Cutscene 2.5]]

You join the chant out of instinct, your own voice raw and high, lost in the unified roar of the warren. You bathe in the **THUMP** of the spear-butts - a single, powerful heartbeat driving the monster back. Step by clumsy step it stumbles away from the closing wall of light and noise. Its heads snap blindly at the dancing torches, but it's no use. [[Its back legs, thick as the chamber's pillars, slip on the dusty rim of the basin.->Hydra Entrapment Cutscene 3]]

For a heartbeat, the beast hangs in the balance. Its front legs scrabble uselessly on the smooth marble, its many heads hissing in panick as its back half simply disappears over the rim. With a final, grinding scrape of claws, the rest of the beast follows. A waterfall of white scales and useless, flailing heads plunges into the darkness of the basin. [[**BOOM**.->Hydra Entrapment Cutscene 4]]

HuntingGroundsAligned: true HydraLocation: 'Captured' -- The thick cloud of dust slowly settles, revealing the scene below. And what a sight it is. The great beast is wedged at the bottom of the basin, a tangle of pale coils and thrashing heads. Sure enough it looks trapped, its hisses echoing impotently from the deep hole. Grak leans on his axe at the pit's edge, a grin splitting his scarred face. He spits into the basin, then finally looks up at you. "*Good work, shortie.* [if HydraSign == 'tuningfork'; append] *Good noise. Loud!*" [continue] [if HydraSign == 'lighter'; append] *Good light, grub. Bright!*" [continue] [if HydraSign == 'wiresaw'; append] *No sound? Lazy. But worked.*" [continue] [if HydraSign == 'quill'; append] *Stupid sign. But worked.*" [continue] [if HydraSign == 'plaster'; append] *Wobbly thing? Weird. But worked.*" [continue] [if HydraSign == 'pocketwatch'; append] *Good light, grub. Very shiny!*" [continue] [if HydraSign == 'pack'; append] *Smelly sign, grub. Why?*" [continue] [if HydraSign == 'gear'; append] *Just screaming? Meh. But worked.*" [continue] [if HydraSign == 'jaw'; append] *Loud sign, grub. Yes! Strong! Good!*" [continue] He jerks a thumb at the other hunters, who are already lowering nets and ropes into the pit. "*We secure. You go. Tell warren... feast is coming.*" {link to: 'Lair NorthEast', label: 'You grin back.'}

[JavaScript] const isAligned = engine.state.get('HuntingGroundsAligned'); if (isAligned) { engine.state.set('HydraLocation', 'Captured'); } else { const lairRooms = [ 'Lair North', 'Lair NorthEast', 'Lair East', 'Lair SouthEast', 'Lair South', 'Lair SouthWest', 'Lair West', 'Lair NorthWest' ]; let hydraName = engine.state.get('HydraLocation'); let hydraIdx = lairRooms.indexOf(hydraName); if (hydraIdx === -1) hydraIdx = 0; const leikaName = passage.name; const leikaIdx = lairRooms.indexOf(leikaName); const prevLeikaName = engine.state.get('PreviousLeikaLairRoom'); if (leikaIdx !== -1) { // Increased to 15% chance the beast gets confused or retreats const moveBackward = Math.random() < 0.15; const distCW = (leikaIdx - hydraIdx + 8) % 8; const distCCW = (hydraIdx - leikaIdx + 8) % 8; // ANTI-CAMPING / AMBUSH LOGIC if (leikaName === prevLeikaName) { if (distCW === 1 || distCCW === 1) { if (moveBackward) { hydraIdx = (distCW === 1) ? (hydraIdx - 1 + 8) % 8 : (hydraIdx + 1) % 8; } else if (Math.random() < 0.5) { // 50% chance to flip to the other side to ambush hydraIdx = (distCW === 1) ? (leikaIdx + 1) % 8 : (leikaIdx - 1 + 8) % 8; } // The other 50% of the time, it just patiently holds its ground. } else { if (moveBackward) { hydraIdx = (distCW <= distCCW) ? (hydraIdx - 1 + 8) % 8 : (hydraIdx + 1) % 8; } else { hydraIdx = (distCW <= distCCW) ? (leikaIdx - 1 + 8) % 8 : (leikaIdx + 1) % 8; } } } // RELENTLESS STALKING LOGIC else { let nextHydraIdx = hydraIdx; if (moveBackward) { if (distCW < distCCW) { nextHydraIdx = (hydraIdx - 1 + 8) % 8; } else if (distCCW < distCW) { nextHydraIdx = (hydraIdx + 1) % 8; } else { nextHydraIdx = (hydraIdx - 1 + 8) % 8; } } else { if (distCW < distCCW) { nextHydraIdx = (hydraIdx + 1) % 8; } else if (distCCW < distCW) { nextHydraIdx = (hydraIdx - 1 + 8) % 8; } else { nextHydraIdx = (hydraIdx + 1) % 8; } } // PROOFING: Stop one room short to block the exit, never step on Leika if (nextHydraIdx !== leikaIdx) { hydraIdx = nextHydraIdx; } } engine.state.set('HydraLocation', lairRooms[hydraIdx]); engine.state.set('PreviousLeikaLairRoom', leikaName); } } [continue]

LeikaWeight (LeikaWeight == 'FAT'): 'OBESE' LeikaWeight (LeikaWeight == 'PLUMP'): 'FAT' LeikaWeight (LeikaWeight == 'CHUBBY'): 'PLUMP' LeikaWeight (LeikaWeight == 'NONE'): 'CHUBBY' -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH3', label: 'Back'}

config.header.left: "{embed passage: 'CH3 Ascii Logic'}" config.footer.center: "{embed passage: 'CH3 Settings Menu Logic'}" config.header.right: "{embed passage: 'Satchel Menu Logic'}" config.style.page.theme.override: 'dark' -- {embed passage: 'CH3 Variables'} [CSS] .raised-number { position: relative; top: -0.18em; /* Significantly higher lift */ display: inline-block; } [continue] [unless CH3Standalone] <div class="chapter-container"> <div class="chapter-heading">Chapter <span class="raised-number">3</span></div> <div class="chapter-subtitle">Goddess of Hunger</div> </div> </div> [continue] Warmth seeps into your bones, a familiar comfort against the [[cave's deep chill->Intro 3.0.5]].

You surface from a dream of chasing fat, slow grubs through sun-dappled moss, the taste of sweet earth still on your tongue. For a moment, you are content to simply exist in the soft space between sleep and waking, still nestled deep in the heart of the communal sleeping pile. Grizel's elbow digs familiarly into your ribs, and the musky scent of kin, damp fur, and faintly fermenting sweet-fungus is the smell of safety. The press of sleeping bodies is a comforting weight at your back. You burrow deeper, seeking just a few more moments [[in the comforting dark.->Intro 3.1]]

A low hum vibrates up from the stone floor, a deep thrumming that makes your jaw buzz. A soft, sleepy smile touches your lips. The Goddess' morning lesson. The sound is a holy one, a melody without words you can truly understand, yet it speaks of a power you can feel in your teeth. You have grown to love this morning song, this promise of order that guides the others from their sleep and toward the Great Chamber. It means the Goddess is awake. It means another day of Her divine presence has begun. You are not quite ready to leave the warmth of the pile. Not yet. [[Just a few more moments of peace...->Intro 3.2]]

But the elbow in your ribs is gone. The weight from your side, lifted. A sudden, sharp chill prickles your skin where the warmth of other bodies had just been. Your eyes snap open. The pile is empty. The shuffling, the snoring, the rustle of furs - all gone. There is only the hum, steady and ongoing. Her lesson has already started. You were meant to be there, listening, learning. A cold knot tightens in your belly as you sit bolt upright, the furs falling away to reveal the bare, cold stone around you. You are alone. Late. [[Late!->Intro 3.3]]

No, no, no, *no*! How could you oversleep? Daka! She promised she'd give you a kick to the shins if you were still burrowed when she left. She must have forgotten. Or... or just didn't bother. Damn her! You kick free from the tangled furs, short legs scrambling for purchase on the slick stone. To be late is to be noticed. To be noticed is to feel the weight of Her gaze settle upon you. You... *Gahh!!* You are not ready! Your wrap is not on, your gathering satchel still lies by the wall. You cannot present yourself before Her like this, naked as a newborn grub. Unworthy. You must dress. [[You must hurry!!->Goblin Warrens Sleeping Chamber]] {ascii backdrop}

config.header.right: "{embed passage: 'Satchel Menu Logic'}" -- You burst from the sleeping chamber into the main warren tunnel, your bare feet slapping against the cold, damp stone. The passage is empty. The usual morning chaos - the shouts of hunters preparing their gear, the chatter of kits chasing cave-lizards, the smell of the cook-pits firing up - is gone. There is only the echo of your own hurried footsteps and the distant, holy hum. Patches of lumina-moss pulse with a soft teal light from the walls, just enough to see the familiar carvings etched into the stone. Spirals for good hunts, circles for full bellies - symbols of old, now rich with meaning. Not precise ones just yet... but there's power within them that all of you and the Goddess are just starting to unravel. Your stomach gives a low, pathetic growl as you pass the cold cook-pits, the lingering smell of yesterday's roasted grubs making your mouth water. No time for that. Hunger can wait. Your Goddess cannot. [[You run faster, deeper into the dark.->Intro 3.5 - Tunnels 2]]

The smooth, worn stone of the warren gives way to jagged, natural rock that scrapes at your wrap as you run. Likewise, the air grows colder, tasting of deep earth and wet stone. The friendly patches of lumina-moss become sparse, their teal glow replaced by a darkness broken only by the drip of water catching the light. Something with too many legs skitters away from your approaching feet. [[You barely notice.->Intro 3.5.2 - Tunnels 3]]

The familiar spirals and circles of the warren are gone. Here, older marks scar the walls - straight lines and sharp angles that make your fur prickle. Old magic. Grama said these tunnels led to the Before-Times places. Ahead, the tunnel widens. The jagged rock gives way to massive, perfectly cut blocks of stone, black and smooth. Not goblin-work. And from a towering archway carved into this ancient wall, a warm, golden light spills out. The Great Chamber. You slow your run to a reverent walk as you approach. [[You have arrived.->Intro 3.6 - Arrival 1]]

You creep into the Great Chamber, trying to make yourself small, to slip unnoticed behind the last row of your kin. The Goddess's voice washes over you as she gestures toward a carving on the wall. But then the humming stops. Every head turns. You recognize Grizel's sneer, Daka's wide, innocent eyes, and Grama's usual scowl. And then, the worst of all, [[Her gaze finds you.->Intro 3.6.5 - Arrival 1.5]]

She stands just before the great granite throne. Her white gown, a treasure from the Sky-Walker's chests, is pulled open for comfort, revealing the holy swell of Her belly. She... well, that's not anger. Something else. Weariness? Disappointment? Oh dear. You frown. How can you blame her? This is the third time you have failed to wake up in time! What a *fool* you are! Her finger, soft and pale, lifts and curls. You turn your left, then right, then point to yourself... but with a gulp and a heart hammering against your ribs, you get to walking towards her throne, [[kneeling before Her.->Intro 3.7 - Arrival 2]]

Your head is level with Her navel, tucked into the holy curve of Her belly. You feel the heat of Her skin through the thin white fabric of Her gown, smell something sweet like berries and warm bread. Above you, the great mountains of Her breasts rise and fall with each divine breath. Her hand, soft and pale, disappears into a fold of Her gown. You and your congregation *gasp*. You never knew She had pockets. [[What wonders must they hold?->Intro 3.7.5 - Arrival 2.5]]

GoldenBugGifted: true -- Her hand returns, holding a small, shining sun. It dangles from a golden vine, ticking like a skitter-bug's heart. It glints in the moss-light, so bright you squint. Her other hand comes down, and a pale finger - so huge! - taps the shiny sun's clear face, then points directly at you. A gift. *It must be a gift*!! For you. Her gaze is expectant. With trembling hands, you hold them out, cupped together. The golden bug is lowered into your palms. It is heavier than it looks, and warm, and the ticking hums right through your skin and into your bones. [[You stare at it, speechless.->Intro 3.8 - Arrival 3]]

Take that, Daka! *Look at the Goddess's favorite now!* You stare down at the golden bug in your palms. It has a round, golden shell surrounding an ivory-white face. A long, black leg circles the face - it seems to be the source of the steady *tick, tick, tick*. Faint black marks with pointy edges circle around it. You prod at a small bump on its side. With a soft click, a second golden shell snaps down over the face, almost taking your other thumb with it. [[The ticking stops.->Intro 3.8.5 - Arrival 3.5]]

*Oh, no...* The sudden silence is deafening. You look up, wide-eyed, a nervous apology on your lips for breaking the holy bug... but the words freeze in your throat. [[Everything has frozen.->Frozen Chamber]] {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'}

{embed passage: 'Item Back Logic'} You heft the iron club out of your bag, gripping the textured handle with both hands, admiring its solid weight. It would certainly make a fantastic bludgeon in a pinch. You don't really get the top of it, though. You flick the little threaded wheel with your thumb, watching the lower block of metal slide up and down, opening and closing the square mouth. It's perfectly smooth inside, and part of you does want to place your finger inside to see what happens to it... but, um... that doesn't seem like a great idea. {link to: itemBackTarget, label: 'Back'}

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[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage", get_last_ingame_passage()); engine.state.set("itemBackTarget", comesFromMenu() ? trail[trail.length - 2] : get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue]

He's a lanky one, with a mop of stringy black hair that falls into his eyes. He looks like he'd get blown over by a strong cave-wind. His wrap is old, patched at the elbow, and stained with the same teal color as the mushroom stalks. [unless FungalTreeFelled] He isn't digging. He's just leaning on his stick, idly tracing spirals in the soft fungus-soil with its tip. His gaze is fixed on the giant tree, but his eyes look distant, like he's seeing something else entirely. [continue] [if FungalTreeFelled] He isn't clearing the stump. He's just leaning on his digging stick, thoughtfully poking at the massive, sappy wound where the tree used to be. His gaze is fixed on it, as if trying to solve a great puzzle... or perhaps just trying to figure out where to start. You don't exactly blame him, there's a lot to go through - you'll also be trying to think of a way to not take care of it. [continue] [unless KeffTalkedTo] [[You clear your throat to get his attention.->Keff First Meeting]] [if KeffTalkedTo; unless FungalTreeFelled; unless BlueHideSeen] [[You snap your fingers.->Keff Generic Dialogue]] [if KeffTalkedTo; unless FungalTreeFelled; if BlueHideDialogueSeen] [[You snap your fingers.->Keff Generic Dialogue]] [if KeffTalkedTo; if FungalTreeFelled; unless KeffPostFellingDialogueSeen] [[You coily get closer to him.->Keff Post-Felling Dialogue]] [if KeffTalkedTo; if FungalTreeFelled; if KeffPostFellingDialogueSeen] [[You check in on him.->Post-Felling Generic Dialogue]] [continue] {link to: 'Fungal Farm', label: 'Back'}

FarmGoblinsMet: true KeffTalkedTo: true -- [dialogue delay:0.1 id:keff1] You clear your throat. The lanky goblin doesn't move. You do it again, louder. [dialogue delay:1.5 id:keff1 newline] He starts, looking up slowly from the spirals he was tracing in the dirt. He blinks spores from his eyes. *"Hm?"* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:keff1] *"Oh."* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:keff1] *"Hello, little one."* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:keff1] *"No, wait... just short, right?"* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:keff1 newline] You puff out your chest. *"I am Leika."* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:keff1] *"A servant of the one, true Goddess."* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:keff1] *"And!!"* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:keff1] *"I am here to check on your tribute."* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:keff1 newline] He just stares blankly for a moment. *"Wha-"* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:keff1] *"Tribute??"* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:keff1] *"Again?"* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:keff1] *He sighs, a long, weary sound, and leans heavier on his stick.* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:keff1] *"My, how time flies... yes, well, it is... not enough. Never enough."* [dialogue delay:2.0 id:keff1 newline] You stamp a foot. *"Ah, wait! Not for 'Big-Maw'! For the *Goddess*! A new power has come to the caves, and She requires proper sustenance!"* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:keff1 newline] His eyebrows raise, a flicker of interest in his dreamy eyes. *"Oh yes..."* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:keff1] *"I've heard of that."* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:keff1] *He considers this.* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:keff1] *"That's... new."* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:keff1] *"Look, you should talk to Bera. She's in the hut. She handles the counting. And the... everything else."* [dialogue delay:0.2 id:keff1] He goes back to staring at the giant tree, his mind already drifting away. [dialogue delay:0.5 id:keff1 newline] {link to: 'Keff', label: 'Back'}

[dialogue delay:0.1 id:keff_gen1] You creep up behind him while he's lost in his thoughts. He doesn't even hear you. [dialogue delay:1.5 id:keff_gen1 newline] "RAAAGH!" [dialogue delay:0.5 id:keff_gen1 newline] He yelps, jumping a full foot in the air and dropping his digging stick with a clatter. [dialogue delay:1.2 id:keff_gen1] *"Gah! Spirits!* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:keff_gen1] *By the deeps, little one! Don't *do* that!"* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:keff_gen1 newline] You can't help but giggle. *"Got your attention, didn't I?* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:keff_gen1] *Now. About the Goddess..."* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:keff_gen1 newline] He rubs his chest, still catching his breath. *"The Goddess...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:keff_gen1] *Big-Maw...* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:keff_gen1] *The tree...* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:keff_gen1] *So much... to... think about.* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:keff_gen1] *Bera handles the thinking. You talk to Bera."* [dialogue delay:0.2 id:keff_gen1] He stoops to pick up his stick, pointedly turning his back to you. [dialogue delay:0.5 id:keff_gen1 newline] {link to: 'Keff', label: 'Back'}

KeffPostFellingDialogueSeen: true -- [dialogue delay:0.1 id:keff_post1] You swagger over to Keff, dusting the sweet-smelling spores from your wrap. You point proudly at the massive, felled mushroom. [dialogue delay:1.5 id:keff_post1 newline] *"See? All it took was a little elbow-grease! Now you'll have plenty of tribute for..."* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:keff_post1 newline] Keff doesn't look at you. He's staring at the huge, sappy stump, his mouth hanging slightly open. His digging stick is trembling in his hand. [dialogue delay:2.2 id:keff_post1 newline] [dialogue delay:0.2 id:keff_post1] *"You..."* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:keff_post1] *he whispers, his voice cracking.* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:keff_post1] *"You... you destroyed it.* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:keff_post1 newline] *I liked that tree,"* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:keff_post1] *he says, his voice cracking even more as he finally turns to you with wide, accusing eyes.* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:keff_post1] *"It had the perfect... droop. And the light it made... it was so good for thinking!* [dialogue delay:2.2 id:keff_post1 newline] He gestures wildly with his stick, not at the stump, but at the colossal trunk lying across the farm. [dialogue delay:1.8 id:keff_post1 newline] *"And now... now look! It's everywhere! Do you know how much... *chopping* that is?!* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:keff_post1] *Spirits, the hauling... and the stacking... and Bera will make me sharpen the big axe...* [dialogue delay:2.0 id:keff_post1] *my back already hurts just thinking about it..."* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:keff_post1 newline] He slumps, utterly defeated, and lets his head fall into his free hand. [dialogue delay:1.5 id:keff_post1] *"This is a disaster. An absolute disaster!"* [dialogue delay:0.2 id:keff_post1 newline] {link to: 'Keff', label: 'Back'}

[unless ElvesMet] The woman leans back against a splintered crate, one hand resting on her hip, the other fanning her flushed face. [if ElvesMet] Lady Alerica leans back against a splintered crate, one hand resting on her hip, the other fanning her flushed face. [continue] The strange, shiny red dress she wears is stretched so thin over her chest you can almost see the weave of the fabric. Is it hers? It looks to be made for someone much smaller; the pale purple skin of her chest is pushed up and out of the low neckline, spilling over the top of some kind of bone cage hidden underneath. The display creates a deep, shadowed valley between her breasts, down which a single drop of sweat traces a slow, glistening path. Nearing her, you sneeze: a cloud of cloying perfume emanating from her makes your nose ache and your eyes water. [unless ElvesMet; unless BoilerActivated] [[You clear your throat.->Sunless Elves First Meeting]] [continue] [unless ElvesMet; if BoilerActivated] [[You clear your throat over the noise.->Alerica Alone First Meeting]] [continue] [if ElvesMet; unless BoilerActivated] [[You try to get her attention.->Lady Alerica Generic Dialogue]] [continue] [if ElvesMet; if BoilerActivated; unless AlericaBoilerReactionSeen] [[You try to get her attention over the noise.->Alerica Boiler Reaction Dialogue]] [continue] [if ElvesMet; if BoilerActivated; if AlericaBoilerReactionSeen] [[You try to get her attention over the noise.->Alerica Boiler Generic Dialogue]] [continue] {link to: 'manor porch', label: 'Back'}

[dialogue delay:0.1 id:alerica_gen_1] You approach the tall woman, who is now dabbing a damp cloth at her neck. She watches you come with an expression of profound boredom. [dialogue delay:1.8 id:alerica_gen_1 newline] *"My Goddess requires sustenance!"* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:alerica_gen_1] you declare, trying to sound as official as possible. [dialogue delay:1.2 id:alerica_gen_1 newline] Alerica lowers the cloth and gives a long sigh that makes her constrained chest rise and fall. *"And I require a parasol that isn't fashioned from a giant, smelly leaf.* [dialogue delay:2.2 id:alerica_gen_1] *We all have our burdens, native."* [dialogue delay:2.5 id:alerica_gen_1] She places a hand on her stomach, wincing as her fingers press against the rigid bone cage beneath her dress. *"This... contraption... is a torture device in this heat.* [dialogue delay:2.0 id:alerica_gen_1] *I swear it's causing my humors to stagnate."* [dialogue delay:2.2 id:alerica_gen_1 newline] She gives you another tired look. *"Would love to know who fashioned it, though. Exceptional craftmanship. Makes one look dignified. Now run along.* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:alerica_gen_1] *You're blocking what little breeze there is."* [dialogue delay:0.2 id:alerica_gen_1 newline] You huff, a small cloud of golden dust rising from your feet as you turn away. [dialogue delay:0.2 id:alerica_gen_1 newline] {link to: 'Lady Alerica', label: 'Back'}

{embed passage: 'Hydra Movement Logic'} The tunnel gets smaller here, breaking into a high-ceilinged atrium, with smashed stone planters lining the walls - most are broken, spilling dry, grey earth onto the tiled floor. [unless PetrifiedRootsSeen] Twisted [[roots]] [if PetrifiedRootsSeen] *Very stupid* stone [[roots]] [continue] [append] hang from the ceiling, brushing the top of your head. In the center of the path is a [[bitten statue]]. [continue] The path winds through the petrified roots to the north, leading toward [if HydraLocation == 'Lair NorthEast'; append] [[a circular room->Hydra Encounter Router]]. [unless HydraLocation == 'Lair NorthEast'; append] [[a circular room->Lair NorthEast]]. [continue] [append] To the south, the bore-hole curves back toward [if HydraLocation == 'Lair SouthEast'; append] [[the shattered pantry->Hydra Encounter Router]]. [unless HydraLocation == 'Lair SouthEast'; append] [[the shattered pantry->Lair SouthEast]]. [continue] [if HydraLocation == 'Lair NorthEast'] *A heavy, rhythmic thudding vibrates from the darkness to the north.* [continue] [if HydraLocation == 'Lair SouthEast'] *The smell of crushed stone and old dust drifts from the south.* [continue]

{embed passage: 'Hydra Movement Logic'} The bore-hole has missed this chamber, leaving it eerily whole. It is a long, high hall of polished white tiles that amplifies the sound of your own breathing. Standing in alcoves along both walls is a silent crowd of white stone [[statues->lair statues]]. They loom in the darkness, twice as tall as any goblin, watching over the... nothing. There's nothing else in this room other than them. The hall ends at a dark archway leading west into [if HydraLocation == 'Lair NorthWest'; append] [[a musky cavern->Hydra Encounter Router]]. [unless HydraLocation == 'Lair NorthWest'; append] [[a musky cavern->Lair NorthWest]]. [continue] [append] To the east, the path leads back to [if HydraLocation == 'Lair NorthEast'; append] [[the basin room->Hydra Encounter Router]]. [unless HydraLocation == 'Lair NorthEast'; append] [[the basin room->Lair NorthEast]]. [continue] [if HydraLocation == 'Lair NorthWest'] *A low, wet gurgle ripples from the corridor to the west.* [continue] [if HydraLocation == 'Lair NorthEast'] *The sound of heavy breathing echoes from the circular room to the east.* [continue]

[unless HuntingGroundsAligned] {embed passage: 'Hydra Movement Logic'} The path opens into a wide, circular chamber. The center of the floor has been scooped out into a deep [[sunken basin]], leaving only a narrow ledge around the edge. Lining the curved walls are rows of low [[stone benches]], many of them snapped in half. High above the basin, a series of [[carved spouts]] jut from the stone. The monster's passage has left deep, horizontal gouges across the walls here, as if it had to squeeze through this circular space with a lot of effort. A wide archway leads west, toward [unless HuntingGroundsAligned; if HydraLocation == 'Lair North'; append] [[a silent hall->Hydra Encounter Router]]. [unless HuntingGroundsAligned; unless HydraLocation == 'Lair North'; append] [[a silent hall->Lair North]]. [unless HuntingGroundsAligned; append] To the south, the ledge curves back toward [unless HuntingGroundsAligned; if HydraLocation == 'Lair East'; append] [[the dead garden->Hydra Encounter Router]]. [unless HuntingGroundsAligned; unless HydraLocation == 'Lair East'; append] [[the dead garden->Lair East]]. [continue] [unless HuntingGroundsAligned; if HydraLocation == 'Lair North'] *The sound of heavy, wet breathing rolls out from the archway to the west.* [continue] [unless HuntingGroundsAligned; if HydraLocation == 'Lair East'] *A faint, rhythmic scraping echoes from the garden to the south.* [continue] [if HuntingGroundsAligned] The circular chamber is no longer quiet. The smoky light of a dozen torches casts dancing shadows on the walls. Below you, the trapped [[Many-Heads->Hydra]] thrashes weakly as the hunters are still struggling with calming it using their long spears and nets. At the pit's edge, overseeing the operation, stands [[Grak->Grak Post Hunt]]. Lining the curved walls are rows of low [[stone benches]], many of them snapped in half. High above the basin, a series of [[carved spouts]] jut from the stone. A wide archway still leads west, toward [[a silent hall->Lair North]]. To the south, the ledge curves back toward [[the dead garden->Lair East]]. [continue] [unless HuntingGroundsAligned; if GrakHelp; inventory for TuningFork] [[What if...?->Basin Tuning Fork Signal]] [continue] [unless HuntingGroundsAligned; if GrakHelp; inventory for TrenchLighter] [[What if...?->Basin Lighter Signal]] [continue] [unless HuntingGroundsAligned; if GrakHelp; inventory for WireSaw] [[What if...?->Basin Wire Saw Signal]] [continue] [unless HuntingGroundsAligned; if GrakHelp; if CH3PlasterTaken; inventory for CH3Plaster] [[What if...?->Basin Plaster Signal]] [continue] [unless HuntingGroundsAligned; if GrakHelp; inventory for GoldenBug] [[What if...?->Basin Pocket Watch Signal]] [continue] [unless HuntingGroundsAligned; if GrakHelp; if QuillAndPaperFound; inventory for QuillAndPaper] [[What if...?->Basin Quill Signal]] [continue] [unless HuntingGroundsAligned; if GrakHelp; if SlimePackRemoved; unless PackCleaned; inventory for FoulPack] [[What if...?->Basin Pack Signal]] [continue] [unless HuntingGroundsAligned; if GrakHelp; if MetalGearTaken; inventory for MetalGear] [[What if...?->Basin Gear Signal]] [continue] [unless HuntingGroundsAligned; if GrakHelp; if MetalJawTaken; inventory for MetalJaw] [[What if...?->Basin Jaw Signal]] [continue]

{embed passage: 'Hydra Movement Logic'} The air in this widened cavern is hot and thick, tasting of wet chalk and old, musky breath. It sticks to the back of your throat. The center of the floor has been worn down into a massive, bowl-like [[nest]]. Pushed into a corner is a pile of what looks like wet, [[round bolders->regurgitated stones]]. To the south, the bore-hole continues into [if HydraLocation == 'Lair West'; append] [[the darkness->Hydra Encounter Router]]. [unless HydraLocation == 'Lair West'; append] [[the darkness->Lair West]]. [continue] [append] To the east, the path leads toward [if HydraLocation == 'Lair North'; append] [[the silent hall->Hydra Encounter Router]]. [unless HydraLocation == 'Lair North'; append] [[the silent hall->Lair North]]. [continue] [if HydraLocation == 'Lair West'] *A scraping, rhythmic sound comes from the tunnel to the south.* [continue] [if HydraLocation == 'Lair North'] *A faint, wet gurgle echoes from the hall to the east.* [continue]

{embed passage: 'Hydra Movement Logic'} The grey light of the hub starts to fade behind you as you step forward into the bore-hole. The air grows heavy and cold, smelling of wet, ancient stone, and the smooth floor splits into two paths. To your left, the bore-hole wall curves away into [if HydraLocation == 'Lair SouthWest'; append] [[the western darkness->Hydra Encounter Router]]. [unless HydraLocation == 'Lair SouthWest'; append] [[the western darkness->Lair SouthWest]]. [continue] [append] To your right, a similar archway mirrors it, leading into [if HydraLocation == 'Lair SouthEast'; append] [[the eastern gloom->Hydra Encounter Router]]. [unless HydraLocation == 'Lair SouthEast'; append] [[the eastern gloom->Lair SouthEast]]. [continue] The vast space of the [[🦴ruins->Hunting Grounds Hub]] you came from is a comforting patch of light behind you. [if HydraLocation == 'Lair SouthWest'] *A faint scraping sound, like a giant claw on stone, echoes from the left passage.* [continue] [if HydraLocation == 'Lair SouthEast'] *A sharp, flinty smell drifts from the darkness on the right.* [continue]

{embed passage: 'Hydra Movement Logic'} The smooth, glassy floor is interrupted here. The tunnel has punched clean through a wall of white brick, exposing the cross-section of a buried chamber. It looks like it was once a pantry for giants. Massive [[stone shelves]] line the jagged, broken walls, while [[canisters]] lie scattered and smashed across the path, crunching under your feet. To the north, the path continues through the debris, leading [if HydraLocation == 'Lair East'; append] [[deeper into the complex->Hydra Encounter Router]]. [unless HydraLocation == 'Lair East'; append] [[deeper into the complex->Lair East]]. [continue] [append] To the west, the tunnel curves back toward [if HydraLocation == 'Lair South'; append] [[the entrance->Hydra Encounter Router]]. [unless HydraLocation == 'Lair South'; append] [[the entrance->Lair South]]. [continue] [if HydraLocation == 'Lair East'] *A deep, resonant vibration shakes the dust from the shelves to the north.* [continue] [if HydraLocation == 'Lair South'] *A wet, heavy scraping sound echoes from the passage to the west.* [continue]

{embed passage: 'Hydra Movement Logic'} You pick your way through a landslide of white stone that has spilled into the chamber. The ceiling has partially given way, letting in a draft of cold air that carries the faint, distant scent of damp earth. [if SmallGolemState < 2] Slumped against a jagged, broken wall is a massive [[shattered golem]]. [continue] [if SmallGolemState == 2] Slumped against a jagged, broken wall is a massive [[shattered golem]]. Standing right before it is the squat [[golem]] from the upper ruins. [continue] [append] Nearby, half-buried in the white scree, you spot a pair of embossed [[markings]]. [continue] To the north, the path leads back to [if HydraLocation == 'Lair West'; append] [[the black-tiled room->Hydra Encounter Router]]. [unless HydraLocation == 'Lair West'; append] [[the black-tiled room->Lair West]]. [continue] [append] To the east, the path continues, heading back toward [if HydraLocation == 'Lair South'; append] [[the entrance->Hydra Encounter Router]]. [unless HydraLocation == 'Lair South'; append] [[the entrance->Lair South]]. [continue] [if HydraLocation == 'Lair West'] *The air from the north smells of copper and carries a low, rhythmic vibration.* [continue] [if HydraLocation == 'Lair South'] *A wet, heavy scraping sound echoes from the passage to the east.* [continue]

You reach out a hesitant finger, your curiosity stronger than your caution. You expect the cold, smooth feel of polished marble. You do not get it. It isn't cold. It isn't hard. The surface gives way with a soft, dusty *poof*, like poking a puffball mushroom that has gone to spore. To your confusion, the 'eye' ripples, the perfect circle of the iris distorting like a reflection in a disturbed puddle. [[The stone shivers.->Lair Statues Plaster Cutscene 2]]

CH3PlasterTaken: true -- With a soft, wet sound, it oozes from the statue's belly, a single, thick tear of solid white slime. It hits the stone floor with a soft *plop*, then immediately begins to pull itself together, rising from a puddle into a quivering, lumpy sphere. You watch, awed, as the sphere sprouts a long, curious nose and sniffs the air in your direction, tilting like a confused kit. It drifts closer, bumping gently against your satchel. It seems... friendly? A holy tool! A gift from the Ancients, waiting here just for you! It must have sensed the Goddess's purpose on you. With the utmost care, you open your satchel, and the liquid stone [[floats right in.->lair statues]]

{embed passage: 'Hydra Movement Logic'} The tunnel abruptly gives way to a chamber of polished black tile. The air here is still and heavy, smelling of copper and dried herbs. Dominating the center of the room is a massive [[stone scale]], its heavy pans hanging from thick chains. Against the far wall, [unless FountainLit; append] a [[weeping fountain]] carved into the shape of a crying face trickles a slow, dark fluid into a basin. [continue] [if FountainLit; append] a [[weeping fountain]] carved into the shape of a crying face. The dark fluid in its basin is currently ablaze, casting a cool, blue light across the black tiles. [continue] To the north, the black tiles shatter where the path leads to [if HydraLocation == 'Lair NorthWest'; append] [[the nest->Hydra Encounter Router]]. [unless HydraLocation == 'Lair NorthWest'; append] [[the nest->Lair NorthWest]]. [continue] [append] To the south, the passage curves back into [if HydraLocation == 'Lair SouthWest'; append] [[the white ruins->Hydra Encounter Router]]. [unless HydraLocation == 'Lair SouthWest'; append] [[the white ruins->Lair SouthWest]]. [continue] [if HydraLocation == 'Lair NorthWest'] *A wave of hot, musky air rolls in from the passage to the north.* [continue] [if HydraLocation == 'Lair SouthWest'] *A cold draft carries the scent of wet rock from the south.* [continue]

SeasonCount: 5 Season1Biome: 'Slime' Season2Biome: 'Fungal' Season3Biome: 'Hunting' Season4Biome: 'Sunless' Season5Biome: 'Expedition' -- It is done. *Note to self: You can change the GoddessWeightGained stage in the main debug menu prior to teleporting to test different endings if you want to.* {plainlink to: 'Season 1 Cutscene', label: 'Start Ending sequence'}

Ok... ok, that's... enough. You slide down the curve of the tunnel wall, the rough stone snagging on your wrap, until your bare bottom hits the floor with a heavy, echoing *thud*. Your satchel slips and clatters against the rock... whatever. Your thighs splay wide automatically, making room for the dome of your belly as it settles into your lap. It spills forward, resting its warm, heavy lower curve directly onto the cool dirt of the path. You let out a long, ragged groan that turns into a wet, syrupy hiccup. Sweat stings your eyes. Just hauling yourself this far has left your thickened legs trembling like over-stretched gut-strings, and your chest heaves helplessly against the top of your stomach. You rest your hands on the sides of your gut, feeling the tight, drum-like skin downright pulse under your palms. Oh dear... you just need... *Mmphh*... [[a minute.->Leika Glutton Ending 1.5]]

Just one minute to catch your breath before hoisting the Goddess chosen one's bulk back up. But as the minute turns into two, and your panting slows to a deep, contented wheeze, the thought of forcing your legs to lift all this again becomes a terrible chore. Your eyes flutter shut. And the stone floor does feel very nice against your back, doesn't it? You give your tight belly a slow, soothing rub, feeling a deep, vibrating rumble answer your touch. Why rush? Why stress yourself over it? The Goddess is busy being full. You are busy being *full*. A little nap seems like a perfectly sensible thing to do. A highly divine action, too, if you think about it. [[You find yourself drifting off.->Leika Glutton Ending 1.7]]

... *Poke.* ... *Poke. Poke. [[Poke->Leika Glutton Ending 2]].*

A sharp, rhythmic stabbing against your side drags you out of the warm dark. You let out a long, sticky groan, blindly swatting at the annoyance. Your hand slaps against a piece of hard, polished wood. The wood pulls back, then jabs you right in the ribs again. An annoyingly familiar, raspy voice echoes in the quiet tunnel. [[*"Well now. Looks like a cave-in."*->Leika Glutton Ending 2.5]]

You blink the heavy sleep from your eyes. Standing over you, leaning on his black-wood cane, is Grama. He uses the tip of it to give your hip another firm prod. *"Oof! Stop that,"* you grumble. You try to push yourself upright, planting your palms in the dirt. With a strained *mmph*, you manage to prop yourself on your elbows. Thinking quick, you try to snatch his stick, but to no avail: the settling weight of your middle keeps you firmly anchored to the floor. Grama leans down, squinting his clouded eye at you with exaggerated severity. *"I told the boys we'd need to clear the passage today,"* he wheezes. *"Didn't expect to find a boulder blocking the way."* You scowl, though a small flutter of pride warms your chest. *"I am just resting! The Goddess's chosen needs her holy sleep."* [[He clicks his tongue.->Leika Glutton Ending 3]]

*"If you rest any harder, child, you'll take root. Look at you. You take up the whole path."* *"I do **not** take up the whole path!"* you huff. You attempt to cross your arms to look more dignified, but they comfortably come to rest on the high slope of your chest instead. *"You're being mean. That doesn't even make sense, not even the Goddess herself would be able to! I just made myself robust, and you're jealous of it, and... and that's it. Jealous."* Grama's scowl finally breaks. A yellow-toothed grin cracks his wrinkled face, and a raspy, wheezing laugh escapes his throat. He leans heavily on his cane, shaking with amusement. *"**Robust**! Hear that boys?"* he chuckles. *"Yes, a true gatherer you are. Making yourself strong for the tunnels. How blind of us!"* [[A sudden shuffle of feet and a low cough echo from the gloom behind him.->Leika Glutton Ending 4]]

You peer past the old goblin. Standing just at the edge of the torchlight is a group of four able-bodied hunters, holding empty carrying-poles and thick woven nets. One of them absentmindedly lets his net slip from his fingers, it hitting the floor with a soft rustle. Another is swallowing hard, his gaze tracing the wide, soft expanse of your hips spilling over the dirt, his ears turning a darker, flushed shade of green. They look like they've just stumbled upon a massive, undiscovered hoard of sweet-sap. Grama taps his cane against the stone, breaking the silence. *"Well? Come now, can't an old man have his fun? Now go ahead. Don't just gawk like starved kits. Pay your respects."* [[Respects?->Leika Glutton Ending 4.5]]

You blink, thoroughly confused. Respects for what? Getting stuck on the floor? Slipping into a food coma? The tallest of the hunters steps forward, nervously wringing his hands. He gives a deep, awkward bow. *"She is... she is a wondrous sight, Elder Grama,"* he stammers, his eyes darting back to your belly. *"A true [[Matron->Leika Glutton Ending 5]] for the warren."*

config.header.left: "⌂ ~ ⌂ ~ = ~ ⌂ ~ ⌂" -- Matron. *** The word had echoed in the cold tunnel, sounding a bit funny to your ears at the time. But as you let out a long, contented snore and shift your weight on the deepest, softest pile of cave-bear furs the warren has to offer, you have to admit: [[those hunters had a keen eye for potential.->Leika Glutton Ending 5.5]]

Seasons have passed since that day. You still fondly remember the four sweating, red-faced hunters hoisting your heavy, limp form onto their carrying-poles, their knees trembling under your newly acquired glory - and yet so little, compared to now! - as they hauled you all the way back home. You hadn't walked a single step of that journey. In fact, you haven't walked much at all since then. [[A soft, damp cloth dabs a stray drop of grease from your chin.->Leika Glutton Ending 6]]

You open one eye, peering past the attendant to the edge of your furs. Your personal alcove has long since been relocated to the tents up above, to better accommodate your spread and position as one of the bigger matrons. Waiting respectfully at the threshold is a hunting party. Even Grak stands among them, his usual scowl replaced by a quiet, expectant focus as he holds a crude map scratched onto a cured hide. You let out a long, put-upon sigh, making the massive, dimpled shelf of your belly quiver. Guiding these brutes is such a heavy chore. At times, it has felt as if they rely entirely on your past travels to know where the plumpest cave-lizards nest in the eastern tunnels, or how to navigate the boiling vents near the outlanders' metal beast. With a lazy, dismissive wave of a plump hand, you point them toward the western routes. The warren's fiercest warriors immediately lower their heads and march off into the dark to secure your next meal, leaving you to a slow, satisfied grin. [[And why shouldn't they?->Leika Glutton Ending 7]]

You settle deeper into the crushed moss and furs, feeling the stretched skin of your middle push against the golden chain around your neck, the metal links completely swallowed by the folds of your double chin. The golden bug - Her holy gift - now rests perfectly flat atop the green shelf of your upper stomach. Wearing it as a necklace would have been a clumsy, bruising nightmare back when you actually had to haul yourself through the jagged tunnels. But here, sleeping on top of you, it just looks very befitting. The cute thing finds itself so comfortable it's even gone to rest! The ticking has all but disappeared. [[Your musings are interrupted by a savory smell.->Leika Glutton Ending 8]]

You let out a long, wet groan. Your middle is already stuffed from the morning's feast of sweet-sap, pressing so firmly against your thick thighs that you couldn't bring your knees together even if you wanted to. A soft ache radiates through it. But turning away a fresh tribute would be a terrible insult to the warren's efforts, wouldn't it? And, honestly, the smell of charred sugar and rendered fat is making your mouth water anyway. You simply tilt your head back and part your lips. The attendant respectfully climbs onto a small wooden footstool just to reach you properly, using a carved spoon to drop the sticky, warm morsels [[directly onto your tongue.->Leika Glutton Ending 9]]

As the heavy fat coats your throat, your gaze drifts past the attendant, toward the dark, winding tunnels leading back to the Great Chamber. Someone else can run the deep paths and melt the blockades. To force the absolute favorite of the Goddess - her Chosen one - to scramble through the dirt and scrape her knees like a common kit... what a terrible waste of your potential. Is it not better to simply embody Her teachings? To show the entire warren exactly what holy, unyielding abundance looks like from the safety of the deepest furs? You swallow the heavy mouthful, letting a deep, rumbling belch tear up your throat. The vibration shakes the golden bug resting atop your shelf, but you barely notice. You sink further into the crushed moss, lazily opening your mouth for the next waiting bite. Yes. This is exactly the life She would have wanted for you. [[A perfect, holy existence.->Matron Ending]]

You lean forward, open your jaw wide, and sink your teeth right into the taut purple rind. [[A fountain of thick nectar bursts into your mouth.->Leika Gorging Fruit 1.5]]

It tastes *wonderful*! Like overripe berries left in the heat, rich and dizzyingly sweet. Your hands fly up to grab the sides of it. You dig your claws in to hold it steady as you tear a huge chunk of the flesh away... and you find yourself needing more. So you shove your face back into the breach, once, twice - your teeth scrape against a cluster of slippery seeds, crushing them for the bitter juice inside before gulping them down with another massive mouthful of pulp. The sticky sap coats your chin, soaking right through the front of your wrap. You don't even stop to breathe, too busy biting deeper and deeper into [[the sweet core.->Leika Gorging Fruit 2]]

Handful after frantic handful of the soaked pulp is shoved past your lips. You barely chew, just gulping in a continuous, wet rhythm that echoes in the tunnel behind you. A hot flush creeps up your neck. This nectar is making your head spin in a very pleasant way. After who knows how long, you find yourself scraping the bottom of the rind with your nails, licking them clean, and trying to sit up straight... oh. Oh dear, you can't. Well, you can, sort of, kind of: a solid, bloated belly now rests firmly on your thighs. You giggle: [[how did this get here?->Leika Gorging Fruit 2.5]]

LeikaGorgedFruit: true LeikaWeight (LeikaWeight == 'FAT'): 'OBESE' LeikaWeight (LeikaWeight == 'PLUMP'): 'FAT' LeikaWeight (LeikaWeight == 'CHUBBY'): 'PLUMP' LeikaWeight (LeikaWeight == 'NONE'): 'CHUBBY' -- You let yourself fall backward onto your rear with a dull thud, gasping for air. A long, syrupy hiccup escapes your throat, bringing a dizzying rush of heat to your cheeks. [[You just need a moment, that's all.->thicket]]

LeikaGorgedSlime: true LeikaWeight (LeikaWeight == 'FAT'): 'OBESE' LeikaWeight (LeikaWeight == 'PLUMP'): 'FAT' LeikaWeight (LeikaWeight == 'CHUBBY'): 'PLUMP' LeikaWeight (LeikaWeight == 'NONE'): 'CHUBBY' -- You stand at the edge of the pool, your toes curled over the lip of the stone. The smell is overwhelming - warm sugar, rendered fat, and something else, deep and earthy... your mouth waters. ...would it be so bad to taste some? Just a small portion. A quality check! Yes. For Her. You have to... uh... be sure that it's not burning anymore!! [[That's very important work. Holy, even.->Leika Gorging Slime 2]]

You reach out, watching as Bouba gives a slow, encouraging wobble from the center of the pool, her massive form shifting to send a wave of warm, thick goo lapping over your feet. You scoop up a handful. It’s heavy, trembling in your palm like a living thing. You bring it to your lips... and tilt your head back. [[*Oh.*->Leika Gorging Slime 3]]

It slides down your throat like warm silk. It’s incredibly sweet, but heavy - so heavy. It lands in your empty stomach with a solid, satisfying *thud* that radiates heat through your whole body. You gasp, wiping your mouth. This has to be the best thing you have ever tasted... *More.* Your hand goes back in before you even tell it to. Then the other. You fall to your knees at the edge of the pool, scooping the green jelly into your mouth in frantic, messy handfuls. It coats your tongue, your throat, your chin, and you can feel it piling up inside you, expanding, filling every hollow corner of your gut. Your wrap tightens. You feel the fabric strain, the knot at your hip digging in as your belly pushes out against the stone floor, hard and round and wonderfully full. You let out a wet, gurgling *BELCH* that tastes of sweetness, but you don’t stop. You can’t. Not until you are absolutely... undeniably... full. {link to: 'Slime Caverns Hub', label: 'You roll onto your back, panting.'}

LeikaGorgedStew: true LeikaWeight (LeikaWeight == 'FAT'): 'OBESE' LeikaWeight (LeikaWeight == 'PLUMP'): 'FAT' LeikaWeight (LeikaWeight == 'CHUBBY'): 'PLUMP' LeikaWeight (LeikaWeight == 'NONE'): 'CHUBBY' -- The hut is quiet, save for the popping of the fire. Bera and Keff are gone, hauling logs to the line. It's just you and the pot. The smell is thick enough to chew - roasted bone marrow, salty tubers, and rich, rendered fat. A bubble of grease rises to the surface, shimmering in the firelight, and pops with a wet *blup*. Your stomach gives a painful, demanding twist. It's not stealing if it's leftovers, right? They left it here! It might go cold! And like... you're a holy servant. What have *they* done to help the cause?! [[A small retribution is in order.->Leika Gorging Stew 2]]

You grab the wooden ladle. It's heavy, coated in the thick brown gravy. You lift it, blowing on the steam, and take a sip. *Salt. Meat. Heat.* It hits your tongue like a punch of flavor, so savory it makes your jaw ache. You chew on a chunk of teal-cap mushroom that has soaked up all the juices until it's like a sponge of flavor. You swallow, and you can feel the hot, heavy lump slide all the way down to your gut, settling there with a radiant warmth. It's incredible. You lick the ladle clean. Then you dip it again. Deeper this time. Dredging up the heavy stuff from the bottom. [[Just one more spoon...->Leika Gorging Stew 3]]

You forget the ladle. It's too slow. You tilt the heavy pot, slurping the thick broth directly from the rim, ignoring the way the hot grease scalds your lip. Chunks of tender lizard-meat and soft fat slide into your mouth, one after another. You barely chew, just swallowing mouthful after mouthful of the heavy, savory sludge. Sweat breaks out on your forehead, dampening your hairline. You feel hot, flushed and feverish with the sheer density of the meal. Your loincloth cord cuts into your hips like a wire. You grunt, feeling your belly pressing hard against your thighs, expanding, tightening, filling with a heavy, sloshing weight that pulls you forward. You drop the empty pot with a loud *CLANG*, gasping for air, grease smeared across your cheeks. {link to: 'farm hut', label: 'You lean back against the wall, groaning.'}

[if LeikaWeight == 'OBESE'] *Your shoulder scrapes across the tunnel wall as you lean on it. Every step sends a jolt through your massive, overstuffed belly, and your breath comes in short, desperate pants. You need to rest... just for a moment... [[maybe right here...->Leika Glutton Ending 1]]* [continue]

{embed passage: 'Item Back Logic'} You look down at your middle. Without the visual obstruction of your satchel, you get a clear, unobstructed view of your belly pushing against the fabric of your wrap. The phantom strap still presses an invisible line into the soft flesh of your shoulder, but down here, it's just you and your own bulk. You give your stomach a reassuring pat; at least your own body hasn't decided to turn invisible on you! {link to: itemBackTarget, label: 'Back'}

{embed passage: 'Item Back Logic'} You look down. Without your satchel in the way, your belly is right there. It's soft, and round, pushing out in a gentle curve against the rough fabric of your loincloth. You give it a little poke. It's definitely... chubby. A proper gatherer's belly. You give it another, friendlier pat before pulling your wrap closed again. {link to: itemBackTarget, label: 'Back'}

{embed passage: 'Item Back Logic'} [if LeikaWeight == 'NONE'] You look down. Past your chest, your belly is... fine. It's there. A soft, modest curve pushing gently against your wrap. You give it a poke. *Squish.* It's just soft. Not impressive. A hunter would call it "lean," and a Matron would call it "starved." It grumbles quietly - a lonely, hollow sound in the quiet cave. You frown, smoothing the rough fabric over it. Bah. You deserve better than this... *but the Goddess' own belly has priority!* {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/Leika Stage NONE.png', side: 'left', push: '300px', scale: '0.68', offsetX: '460px', offsetY: '100px'} [continue] [if LeikaWeight == 'CHUBBY'] You look down. Your wrap is pulled tight, the fabric straining slightly to contain you. You give your side a slap. *Thwack.* Good sound. Solid. Like a sturdy, ripe melon. This is the belly of a goblin who knows how to find the good roots, swaying a little when you shift your weight - a comforting reminder that you aren't just some scrawny kit anymore. You pat it, and a small, surprised *urp* bubbles up your throat, tasting of your last meal. You cover your mouth, looking around guiltily. Excuse you! But... *hehe*. It felt nice. You catch yourself puffing it out a little further, just to see how far the fabric of your wrap will stretch. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/Leika Stage CHUBBY.png', side: 'left', push: '300px', scale: '0.68', offsetX: '460px', offsetY: '100px'} [continue] [if LeikaWeight == 'PLUMP'] You look down... ah. You can't really see your toes anymore unless you lean forward. Your belly has become a proper mound, a round, firm hillock that hangs noticeably over the cord of your loincloth and escapes your wrap. Your forearms have softened, leaving faint red marks where you finally had to unlash and drop your tight bone bracers. You know what... the cloth is also digging in. You're not about to drop it, but a deep, red line is forming on your hips, itching in that tight, pinched way. It's... annoying, but also weirdly satisfying? You squeeze a handful of the soft flesh at your side; it spills over your fingers. You are taking up more space in the world, and the world will just have to deal with it. You're getting to feel important! A deep, wet gurgle rolls through your gut, loud enough to echo, followed by a long, suppressed belch that makes your eyes water. You have to stop and pant for a second. Moving this much weight is harder work than you thought. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/Leika Stage PLUMP.png', side: 'left', push: '300px', scale: '0.68', offsetX: '460px', offsetY: '100px'} [continue] [if LeikaWeight == 'FAT'] You look down. A shelf of pale green flesh dominates your view. Your wrap has lost the war; it has ridden up, bunching under your arms, unable to cover the bottom curve of your gut which now hangs out, pale and exposed to the cool cave air. You bumped into a stalagmite earlier. You didn't even feel it hurt, you just... *bounced*. You rub your lower back. It aches. A dull, constant throb from carrying this... *load*. You feel bloated, your stomach hard as a rock and churning like a stew-pot. And yet it also jiggles with every breath, a heavy, gelatinous motion that pulls at your back. Walking has become a bit of a waddle, hasn't it? A dignified, heavy waddle. A *godly* one. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/Leika Stage FAT.png', side: 'left', push: '300px', scale: '0.68', offsetX: '460px', offsetY: '100px'} [continue] [if LeikaWeight == 'OBESE'] You look down... well, you try to - your chin hits your chest. You are massive. You have intentionally pulled your red wrap up over your chest, giving up on covering yourself just to let your bare breasts drop free from the tight fabric. Your belly below them is a gurgling sphere that you have to actively navigate around; it rubs against your thighs when you walk, forcing your legs wide in a heavy, breathless waddle. *BBBRRRAAAP!* A massive, uncontrollable belch tears out of you, shaking your whole frame. You groan, clutching the sides of your overstuffed gut. You are out of breath just standing here, the sheer weight of yourself pressing against your lungs... you feel hot, flushed, and... oh, spirits... incredibly slow. But when you touch the skin... *fuck*. It is tight as a drum. Stretched to the limit. It feels powerful. *It feels like you are becoming a Goddess yourself.* {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/Leika Stage OBESE.png', side: 'left', push: '300px', scale: '0.68', offsetX: '460px', offsetY: '100px'} [continue] {link to: itemBackTarget, label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] const goddessWeight = engine.state.get('GoddessWeightGained'); const lessonHasBeenSeen = engine.state.get('LessonSeen'); if (goddessWeight !== 'NONE' && lessonHasBeenSeen) { let nextLesson = ''; const roll = Math.random(); if (roll < 0.05) { nextLesson = 'wardrobecheck'; } else { let cycle = engine.state.get('lessonCycle') || []; if (cycle.length === 0) { const allLessons = ['botany', 'monsters', 'anatomy', 'math', 'rest']; for (let i = allLessons.length - 1; i > 0; i--) { const j = Math.floor(Math.random() * (i + 1)); [allLessons[i], allLessons[j]] = [allLessons[j], allLessons[i]]; } cycle = allLessons; } nextLesson = cycle.pop(); engine.state.set('lessonCycle', cycle); } engine.state.set('CurrentLessonState', nextLesson); engine.state.set('LessonSeen', false); engine.state.set('DakaTurns', 0); engine.state.set('GrizelTurns', 0); engine.state.set('GramaTurns', 0); engine.state.set('GrakTurns', 0); } [continue]

You jam the sharp end of the bone into the crumbling mortar. A puff of dry dust fills the air. You wiggle it back and forth, using it like a tiny lever, scraping and digging at the weak points. The bone grinds against the stone. Your knuckles are raw against the wall, but you keep pushing, keep prying. With a low, grating scrape, the heavy stone shifts inward just a little. That's it! You drop the bone and get your fingers into the new gap, pulling with all your might. The stone comes free, landing on the straw with a muffled sound. [[Behind it is a dark, hollow space.->Loose Stone Pry Cutscene 2]]

HiddenCellItem: 'taken' HasFireStone: true FireStoneTraced: false -- Your heart thumping, you reach in. Your fingers close around something smooth and warm. You pull it out into the greasy torchlight. It's... a stone, flat and dark, worn smooth as a river pebble. A circle with outward pointing arrows has been carved into its surface: it's pulsing with a slow, steady, orange light. *A... a holy relic!* A secret, left here just for you! You can feel a gentle warmth spreading from the stone into your palm. You carefully tuck it into a fold of your wrap. {link to: 'Prison Cell', label: 'Back'}

[unless ElvesMet] The thin man paces back and forth on the creaking wood, never stopping. [if ElvesMet] Lord Alaric paces back and forth on the creaking wood, never stopping. [continue] Back and forth, forth and back: a tight, angry circle. With every jerky turn, the dark, buttoned skin he wears over his chest flaps loosely around his bony frame, doing nothing to cool the sweat-darkened patches underneath. He pauses only to dab at his forehead with a sad-looking white rag, and in that moment you see it clearly: the stiff white band around his long neck is trying to choke him. It's dark with sweat and has rubbed the damp, purple skin underneath raw and angry. His leg-wraps are ridiculously short, ending well above his ankles and making his every step look like a clumsy dance. [unless ElvesMet] [[You step into his path.->Sunless Elves First Meeting]] [if ElvesMet] [[You try to get his attention.->Lord Alaric Generic Dialogue]] [continue] {link to: 'manor porch', label: 'Back'}

The outlander is no longer pacing. He stands rooted to the spot, entirely captivated by the roaring, hissing monster before him. The blast of hot steam has completely undone his fussy appearance. His white hair is plastered flat against his skull, and that stiff, choking collar around his neck has wilted into a sad, soggy ring of fabric. It droops low enough for you to clearly see the raw, blistered skin underneath. He doesn't even seem to notice the oppressive heat radiating from the machine. He just clutches his spotted rag in both hands, squeezing it so, so tight. Every time the heavy metal foot slams into the dirt with a deafening crash, his bony shoulders flinch in perfect time with the rhythm. And yet... there's a glint in his eyes. And the hint of a smile, maybe? It's hard to tell... {link to: 'boiler', label: 'Back'}

[dialogue delay:0.1 id:alaric_gen_1] You try to catch the man's attention as he paces. He stops, glaring down his long nose at you. [dialogue delay:1.5 id:alaric_gen_1 newline] *"Look, I'm just here to-"* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:alaric_gen_1 newline] *"Do you have an appointment?"* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:alaric_gen_1] he snaps, his voice thin and reedy. [dialogue delay:1.0 id:alaric_gen_1] *"No? Then you are interrupting vital administrative work!"* [dialogue delay:2.5 id:alaric_gen_1 newline] He gestures wildly at a piece of crate-wood he has propped up, which has a series of clumsy lines scratched on it. *"How is one meant to establish a civilized outpost without a proper schedule?* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:alaric_gen_1] *Or a male butler?* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:alaric_gen_1] *Or... anyone who knows how to fold a napkin properly?* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:alaric_gen_1] *You are unfit for the role, vermin.* [dialogue delay:2.0 id:alaric_gen_1] *This impompr...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:alaric_gen_1] *...impo...* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:alaric_gen_1] *...im-promp-tu - there it is -* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:alaric_gen_1] *interview is over."* [dialogue delay:2.8 id:alaric_gen_1 newline] He gives you a dismissive sniff. *"Come back... never.* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:alaric_gen_1] *I shall pencil you in."* [dialogue delay:0.2 id:alaric_gen_1 newline] He resumes his frantic pacing. You roll your eyes and walk away. [dialogue delay:0.2 id:alaric_gen_1 newline] {link to: 'Lord Alaric', label: 'Back'}

[if LastBiomeAligned == 'FungalPlains'] A simple frame of green wood holds a skewer over a crackling fire. Threaded onto it is a whole cave-lizard, its skin turning a delicious, crispy black. Fat drips into the flames, sending puffs of savory smoke drifting toward the throne. It is a small offering, but cooked with care. The cook rotates it slowly, brushing it with a glaze of crushed berries. It smells like a promise of better meals to come. [continue] [if LastBiomeAligned == 'SlimeCaverns'] A simple frame of green wood stands over a small fire, but instead of a roast, a round clay pot hangs from the crossbar. Inside, the green slime simmers gently, releasing a thick, sweet steam. The heat changes the jelly. It makes it thinner, smoother... warm. A goblin stirs it with a long ladle, humming a happy tune. It smells like hot sugar and comfort. A warm treat for a growing Goddess! [continue] [if LastBiomeAligned == 'HuntingGrounds'] A heavy, jagged bone acts as the skewer over a crackling fire, threaded with a massive, dripping chunk of marbled meat from the Many-Mouths. The heat causes the thick fat to pop loudly, sending brief flashes of orange fire flaring up from the coals. [continue] [if LastBiomeAligned == 'SunlessFields'] Instead of a skewer, a flat, thin slab of stone has been placed directly over the hot coals. A cook flips thick, pale slabs of dough on the hot rock, frying them directly in pools of golden syrup. The edges of the dough bubble and crisp into a sugary crust. [continue] [if LastBiomeAligned == 'ExpeditionRemains'] A large, hollowed-out gourd hangs from the wooden crossbar, suspended right above the flames. The dark purple wine-sap inside is brought to a rolling boil, reducing the thin nectar into a thick, sticky syrup. The cook stirring it sways slightly on his feet, clearly getting a little dizzy just from breathing in the steam billowing out of the pot. What are they doing, exactly? Why does the sap need cooking in the first place? This seems... a bit dumb... [continue] {link to: 'Future Chamber - Stage PLUMP', label: 'Back'}

The pointy stick zips out of the satchel, tracing the flowing silver lines carved into the stone. It hurries back to the paper and jots down a translation. ~DECORATIONS.~ Ah. You frown. Decorations? That's it? You wait a moment for the stick to write something else... but it just floats there before slipping back into your bag. Well, um... whatever. Must be feeling lazy. {link to: 'markings', label: 'Back'}

MarkingsRuined: true -- Such a beautiful, holy pattern! It would look fantastic sitting on your own personal shelf back in the warren. You pull out the toothy string, press it against the stone right below the center of the design, and give it a firm, eager pull. *SKRITCH.* The wire catches on a raised bump and slips wildly, ripping a deep, jagged horizontal gash straight across the silver lines. You freeze, staring in horror at the ugly scar you just slashed through the holy marks. Your shoulders slump, and you quickly put the wire away. {link to: 'markings', label: 'Back'}

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[if MawChamberTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:maw1] From your perch, you watch Ghera hiss at an attendant, who shoves a new platter forward. *"The Red-Clan's offering, oh Great Maw."* [if MawChamberTurns == 1; dialogue delay:2.2 id:maw1 newline] Big-Maw makes a face, a ripple of disgust crossing her features as she pokes the roasted lizard with a single, greasy finger. *"Ughhh... Ghera. Come on... It's all... shell. And it smells... pointy. I don't want it."* [if MawChamberTurns == 1; dialogue delay:3.0 id:maw1 newline] Ghera snatches the poking finger away. *"Oh, shut it! Just crunch it? You are *the* Maw! It's what you do! Their chief is right there, watching you."* [if MawChamberTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.0 id:maw2] *"I don't CAAARE!"* [if MawChamberTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:maw2] *Maw's whine turns into a full-blown tantrum, her whole body quivering.* [if MawChamberTurns == 2; dialogue delay:2.0 id:maw2] *"Mother never had to eat pointy lizards! Mother got the sweet-jellies and the soft-grubs and... ooh, yes, right there... uuhhh~"* [if MawChamberTurns == 2; dialogue delay:2.5 id:maw2] Her tirade cuts off as her eyes glaze over, her body going limp. The attendant oiling her belly has clearly found a good spot - a low, wet belch, loud enough for you to hear, rumbles out of her. [if MawChamberTurns == 2; dialogue delay:2.8 id:maw2 newline] Ghera's face twists in fury, and you hear the snaps of her fingers over Maw's face. *"No, no, FOCUS! Stop letting him grease you like a stuck boar! They're watching you drool!"* [if MawChamberTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.0 id:maw3] *"Don't you yell at me, you peasant!"* [if MawChamberTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:maw3] *Maw snaps back, though the effort leaves her breathless.* [if MawChamberTurns == 3; dialogue delay:2.2 id:maw3 newline] Ghera throws her hands up, her voice a sharp, panicked hiss. *"Then act like a queen, Leera! A proper one!"* You can barely hear the next part as she gets closer to the Big-Maw. *"Do you think they don't hear the whispers? A 'Goddess'? One who doesn't complain? Our hold is not as strong as it was in your mother's day, you absolute cretin!"* [if MawChamberTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.0 id:maw4] Big-Maw just blinks. *"Goddess, shmoddess... Ghera, I'm...* [if MawChamberTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:maw4] *-HUUURK-* [if MawChamberTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.0 id:maw4] *...I think I'm gonna be sick."* [if MawChamberTurns == 4; dialogue delay:2.0 id:maw4] Her eyes, however, betray her. They dart past Ghera to a different platter. Her voice drops to a conspiratorial, hungry whisper. [if MawChamberTurns == 4; dialogue delay:2.5 id:maw4 newline] *"oh~...are those the jellied sour-grubs?"* [if MawChamberTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.0 id:maw5] Ghera sees her opening. Her face smooths over. *"Mm, yes. How observant. But the grubs are for a queen who has eaten her lizard."* [if MawChamberTurns == 5; dialogue delay:2.5 id:maw5 newline] There is a long silence, broken only by a low, gurgling rumble from Maw's gut. Defeat settles over her features. [if MawChamberTurns == 5; dialogue delay:2.8 id:maw5] *"Ok. Fine."* [if MawChamberTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.0 id:maw5] *she whimpers.* [if MawChamberTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:maw5] *"But I want the whole bowl. And you'll tell the cooks they didn't put enough honey on them last time."* [if MawChamberTurns >= 6; dialogue delay:1.0 id:maw6] Big-Maw chews sullenly on a piece of lizard, her mouth open, making wet, sloppy sounds that echo in the chamber. *"Too...* [if MawChamberTurns >= 6; dialogue delay:1.5 id:maw6] *-brrp-* [if MawChamberTurns >= 6; dialogue delay:1.0 id:maw6] *...too crunchy,"* [if MawChamberTurns >= 6; dialogue delay:1.2 id:maw6] she complains to no one in particular. [if MawChamberTurns >= 6; dialogue delay:2.5 id:maw6 newline] Ghera ignores her, already gesturing for the next platter to be brought forward. She occasionally turns to the far distance of the cave, nervously smiling towards a crowd of what you assume are *heretics* and *idiots* you can't really make out from up here.

MawChamberTurns: MawChamberTurns + 1 -- From your hiding spot on the high wooden ledge, the cavern below opens up. The air is thick with smoke from a dozen sputtering torches and the rich, greasy smell of a massive feast. The murmur of the court echoes up, a low rumble of voices. In the center of it all, a bloated figure is slumped upon a massive [[throne]]. This must be [[Big-Maw]] herself! She is flanked by two [[attendants]]. At her feet, vast [[piles of tribute]] are heaped upon greasy hides. Tattered [[banners]] hang from the ceiling. Along the cavern walls and at the main entrance, several heavily-armed guards stand watch at their [[posts]]. *** {embed passage: 'Maw Chamber Dialogue'}

[if FireStoneThrow == 'tribute'] {embed passage: 'Tribute Fire Stone Cutscene'} [continue] [if FireStoneThrow == 'bigmaw'] {embed passage: 'BigMaw Fire Stone Cutscene'} [continue] [if FireStoneThrow == 'attendants'] {embed passage: 'Attendants Fire Stone Cutscene'} [continue] [if FireStoneThrow == 'throne'] {embed passage: 'Throne Fire Stone Cutscene'} [continue] [if FireStoneThrow == 'banners'] {embed passage: 'Banners Fire Stone Cutscene'} [continue] [if FireStoneThrow == 'guards'] {embed passage: 'Guards Fire Stone Cutscene'} [continue]

You don't wait to see what happens next. You scramble to the edge of the ledge, your heart hammering against your ribs. There's a rickety service ladder there, half-hidden in the shadows. Your feet find the rungs without you even looking down. [[Below... oh, it's a glorious thing.->Maw's Chamber Chaos Cutscene 2]]

A beautiful mess - it really does speak to something within you. People are shouting, tripping over each other, pointing in five different directions at once. The guards are just adding to the confusion, shoving their way through the panicking court, trying to form a line that keeps breaking apart. The caverns lights up as the fire just keeps on growing. You hit the stone floor with a soft thud and dive headfirst into the stream of fleeing kin, just another small, terrified body in the stampede, [[making for the main corridor.->Maw's Chamber Escape Cutscene 1]]

config.header.right: "{embed passage: 'Satchel Menu Logic'}" -- A bigger kin shoves you hard against the wall, and you use the momentum to push off, diving deeper into the stream of bodies. A foot stomps on your hand as you stumble, and that's when you see it. Spilled onto the floor, amongst a dropped club and a discarded helmet, is a familiar shape of woven root-fiber. **Your satchel!** You immediately dive for it, your fingers closing around the worn strap, and scramble back into the flow of bodies, clutching it to your chest. The Golden Bug... you take a breath of relief. It's safe. Now you can *really* run, [[toward the distant cave-wind.->Maw's Chamber Escape Cutscene 2]]

FungalPlainsAligned: true -- {accessory: 'right1', passage: 'Satchel', taggedout: 'cutscene, menu, ending, past, future, misaligned'} You spill out of the main corridor, running through the kingdoms' huts... and there you spot it: the gate, open! Just a gaping maw leading back to the plains. You scramble through, your lungs burning, and don't look back until you're a safe distance away. Just as you stop to lean against a rock, a deep, groaning **BOOM** echoes from the cavern behind you. The gate has slammed shut, its locking mechanism loudibly triggering on the other side. The echo fades, leaving you alone in the sudden, heavy quiet of the plains with the faint smell of smoke and cooked meat in the air. {link to: 'Gated Cavern', label: 'You catch your breath.'}

*Freedom!* Out. *Out!* You scramble out of the smoky cell and into chaos. The corridor is a mess of shouting and the clash of clubs on iron. You don't know where she's going, and you don't care. You just run in the direction away from the fighting. Your bare feet slap on the stone, past storerooms piled high with crates and fungus-sacks, past gawking goblin cooks peeking out from their kitchens. The shouts and sounds of battle fade behind you. The corridor ends at a wide, hide-covered archway. You push through it and find yourself on a wide, wooden ledge overlooking [[a massive and surprisingly adorned cavern.->Maw Chamber Diorama]]

{embed passage: 'Item Back Logic'} You pull the small metal disc from its pocket in your satchel. It feels cold and solid in your hand, heavier than a rock of the same size. You run a finger over the edge, feeling the tiny, perfect teeth. [if GearDented; append] One of them is bent inward, a little metal snag from when you tried to dig with it. It ruins the perfect circle. You frown at it. [continue] [unless GearDented; append] Not sharp, but precise. [continue] You have no idea what it could be for. Some kind of... sky-walker tool? Or maybe part of a strange, metal bug? It is definitely not goblin-work. {link to: itemBackTarget, label: 'Back'}

MetalJawTaken: true -- You pick up the massive iron, finding it shockingly heavy and requiring both hands to hold it steady. One end is a thick, knurled handle. The other end forms a head with two flat, square blocks of metal. By spinning a small, threaded wheel on the side, you discover that the lower block moves up and down! A metal jaw, built to bite down hard on things and never let go. You grin, feeling the cold iron against your skin. You slide the heavy tool into your satchel; while the strap now weighs on your shoulder, you hear the weapon clunk satisfyingly against your other treasures. {link to: 'palace depths router', label: 'Back'}

{embed passage: 'Item Back Logic'} You grip the thick bone with both of your hands, giving it a firm squeeze and a rub. It is surprisingly heavy, stripped completely of the grease and marrow you are used to seeing on a proper club back home. And look at that smooth, white surface... you give it a little test swing in the air, imagining the satisfying *clack* it makes when hitting a certain annoying, arrogant skeleton. A ghost-smashing club! Very handy. {link to: itemBackTarget, label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("isCutscene",comesFromCutscene()); [continue] {embed passage: 'Deep Mindspace Wraps Menu Logic'}

You pull the shifting stone from your bag. Instead of just holding it, you place it on the floor right in front of the wavy slag-shard. The white blob seems to notice its reflection. It shivers, then rapidly stretches upward. Two stubby little legs form at its base, followed by a pair of long, pointy ears popping out of its sides. Finally, the center of the blob swells outward, forming a distinct, chubby little belly. It's mimicking you! You put your hands on your hips; the little white goblin does the exact same. You stick your tongue out, and a tiny slit opens on its face to poke a white blob-tongue back at you. You let out a delighted cackle, until the plaster eventually loses its shape and melts back into a sphere. {link to: 'Goblin Mirror', label: 'Back'}

The stick floats up, facing the mirror. It pauses. It drifts closer, as if inspecting the reflection... or perhaps checking its own 'hair'? Does a stick have hair? It zips back to the paper. ~WE'RE NOT ONE FOR ANTHROPOLOGY. SMALL INDIVIDUAL. ROUND. GREEN COMPLEXION. NOTE: EAR-TO-HEAD RATIO IS CONCERNING.~ You instinctively reach up and cover your ears. They are perfectly normal! It's the mirror that's wavy! {link to: 'Goblin Mirror', label: 'Back'}

You tap the fork against the wall. *HMMMMMMmmmm...* You press the vibrating prongs against the slag-glass. The surface buzzes against the metal. In the reflection, your face suddenly goes all... wrong. Your eyes stretch wide, your mouth zig-zags, and your ears ripple like water. You giggle, pulling a face. *Bleurgh!* The reflection wobbles back at you, shaking like jelly. It's like looking at yourself in a puddle during one of the cave shakings. They've gotten to be more frequent, haven't they? Mm... {link to: 'Goblin Mirror', label: 'Back'}

HuntingGroundsFirstTime: true SmallGolemState: 2 HuntingGroundsMisaligned: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH3', label: 'Back'}

SlimeCavernsFirstTime: true SlimeCavernsMisaligned: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH3', label: 'Back'}

SunlessFieldsFirstTime: true ElvesMet: true DentedGearInstalled: true PipeSmashed: true BoilerOverheating: true SunlessFieldsMisaligned: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH3', label: 'Back'}

You look down at the tribute laid out on the wide fungus-leaves at the base of the throne. *Gah!* Pathetic. There is Grak's single skewer of roasted cave grubs, burnt as usual. He probably found them near the waste pits again. A small pile of lumina-mushrooms give off a weak, sleepy light; they look like the kind that grow in the upper tunnels, the ones with hardly any taste. And a small stone bowl holds a handful of sour-smelling purple berries that always give you a stomach ache. Is this all they could muster for Her? For the holy, divine hunger that will save you all? You can almost hear her stomach rumble in disappointment from across the chamber. Your own rumbles just looking at it. No. This will not do. {link to: 'Great Chamber', label: 'Back'}

You hold the flame against the pale stalk. The fire licks at the fungus-flesh, turning the white skin a scorched brown. But it's too wet. A thin stream of sap weeps from the burn, hissing softly as it drowns the flame. The mushroom doesn't seem to care at all. {link to: 'giant mushrooms', label: 'Back'}

The stick floats up, circling the massive stalk. It bobs up and down, measuring the height, then zips back to the paper. ~SPECIMEN: MYCENA GIGANTEA. NOTE: BIOLUMINESCENCE INDICATES HIGH SPORE DENSITY. DO NOT INHALE.~ You sneeze. Ugh. It's far too late for that kind of advice... {link to: 'giant mushrooms', label: 'Back'}

You strike the fork, then press its vibrating metal against the soft stalk... there's no hum, no song. You try again, striking harder, but the spongy, wet flesh just absorbs the shaking instantly, like punching a ball of dough. *Flup.* The vibration dies. How boring. {link to: 'giant mushrooms', label: 'Back'}

NestLighterTried: true -- You pull out the fire-box, stepping right up to the edge of the depression. All this dry, dusty debris - it should burn, right? Make its beast think twice before sleeping here again. *Zzzt-CHUNK!* A spark drops into the center of the wallow. Instead of catching fire, the spark simply lands on a shed scale. The thick crust of chalky bile and stone dust coating the scale instantly smothers the heat, scorchig a single, ugly black mark onto the pale surface. A tiny wisp of smoke rises from the burn. It hits your nose, carrying a stench so uniquely vile that your stomach heaves violently. You gag, slamming a hand over your mouth and nose, and bolt from the room entirely, desperate for breathable air. {link to: 'Hunting Grounds Hub', label: 'Out!'}

You reach for your fire-box, and immediately pause. No. Leika, *no*. The phantom stench from before hits the back of your throat. You swallow hard, your stomach giving a dangerous, warning lurch. No. You are never setting fire to this disgusting chalk-dust ever again. {link to: 'nest', label: 'Back'}

SlimeState: SlimeCavernsAligned || SlimeCavernsMisaligned DemoComplete: FungalPlainsAligned && SlimeState -- [if CH3Demo; if DemoComplete] {embed passage: 'CH3 Demo End'} [continue] [if CH3Demo; unless DemoComplete] {embed passage: 'North Tunnel Description'} [continue] [unless CH3Demo] {embed passage: 'North Tunnel Description'} [continue]

The tunnel here is wide and smooth, the result of ancient carving that predates the warren. The floor is packed earth, cool beneath your feet, and the moss-light is steady, flooding the junction with a clear, comforting teal glow. In the middle of the tunnel lies the [[🪦vessel->CH3 vessel]]. Behind you, the massive stone archway leads to the sacred [[🔆chamber->Great Chamber]] of the Goddess. *** Straight ahead, a wide passage continues into the [[🛖main tunnel->Central Tunnel]]. To the left [[🍄the dark path->Northwest Tunnel]] narrows, while to the right [[🟢the path slants up slightly->Northeast Tunnel]]. {embed passage: 'Biome Order Tracker'} {embed passage: 'Lessons Logic'}

[if passage.from == 'Slime Caverns Misalignment Cutscene 2'] *You stumble out into the clean air of the tunnel, gasping.* [continue] A strange silence hangs in this tunnel. The usual scuttling and dripping sounds are absent. The walls are coated in a thin, slick film that catches the light, making the stone look like it's sweating. To the east, the slickness on the walls grows thicker, coalescing into slow, translucent drips that fall from the ceiling of a wide cavern mouth. This is the way to the [unless SlimeCavernsMisaligned; if SlimeCavernsFirstTime; append] [[🟢Slime Caverns->Slime Caverns Hub]]. [if SlimeCavernsMisaligned; append] [[🟢Slime Caverns->Slime Caverns Blocked Entrance 1]]. [unless SlimeCavernsMisaligned; unless SlimeCavernsFirstTime; append] [[🟢Slime Caverns->Slime Caverns Cutscene 1]]. [continue] {embed passage: 'Leika Weight Tunnel Check'} *** To the southwest, the passage leads back to the [[🔆main junction->North Tunnel]]. The path continues south, into a darker, [[🌀singing tunnel->East Tunnel]].

The tunnel narrows here, the ancient stonework giving way to rough, natural rock. Patches of sickly yellow moss cling to the damp walls, casting a much dimmer light than the main passage. The air is thick with the loamy scent of rich soil and decay. To your left, the air grows warmer. A sweet smell drifts from a wide opening overgrown with pulsing, phosphorescent fungi - it leads to the [if FungalPlainsFirstTime; append] [[🍄Fungal Plains->Fungal Plains Hub]]. [unless FungalPlainsFirstTime; append] [[🍄Fungal Plains->Fungal Plains Cutscene 1]]. [continue] *** To your right, the passage widens again, leading back to the bright teal glow of the [[🔆main junction->North Tunnel]]. Straight ahead, the tunnel continues its winding path [[🦴deeper into the network->West Tunnel]]. {embed passage: 'Leika Weight Tunnel Check'}

FrozenChamberInteractions (passage.visits == 1): FrozenChamberInteractions + 1 -- You look down at the morning's tribute, laid out on wide, flat fungus-leaves at the base of the throne. It is... not much. A small pile of pale lumina-mushrooms, their caps still emitting a weak, sleepy light. A single skewer of roasted cave grubs, their shells blackened and brittle. A bowl carved from soft stone holding a handful of sour-smelling purple berries. Grak brought the grubs. He always brings grubs. He thinks it makes him a great hunter, but everyone knows he just finds them in the damp tunnels near the waste pits. Pathetic. Is this all we can offer Her magnificent, divine hunger? A few bugs and sour berries? Her holy stomach would be rumbling in disappointment if it wasn't frozen in time. Your own rumbles just looking at them. *No, Leika. Bad. These are for Her.* {link to: 'Frozen Chamber', label: 'Back'}

[if GoddessWeightGained == 'PLUMP'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'SlimeCaverns'] Up and about inside of the chamber, you watch as she sets a large, empty bowl carved from bone onto the throne's arm, a faint green sheen still coating its inside. Her white gown, which usually hangs in soft folds, is pulled taut across her middle. Her belly bulges forward, a firm, round dome that strains the fabric further than it previously did. A soft, holy sound escapes her lips - really, just a burp - and a faint blush colors Her cheeks as the surrounding kin giggle. One of Her hands comes to rest on the taut curve of her gut, pressing gently as if to soothe the pressure within. *Your actions had their consequences, and clearly you are on the right path!* But it's not enough. More of the caverns back in the present need to realize her divine right to rule. More offerings. *More Goddess!* {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/SLIME.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'PLUMP'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'FungalPlains'] The Goddess stands near the warmth of the brazier, a half-eaten skewer of smoked meat in her hand. A smear of grease shines on her chin, and she looks... content. Truly content. Her gown is noticeably tighter. The heavy, savory meats of the plains have settled quickly on her frame; her cheeks are fuller, flushed with the heat of the fire and the richness of the food. Her belly presses against the fabric, a soft, distinct mound that she uses to balance her free hand as she inspects a new offering. *Your actions had their consequences, and clearly you are on the right path!* But it's not enough. More of the caverns back in the present need to realize her divine right to rule. More offerings. *More Goddess!* {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/FUNGAL.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'PLUMP'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'HuntingGrounds'] She leans back heavily against the throne, a hand resting on her middle. A faint sheen of perspiration glistens on Her flushed brow, and the smell of the lizard roast clings to Her like a fine perfume. Her gown, damp with the holy heat of digestion, clings to the solid curve of her stomach. It is no longer a soft swell, instead looking more solid - a warm weight that has settled in her lap, a promise of true, divine bulk to come. A sleepy, satisfied look is in Her eyes, and you see her catch herself as she almost drifts in a food coma. *Your actions had their consequences, and clearly you are on the right path!* But it's not enough. More of the caverns back in the present need to realize her divine right to rule. More offerings. *More Goddess!* {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/HUNTING.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'PLUMP'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'SunlessFields'] Up and about inside the chamber, the Goddess stands before the teaching stone, though Her posture lacks its usual sharp authority. The heavy, endless diet of bread and sweet-sap has softened Her entirely. Her face has lost its sharp angles, Her cheeks now looking pleasantly pillowy, and Her arms appear thick and doughy as She reaches up to draw a symbol. She pauses mid-stroke, Her eyes fluttering shut as a long, resonant burp forces its way up Her throat. She places a hand flat against Her middle, and it doesn't look to be taut. It's more of a wide and puffy thing that strains the front of Her white gown from hip to hip. A sleepy, contented sigh escapes Her lips as She kneads the soft mass, looking as though She would much rather lay down right there on the floor than finish the lesson. *Your actions had their consequences, and clearly you are on the right path!* But it's not enough. More of the caverns back in the present need to realize her divine right to rule. More offerings. *More Goddess!* {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/SUNLESS.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'PLUMP'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'ExpeditionRemains'] The Goddess stands near the teaching stone, though the chalk lies forgotten on the floor. She holds a massive, split-open cave-fig in both hands, swaying ever so slightly on Her bare feet. A blissed-out smile spreads across Her flushed face as She bites into the glistening fruit, letting a thick stream of purple juice run down Her chin and neck. The heavy, fermented nectar has clearly made Her careless. Her white gown has slipped entirely off Her left shoulder, bunching awkwardly at Her waist. It leaves the heavy, pale swell of Her breast completely bare to the warm cavern air, the dark peak of Her nipple catching the moss-light. She doesn't even notice, too busy licking the sweet syrup from Her fingers while Her newly plumped belly pushes the remaining fabric forward in a firm, proud mound. You feel your own cheeks burn at the holy sight. *Well... your actions had their consequences. Clearly you are on the right path!* But it's not enough. More of the caverns back in the present need to realize her divine right to rule. More offerings. *More Goddess!* {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/EXPEDITION.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'} [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'FAT'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'SlimeCaverns'] The Goddess stands beside Her throne, directing the placement of the new tribute with a slow, deliberate finger. Her white gown, now stained with honored streaks of green slime, pulls taut across the holy breadth of Her hips and the impressive swell of Her belly. Her gut now hangs heavy and low, a substantial curve that rests against the gown's sash and sways with a power of its own when She shifts Her weight to the teaching stone behind her, chalk in hand. You spot a small bowl of the shimmering slime resting on the arm of the throne. Her voice is a low, commanding rumble as she corrects a clumsy goblin, but the simple effort makes her breath catch - a divine pause. Her fingers dip into the bowl absently, bringing a glistening glob to Her lips. You watch, mesmerized, as Her pale throat works to swallow the thick, sweet offering before She places a hand in the small of Her back, arching slightly to counterbalance the increased divine weight She carries at Her front. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/SLIME.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'FAT'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'FungalPlains'] The Goddess sits on the very edge of Her throne, the only place her widened hips fit comfortably. She holds a massive, roasted bone in one hand, her fingers glistening with rendered fat. The heavy, savory diet has thickened Her substantialy. Her belly is a heavy, round pot that rests on her thighs, pushing the fabric of her gown to its limit; you can see the faint outline of her navel pressing against the cloth. Her face is flushed, shiny with grease and beads of sweat that gather on her forehead and upper lip, rolling down to dampen the collar of her gown and pooling in her armpits. She tears a strip of meat from the bone with her teeth - a savage, hungry motion that makes her soft cheeks quiver. She chews slowly, eyes half-closed, lost in the savory richness of the offering, before letting out a deep, satisfied grunt that vibrates in your own chest. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/FUNGAL.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'FAT'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'HuntingGrounds'] Her face is flushed, and Her breathing is a series of slow, deep, deliberate sighs. She leans heavily against the throne, using it for support - a thick, greasy haunch of meat is being held by her other hand. Her body radiates a profound heat, and Her breathing is a series of slow, deep sighs between bites. She tears off a large, sinewy piece with a grunt, the effort making Her weight shift about. The movement is all it takes. Her gut, clearly full to the brim with meat and a dense and solid mass for it, hangs low and heavy. As she burps and snatches another bite, it sways with a ponderous, dangerous momentum. The pendulum of holy flesh forces Her to stumble a step, and She has to plant a greasy hand against the throne to steady Herself before She can even begin to chew. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/HUNTING.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'FAT'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'SunlessFields'] The Goddess has surrendered to the throne, Her newly widened hips overflowing the edges of the stone seat. She holds a thick, syrup-soaked bun, taking slow, lethargic bites. The heavy starches have transformed Her body into a state of divine, pillowy comfort. Her arms rest heavily against Her sides, pressing into wide, doughy rolls, while Her belly has spread out to become a bloated cushion that swallows Her lap. Her gown is pulled taut across this soft width. She doesn't jiggle when she shifts her weight; rather, Her fat simply settles and spreads further. Funnily enough, it reminds you of rising dough. She pauses chewing to let out a long, groaning sigh, Her double chin pressing deep into Her chest as Her eyes drift shut. The sheer density of Her meals seems to be making Her wonderfully, perfectly sluggish. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/SUNLESS.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'FAT'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'ExpeditionRemains'] The Goddess, though clearly intoxicated, hasn't bothered to take Her seat. She leans heavily over the back of the great granite throne, Her thick, doughy arms braced against the stone as She reaches down into a basin of the wine-sap. Her breathing is at times interrupted by hiccups, and Her round cheeks look shiny with a sticky, sugary sweat. The deep bend forces Her massive belly to hang low, swaying like a heavy sack beneath Her. But the posture does something else, too. Her white gown, already strained to its limit by Her new width, has hitched all the way up Her back. It leaves the colossal, pale expanse of Her bare bottom completely exposed to the entire chamber. The soft, dimpled flesh jiggles with every frantic gulp She takes from Her cupped hands. None of the attendants dare to look away. To be fair, neither can you. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/EXPEDITION.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'} [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'OBESE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'SlimeCaverns'] The Goddess is no longer standing. She rests heavily upon the great granite seat, Her massive rear spreading onto its stone. She holds a piece of chalk, hovering over the teaching stone, attempting to draw the curve of the 'Well-Fed One'. But the lesson is failing. Grizel stands beside Her with a bowl of the green slime, and every time She opens Her mouth to speak a holy word, he slips a spoonful in. She accepts it with a soft, wet sound, Her eyes fluttering shut, the chalk forgotten in mid-air. Her massive belly dominates her lap, a vast orb of pale flesh that jiggles with every swallow. By the time She remembers the lesson, another spoonful is waiting. She giggles, a low, wet sound, and simply gives up on the symbol to open Her mouth again. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/SLIME.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'OBESE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'FungalPlains'] The Goddess sits splayed on the throne, a sheen of heavy sweat coating her flushed skin. She leans forward, grunting with effort as She tries to reach the top of the teaching stone. It is no use. Her enormous, meat-heavy belly presses hard against her thighs, physically stopping her from leaning any further. She huffs, breathless from the simple exertion, and a drop of sweat falls from her nose to smear the chalk line she just drew. With a frustrated, lethargic groan, She lets the chalk clatter to the floor. It's too hot. It's too much work. She slumps back, the wood of the throne creaking under her, and instead reaches for a bowl of fatty stew. The lesson can wait. The hunger cannot. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/FUNGAL.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'OBESE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'HuntingGrounds'] She pushes herself away from the throne with a powerful grunt. Her legs tremble - Her movement is a slow, deliberate shuffle. Her colossal belly is a solid wall of fat, so dense from the meat it contains it barely jiggles. Her stride is short, choked, as the wall of her gut presses down on her thick thighs, forcing them apart. After only two steps toward the teaching stone, She stops, panting, Her entire body slick with the sweat of exertion, her robe made darker by the damp. An attendant rushes to her side, not with chalk, but with a fresh haunch of roasted meat. You hear her groan and whine, but she takes it without a word, her goal of teaching completely forgotten in the face of the overwhelming effort of simply staying upright. *And the ever abundant meat, of course.* {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/HUNTING.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'OBESE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'SunlessFields'] The Goddess sits splayed on the throne, fighting a losing battle against a holy slumber. She has cleverly propped Her slate directly onto the vast, puffy shelf of Her belly, attempting to use Her own soft expanse as a desk. However, Her arms have grown so thick and doughy that reaching across Her bloated middle is now a chore. You watch Her let out a sharp, whining huff of annoyance as the slate slowly slides down the curve of Her gut. Rather than fixing it, She pushes Her seeing-glasses up Her nose with a chubby finger and lets Her head loll back against the stone. Her eyes flutter shut, but Her mouth falls open - a sleepy, complaining moan escaping Her lips - until Grizel hurries over to press a syrup-soaked bun right into it. She chews without ever opening Her eyes, Her annoyance melting instantly into doughy bliss. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/SUNLESS.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'OBESE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'ExpeditionRemains'] The Goddess has abandoned the throne entirely, opting to wade through the sticky mess of the floor to reach a dripping honeycomb on a far table. Her steps are a slow, rolling waddle, Her body fighting for balance with every shift of Her thick thighs. The effort of moving Her bulk leaves Her breathless. Her flushed face sports a heavy double chin that glistens with sweat and purple juice, while Her white gown, completely undone and saturated with spills, has slid right down Her slick skin. It now hangs precariously caught beneath the vast, heavy overhang of Her gut, leaving Her entire upper half completely bare. You watch her breasts rest heavily atop the sloping shelf of Her stomach, swaying with a hypnotic, drunken momentum as She stretches for the comb. She doesn't seem to care that Her holy form is on full display, too focused on sucking the sweet amber drips right off Her chubby fingers. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/EXPEDITION.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'} [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'ALMOST IMMOBILE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'SlimeCaverns'] The great granite throne has become a simple pedestal for Her divine mass, and its unclear to you if she could even get up from it without aid. Her colossal backside spills over the edges, and her legs are forced wide by the sheer size of her stretch-marked gut, which now rests not just on her lap, but on the throne itself, its lower curve hanging heavily between her knees. Her white gown is a holy mess, stained green and pushed to the side of her gut - even then, it barely covers the tops of her thighs. You watch, mesmerized, as two of your kin struggle to lift a full lizard-gut skin to Her lips. She leans her head back, and a thick, steady stream of shimmering green slime pours directly into Her waiting mouth. Her throat works continuously, a soft gulping sound in the quiet chamber. A glob of slime escapes, tracing a glistening path from the corner of her lips, down her chin, and onto the heaving slope of her chest. When the skin is empty, she gives a low, gurgling belch of satisfaction, and with a lazy gesture of her hand, She whimpers for more. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/SLIME.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'ALMOST IMMOBILE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'FungalPlains'] The heat from the nearby spit-roast has turned the throne into a sauna. Her white gown is soaked through with sweat, transparent and clinging to the massive, flushed rolls of her sides. She is slumped back, her limbs heavy and useless at her sides, legs splayed wide to accommodate the boulder-like density of her stomach. She is visibly overgorged. Her belly is tight, a solid dome of packed meat and heavy starches that rises and falls with short, shallow gasps. Her eyes are rolled back, glazed over in a savory stupor. She doesn't even chew anymore; the meat is so tender she just mashes the fatty pork against the roof of her mouth before swallowing with a strained gulp. A deep, wet *BELCH* tears out of her, smelling of smoke and fat. She winces, a hand fluttering weakly to the side her taut midsection as if in pain... but when the attendant offers another dripping slice, her mouth opens automatically. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/FUNGAL.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'ALMOST IMMOBILE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'HuntingGrounds'] Her kin have built a second, lower throne for Her feet, a wide stone step where Her ankles now rest. It is not for comfort, but necessity. She sits entombed in her own flesh, a mountain of dense, meat-fed bulk that has completely overwhelmed the granite seat. Her colossal gut hangs in a great, solid apron that cascades over Her lap and thighs, its immense weight pressing down onto the new footrest. The white gown is a lost cause - her propped-up tits are for all of your congregated kin to witness. An attendant kneels before Her, diligently rubbing a savory, lenitive fat into the stretch-marked skin of Her belly, his hands making slick sounds as they journey across it. Her eyes are closed, Her head lolled back in a state of pure, divine lethargy. You watch as another kin approaches, not with a platter, but a single, perfect piece of seared meat held in a pair of wooden tongs. He waits patiently until Her lips part in a soft, sleepy sigh, and then gently places the morsel on Her tongue. Her jaw works slowly. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/HUNTING.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'ALMOST IMMOBILE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'SunlessFields'] The Goddess has expanded into a mountain of soft, pale flesh that engulfs the granite seat, spilling over the sides in pillowy tiers. Her white gown is a mere formality at this point, pushed aside by the sheer spread of Her hips and the massive, doughy overhang of Her stomach that rests heavily upon Her thick thighs. Her round face is flushed, Her head lolling back against the stone in a heavy, drunken stupor brought on by the endless pale-brew. She's half-asleep, a continuous, wet wheeze rattling in Her chest. Yet, the divine hunger never rests. When an attendant nervously brushes a dry crust of root-bread against Her lips, She simply wrinkles Her nose and lets out a long, annoyed grunt. It's only when a different kin rushes forward, tipping a heavy wooden bucket of the golden, frothy liquid directly into Her mouth, that She eagerly parts Her lips. She takes in the brew with sloppy, greedy gulps, letting thick streams of foam run down Her multiple chins to pool on Her chest. The moment the bucket is emptied, a massive, cream-filled pastry is shoved in to soak it all up. The rich combination forces a deep, booming belch from Her gut that makes Her puffy chest quiver, Her breathing immediately settling back into a satisfied snore. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/SUNLESS.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'ALMOST IMMOBILE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'ExpeditionRemains'] The Goddess is on Her feet, though calling it walking is kind of a stretch. No: She is attempting waddle toward a fresh basin of fermented nectar, Her flushed face pulled into a dramatic, playful pout. She seems to be having fun, though! To manage this, a sturdy kin walks backward directly in front of Her, both arms hooked deeply under the lower curve of Her sloshing belly. As he hoists the immense weight upward to relieve Her straining back, the remains of Her white gown are hauled up with it, bunching entirely around Her waist. The lift exposes... well. Sure, there's her thighs, forced far apart. But your attention is actually more on the plump, pale swell of Her womanhood. She pays the scandalous exposure no mind - is she even aware of it? -, instead letting out a bubbly, drunken giggle and playfully swatting the struggling attendant's head for moving too slowly. Poor guy's trying his best. But what luck would it be to be him right about now... {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/EXPEDITION.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'} [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'IMMOBILE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'SlimeCaverns'] The throne is gone, swallowed by Her holy mass. She is visibly sitting taller than ever, propped up by a dozen carefully placed moss-pillows, yes, but more so her colossal ass. Her belly has cascaded over her lap and thighs entirely, a great, taut curve of fat that rests heavily upon the stone dais at her feet. The white gown is nowhere to be seen, clearly no longer fit for her; the skin of her gut is stretched so thin you can see a network of angry red lines beneath the surface. And the feeding... the feeding never stops. Ghera has fashioned a funnel from a large horn, and your kin work in a silent, reverent line, pouring skin after skin of the green slime directly into it. Her throat works in a continuous, hypnotic rhythm - it's hard for you to look away. Some of it spills, tracing glistening green rivers down the deep cleft of her cleavage and into the sweaty folds where her belly meets her thighs. As her stomach below churns audibly, one of her hands weakly pushes the offered slime away. After just a moment's pause, a grunt escapes her, prompting the feeding to resume. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/SLIME.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'IMMOBILE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'FungalPlains'] The throne is gone, swallowed by Her holy mass. Her body has expanded to fill the entire space between the walls of cured meat and fungus-grains, her flesh pressing tight against the stacked hams and cheese wheels. She is effectively molded into a larder. Her belly is a terrifying, magnificent thing - a solid, flushed mountain that rises almost to her chin. It is so vast and heavy that her legs are completely hidden beneath its overhang; you only know they are there because her massive, dimpled knees push out against the sides of the food-walls. Her arms rest atop the mound like useless appendages, her hands unable to reach past the slope of her own chest. The air around her shimmers with body heat. Rivulets of sweat run constantly down the flushed expanse of her skin, pooling in the deep, compressed valley of her cleavage and the angry red creases of her neck. She is slick, shiny, and overwhelmingly *solid*. She doesn't move. Truly, she can't. Rounding the corner, you see her as she simply opens her panting mouth, eyes glazed and distant, and waits for the next strip of dripping, fatty meat to be placed on her tongue. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/FUNGAL.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'IMMOBILE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'HuntingGrounds'] The throne is gone, swallowed by Her holy mass. Her holy flesh, dense and heavy with an endless supply of meat, has cascaded over the granite - now its dulled lines covered into Her own dense, colossal form. An attendant is at work, his hands making a wet, heavy *squelch* as he massages rendered fat into the glistening skin where it pools with her own meat-sweats. A low, pained groan rumbles from deep within Her - it's followed by a deep, wet belch that seems to shake the very chamber. The release sends a tremor through Her immense frame; a quiver that begins in Her belly and reverberates outward, creating another series of soft, squelching sounds as Her slickened ass settles more heavily into the granite cradle. Though in clear discomfort, Her mouth falls open. Another attendant steps onto a stepstool to Her left, placing yet another piece of glistening, fat-marbled meat upon Her waiting tongue. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/HUNTING.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'IMMOBILE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'SunlessFields'] The throne is gone, swallowed entirely by Her holy mass; a colossal, pale mound that requires a small army of moss-pillows just to keep Her propped upright. Her belly is a vast, double-tiered cushion of doughy fat that rests heavily upon the floor, while Her face is deeply framed by flushed, pillowy cheeks and a thick double chin. Pillowy as she looks, you can hear how the endless diet of heavy yeast and sweet-syrups has left Her perpetually, monumentally bloated. Deep, hollow groans and wet gurgles echo constantly from within Her gut, loud enough to vibrate the stone floor. Every so often, Her labored breathing catches, and a tremendous, roaring *belch* tears its way up Her throat, filling the chamber with the thick scent of fermented sugar and baking yeasts. Through all of this, She remains lost in a permanent, syrup-heavy slumber, Her eyes fluttering but never truly opening. Yet, the feeding cannot stop. Her mouth hangs slack, waiting. When an attendant dares to pause to wipe a thick drop of honey from Her chin, the lack of offering causes Her brow to furrow instantly. A low, pathetic whine vibrates in Her throat - it ceases when the next massive pastry is shoved past Her lips. She swallows it with a wet gulp, sinking ever deeper into Her doughy bliss. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/SUNLESS.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'IMMOBILE'; if LastBiomeAligned == 'ExpeditionRemains'] The throne is completely obscured behind Her form. And yet, the Goddess is somehow on Her feet! Well... kind of. Half a dozen groaning attendants are wedged beneath the spherical overhang of Her belly, their shoulders trembling against the crushing weight of Her diet. Behind Her, more kin press their hands and faces directly into the pale, dimpled expanse of Her backside, desperately pushing Her massive cheeks up. Why go through all this effort? Mm. You're not sure. The Goddess, completely lost in a giddy stupor, has simply decided She wants to sway to the wet splashing of the sap. She claps Her doughy hands together, letting out a drunken giggle that shakes Her entire frame - this is followed by a hazy series of burps. All of this movement has caused the drenched, sticky rags of Her white gown to slip away completely, leaving Her magnificent, sweaty folds bared for all the chamber to witness. {accessory image, src: 'Images/Stages/CH3/EXPEDITION.png', side: 'left', push: '250px', scale: '1'} [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'PLUMP'] {link to: 'Future Chamber - Stage PLUMP', label: 'Back'} [if GoddessWeightGained == 'FAT'] {link to: 'Future Chamber - Stage FAT', label: 'Back'} [if GoddessWeightGained == 'OBESE'] {link to: 'Future Chamber - Stage OBESE', label: 'Back'} [if GoddessWeightGained == 'ALMOST IMMOBILE'] {link to: 'Future Chamber - Stage ALMOST IMMOBILE', label: 'Back'} [if GoddessWeightGained == 'IMMOBILE'] {link to: 'Future Chamber - Stage IMMOBILE', label: 'Back'}

[if OrkState == 'notseen'] A low, rumbling noise echoes from the corner. A huge, dark shape. You freeze, your heart thumping against your ribs like a trapped bird. Oh no. There's another prisoner? You don't want to look. You really, *really* don't want to look. But you can't look away. [[You force yourself to step closer...->Orc Lady Seen Cutscene]] [continue] [if OrkState == 'seensleeping'] {embed passage: 'Orc Lady Description Embed'} Each slow, deep breath she takes is a rumbling snore that makes the chains on her broad chest rise and fall with a faint, rhythmic *clink*. *This must be one of the big ones!* Your own body feels suddenly very small, very soft. [continue] [if OrkState == 'awake'] {embed passage: 'Orc Lady Description Embed'} Her head is lifted. The snoring is gone, replaced by a low, guttural growl that vibrates through the stone floor. One red eye, is cracked open and fixed on you, unblinking. She hasn't moved - the chains hold her fast - but the air in the cell has changed. {one of: ["*She tests the chains, a low grunt of effort rumbling in her chest.*", "*Her one open eye tracks you as you move, silent and assessing.*", "*She shifts her body, the chains groaning in protest.*", "\"STUPID... GOBLINS...\" *she rumbles, her voice like grinding stone.*", "\"THEY... WERE...\" *You watch her smile...? Oh dear, why is she doing that?*", "\"...DISGUSTING...\" *At that, she belly-laughs, pointing at you as you cower to the other side of the cell.*", "*A thick, black tongue darts out to wet her lips.*", "*She flexes the fingers of her free hand, studying her own knuckles.*", "\"HUNGRY...\" *she grunts, her gaze drifting toward the pail.*", "*She lets out a sigh so heavy it stirs the straw at your feet.*"], order: 'cycling'} [continue] [unless OrkState == 'notseen'] {link to: 'Prison Cell', label: 'You back away slowly.'} [continue]

The ork lady is slumped in the corner, bound by thick [[iron chains]]: one from a heavy collar at her thick neck, another from a wide band bolted tight around her chest, and more from crude manacles at her wrists and ankles. Her face, half-hidden by a curtain of coarse black hair, is broad and strong-jawed, with two lower tusks jutting past a slack lip. Where the manacles chafe her wrists and the band constricts her torso just under her heavy, unbound breasts, pushing them up and together, the grey skin is rubbed raw. She's got broad shoulders and a belly that, while not fat, is soft and hangs in a distinct pouch over her lap where she's slumped. Her thighs are thick, tense even in her slumber, full of white scars.

OrkState: 'awake' -- A single red eye snaps open in the gloom, fixing on you. The chains shriek as her arms simply moves left: a grey fist as big as your head blurring past your face with the force of a thrown boulder. You don't even think, you just throw yourself backwards, [[landing in a heap in the foul straw.->Orc Lady Escaping Death Cutscene 2]]

The fist connects with the stone wall where your head was a moment ago with a sickening **CRUNCH**. Stone dust puffs into the air, and a web of cracks spiders out from the new crater in the wall. The fist remains there for a beat, knuckles buried in the rock, before slowly, with an annoyed grunt from the prisoner, pulling free. "MY... SIDE..." At that, she points to the opposite wall. "YOURS... THERE!" You scurry away to the other side, [[heeding the wise words of the lady->Prison Cell]].

OrkState: 'seensleeping' -- You take a slow, hesitant step. Then another. The straw rustles under your feet, the sound impossibly loud in the quiet cell. The snoring grows louder with each step, a deep, wet, rumbling sound like rocks grinding together in a landslide. You round the edge of the straw pile and finally see her properly. Your breath catches in your throat. [[*That's an orc.*->Orc Lady]]

PailBoneTried: true -- Out of sheer, desperate boredom, you take out the sharp bone and give the contents of the pail a slow, reluctant stir. The murky liquid swirls, and a half-dissolved lump bobs to the surface before sinking again. A large bubble of gas, smelling of rotten mushrooms, rises with a wet *plop* that makes you gag. This has got to be a new low for you. You wipe the bone on a relatively clean patch of straw and put it away, feeling deeply unsatisfied. {link to: 'Prison Cell', label: 'Back'}

PailFireStoneTried: true -- You hold the glowing stone over the pail, its warmth a stark contrast to the cell's damp chill. What would happen if you dropped it in? Deciding against losing your only source of heat, you just dip one corner of the stone into the murky liquid. A violent ***HISSSSSSS*** erupts as hot stone meets cold slop. A thick cloud of steam, smelling worse than anything you have ever smelled in your entire life, billows up and hits you in the face. You snatch the stone back, coughing and spluttering, your eyes watering. It's now coated in a thin layer of disgusting, cooked-on filth. *Eww...* {link to: 'Prison Cell', label: 'Back'}

HasPrisonBone: true -- You take a deep breath, holding it until your cheeks puff out, then... you plunge your arm into the pail. A wave of nauseating cold washes over your skin. The liquid is thick and greasy, and soft, squishy things brush against your fingers. You bite back a gag, your eyes watering, and grope blindly through the slop. Your fingers brush against something hard. You close your hand around it. It's long, thin, and... sharp at one end. Ignoring the disgusting drips, you pull it free. It's a bone. A rib, maybe, from some small animal. The end has been snapped, leaving a jagged, pointed tip. You quickly wipe the worst of the filth off on a clean patch of your wrap and tuck it away. {link to: 'Prison Cell', label: 'Back'}

PapersSmeared: true -- These colors are all wrong, and the lines are making your eyes ache. You pull the shifting white stone from your satchel and slap it directly onto the center of the blue paper. The plaster eagerly spreads out, wriggling its edges across the surface. It acts exactly like a wet sponge dragged across chalk! The intricate white lines instantly dissolve, smearing into a blurry fog that covers the deep blue background. Satisfied with its artistic contribution, the plaster pulls itself back into a sphere and bobs back to your satchel. {link to: 'blue papers', label: 'Back'}

You trot over to the heavy purple curtain, thinking you might sneak a look at the rest of what must be a palace of sorts. But as you reach for the fabric, your hand slows in mid-air. It feels like pressing against a wall of invisible, cold sap. You push harder, but the air is firm, refusing to let you near the threshold. You can't really explain it, but you get the sharp impression that beyond this cloth, there simply isn't... anything. That this one fragment of the past is all there is to it. {link to: 'Second Chamber (Past)', label: 'Back'}

[if ShelfSawed] You look at your alcove. A deep, jagged groove cuts right across the edge of the stone shelf. White dust covers your folded wrap. It looks... ugly. Why did you do that? Now every time you reach for your things, you're going to scrape your knuckles. Good job, Leika. [continue] [unless ShelfSawed] You poke your nose into the other alcoves as you pass. Grakk's first, of course. Ugh. A whole new string of cave-lizard teeth, the little bits of gore still clinging to the roots. A few scoops down, Grizel's left out one of his slate-scratchings. More knots. What is it with him and knots? Then there's yours. Your spare wrap is folded on the shelf, and beside it... that stupid grey stone. You pick it up. Remember how excited you were when you found it? You were so sure it was shaped just like one of the Goddess's holy belly-marks. A sign! A secret gift from the stone itself! You turn it over in your palm. Nope. Still just a lumpy, grey, useless rock. Shiny, but that's about it. With a little huff, you toss it back onto the shelf. It makes a sad little *tink*. [continue] {link to: 'Sleeping Warrens (post intro)', label: 'Back'} [if WireSawTaken; unless ShelfSawed; inventory for WireSaw] [[What if...?->Alcove Saw Cutscene]] [continue] [if QuillAndPaperFound; inventory for QuillAndPaper] [[The stick twitches...->Alcove Quill Cutscene]] [continue]

You glance along the row of personal alcoves carved into the cavern wall. Most are just shallow scoops in the stone. Grak's is easy to spot. He always leaves the skull of his latest kill just outside. A bat this time. Show-off! Inside are more bones and a sharp-looking flint for skinning. A few alcoves down, bright red dust stains the stone where someone is trying to make paint from the Red Cap mushrooms again - it never works, just makes a mess. One of the younger kit's alcoves holds only a single shiny river stone and a bird feather. Yours is near the end. Mostly empty. Just your spare wrap, a couple of random tools, and a small, smooth grey stone you found last week. It's shaped a little like one of the Prophet's holy symbols, if you squint. Kind of. Actually... not really, no... did someone replace it? Real mature, you guys. {link to: 'Goblin Warrens Sleeping Chamber', label: 'Back'}

You run your hand over the great pile. It's a messy mountain of bear furs, damp moss, and leaves, all tangled together. It still smells faintly of sleep, a musky, comforting scent. It's mostly empty now, save for a few small, slumbering lumps under the thickest furs near the center. Your spot, and Daka's beside it, are just cool, empty hollows in the bedding. It looks much less inviting now that everyone is gone, and yet... No! No. You have a duty at hand. This is no time to go back to bed! {link to: 'Sleeping Warrens (post intro)', label: 'Back'} [if TrenchLighterTaken; inventory for TrenchLighter] [[What if...?->Pile Lighter Cutscene]] [continue] [if TuningForkTaken; unless PileKitsWoken; inventory for TuningFork] [[What if...?->Pile Tuning Fork Cutscene]] [continue]

You look over the great sleeping pile. A messy mountain of cave-bear furs, damp moss, and leaves gathered last autumn, all tangled together. It still smells of sleep and kin, a musky, comforting smell that is already fading in the cold air. Your spot is just a hollow dent, the warmth almost gone. Daka's spot next to yours is just as empty. Your hands furrow into fists; she really did leave you behind. Frustrated, you kick through the bedding, looking for your things. Your foot bumps something heavy and familiar. *Ah.* There, half-buried under a ratty bit of fur, is your gathering [[satchel->Satchel (Not picked up)]]. {link to: 'Goblin Warrens Sleeping Chamber', label: 'Back'}

You stare at the dry, rustling leaves mixed into the bedding. A little spark here... *woosh*. The whole pile would go up. Wouldn't... wouldn't that be something... You flick the wheel. *Zzzt!* A single orange spark lands on a leaf. It smokes, curls black... and goes out. The damp moss underneath smothers it instantly. You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Probably for the best. Bera would skin you alive. {link to: 'Pile', label: 'Back'}

PileKitsWoken: true -- You strike the metal fork against your palm. *HMMMMMMmmmm...* You press the vibrating end against the nearest lump in the furs. The sound amplifies through the hollow bedding, turning into a loud, buzzing drone. *"Eeeek!"* *"Bees!"* Two sleepy kits erupt from the pile, eyes wide and terrified, swatting at invisible bugs. They scramble over each other and bolt for the tunnel, squealing - you stifle a giggle. {link to: 'Pile', label: 'Back'}

You scramble over to the entrance. It's gone. Sealed completely by a massive jumble of stone and earth that reaches all the way to the chamber's high ceiling. There is no way out. A desperate hope makes you press your ear against one of the largest, flatest stones, listening for... anything. The sound of the wind? Another goblin? At first, nothing. Then... *thump*. A deep, slow, rhythmic sound. Muffled and distant, but so powerful you feel it in your teeth, a vibration inside of your skull. *Thump*. Like a heartbeat. Or something walking on the other side. *Thump*. You scramble back from the wall of debris. That does *not* sound friendly. {link to: 'Future Chamber - Stage NONE', label: 'Back'}

You stare at the glittering break. It sparkles in the grey light, winking at you. It really does look like sugar... You chew your lip - it is a rock. You know it's a rock. Just a rock!! It's a piece of wall that fell down a long, long time ago. It's covered in dust, Leika! How many of your kin have stepped through here before? It probably tastes like old feet. Actually, it for sure does. Then again, it's a rock that belonged to the Ancients. They had magic, did't they? Maybe they made their houses out of sweet stuff! It would explain why they were so tall. And *soft*. Your stomach gives a hopeful, traitorous gurgle. You look around -[[no one's around to make fun of you, so...->Pillar Belly Cutscene 2]]

PillarLicked: true -- Before you can stop yourself, you lean in, your eyes crossing as you get close to the white stone. You open your mouth and press your tongue flat against the break. *Scrrrrtch.* A mouthful of ancient, chalky dust coats your tongue instantly, sucking the moisture right out of your mouth - you pull back, sputtering, wiping your tongue with your hand. *Pleh!* ...was that a hint of sweetness?? A tiny, ghostly memory of sugar? Maybe that's just you being hungry enough to be imagining things. You frown at the rock - it's mostly dust. {link to: 'collapsed pillar', label: 'Back'}

PillarJawTried: true -- You heft the heavy iron wrench, eyeing the glittering break in the pillar. You bring the square iron head down hard on the edge of the break. *CRACK!* A handful of glittering, sugar-like pebbles break loose and scatter across the tiles. You eagerly scoop them up, dropping the treasures into your wrap's pocket. Pretty brittle treasures, really - up close, you can see that they've already ground themselves into a useless, gritty white powder against each other. You sigh, brushing the mess off your fingers. {link to: 'collapsed pillar', label: 'Back'}

PillarSawTried: true -- You pull the toothy string taut between your hands. A nice, clean slice of this sugary marble would make a fantastic paperweight. You press the wire against the sparkling break and pull. *SKRRRRREEEEE.* The terrible screech of metal scraping against solid rock sets your teeth on edge. The wire bites into the stone for a fraction of an inch before sticking fast. You pull harder, but the ancient marble is far too dense. Inspecting the string, you groan: several of the tiny teeth have been bent out of shape. {link to: 'collapsed pillar', label: 'Back'}

MetalGearTaken: true GearTaken: true MetalJawTaken: true TrenchLighterTaken: true PipeSmashed: true SunlessFieldsFirstTime: true -- It is done. The hot spring water has been redirected. {plainlink to: 'boiler', label: 'Teleport to boiler'}

MetalGearTaken: true GearTaken: true MetalJawTaken: true TrenchLighterTaken: true PipeSmashed: false SunlessFieldsFirstTime: true -- It is done. Though the pipe remains intact. {plainlink to: 'boiler', label: 'Teleport to boiler'}

You weigh the heavy metal disc in your hand. It's got a good heft. Maybe you could throw it? Knock one of those sacs loose? You wind up... and stop. Wait. If you miss, the gear might get lost in the shadows. If you hit, it might fall into the slime basin and sink forever. Losing a treasure just to knock down a bag of goo? Bad trade. You lower your arm. {link to: 'Ceiling Polyps North', label: 'Back'}

You flick the spark-wheel over the bubbling goo. *Zzzt.* A spark hits the surface. *Pfft.* It sinks immediately with a tiny hiss. The slime is way too wet and thick to burn. It just swallows the fire whole. Good thing, too... in hindsight, you don't really want to know if it would've spread to the whole pool. That's a scary thought. {link to: 'central pool', label: 'Back'}

[dialogue delay:0.1 id:post_fell_gen1] You wander back to the farm to check on their progress. Bera is hefting a large, freshly-cut log of the red fungus, her thick arms straining. Keff... is poking at the stump with a stick. [dialogue delay:2.0 id:post_fell_gen1 newline] Bera drops her log onto a growing pile with a heavy **THUD**. *"Are you going to stand there all day, or are you going to help me haul?"* [dialogue delay:2.5 id:post_fell_gen1 newline] Keff jumps, dropping his stick. *"I was just... checking for rot! It's important to check for rot."* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:post_fell_gen1] He smiles smugly, crossing his arm. [dialogue delay:0.5 id:post_fell_gen1] *"Everyone knows this."* [dialogue delay:2.2 id:post_fell_gen1 newline] She plants her fists on her hips, dust clinging to her arms. *"Oh, no, you don't get to use that excuse again. It just fell! No way it's rotting already. Now grab an end before I use you to grease the saw!"* [dialogue delay:2.5 id:post_fell_gen1 newline] Keff sighs dramatically and shuffles toward the smallest log he can find, rubbing his lower back as if it already ached. You get the feeling they're going to be busy for a while. [dialogue delay:1.5 id:post_fell_gen1 newline] {link to: 'Fungal Farm', label: 'You leave them to it.'}

You hold the metal disc up to the massive stone blocks. It looks... mechanical. Maybe the gear goes somewhere? You search the smooth black stone for a slot, a hole, anything square-shaped. Nothing. It's just seamless rock and heavy chain. You try to wedge the gear into a link of the chain, but it just clatters uselessly against the iron. Nope. This machine runs on magic, not gears. {link to: 'Gelatinous Cube Press', label: 'Back'}

The stick hovers over the glowing teal symbol on the dais. It vibrates, matching the low hum of the machine, before finally jotting something down on its paper. ~FROM MANY, ONE.~ You step back from the center. What does that mean? {link to: 'Gelatinous Cube Press', label: 'Back'}

{embed passage: 'Item Back Logic'} You pull the bone from a fold in your wrap. It's cool and smooth on one side, but the other end is jagged and splintery where it was snapped. A faint smell of old meat and something sour still clings to it, even after you wiped it. A rib. From a cave-lizard, probably. Too big for a grub, too small for a boar. Grak would probably turn his nose up at a snack this scrawny. *But the tip is sharp!* {link to: itemBackTarget, label: 'Back'}

InMawPrison: true InMawPrisonFirstTime: InMawPrisonFirstTime + 1 -- [if InMawPrisonFirstTime == 1; append] Your head throbs. A dull, heavy ache behind your eyes that pulses with every beat of your heart. *Ugh.* You push yourself up, the rough texture of straw scratching your cheek. [continue] The air is thick, sour with the smell of unwashed bodies and old, wet meat. It's dark, but a faint, greasy orange light filters through a wall of thick, dark [[fungus-wood bars]], together with some distant voices. You're in prison. [if OrkState == 'notseen'] A low, rumbling noise echoes from the corner. A [[huge figure->Orc Lady]] lies slumped against the far wall. [if OrkState == 'seensleeping'] A low, rumbling snore echoes from the corner. An [[orc->Orc Lady]] lies slumped against the far wall, bound by heavy chains. [if OrkState == 'awake'] The [[orc->Orc Lady]] is now awake, wearily growling in your general direction, still slumped against the far wall and bound by heavy chains. [continue] In the center of the cell is a dented metal [[pail]], and a miserable-looking [[pile of straw]] serves as your bed. [if LooseStoneNoticed; unless HasFireStone; append] On the far wall, near the floor, you can now clearly see the outline of a [[loose stone]]. [continue] [if InMawPrisonFirstTime == 2; append] But... where is...? Oh, no... *oh no, no, no*. Your hands fly to your side. It's gone. Your satchel. The golden bug, the toothy string, the... the... all gone. A cold knot of panic tightens in your gut. [continue]

[CSS] .prophecy-container { max-width: 750px; margin: 1em auto; font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif; font-variant: small-caps; line-height: 1.3; font-size: 1em; color: var(--page-color); } .prophecy-stanza { margin-bottom: 1.5em; position: relative; padding: 0.5em 0; } .prophecy-stanza.left { text-align: left; padding-left: 4%; border-left: 2px solid currentColor; } .prophecy-stanza.center { text-align: center; opacity: 0.9; } .prophecy-stanza.right { text-align: right; padding-right: 4%; border-right: 2px solid currentColor; } .emphasis { font-size: 1.3em; font-weight: bold; display: block; margin-top: 0.2em; letter-spacing: 0.05em; } [continue] <div class="prophecy-container"> <div class="prophecy-stanza left"> The cycle of the Starving God is at hand<br> It cannot be halted only hastened<br> Only an outsider from above shall bring safety<br> A passage to the downward heavens<br> <span class="emphasis">The Goddess of Hunger</span> </div> <div class="prophecy-stanza center"> Let the waters merge into the whole<br> Let the hoarding kingdom pay its toll<br> Let the pale beast be once more confined<br> Let the false lords wake to toil and grind<br> Let the buried past be cast from mind </div> <div class="prophecy-stanza right"> From five paths one way<br> She must grow until the granite groans<br> So it is allowed by our greatest daughter<br> <span class="emphasis">The Spirit of Hunger</span> </div> </div> <div style="text-align: center; margin: 2em 0; opacity: 0.6;">~ ✥ ~</div>

FrozenChamberInteractions (passage.visits == 1): FrozenChamberInteractions + 1 -- You try to peer around Her, to catch a glimpse of the sacred carvings... but it's no use. Her divine form, so vast and magnificent, blocks the holy wall completely. From this angle, you can see nothing but the curve of Her back and the great swell of Her bottom, both very close against the ancient stone. It does not matter: you know the words carved there by heart. {link to: 'Frozen Chamber', label: 'Back'}

Now with nothing in the way, the sacred carvings are finally clear. You run your small, chubby fingers over the ancient lines etched into the cold stone. They are deeper than they look. You recognize the great spiral of the cavern system, the five paths leading from the center. You see the shape of a goblin, small and kneeling. And you see Her, growing larger and larger with each carved panel, until She fills the stone entirely. And the words... [unless ProphecySeen] [[You trace the glyphs you know by heart.->The Prophecy]] [continue] [if ProphecySeen] [[The bug shivers, and the world snaps back into place.->Great Chamber]] [continue]

You kneel and dip the vibrating metal prongs directly into the cloudy water, expecting a violent splash, or maybe a funny gargle, or something like that. Instead, the water simply swallows the sound. The rapid vibration dies pretty much right away, sending barely a ripple across the sticky surface. The thick liquid acts like a heavy blanket, muting the metal completely. You pull the wet - and sticky, ew - tool back out. {link to: 'puddles', label: 'Back'}

{embed passage: 'Item Back Logic'} You carefully take out the holy items: the pointy black stick and the thin white slices. The moment they're free from the satchel, the stick zips over to the slice and begins to scribble frantically, the tiny black marks appearing from nowhere. {one of: ["*The stick draws a perfect circle, then another, then a bigger one below.*", "*The black marks form into a picture... a short, round goblin with a messy top-knot of hair. It's... it's you!*", "*The stick taps impatiently on the white slice. A single, angry-looking black mark appears: ~?~*", "*The stick draws the V-mark, the Goddess's holy symbol, right in the middle of the slice. It pulses with a faint inner light before fading.*", "Both items suddenly stop to spell out 'JUST POINT US IN THE DIRECTION OF AN ARTEFACT, GOBLIN' before resuming their usual scrawling."], order: 'cycling'} {link to: itemBackTarget, label: 'Back'}

{link to: 'Intro 3.0.5'}

[JavaScript] // Define the valid spawn locations for the Hydra. // This excludes 'Lair South' to prevent an immediate encounter upon re-entry. const validSpawnRooms = [ 'Lair North', 'Lair NorthEast', 'Lair East', 'Lair SouthEast', 'Lair SouthWest', 'Lair West', 'Lair NorthWest' ]; // Select a random room from the valid list. const randomIndex = Math.floor(Math.random() * validSpawnRooms.length); const newLocationName = validSpawnRooms[randomIndex]; // Update the hydra's position in the game state. engine.state.set('HydraLocation', newLocationName); [continue] [note] This script is called at the end of an encounter cutscene. It moves the Hydra to a new, random location that is never the entrance, ensuring the player has a safe starting point when they return. [continue]

ProphecySeen: true -- The dusty air of the empty future grows thick, then dissolves into a swirl of sickly teal and warm gold. The deep silence is shattered by a low hum, faint at first, then growing stronger, vibrating through your bones. It is Her voice. The cold, empty throne blurs, and for a heartbeat, two thrones exist at once - one dusty and abandoned, the other warm and occupied. The figures of your kin flicker back into existence around you, transparent as ghosts, then solidifying. [[The world snaps back into place.->Return to Present 2]]

You are on your knees again, on the cold stone of the Great Chamber. The golden bug is warm in your hands. You look up. The Goddess is looking down at you, her lesson interrupted. The other goblins are staring. The world is moving again. Her finger, which had been pointing at you, now gives a little wave. The Goddes might have her mysterious ways, but you know this one by heart: [[a dismissal.->Return to Present 3]]

But your purpose is clear now. You saw what happens if you fail. [[What happens if *we* fail.->Return to Present 4]]

You... are not going to let that happen. From this moment onward, your life's mission as The Goddess newly appointed favorite of Her flock is **to make sure the prophecy comes to fruition**. Nothing bad shall come to haunt your Goddess of Hunger! She will be allowed the means to grow forever, so that we may be worthy of salvation from the monsters of deep. The only things she will need to worry is being tributed a meal big enough to have her struggle to finish it to completion... ...if such a thing even exists. *Ha!* Yes, yes, yes... [[How *exciting*!->Return to Present 5]]

You scramble to your feet, clutching the golden bug, and hurry from Her presence. [[You have great work ahead of you.->Great Chamber]] {accessory: 'right1', passage: 'Satchel', taggedout: 'cutscene, menu, ending, past, future, misaligned'}

SecondChamberFoodEaten: true LeikaWeight (LeikaWeight == 'FAT'): 'OBESE' LeikaWeight (LeikaWeight == 'PLUMP'): 'FAT' LeikaWeight (LeikaWeight == 'CHUBBY'): 'PLUMP' LeikaWeight (LeikaWeight == 'NONE'): 'CHUBBY' -- As things are starting to blend into each other, the Earth-skinned lady lets out a sudden, loud, wet snort, Her dark eyes cracking open to stare right at where you are kneeling. Beside Her, the silver-haired one lets out a long, low groan, Her hand moving sluggishly to soothe the gurgling depths of Her own belly. [[Right up until it sees you.->Return to Present Past Chamber 2]]

"🜹!! 🜹 ☊🜛 ☋🜰 🜖 🝤!!" The lady on the right surges upward, her divan groaning as she shifts her immense weight to face you. Her dark eyes are wide in fear, fixed on you - an intruder kneeling amidst their feast. Beside her, the silver-haired one gasps, a pudgy hand flying to clutch her emerald necklaces as if they could protect her from you. The shout is high and panicked, a sequence of sounds that you cannot understand. You don't have time to answer; you're too busy trying to jam a final, sticky piece of rib-meat into your face while your belly, now a heavy and hard-packed mound, makes even kneeling an arduous task. Just as the Earth-skinned one waddles to the curtains to the back of the room, shouting beyond them, the three vessels on the far wall erupt in a final, blinding [[teal flash->Return to Present Past Chamber 3]].

The warmth of the past is ripped away, replaced by the sudden, biting chill of the ruins. The purple fabrics and golden lamps vanish, leaving you alone in the grey, dusty quiet. You fall forward onto your hands and knees, the stone floor cold against your palms, as a massive, wet *BELCH* echoes through the chamber. Getting back up is easier said than done, [[given how full the meal of the Ancients has gotten you.->Second Chamber]]

PlasterPit: true -- You look down into the pitch-black abyss, and pull the white blob from your satchel. It drops into the dark, vanishing completely. You lean over, waiting. And waiting. And waiting. A long time passes, and just as you're scared that it'll never come back, you spot a faint white speck rising from the gloom. The blob slowly floats back up over the edge of the pit, but it looks terrible! It is drooping heavily, its usually round shape stretched out and half-melted from sheer exhaustion. It weakly bobs over to your satchel and immediately slinks inside to hide and recover. Poor thing. {link to: 'palace pit', label: 'Back'}

You scramble up a slope of jagged white scree to reach the shelf. The stone houses that once stood here have been flattened against the cavern wall, their roofs crushed and their fronts sheared off. Inside the shell of the largest one, a massive [[stone trough]] sits wedged between two fallen blocks, unbroken. [if SmallGolemState == 0; append] Near the entrance, a [[golem]] stands rigid in the dust, staring blankly at a collapsed wall. [continue] The slope leads back down to the [[floor of the cavern->Hunting Grounds Hub]].

The grotto is small and cramped, the air thick with the smell of rust and decay. The soft moss of the plains gives way to bare, damp stone, which is split by a slow [[streamlet]] that trickles from a crack in the back wall and disappears into a side one. In the damp earth, you spot a strange [[glass-and-metal cage]]. Nearby lies a dented [[hard-shelled gourd]], and a few [[scraps of blue hide]] are snagged on a sharp rock. Long, orange streaks of rust stain the walls where water has dripped down. In the center of the mess sits a large, splintered [[smashed crate]] made of a strange, pale wood you don't recognize. Behind you is the way back to the [[🍄main cave->Fungal Plains Hub]].

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [if LeikaWeight == 'NONE'] You reach into the familiar roughness of your root-fiber satchel. Your fingers brush past a smooth river stone, a half-whittled bit of bone, and gain access to the deeper parts of it, where you keep your tools and treasures. [continue] [if LeikaWeight == 'CHUBBY'] You shift the strap. Again. It keeps sliding down your shoulder to dig into the new, soft cushion of your neck. *Rude.* You have to nudge the bag back, as it seems determined to rest right on the curve of your hip, which is... well, wider than it was yesterday. You reach inside. [continue] [if LeikaWeight == 'PLUMP'] You huff, resting the satchel on your lap. The strap is getting uncomfortably tight across your chest, squeezing you in a way that is... not dignified for a holy servant? Or maybe *more* dignified? You have to suck in a breath to reach past the warm, stubborn curve of your own belly. [continue] [if LeikaWeight == 'FAT'] You've loosened the strap to the very last hole, and the bag still rides high, perched ridiculously atop the shelf of your flank. It sticks out. You stick out. Your arm rubs against your own soft side as you dig inside, the rough fiber scratching your skin. Who made this strap so short? [continue] [if LeikaWeight == 'OBESE'] The satchel lives on the floor now. Putting the strap over your shoulder is a war you have lost - you are way too winded to try it again. You lean sideways, your side-rolls folding against each other, to fish around inside. [continue] [if ProphecySeen] [[➼->Leika's Belly (Satchel)]] Your Belly. {inventory LeikaBelly} [continue] [[➼->CH.3 Pocket Watch]] The Golden Bug.{inventory GoldenBug} [if last_ingame_passage == 'embedded skeleton'; unless AmuletSmashed] [[➼->amulet smash cutscene 1]] A thick bone.{inventory MindspaceBone} [continue] [if GearTaken; unless GearInstalled] [[➼->Metal Gear]] A Metal Disc.{inventory MetalGear} [continue] [if TrenchLighterTaken] [[➼->Trench Lighter]] The Fire Box.{inventory TrenchLighter} [continue] [if SlimePackRemoved; unless PackCleaned] [[➼->Foul Pack]] A Foul Pack.{inventory FoulPack} [continue] [if QuillAndPaperFound] [[➼->Quill and Paper (CH3)]] The Scribbly Stick.{inventory QuillAndPaper} [continue] [if CH3PlasterTaken] [[➼->Clot of Plaster (CH3)]] The Shifting Stone.{inventory CH3Plaster} [continue] [if WireSawTaken] [[➼->Wire Saw]] A Toothy String.{inventory WireSaw} [continue] [if TuningForkTaken] [[➼->Tuning Fork]] The Singing Stick.{inventory TuningFork} [continue] [if MetalJawTaken] [[➼->Iron Wrench]] A Metal Jaw.{inventory MetalJaw} [continue] [if passage.name == 'Satchel'] {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'} {ascii backdrop: 'satchel'} [continue]

GoblinHasSatchel: true -- You pull the satchel free from the furs. It's a simple thing, made of tough, woven root-fiber, the strap worn smooth from daily use. The sides are stained with old berry juice and the faint, sweet smell of crushed grubs from yesterday's gathering still clings to the interior. It's mostly empty now, save for a few stray pebbles and a smear of lumina-moss paste that glows faintly in the dimness. Not as good-looking as some belonging to your brothers and sisters, but you made it yourself, and they are too stupid to do the same, so, actually, it's a lot better - thank you very much. You sling the familiar weight over your shoulder. {link to: 'Goblin Warrens Sleeping Chamber', label: 'Back'} {ascii backdrop: 'loading'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("isCutscene",comesFromCutscene()); engine.state.set("isFuture",checkFuture()); engine.state.set("isMisaligned",checkMisaligned()); engine.state.set("isGorged",checkGorged()); [continue] {embed passage: 'Deep Satchel Menu Logic'}

You heft the heavy metal disc from your bag. The scale is unbalanced because it's missing a chunk of stone, right? Maybe this heavy treasure will even things out! You toss the metal gear high into the air. It lands squarely in the pristine left pan with a loud, ringing *CLANG*. You cross your arms, waiting for the massive iron chains to shift and groan, bringing the two bowls level. Nothing happens. The scale doesn't even flinch. The black stone is just too massive to care about your little disc. You sigh, climbing up the stone pillar just enough to snatch your gear back. {link to: 'stone scale', label: 'Back'}

You pull the shifting white stone from your satchel and toss it directly into the broken, crooked right pan. The blob hits the stone and immediately flows outward, seeking the giant bite marks. It fills the gaps perfectly, reforming the missing edge of the bowl in smooth white material. Immediately, the massive iron chains shriek and groan! The added weight pulls the right pan downward, lifting the left one until the massive scale balance each other out. You grin, admiring them. But a heartbeat later, the plaster seems to realize it is doing manual labor. It abruptly shrinks back into a sphere, detaches from the bite marks, and lazily floats out of the pan. The scale violently slams back into its crooked tilt, the chains rattling loudly. {link to: 'stone scale', label: 'Back'}

**A SEASON GOES BY** [if Season1Biome == 'Slime'] {embed passage: 'Season Slime Alignment'} [continue] [if Season1Biome == 'Fungal'] {embed passage: 'Season Fungal Alignment'} [continue] [if Season1Biome == 'Hunting'] {embed passage: 'Season Hunting Alignment'} [continue] [if Season1Biome == 'Sunless'] {embed passage: 'Season Sunless Alignment'} [continue] [if Season1Biome == 'Expedition'] {embed passage: 'Season Expedition Alignment'} [continue] *** The warren falls into a stunned silence. When the first heavy wave of extra food rolls in, the older kin and Matrons drop their digging sticks to stare at the bounty. You march right past them with your head held high, the golden bug ticking proudly at your hip. [if SeasonCount == 1] [[But it doesn't last long.->Stagnation Ending PLUMP 1]] [continue] [if SeasonCount > 1] [[The world keeps on turning...->Season 2 Cutscene]] [continue]

**A SECOND SEASON GOES BY** [if Season2Biome == 'Slime'] {embed passage: 'Season Slime Alignment'} [continue] [if Season2Biome == 'Fungal'] {embed passage: 'Season Fungal Alignment'} [continue] [if Season2Biome == 'Hunting'] {embed passage: 'Season Hunting Alignment'} [continue] [if Season2Biome == 'Sunless'] {embed passage: 'Season Sunless Alignment'} [continue] [if Season2Biome == 'Expedition'] {embed passage: 'Season Expedition Alignment'} [continue] *** The piles of tribute grow too vast for the chamber, but you find yourself very busy inspecting it all. *Someone has to!* This constant tasting adds a pleasant, heavy softness to your middle, forcing you to loosen your wrap a little more each week. It is a small sacrifice to guarantee Her Holiness receives only the absolute best. [if SeasonCount == 2] [[It's a shame, though.->Stagnation Ending FAT 1]] [continue] [if SeasonCount > 2] [[The world keeps on turning...->Season 3 Cutscene]] [continue]

**A THIRD SEASON GOES BY** [if Season3Biome == 'Slime'] {embed passage: 'Season Slime Alignment'} [continue] [if Season3Biome == 'Fungal'] {embed passage: 'Season Fungal Alignment'} [continue] [if Season3Biome == 'Hunting'] {embed passage: 'Season Hunting Alignment'} [continue] [if Season3Biome == 'Sunless'] {embed passage: 'Season Sunless Alignment'} [continue] [if Season3Biome == 'Expedition'] {embed passage: 'Season Expedition Alignment'} [continue] *** A joyful hunger infects the entire warren. You patrol the sprawling feasts with a heavy stick in hand, quick to smack the knuckles of any clumsy porter who spills a drop of sweet-sap on the stone, ensuring Her meals remain absolutely pristine, and that no-one gets any idea. It's for Her! [if SeasonCount == 3] [[Besides, you've done it!->Stagnation Ending OBESE 1]] [continue] [if SeasonCount > 3] [[The world keeps on turning...->Season 4 Cutscene]] [continue]

**A FOURTH SEASON PASSES** [if Season4Biome == 'Slime'] {embed passage: 'Season Slime Alignment'} [continue] [if Season4Biome == 'Fungal'] {embed passage: 'Season Fungal Alignment'} [continue] [if Season4Biome == 'Hunting'] {embed passage: 'Season Hunting Alignment'} [continue] [if Season4Biome == 'Sunless'] {embed passage: 'Season Sunless Alignment'} [continue] [if Season4Biome == 'Expedition'] {embed passage: 'Season Expedition Alignment'} [continue] *** You abandon the damp sleeping tunnels entirely to drag your thickest furs right to the base of Her dais. Nestled safely beneath the vast overhang of Her holy gut, you drape yourself in the same bright silks of the Goddess. In the quietest hours of the night, you can actually hear the black star-stone of the throne give a low, struggling groan. [if SeasonCount == 4] [[And finally...->Ascension Ending 1]] [continue] [if SeasonCount > 4] [[The world keeps on turning...->Season 5 Cutscene]] [continue]

**A FINAL SEASON GOES BY** [if Season5Biome == 'Slime'] {embed passage: 'Season Slime Alignment'} [continue] [if Season5Biome == 'Fungal'] {embed passage: 'Season Fungal Alignment'} [continue] [if Season5Biome == 'Hunting'] {embed passage: 'Season Hunting Alignment'} [continue] [if Season5Biome == 'Sunless'] {embed passage: 'Season Sunless Alignment'} [continue] [if Season5Biome == 'Expedition'] {embed passage: 'Season Expedition Alignment'} [continue] *** A manic fever takes hold of the caverns. The line of tribute never stops moving, forming a relentless river of rich offerings pouring directly into Her open mouth. The heat radiating from Her massive form makes the ancient walls sweat - the air hums with a vibration that swallows every other sound in the deep. You sit proudly at Her feet, watching the prophecy of old come to life! [[And finally, one day...->Ascension Ending 1]]

Within days, the passage that hosted Skull Man becomes completely choked by thick, fleshy vines. You spend the better part of two days watching a group of hunters hack a path through the mess with their axes, only to have the angry vines slither right back over their boots in a matter of hours. Every step in there is a sucky struggle against knee-deep sweet-sludge and crushed berries. To make matters worse, half the gatherers sent inside conveniently forget how to find the exit after tasting the heavy nectar! *Bah...* It takes a bit of finesse, a little direct intervention from you, but eventually you yell some sense into the warren. Massive, bruised fruits and sloshing skins of wine-sap finally begin making their way to the Goddess - just as the golden bug had promised you.

With the kingdom burnt to a crisp, the plains echo through the tunnels for days. The passages grow tight and claustrophobic, choked with kin and their woven baskets. When Bera finally squeezes through the main junction, her broad shoulders straining under the weight of a towering crate of red-caps, you call out to her. The big matron doesn't even have the breath to yell back; she merely grunts, her heavy boots dragging in the dust as she hauls her load toward the Great Chamber, and Keff stumbles blindly behind her, weighed down by a... frankly pathetic sack of dry stems. The warren swallows the kingdom whole - just as the golden bug had promised you.

For the first few weeks, you sit safely on the upper ledge of the pit, swinging your legs over the drop, happily watching Grizel's grand design fall apart daily. Thick ropes snap with loud cracks, dropping heavy wooden beams right onto the Many-Mouths' snapping snouts. The trapped beast shrieks in confusion, while Grizel runs in tight circles on the rim, pulling at his ears and wailing about lines and angles as angry hunters yell at him from the basin floor. But the shouting soon gives way to a steady, heavy thudding, and massive chunks of meat get hauled up. The sharp scent of raw, endless bounty washes over the ruins - just as the golden bug had promised you.

For weeks, you watch Grak and his little band of idiots sneaking off with perfectly good flints and lizard-tails. The *nerve*! You knew exactly where the heretics were going, of course. You bit your tongue while they foolishly bowed to Bouba. But your holy patience pais off! The day Grak marches back into the main warren with his chin completely smeared in sweet, green jelly... oh, that look on his face! You make sure to stand right in his path, arms crossed, tapping your foot as the hunter sheepishly hands over a bulging water-skin. Soon after, the main roads are made slick under the constant stream of slime - just as the golden bug had promised you.

The noise from the iron beast never stops, but the yelling from the outlanders is even louder. You watch as a tall man stomp his boot in the dirt as he screams at a group of gatherers for stacking the sacks of pale-wheat... wrong? Maybe? He waves those useless blue papers around, but your kin simply stare at him before dropping the heavy bundles... wrong again, apparently. The outlander women fare no better, constantly slapping away the hands of the warren's Matrons - there as guests and for negotiating - who try to eat from their table. Oh, are they eating too much? *What??* Do you even hear yourself? That makes no sense. Yet, despite all the tantrums, the stream of baked tribute begins to flow backward into the tunnels - just as the golden bug had promised you.

You climb the last of the steps, your breath puffing in the cool, grey air. This room is smaller, a curved box of white stone that feels almost too quiet after the vastness of the hole below. Light filters in from a jagged crack high above, illuminating three shapes resting on low plinths against the far wall. To the left sits a pristine, pale [[white vessel]]. In the center, a heavy [[black vessel]] looms, demanding your eye. Pushed off to the far right, looking almost out of place, is a rough [[clay vessel CH3]]. Near the entrance, hanging from a heavy stone beam, is a massive [[stone bell]]. The way back [[🦴down->Hunting Grounds Hub]] is behind you.

The air here is a thick, delicious heat that tastes of rendered fat and burnt honey. Soft, golden lamps drift through the haze, casting a warm glow over a room draped in heavy purple fabrics that hide the stone walls. Near the center, a [[massive woman ->Ancient Sky-Walker Left]] lies sprawled upon a plush divan, her form nearly obscuring the furniture entirely. To her right, a [[second ->Ancient Sky-Walker Right]] is curled in a similar stupor. Between them sits a low stone table, currently playing host to [unless PlatterEaten; append] a steaming [[meat platter]], [if PlatterEaten; append] a pile of bare bones, [unless GlassesDrunk; append] and a number of ceramic [[glasses]]. [if GlassesDrunk; append] and a number of empty ceramic. [unless FicusesEaten; append] On the floor is also a turned-over [[bowl->bowl of honeyed ficuses]]. [if FicusesEaten; append] A clean, ceramic bowl sits empty on the rug. [continue] On the far wall, the three [[ancient vessels]] stand upon their plinths. *The exit leading back to the caves is blocked by a heavy, purple [[curtain->Past Second Chamber Denied Exit]].*

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] Select the lesson state below, then teleport directly to the Chamber. {cycling link for: 'CurrentLessonState', choices: ['letters', 'botany', 'monsters', 'anatomy', 'math', 'rest', 'wardrobecheck']} {plainlink to: 'Great Chamber', label: 'Teleport to Great Chamber'} {link to: 'Debug Menu CH3', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] **Rooms:** {plainlink to: 'palace pond'} {plainlink to: 'palace mining gear'} {plainlink to: 'palace library'} {plainlink to: 'palace parlor'} {plainlink to: 'palace vault'} {plainlink to: 'palace pit'} **Encounters:** {plainlink to: 'palace cutscene elf man'} {plainlink to: 'palace cutscene elf maid'} {plainlink to: 'palace cutscene elf couple'} {link to: 'Debug Menu CH3', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] Choose a state to prepare the boiler puzzle. All necessary tools (Metal Gear, Metal Jaw, Trench Lighter) shall be granted as well. [[Pipe already smashed]] [[Pipe intact]] {link to: 'Debug Menu CH3', label: 'Back'}

You approach the circle of hunters. The rhythmic *shhhk-shhhk* of stone on steel is a steady, comforting heartbeat beneath the chatter. Grak is there, but he isn't scowling or bullying the others. He holds his spear with a relaxed, confident grip, running the whetstone along the tip with practiced ease. Around him, other kin are preparing their tools. Not for war, but also not out of boredom. They are sharpening skinning knives and harvest-blades: the weapons of a warren that is getting to have plenty to process. {link to: 'Future Chamber - Stage PLUMP', label: 'Back'}

You take out the heavy metal disc. If you throw it high enough into the shadows, maybe you can knock down a forgotten jar of ancient sweet-jelly! You wind up your arm and hurl the gear straight up into the gloom. *CLACK.* The metal hits the underside of a shelf, violently ricochets off a stone pillar, and shoots straight back down. It smacks you dead on the top of your head, bouncing off your skull and landing in the dust. You let out a sharp yelp, both hands flying up to frantically rub the fresh, throbbing bump forming under your hair. You quickly snatch the stupid dumb disc off the floor, it's not even that pretty of a thing, you hate this piece of junk and it belongs in the trash. {link to: 'stone shelves', label: 'Back'}

You duck back into the familiar passage leading down to the sleeping chamber. The air is cool and still, thick with the familiar smell of damp moss, sleeping furs, and the faint, smoky scent from the distant cook-pits. A few of the younger kits who are not yet of working age are curled up in the great communal [[sleeping pile->Pile]], but most of your kin are out on their duties. To the side, the lopsided [[water skin->Water Skin]] hangs. The low, curved walls are pocked with small, [[personal alcoves->Personal Alcoves]]. Yours is just ahead, with its tattered hide curtain for a [[wardrobe->Warrens Wardrobe]] and the shard of polished slag you use as a [[🪞mirror->Goblin Mirror]]. In the other corner, the pile of wood shavings marks your [[whittling corner->Whittling Corner]]. The spiraling ramp leading back up to the [[⚫central tunnel->Central Tunnel]] is behind you.

The stick floats up, hovering directly over an open book on the floor. It uses its sharp tip to gently turn a page, reads for a heartbeat, and then darts back to the white slice. ~A RATHER REPETITIVE NARRATIVE SURROUNDING AN ANCIENT ENTITY ENABLING THE GLUTTONOUS TENDENCIES OF A MUSEUM ASSISTANT/CURATOR. THE PACING IS ERRATIC, THE FIXATION ON WARDROBE MALFUNCTIONS IS EXCESSIVE, AND THE PROTAGONIST'S LACK OF PROFESSIONAL DISCIPLINE IS DOWNRIGHT APPALLING. TWO STARS.~ You tilt your head. You have absolutely no idea what a 'star' is, nor why a story about a hungry woman getting fed by a powerful spirit would be considered bad. The stick seems quite grumpy about it, though. {link to: 'bound slices', label: 'Back'}

You approach the cavern mouth, hand over your nose to block the burning smell. A thick, yellow fog still hangs low to the ground, and before you can take another step, a high-pitched, squeaky chorus erupts from the mist. *"HALT! HAAAAALT!"* A line of small, jagged yellow shapes slithers out of the fog. They form a perfect, angry line across the path, their tiny gelatinous arms crossed over their chests in a familiar, grumpy gesture. [[They glare at you with dozens of furious little eyes.->Slime Caverns Blocked Entrance 2]]

*"Road closed!"* one squeaks, waving a little wobbly arm at you. *"Closed due to... to... NASTINESS!"* *"Ash-Spreader!"* another chirps accusingly. *"Gunk-Hand!"* *"Pool-Ruiner!"* They start bobbing up and down, a sea of yellow accusation. *"Move along! Nothing to see! Move along or get melted!"* To prove their point, the leader spits a glob of yellow goo that lands inches from your toe, hissing loudly as it eats into the stone. Jeez, ok, fine! Message received... [if SlimeCavernsMisaligned; if SunlessFieldsMisaligned] {link to: 'Fake Northeast Tunnel', label: 'Back'} [unless SunlessFieldsMisaligned] {link to: 'Northeast Tunnel', label: 'Back'}

You push past the curtain of dripping growths. The air on the other side is immediately different. Warmer. And the smell... oh, the smell! It hits the back of your throat, thick and sweet like honeyed fat. Your stomach gives a low, hungry gurgle, and you have to swallow a sudden rush of drool. The walls here in the slime caverns glisten with a slow, translucent green ooze that coats every surface in a shimmering film. The only sound is a soft, wet noise, like slow, thick bubbles rising to a surface. [[*SPLOOT!*->Slime Caverns Cutscene 1.5]]

A heavy glob of the green slime, thick as your arm, detaches from the ceiling and lands on the path just ahead of you. It quivers there, a perfect, glistening mound. [[You freeze.->Slime Caverns Cutscene 2]]

SlimeCavernsFirstTime: true -- The glob of green jelly shivers on the stone floor, catching the moss-light. You could just scoop up a tiny bit with your finger... As if it heard your thoughts, the glob trembles again. A thin, glistening tendril of green ooze stretches out from its base, creeping slowly, deliberately, across the slick stone... toward the toe of your foot. It's like a curious grub-feeler, sniffing the air. You snatch your leg back with a little yelp. *Ow!* It didn't really bite, it's just... really hot or something. You give the wiggling glob a wide berth and hurry past it, [[deeper than you've gone before into these caverns.->Slime Caverns Hub]]

**TRAITORS!** They are kneeling before Bouba! Not in the Great Chamber before the true Goddess!! You watch as they lay out offerings at her base - a string of lizards, a pile of shiny flints. Your fists clench. How could they? But then... you look up. She... she truly is huge, her belly, a vast, shimmering thing. You know what? You cannot blame them. Not really. A pang of something... a holy envy twists in your own gut. To be so vast... [[The scene flickers forward...->Slime Caverns Future Vision 2]]

The vision shimmers again, the air growing thick and heavy. The same goblins are there, but the hopeful kneeling is gone. Grak is idly poking at the edge of the pool with the butt of his spear, a bored expression on his face. One of the kits is asleep, curled up on the slimey stone. Yuck. Another tries to skip a flat rock across the slime; it just makes a sad *splut* and sinks. Bouba... just sits there, in the same exact spot as before. She gives a happy, sleepy wobble now and then, but that's about it. No lessons. No commands. No holy hum or divine language. Just green. A lot of green. As you watch, the sleeping kit stirs, waking with a yawn. He stretches, then looks at the pool. He looks at his grimy fingers. He looks back at the pool. [[A slow grin spreads across his face.->Slime Caverns Future Vision 3]]

Before anyone can stop him from burning himself in the slime, the kit plunges his whole hand in. To your and the surprise of the others in the cavern, he just pulls it out, dripping with green goo. Then, the little fool... he licks it. His eyes go wide. A happy, slurping sound fills the quiet cavern. Grak stares, then snatches the kit's hand, sniffing it suspiciously. Then he dips his *own* finger in. His eyes go wide, too. In a blink, they're all at the pool's edge. Hands, then empty water skins are dipped in, scooping up the sweet, fatty goo - now simply warm instead of scolding hot. *Oh!* You understand now. Bouba isn't a goddess to be worshipped... She's a gift *for* the Goddess, a living cook-pot for Her divine hunger! [[The scene shifts one last time...->Slime Caverns Future Vision 4]]

The vision blurs into a steady, purposeful rhythm. A chain of your kin, their faces grim with determination, now ferry skins and bowls brimming with the sweet green goo back toward the Great Chamber. Bouba sits in her pool, a vast, happy, living wellspring. A passing goblin gives her a fond pat on her vast, wobbly side and gives a contented little jiggle in response, sending a fresh wave of slime sloshing to the shore for the next in line. Of course! The Goddess is wise! She did not give you a rival; She gave you a living pantry. Bouba, the *patron saint of Slime!* The golden bug hums, clearly not ready to bring you back to the present. From the slime caverns, you are moved [[back to the heart of the world...->Future Chamber Router]]

The tunnel opens into a vast, round cavern. The air is warm and heavy with that sweet, fatty smell. [if SlimePressState == 'inactive'] In the center of the chamber, a huge [[central pool]] of shimmering green slime bubbles slowly, thick, lazy bubbles rising to the surface and popping with a wet *gloop*. At the pool's edge, you spot a small pile of [[half-dissolved bones]]. [continue] [if SlimePressState == 'activated'] The central pool is gone. In its place, sitting in the middle of the slime pool, is a single, unnervingly perfect [[Gelatinous Cube->Gelatinous Cube]]. Carried away from the pool's edge, you also spot a small pile of [[bones->half-dissolved bones]] near the shore. [continue] [if SlimePressState == 'shaped'] The center of the cavern is now dominated by the massive form of [[Bouba->Great Slime Mother]]. Carried away from the pool's edge, you also spot a small pile of [[bones->half-dissolved bones]] near the shore. [continue] [if passage.visits == 3] *Your mouth is watering again. So much of it... enough to feed the Goddess for a whole turning of the... well, for a long time! If it wasn't burning, that is. Even grabbing some to cool later can be a death sentence.* [continue] Across the cavern, on a raised dais of black stone, stand two massive [[blocks of stone->Gelatinous Cube Press]], hanging suspended from thick, root-like chains. Three smaller tunnels branch off from the main cavern. One leads up to a passage where the ooze drips like [[💧thin rain->Slime Pool North]]. Another is a narrow fissure from which a rhythmic [[♨️*glooping* sound->Slime Pool East]] echoes, while the third is a tunnel where the slime on the walls seems to have ambered and [[🔶cristalized->Slime Pool West]]. The way back to the main [[⚫cave network->Northeast Tunnel]] is behind you. [if SlimePressState == 'shaped'; unless SlimeFutureSeen] *Just as you turn to leave, the golden bug in your satchel gives a sudden, sharp shiver, its ticking momentarily frantic...* [continue] [if SlimePressState == 'shaped'; unless SlimeFutureSeen; inventory for GoldenBug] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->Slime Caverns Future Vision 1]] [continue] [if SlimePressState == 'shaped'; unless LeikaGorgedSlime; inventory for LeikaBelly] [[The pool smells so sweet...->Leika Gorging Slime]] [continue]

The Grumpy Green Lady shrieks as the yellow wave hits her pool. Her form convulses, bulging in four different directions at once. With a wet, sickening noise, she tears apart, multiplying before your eyes. Four smaller, distinct shapes rise from the yellow froth. They are knee-high, jagged drops of acid, featureless save for their narrowed, furious eyes. Uh oh. One of them hisses, launching itself at you. It splashes against the ground near you, sending smoke rising from... *ack!* [[No, that's your foot!->Slime Caverns Misalignment Cutscene 2]]

You scramble back through the fissure, coughing as the yellow fumes fill your lungs. The main cavern turns around you, with a sickly yellow creeping in from the east, quickly overtaking the shimmering green. You run, your boots slapping on the stone, the hissing sound of the angry swarm echoing behind you. You dive into the exit tunnel just as a glob of yellow slime smacks into the wall where your head was a second ago, sizzling against the rock. [if SlimeCavernsMisaligned; if SunlessFieldsMisaligned] [[Out! You're out...->Fake Northeast Tunnel]] [unless SunlessFieldsMisaligned] [[Out! You're out...->Northeast Tunnel]] [continue]

This Green Lady's translucent green form is pulled in tight. Her gelatinous arms are crossed firmly beneath a pair of large, round breasts, pushing them up into a single, defiant shelf of green jelly. Her whole upper body quivers with indignation, simmering in her bubbling pool. Her two dark eyes are narrowed, fixed on you with suspicion. She isn't swaying or sloshing; she's tense, a coiled spring. Whenever a bubble of slime from the vent below rises through her, she pops it with a short, annoyed poke of a gelatinous finger. [unless SlimeGirlEastTalkedTo] [[You approach her warily.->Slime Girl East - First Meeting]] [if SlimeGirlEastTalkedTo] [[You try talking to her again.->Slime Girl East - Generic Meeting]] [continue] {link to: 'Slime Pool East', label: 'Back'}

SlimeGirlEastTalkedTo: true -- [dialogue delay:0.1 id:slime_east_1] Her voice is a low, unhappy gurgle, thick with impatience. *"Whaaat~...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_east_1] *...do you...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_east_1] *...want...?"* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_east_1 newline] You brandish your fists, trying to look bigger than you are. *"Stay back, drippy-thing! I'm... I'm not for eating!"* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:slime_east_1 newline] She gives a slow, contemptuous wobble. *"Eeeeeaaatiing~...?"* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime_east_1] The word sounds like an insult. [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_east_1] *"...You're...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_east_1] *...too...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_east_1] *...*solid*~..."* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:slime_east_1 newline] A wobbly arm forms from her side, pointing a shaky, accusing finger at the dark shape stuck in the other pool. [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_east_1] *"You...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_east_1] *...little warm-thing...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_east_1] *...you look...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_east_1] *...useful~...* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime_east_1] *...Get...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_east_1] *...riiid~...* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:slime_east_1] *...of...* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:slime_east_1] *...*that*."* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:slime_east_1 newline] You look over at the half-submerged pack, then back at her. *"That? Why? What is it?"* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:slime_east_1 newline] The Green Lady gives a shudder of pure disgust that sends ripples across her chest. *"It's...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_east_1] *...*ugly*~...* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime_east_1] *...And it's messing up my...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_east_1] *...my *gloop*...* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:slime_east_1] *...Now gooo~...* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:slime_east_1] *...Fix it."* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:slime_east_1 newline] She turns her back to you, as much as a blob of jelly can, and resumes popping bubbles with more force than before. [dialogue delay:0.5 id:slime_east_1 newline] {link to: 'Slime Girl East', label: 'Back'}

[dialogue delay:0.1 id:slime_east_2] You approach the bubbling pool again. The Green Lady sees you and her entire form stiffens, her large chest jiggling with contained anger. [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime_east_2 newline] *"You~..."* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:slime_east_2] she gurgles, her voice a low growl. She doesn't even wait for you to speak. [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_east_2] *"...It's...* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:slime_east_2] *...still...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_east_2] *...*there*~..."* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_east_2] A wobbly arm points a trembling, accusatory finger toward the half-submerged pack. [dialogue delay:1.8 id:slime_east_2 newline] You huff, crossing your own arms. *"I'm getting to it! These things take-"* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:slime_east_2 newline] *"NOOOW~...!"* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:slime_east_2] she interrupts, her body giving a violent shudder that sends a wave of warm slime sloshing over the edge of the pool, uncomfortably close to your feet. [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_east_2] *"...Idiot...!* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_east_2] *...Fix...* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:slime_east_2] *...my...* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:slime_east_2] *...*pool*...!"* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:slime_east_2 newline] She turns away with a final, furious gurgle, leaving you with nothing but her quivering, jellied back. [dialogue delay:0.5 id:slime_east_2 newline] {link to: 'Slime Girl East', label: 'Back'}

[unless SlimeGirlNorthMoved] The green lady of this cavern is sloshing in her basin - a slow, joyful jiggle that sends soft ripples across the slime pool. Her body is a single, continuous flow of translucent green jelly, clear enough that you can see right through her. She spots you and her whole form wobbles with excitement. Her generous hips sway, and her round, jiggly breasts slosh with a life of their own. A glistening arm stretches out from her shoulder, wobbling as she gives you an enthusiastic wave. A wide, simple smile forms on her face, and her two dark eyes swim lazily within her gelatinous head. [continue] [unless SlimeGirlNorthTalkedTo] [[You wave back.->Slime Girl North - First Meeting]] [if SlimeGirlNorthTalkedTo] [[You approach her again.->Slime Girl North - Generic Meeting]] [continue] {link to: 'Slime Pool North', label: 'Back'}

SlimeGirlNorthTalkedTo: true -- [dialogue delay:0.1 id:slime1] You wave hesitantly. [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime1] The Green Lady gives a happy wobble that sloshes slime over the edge of the basin. [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime1] Her voice flows out, a slow, warbling sound. *"Heeeyy~ there..."* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime1 newline] You jump. *"Gah! Y-you talk too?!"* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:slime1 newline] *"Of couuurse~, silly..."* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime1] She slides closer, her lower half melting and reforming as she moves. [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime1] *"...It's just...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime1] *...so cooold...* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime1] *...all alone here...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime1] *...makes my words all slow~..."* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:slime1 newline] You puff out your chest. *"Are you... a spirit of this place? A servant of the Great Goddess?"* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:slime1 newline] She tilts her wobbly head, her dark eyes drifting. *"Whaaat...?* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime1] *...Goddess...?* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:slime1] *...I dunnooo~...* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime1] *...It just makes my insides feel all..."* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:slime1] She places a drippy hand on her flat, jelly belly. It sinks in completely. [dialogue delay:1.5 id:slime1] *"...hollow..."* [dialogue delay:2.0 id:slime1 newline] *"Hollow?"* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:slime1] you repeat, your eyes lighting up. [dialogue delay:0.5 id:slime1] *"You mean hungry! Ah!* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime1] *The Goddess provides for all Her children!* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime1] *Even... drippy ones."* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:slime1 newline] Her eyes brighten. *"Ooooh~..."* [dialogue delay:2.0 id:slime1 newline] Seemingly having forgotten all about you, she turns away, going back to swimming through the basin. [dialogue delay:0.5 id:slime1 newline] {link to: 'Slime Girl North', label: 'Back'}

[dialogue delay:0.1 id:slime2] You approach the basin again. The Green Lady is humming a bubbly, tuneless song to herself, poking at her own reflection in the shimmering surface of the pool. [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime2 newline] *"Hey! Drippy lady! It's me again!"* you call out, a little impatiently. [dialogue delay:1.5 id:slime2 newline] She looks up from her reflection, her dark eyes blinking slowly as if waking from a dream. [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime2] *"Ooooh~...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime2] *...a little warm rock person...* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:slime2] *...Have we met...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime2] *...befooore~?"* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:slime2 newline] You sigh, a puff of steamy air in the warm grotto. So much for making an impression. *"Yes! We just talked! About... being hollow? And the Goddess?"* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:slime2 newline] *"Goddess...?"* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime2] Her form drifts lazily, trailing a glistening swirl in the pool. [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime2] *"...Hmmm~...* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime2] *...I don't remember that...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime2] *...but I *do* remember a sound...* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:slime2] *...a *hummmm~*...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime2] *...from the deep places...* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime2] *...It makes me sad..."* [dialogue delay:2.0 id:slime2 newline] *"That's just your tummy rumbling! You're hungry! I told you, the Goddess will-"* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:slime2] The green lady just turns away from you. [dialogue delay:1.5 id:slime2 newline] *"Maaaybe~...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime2] *...Ooh! Look!"* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:slime2] She points a wobbly finger at a particularly big drop of slime falling from the ceiling. [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime2] *"That one made a big splash~!"* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:slime2] She giggles. [dialogue delay:1.5 id:slime2 newline] {link to: 'Slime Girl North', label: 'Back'}

This Green Lady sits upon a throne of hardened amber that is, in fact, her own crystallized lower half. Her translucent green upper body is perfectly still, one gooey hand propped under her chin in a pose of deep contemplation. Floating serenely within her head is a pale, yellowed skull. Its dark, empty eye sockets stare out through her gelatinous form as if possessing some great, secret knowledge. Her free arm ends not in a soft hand, but in a jagged shard of amber-colored crystal, which she occasionally uses to tap thoughtfully against the skull. You keep your distance: that thing could easily hurt. [unless SlimeGirlWestTalkedTo] [[You clear your throat to get her attention.->Slime Girl West - First Meeting]] [if SlimeGirlWestTalkedTo; unless SlimeGirlWestRiddleSolved] [[You clear your throat to get her attention again.->Slime Girl West - Riddle Answer]] [if SlimeGirlWestRiddleSolved] [[You approach her again.->Slime Girl West - Third Meeting]] [continue] {link to: 'Slime Pool West', label: 'Back'}

SlimeGirlWestTalkedTo: true -- [dialogue delay:0.1 id:slime_west_1] She doesn't turn her head, but one of her dark eyes drifts lazily in your direction. Her voice is a slow, self-important drawl. [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_1] *"Ahhh~...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_1] *...a visitor...* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime_west_1] *...come to bask...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_west_1] *...in the glow...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_west_1] *...of my...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_1] *...superior...* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime_west_1] *...intellect~...?"* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:slime_west_1 newline] You shuffle your feet. *"Uh... sure? I'm Leika."* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:slime_west_1 newline] *"Silence~..."* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:slime_west_1] she commands, tapping her crystal finger against the skull with a faint *tink*. [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime_west_1] *"...A...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_west_1] *...profound...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_west_1] *...thought...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_1] *...is percolating...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_1] *...within my...* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime_west_1] *...magnificent...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_1] *...cranium~..."* [dialogue delay:2.2 id:slime_west_1 newline] After a long pause, she speaks again. [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_1] *"I have...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_west_1] *...a conundrum~...* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime_west_1] *...A...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_west_1] *...philosophical query...* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime_west_1] *...that has vexed me for...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_1] *...eons~...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_1] *...or, maybe...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_west_1] *...since this morning~..."* [dialogue delay:2.0 id:slime_west_1 newline] She leans forward slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial gurgle. [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_1] *"What...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_west_1] *...has an eye...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_1] *...but cannot...* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime_west_1] *...perceive~...?"* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:slime_west_1 newline] *"Answer this...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_1] *...and I shall...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_west_1] *...reward you...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_1] *...with a sliver...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_west_1] *...of my...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_1] *...boundless...* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime_west_1] *...wisdom~..."* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:slime_west_1 newline] She returns to her thinking pose, her gaze distant, leaving you to ponder her great riddle. [dialogue delay:0.1 id:slime_west_1] Mmm... [dialogue delay:0.5 id:slime_west_1 newline] {link to: 'Slime Girl West', label: 'Back'}

SlimeGirlWestRiddleSolved: true -- [dialogue delay:0.1 id:slime_west_2] The Green Lady's eye drifts toward you as you approach. [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime_west_2] *"Sooo~...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_2] *...have you...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_west_2] *...deduced...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_2] *...the answer...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_west_2] *...to my...* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime_west_2] *...great enigma~...?"* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:slime_west_2 newline] You point a finger past her, toward the wall. *"That thing."* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:slime_west_2 newline] There is a long, gurgling silence. The skull inside her head seems to stare blankly. The crystal hand, poised for a thoughtful tap, freezes mid-air. [dialogue delay:2.0 id:slime_west_2 newline] *"Ahhh~..."* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_2] she finally drawls, slowly lowering her hand. [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_2] *"...Yesss~...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_west_2] *...of course...* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime_west_2] *...The...* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:slime_west_2] *...obvious...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_west_2] *...solution...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_2] *...for a mind...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_west_2] *...as...* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:slime_west_2] *...simple...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_west_2] *...as yours~...* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:slime_west_2] *...I had already...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_2] *...moved on...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_2] *...to more complex...* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime_west_2] *...corollaries~..."* [dialogue delay:2.5 id:slime_west_2 newline] She straightens up, her form seeming to puff out with importance. [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_2] *"A promise...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_west_2] *...is a promise~...* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime_west_2] *...Prepare your...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_west_2] *...soft mind...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_2] *...for...* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:slime_west_2] *...enlightenment~...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_2] *...Are you...* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:slime_west_2] *...ready~...?"* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:slime_west_2 newline] You nod, leaning in expectantly. [dialogue delay:1.8 id:slime_west_2 newline] *"To be...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_2] *...hard~..."* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:slime_west_2] she says, tapping her crystal shard. [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_2] *...is to be...* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime_west_2] *...not...* [dialogue delay:2.0 id:slime_west_2] *...soft~..."* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:slime_west_2 newline] She then leans back, returning to her thoughtful pose, apparently exhausted by the effort of sharing such a profound secret. [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_2] *"...now goooo~..."* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:slime_west_2 newline] {link to: 'Slime Girl West', label: 'Back'}

SlimeGirlWestMoved: true -- [dialogue delay:0.1 id:slime_west_3] The Green Lady's skull-eye drifts towards you. [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_3] *"The acolyte...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_3] *...returns~...* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime_west_3] *...Come...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_west_3] *...pose your...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_west_3] *...simple questions...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_3] *...to my...* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime_west_3] *...grand intellect~...?"* [dialogue delay:2.0 id:slime_west_3 newline] You shrug. *"I dunno. Aren't you bored? Just sitting here?"* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:slime_west_3 newline] A long, gurgling silence. The crystal shard taps the skull. [dialogue delay:1.5 id:slime_west_3] A low hum begins to emanate from the amber cocoon at her base. [dialogue delay:2.2 id:slime_west_3 newline] *"Booored~...?"* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_3] she repeats, as if tasting a strange new word. [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_3] *"Stasis...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_west_3] *...is the foundation...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_3] *...of observation~...* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime_west_3] *...But intellect...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_west_3] *...requires...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:slime_west_3] *...new...* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:slime_west_3] *...stimuli~......!"* [dialogue delay:2.5 id:slime_west_3 newline] The humming grows louder. You can see tiny cracks begin to spread across the surface of her pool. You take a nervous step back, towards the cavern floor. [dialogue delay:2.0 id:slime_west_3] *"To truly *know*...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_3] *...one must not only...* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime_west_3] *...*be*~...* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime_west_3] *...one must also...* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:slime_west_3] *...*go*~...!"* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:slime_west_3 newline] ***CRACK!*** [dialogue delay:0.5 id:slime_west_3] The amber cocoon shatters. The Green Lady's upper body sloshes forward, pouring off the broken throne in a wave of green goo. [dialogue delay:1.8 id:slime_west_3 newline] *"I must...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_3] *...relocate...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_3] *...to the neeexuuuus~..."* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime_west_3] she proclaims, already oozing her way toward the exit. [dialogue delay:1.5 id:slime_west_3] *"...a larger...* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:slime_west_3] *...veeessel~...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:slime_west_3] *...cometh...!"* [dialogue delay:0.5 id:slime_west_3 newline] {link to: 'Slime Pool West', label: 'You watch her leave.'}

[unless SlimePackRemoved] The passage narrows into a tight, low-ceilinged fissure where the stone walls feel slick and close. The rhythmic *glooping* sound is much louder here, echoing in the cramped space. The source is clear: a series of cracks in the floor where thick, green slime is rhythmically forced upward, forming several small, actively [[bubbling pools->Bubbling Pools East]]. Huddled defensively in the largest of these pools is a [[Green Lady->Slime Girl East]], her gelatinous arms crossed in a way that looks surprisingly grumpy. Across from her, something dark is stuck in one of the smaller pools - a [[half-submerged pack->Half-Submerged Pack]] of some kind. The [[slime vents->Slime Vents East]] themselves pulse with a slow, steady pressure, their surfaces swelling and deflating like sluggish hearts. [continue] [if SlimePackRemoved] A powerful geyser of warm, green slime now dominates the fissure, erupting from a wide hole in the floor and splashing against the ceiling in a constant, roaring spray. The air is thick with a fine, sweet-smelling mist that coats your skin. The sheer force of the geyser has pushed all the smaller [[bubbling pools->Bubbling Pools East]] to the edges of the grotto, where they churn violently. The [[slime vents->Slime Vents East]] in the floor seem to pulse faster now, feeding the eruption. [continue] The narrow opening back to the [[🟢main cavern->Slime Caverns Hub]] is behind you.

You follow the passage where the slime drips like thin rain. The constant, soft *pitter-patter* on the slick stone is the only sound here. The tunnel opens into a small grotto with a high ceiling. [unless SlimeGirlNorthMoved; append] In the middle, a [[Green Lady->Slime Girl North]] sits within a wide, shallow basin. [if SlimeGirlNorthMoved; append] A wide, shallow basin sits in the middle of it, now empty. [continue] All around the basin's edge, strange, quivering [[slime stalagmites->Slime Stalagmites North]] have formed from the constant dripping. Looking up, you can see the source: a cluster of glowing [[ceiling polyps->Ceiling Polyps North]] clinging to the grotto's roof. The way back to the [[🟢main cavern->Slime Caverns Hub]] is behind you.

[unless SlimeGirlWestMoved] The air in this cavern is still and strangely cool. No risk of getting burned by the slime here... though you couldn't go for a swim anyhow. The walls are coated in a thick, hardened layer of slime that has crystallized into sharp, amber-like shapes. The moss-light from the main cavern filters through these [[crystalline formations->Crystalline Formations]], casting faceted, geometric patterns of green light across the floor. Caught within one of the larger crystals on the wall, you can see the frozen form of a [[one-eyed monster->Trapped Beholder]]. In the center of the grotto, where a pool might have been, sits a [[Green Lady->Slime Girl West]], her lower half encased in a massive, amber-like cocoon. [continue] [if SlimeGirlWestMoved] The air in this cavern is still and strangely cool. No risk of getting burned by the slime here... though you couldn't go for a swim anyhow. The walls are still coated in sharp, [[crystalline formations->Crystalline Formations]]. The [[one-eyed monster->Trapped Beholder]] is still trapped. But the center of the room is now a wreck. The amber cocoon lies in sharp, glistening shards around the top of the crystalized pool below. A thin trail of green goo leads from the wreckage out toward the exit. [continue] The way back to the [[🟢main cavern->Slime Caverns Hub]] is through the archway behind you.

They aren't sharp and stony like proper stalagmites. They look more like... jelly-horns growing up from the floor. They are made of the same translucent green goo, and they quiver slightly every time a new drop of slime-rain lands nearby. They look... delicious. [if passage.visits == 1] You can't resist. You reach out and give the nearest one a good poke with your finger. It's cool and firm, but yields like thick pudding. The whole thing wobbles back and forth like a scared grub... and lets out a low, warbling *hummmm~*. The sound vibrates right through your finger and up your arm. Huh. [if passage.visits > 1] You poke the nearest jelly-horn again, just for fun. It gives that same happy wobble and sings its low, warbling *hummmm~* at you. [continue] {link to: 'Slime Pool North', label: 'Back'} [if TuningForkTaken; inventory for TuningFork] [[What if...?->Stalagmites Tuning Fork Cutscene]] [continue] [if MetalGearTaken; inventory for MetalGear] [[What if...?->Polyps Gear Cutscene]] [continue]

[unless SlimePackRemoved] You edge closer to the cracks in the floor. The stone feels strangely soft here, and you can see the surface of the vents themselves swelling and deflating in a slow, steady rhythm, like the skin over a sleeping beast's heart. You take a careful step back. One slip, and your foot would go right through that thin, green skin. Then what? Sucked down into the warm, gooey guts of the cave? No thank you. [continue] [if SlimePackRemoved] You edge closer to the cracks in the floor. The whole fissure thrums with a deep, fast rhythm. The vents are pulsing violently, feeding the roaring geyser in the center of the grotto. You don't dare get too close. The pressure coming from them is strong enough to feel in your teeth. A whole goblin could be shot up to the ceiling, just like that poor drippy-lady. You shudder, remembering the gurgling shriek. Look, she wasn't nice... but you do hope she's ok. [continue] {link to: 'Slime Pool East', label: 'Back'} [if TrenchLighterTaken; inventory for TrenchLighter] [[What if...?->Vents Lighter Cutscene]] [continue]

SmallGolemState: 2 -- You strike the fork again, pressing the vibrating metal directly against the golem's back. Once again, the mechanical buzz returns instantly. Without a single moment of hesitation, the golem lurches forward, marching straight toward the dark depression leading down to the lair. You watch it stomp its way into the gloom until the rhythmic sound of its heavy feet fades entirely into the depths. It certainly seems to have a destination in mind. But does it really? The little thing is going to get hurt... {link to: 'Hunting Grounds Hub', label: 'Back'}

ExpeditionRemainsUnlocked: true SkullManEncountered: true SkullManHuntStarted: true SkullManSmashed: 8 OfficeSkullManSmashed: true FakeCaveSkullManSmashed: true EntrywaySkullManSmashed: true MuseumHallSkullManSmashed: true ArchivesSkullManSmashed: true SittingRoomSkullManSmashed: true TerraceSkullManSmashed: true PrehistoricSkullManSmashed: true OfficeMapSkullManSmashed: false MindspaceBoneTaken: true config.header.left: "{embed passage: 'CH3 Ascii Logic Mindspace'}" config.header.right: "{embed passage: 'Mindspace Wraps Menu Logic'}" -- It is done. (The anatomical drawing in the office has been kept unsmashed). {accessoryoff: 'right1'} {plainlink to: 'mindspace office', label: 'Teleport to Office'}

The sound of dripping water is much louder here, echoing through a cavern carved by some ancient, underground stream. The walls are smooth and dark, slick with moisture, and rounded in a way goblin tools could never manage. Small pools of clear water have gathered in depressions on the floor, reflecting the faint moss-light from above in wavering patterns. The air feels cold. [unless GearTaken] Half-buried in the yellow, you spot something glinting. It's a small, flat [[disc of dark metal->South Tunnel Gear Cutscene]]. *A treasure!* [continue] *** To the west, a passage choked with [[☀️heat->Southwest Tunnel]] leads back the way you came. The path continues north into the [[🛖main caves->Central Tunnel]], and east toward foul smelling, [[🪨drier passage->Southeast Tunnel]]. {embed passage: 'Leika Weight Tunnel Check'}

GearTaken: true MetalGearTaken: true -- Admittedly, a very strange looking treasure. You kneel and pry the metal disc from the dirt. It's cold and surprisingly heavy in your palm. Its edge is cut into tiny, perfect teeth, like a saw-bug's jaw, and there's a perfectly square hole in its center. Definitely not goblin-work. The edges are too clean, the teeth too even. You have no idea what it's for, but it feels... well, it's unique, isn't it? You tuck it safely into a small pocket inside your satchel. {link to: 'South Tunnel', label: 'Back'}

ThicketReadyToGrow: true -- This passage is drier than the last, the packed earth floor firm under your feet. A strange, sharp smell hangs in the air here, a bit like burnt black-sap, but thinner. You spot scuff marks in the dust you don't recognize - long, straight lines, and the prints of something heavy with a flat, patterned bottom. *** [unless ExpeditionRemainsUnlocked] Another tunnel branches off to the east, but it is completely blocked by a recent [[🪨rockfall->Southeast Tunnel Collapse]]. [if ExpeditionRemainsUnlocked] Another tunnel branches off to the east, the heavy rockfall having melted away into a lingering grey mist that leads into [[🪨a strange passage->remains tunnel]]. [continue] To the west, you can still hear the faint echo of [[💧dripping water->South Tunnel]]. The path continues north, toward the [[🌀singing tunnels->East Tunnel]]. {embed passage: 'Leika Weight Tunnel Check'}

[if GoddessWeightGained == 'NONE'] A jumble of rock and packed earth chokes the tunnel, reaching from the floor nearly to the ceiling. It looks fresh, with sharp-edged stones and loose dirt still trickling down from above. You can't see past it, and the gaps between the rocks are far too small to squeeze through to break **free**. You sigh. Cavefalls are uncommon enough, but they have happened before. Oh well. Just another dead end for **me** to turn away from. [continue] [unless GoddessWeightGained == 'NONE'] A jumble of rock and packed earth chokes the tunnel... but something is wrong. The sharp-edged stones are trembling, vibrating with a low, silent frequency. You watch, wide-eyed, as a pebble detaches from the pile and slowly, unnaturally, falls upward toward the ceiling, vanishing into the gloom. The gaps between the rocks seem to shift, pulsing like a breathing thing desperate to break **free**. This doesn't feel like just another dead end for **me** to turn away from anymore, now does it? [continue] [if CH3Demo; append] *A barrier beyond your current means. For now, this path is closed to you.* [continue] {link to: 'Southeast Tunnel', label: 'Back'} [if TrenchLighterTaken; inventory for TrenchLighter] [[What if...?->Collapse Lighter Cutscene]] [continue] [if WireSawTaken; inventory for WireSaw] [[What if...?->Collapse Saw Cutscene]] [continue] [if TuningForkTaken; inventory for TuningFork] [[What if...?->Collapse Tuning Fork Cutscene]] [continue] [if MetalGearTaken; unless GearDented; inventory for MetalGear] [[What if...?->Collapse Gear Cutscene]] [continue] [if GoddessWeightGained == 'NONE'; inventory for GoldenBug] [[What if...?->Collapse Watch Cutscene Erratic]] [continue] [unless GoddessWeightGained == 'NONE'; inventory for GoldenBug] [[What if...?->Collapse Watch Cutscene 1]] [continue]

[if passage.from == 'Sunless Fields Explosion Cutscene 3'] *You stumble out into the clean air of the tunnel, gasping.* [continue] The air here is surprisingly dry, sucking the moisture right out of your skin. The usual damp chill of the warren is gone, replaced by a steady, warm draft that smells... burnt. Like roasted grass-seeds and hot stone. The floor is covered in a fine, golden dust that makes you sneeze. To the south, the tunnel widens. The rough stone walls smooth out, the heat increases, and steady amber glow spills from the opening. This marks the path to the [if SunlessFieldsMisaligned; append] [[☀️Sunless Fields->Sunless Fields Blocked Entrance]]. [unless SunlessFieldsMisaligned; if CH3Demo; append] [[☀️Sunless Fields->Sunless Fields Demo Block]]. [unless SunlessFieldsMisaligned; unless CH3Demo; if SunlessFieldsFirstTime; append] [[☀️Sunless Fields->Sunless Fields Hub]]. [unless SunlessFieldsMisaligned; unless CH3Demo; unless SunlessFieldsFirstTime; append] [[☀️Sunless Fields->Sunless Fields Cutscene 1]]. [continue] *** The path north instead leads back toward the [[🦴old hunter's passage->West Tunnel]]. The tunnel continues east, toward what sounds like [[💧dripping water->South Tunnel]]. {embed passage: 'Leika Weight Tunnel Check'}

SporesCrushed: true -- You grab the iron wrench. If these little white balls smell this awful on the outside, what in the deeps is hiding on the inside? You place one on the floor, lift the heavy tool, and bring it down. *FOOP.* A pungent, blinding white cloud explodes upward, shooting directly into your face. The sour, burning stench rockets right up your nose. "*Ah-CHOO!*" You drop the tool, your hands flying to your face as an unstoppable sneezing fit takes over. "*Ah-CHOO! Achoo! ACHOO!*" Your eyes stream with water, your chest heaves, and your nose runs freely. It takes a full, miserable minute before you can finally breathe again, your throat burning. Gross! *Gross*!! Never again. {link to: 'palace white spores', label: 'Back'}

You pull the shifting stone from your satchel and lob it high into the air, aiming straight for one of the gaping stone mouths. *Plop.* It lands perfectly between the carved lips. It takes a little while, but the white blob begins to bulge and stretch, forcing the stone jaws to look as if they are rapidly chewing. An awful, loud grinding noise of stone rubbing against stone fills the air. You are very glad to see the mouth eventually spitting the blob right back out. The plaster hits the floor with a wet smack, looking noticeably chewed, its surface swirling erratically. But hey, the blob shakes itself off, rounds back out, and slowly bobs its way back to your satchel. {link to: 'carved spouts', label: 'Back'}

You look at the thick brass tube jutting from the rock, then down at the tool in your hands. You take in the little threaded wheel of the latter, fiddling with it, watching the square metal mouth open and close. You look back at the round pipe once more. It's got a weird, square protrusion to the side - kind of like a nail, of sorts? Mm... ...square nail... ...square metal mouth... ...nail...mouth...jaw...nail...mmh, yes... Ah! Of course. [[Now you get it.->Spring Jaw Cutscene 1.5]]

You heft the tool, feeling the solid, bone-crushing weight of the iron grip. You flip it around, gripping it tightly by the square head, and raise the heavy handle high over your shoulder. You take a deep breath and [[swing down as hard as you can.->Spring Jaw Cutscene 2]]

PipeSmashed: true -- ***CLANG!*** The impact vibrates through you; the heavy iron handle smashes into the brass pipe, severely denting it and knocking it completely askew. The steady hiss instantly turns into a furious roar. Instead of falling into the pool, a high-pressure jet of scalding water now shoots sideways, blasting past the bathing tall-woman - who hisses in surprise before jumping out of the pool - cutting a muddy, steaming trench right through the dirt floor of the crate-palace toward the crevices of the nearby trunks. A job well done! {link to: 'palace pond', label: 'Back'}

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You watch with a glowing sense of pride. The Goddess has grown truly magnificent! Her belly is a vast, heavy cushion that completely buries Her lap, spilling over the stone edges of the throne. It takes two attendants just to help Her stand up for Her daily lessons. But as the season drags on, you notice something. Her gown - though fitted twice by the warren's seamstresses - doesn't strain any further. The deep, red marks on Her sides remain exactly where they were last month. The daily tribute from the aligned paths is good, very good! But it is a steady stream, not a growing river. She does a very short lesson, eats Her fill, gives a contented burp, and falls asleep. [[You scratch your chin, a little concerned.->Stagnation Ending FAT 2]]

You look at the wide, greasy faces of your kin. The warren is thriving on the leftovers, and Her Holiness is already the largest being you have ever laid eyes on. Perhaps this is simply the limit of a sky-walker's skin? You sit back on a thick moss pillow, chewing lazily on a sweet-root. There is plenty of time to figure out the rest of the prophecy. For now, a heavy, comfortable peace settles over the caves. It is a very deep peace. So deep that when a low, rhythmic thudding begins to echo through the walls a few weeks later, most of the warren simply ignores it. The vibration hums right into the soles of your boots, and the underground streams rush by a bit faster than usual, carrying a thick white silt. You frown at a clay bowl that rattles right off a shelf and shatters on the floor. [[Just the world settling under its own weight.->Stagnation Ending Shared Arrival]]

The warren is in a state of celebration. The Goddess has become a true mountain of soft, pale flesh that completely swallows the great granite throne, her belly a vast dome resting firmly on Her thick thighs, pinning Her to the seat. When She shifts Her immense weight to accept another overflowing bowl, the black star-stone beneath Her gives a low, muffled creak. *HA!* You grin so hard your cheeks ache. *She must grow until the granite groans*, ay? *Yesss!* You did it! The prophecy is fulfilled! The frantic rush to find new paths and claim new tribute stops. Why bother when there's so much to go around already? The hunters lounge near the cook-fires, and the gatherers sleep late. The Goddess is perfect, so you join the feast, [[finally at ease.->Stagnation Ending OBESE 2]]

For weeks, thick smoke from the roasting pits fills the air, mixing with the relentless beating of hide drums. A constant, heavy vibration thrums through the stone floor. It is so loud that when a deep, wet grinding joins the rhythm, you simply assume it is the butchers cracking massive bones for marrow in the adjacent tunnels. The ground shudders violently enough to tip a vat of slime right over Daka's feet. The whole cavern erupts in cheers, taking the tremor as a sign of the Goddess's incredible, earth-shaking strength! You raise a cup of sweet-sap, feeling the powerful, rhythmic thumping right in your teeth, completely lost in the [[joyous noise.->Stagnation Ending Shared Arrival]]

The excitement fades away. A single, steady source of new food is a good thing for the warren, yes! A very good thing. But... *eh.* You get used to it. Without a much of a tribute pouring in, the Goddess's holy growth stalls. Her belly settles into a comfortable, soft mound that rests gently on her lap. And it does get the rest of you thinking: would a Goddess really stop growing? And then be able to lose a bit of weight, too? Sure, maybe, but surely [[not the one from the prophecy.->Stagnation Ending PLUMP 2]]

While still at her side, helping her with dropped items and robes, you're also one of the first to stop kneeling. Grak soon follows, redirecting his best cuts of meat back to his own fire. Your kin dismantle the grand setup in the Great Chamber, hauling the heavy sky-walker down the spiraling ramp and into the smoky, noisy sleeping tunnels. It's all not bad, though. They give her a wide nest of furs near the main cook-pits. A Matron's spot! She seems perfectly content with this, sitting in the warmth, drawing on her slate for the younger kits who gather around her soft knees. You watch her from your own, smaller pile of furs, the golden bug tucked away deep in your satchel, feeling a dull ache in your chest. Just another Matron after all. Still the biggest one your warren has ever seen! That's... yeah. That's nice. [[This new arrangement doesn't last long, though.->Stagnation Ending PLUMP 3]]

For a few days, a fine, pale powder sifts down from the cavern roof. It coats the sleeping furs in a thin grey layer and makes the roasted grub taste terribly like chalk. Grama complains constantly about grit in his teeth, blaming it on careless kits digging in the upper shafts. You laugh, then sneeze, wiping the grit from your nose, pulling your wrap tighter against the draft. [[Just the dry season settling into the deep paths, old man.->Stagnation Ending Shared Arrival]]

One day, the rock ceiling above the warren bursts inward, collapsing in a sudden rain of [[grey dust and massive boulders->Stagnation Ending Shared Arrival 2]].

It's immediately followed by a gust of hot wind that washes over the tunnels, snuffing out every torch and cook-fire in a single breath. You hear the panicked shrieks of your kin, but the noises are immediately swallowed by a deafening, wet crunch. The solid floor beneath you gives way, and you fall, tumbling alongside the ruined stone as a crushing, pale mass that presses in from all sides [[buries you completely.->Stagnation Ending]]

You strike the fork. *PING!* You touch it to the jelly-horn. The whole stalagmite lights up from the inside! *WOOOM-WOOOM-WOOOM.* It resonates perfectly, amplifying the sound into a warbling song that fills the grotto. The vibration travels up... you look at the ceiling. The glowing sacs up there are shivering in time with the sound. Cool! {link to: 'Slime Stalagmites North', label: 'Back'}

You place the shifting stone on the mossy ground next to one of the tall stalks. The blob immediately stretches upward, forming a long, thin cylinder. The top bulges outward and flattens into a wide, rubbery cap. It even tries to mimic the glowing gills, creating tiny ripples underneath its cap that pulse in a slow rhythm. It looks exactly like a miniature, pure-white version of the crops. You give the little fake mushroom an approving pat before picking it back up. {link to: 'mushroom stalks', label: 'Back'}

The stick hovers near the teal cap, practically vibrating. ~AGARICUS LUMINA - A DOMESTICATED VARIANT. POSSIBLE STUNTED GROWTH DUE TO POOR SOIL AERATION.~ Poor soil? You look at the dirt. It looks like dirt to you. The stick adds: ~YOU FOLK SHOULD DIG DEEPER IF AT ALL POSSIBLE.~ {link to: 'mushroom stalks', label: 'Back'}

[if passage.visits == 1] You eye a thick stalk. It looks... juicy enough. You loop the wire, you're about to pull, but you stop just short of it. You look at the hut... if those farmers catch you cutting down their crop, they'll think you're stealing. Or worse! Trying to help with the harvest. Can't be having that: you're on a holy mission! Better to leave these where they are. [continue] [if passage.visits > 1] You pull out the toothy string, but immediately stop yourself with a heavy sigh. Focus up, Leika! You already decided you are absolutely not helping those dirt-grubbers with their harvest. You're no farm-hand. You quickly stash the tool away before anyone gets the wrong idea. [continue] {link to: 'mushroom stalks', label: 'Back'}

StatueRootSmashed: true -- You glare at the thick root constricting the lady's thigh. Squeezing something so soft and beautiful is incredibly rude. You heft the heavy metal jaw, step right up to the plinth, and swing the tool with a fierce grunt. *CRUNCH!* The iron smashes through the pale root, splattering a milky, dry sap across the tiles. The thick vine drops away entirely, freeing the stone flesh. You nod, resting the heavy tool on your shoulder. Much better. {link to: 'marble statues', label: 'Back'}

The white blob drifts out of your satchel, hovering right above the jagged stump of the stone lady's neck. With a wet *splorp*, the plaster drops down and molds itself to the break. You watch as it quickly shifts, forming two pointed ears, a round nose, a pair of wide, dopey eyes, and finally a tiny mouth that sticks a thick, white tongue out at you. You burst into a fit of giggles, clapping your hands. The silly head wobbles on the ancient shoulders for a few heartbeats, clearly very pleased with its own joke, before pulling back into a sphere and floating down to your side. {link to: 'marble statues', label: 'Back'}

The pointy stick flies out, doing a slow circle around the statue's generous hips and cupped belly. It zips back to the paper, scratching a rapid, precise message. ~PROPORTIONS INDICATE FERTILITY OR CONSUMPTION IDOL. NOTE: AESTHETICALLY DERIVATIVE, THOUGH LIKELY FROM A LATER GROUP OF ANCIENTS.~ You stare at the paper, and wave a dismissive hand at the stick. Words, so many words. You only care about the belly! The stick seems to sag a little before putting itself away. {link to: 'marble statues', label: 'Back'}

[unless LastBiomeAligned == 'ExpeditionRemains'] A sturdy crate of thick wood sits right beside the dais. The sheer, magnificent outward swell of Her stomach makes it physically impossible for anyone on the floor to get anywhere near Her face. Her chest, seeing as its spilling by her sides, is also growing to be in the way. You watch a feeder carefully step up onto the wood, leaning far over the pale, sloped shelf of Her lap just to delicately drop a roasted morsel past Her lips. You pout, crossing your arms. You would be so much better at balancing up there. And you definitely wouldn't tremble so much under Her gaze! [continue] [if LastBiomeAligned == 'ExpeditionRemains'] A breathless hunter practically wrestles a heavy wooden crate across the sticky floor, keeping pace right behind Her. The moment the Goddess stops Her waddle to let out a hazy, drunken sigh, he drops the crate, scrambles to the top, and quickly tips a bowl of wine-sap into Her mouth. He has to dive right back down a second later as a sudden, giggling sway of Her colossal backside threatens to bowl him over entirely. [continue] {link to: 'Future Chamber - Stage ALMOST IMMOBILE', label: 'Back'}

You gasp, rushing to the rim and peering down into the gloom. Far below, the little white figure seems to be fine, trying to scramble back up the dusty, sloping side. It tries to flow up the slope, loses its shape, and slumps back down. It reforms, kicking its little legs pathetically, but gets no purchase on the gritty dust. A strange thought comes to you: would you fare any better if you were the one who fell there? *How about a big ol' monster?* With a final, sad-sounding *squelch*, it gives up. The form loses all definition, the grand backside melting away as the plaster reverts to its simple, lumpy sphere-shape and floats back up out of the basin. {link to: 'stone benches', label: 'Back'}

BenchesPlasterSeen: true -- The white stone bobs from your satchel and drifts over to the nearest intact bench. It hovers for a moment over the two perfect, shallow hollows worn into the stone, as if sensing the shape of what once rested there. Then, it begins to pour itself into the air. A base swells out, forming what you immediately spot as two thick, powerful thighs pressing firmly together. Above them, an impressive backside materializes, its two halves perfectly round and heavy. The plaster stretches, forming a torso and a head, but its focus - *and yours, really* - is clearly on the bottom. The silly little figure takes a few tiny, confident steps along the rim of the bench, its new hips giving it a sassy little wobble. You clap your hands: [[*look at them go!*->Stone Benches Plaster Cutscene 1.5]]

With a silent, clumsy tumble, it pitches forward and falls over the edge into the deep, [[sunken basin to the side.->Stone Benches Cutscene 2]]

Defeated by the ache in your head, you finally give in. You push the foulest-smelling straw to one side and curl up, pulling your knees to your chest. The dampness seeps through your wrap instantly, and a sharp stalk pokes you in the back. This is awful. Still, the darkness behind your eyelids is a small comfort. [[You drift off...->Straw Bed Sleep Cutscene 2]]

LooseStoneNoticed: true -- You don't dream. You just sink into a grey, throbbing nothing for a while, and wake with a stiff neck and a foul taste in your mouth. You roll onto your side, blinking the sleep from your eyes. The cell looks different from down here. Taller. The greasy orange light from the corridor casts long, strange shadows from the bars across the floor. Your gaze follows one of these dark stripes to where it ends against the far wall. Stone, stone, stone... then... a dark gap. A shadow that doesn't move when the torchlight outside flickers. One of the large stones at the very bottom, near the floor, looks wrong. It's not flush with the others. The mortar around its edge isn't solid, it's just a crumbling line of dark dust. {link to: 'Prison Cell', label: 'Back'}

StrawBoneTried: true -- You take out the sharp bone and use its tip to sift through the damp, musty straw, hoping to find... well, anything. A dropped coin, a lost tool, a less-moldy patch to lie on, even! Underneath, nestled in the rot... is the squashed, brittle husk of a roach. For a moment, you thought you'd found something. Nope. Just more filth. You put your bone away. {link to: 'Prison Cell', label: 'Back'}

You creep over to the straw, keeping one eye on the awake orc. She's just watching you, her expression unreadable. You kneel down, thinking you'll just make one tiny spark, just like before. A little bit of harmless fun. You hold the glowing stone out. Just as your knuckle taps the symbol, the orc lets out a deep, guttural **"HNNNGH."** You jump, startled by the sudden, loud noise, and the hot stone slips from your grasp, [[tumbling directly into the driest part of the straw pile.->Straw Fire Cutscene Awake 2]]

*Ack!* The stone's orange glow flares, and the dry straw around it simply explodes into a column of bright, hot flame that roars toward the ceiling. The heat is intense, and you scramble back with a yelp, the sour smell of burning mold filling the air. The orc lets out a furious growl. Is she scared? Have you made her mad? There's way too much smoke in the cell to get a good look. What you see is that, with a grunt of effort that makes her chains strain, she swings her massive, chained leg over the spreading fire. [[Her bare foot comes down with a heavy, wet **STOMP**.->Straw Fire Cutscene Awake 3]]

A thick, choking cloud of black smoke and steam now fills the cell. But the embers, still glowing hot, are now pressed directly against the tar-coated iron of her ankle manacle. There is a low sizzle. A flicker of orange. You watch in horror as a line of greasy, black-flamed fire races up the chain... and another, and another, igniting the tar on every chain connected to her body. A roar tears from the lady's throat. She surges to her feet and pulls against the ring with her entire, massive weight. [[The chains, now glowing a dull red in the gloom, groan under the strain.->Straw Fire Cutscene Awake 4]]

There is a sound like a great root tearing off the ground. A deep, grinding **SCREEEECH** of tortured stone - the massive ring, glowing cherry-red, rips free from the wall in a shower of sparks and shattered rock, leaving a gaping hole. Freed, the orc stumbles forward, a mess of glowing, burning chains still hanging from her body. The air crackles with the heat, and the greasy black smoke is so thick you can barely breathe. She stands there for a moment, her broad back heaving, before turning toward you. You press yourself into the far corner of the cell, making yourself as small as you can. There. It's... it's *over!* [[A huge, grey hand reaches through the smoke.->Straw Fire Cutscene Awake 5]]

You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for the end... but the hand doesn't strike. It just... closes. Huge, calloused fingers wrap around your entire torso, one pressing into the small of your back, another on your ass, another yet pinning your shoulders to your sides. The heat coming off her skin is... unberable. You are lifted, effortlessly, up into the thick, choking smoke until your head is level with hers. "SMART... GOBBY..." she rumbles, her voice a gravelly purr. A thumb, wider than your arm, scrapes gently across the top of your head. Once. Twice. [[She sets you down.->Straw Fire Cutscene Awake 6]]

The orc turns to the cell bars, lowers her massive shoulder, and charges. There is no cracking sound, no splintering. The wall of bars simply blow outwards into the corridor in a shower of dark, pulpy chunks. The greasy orange torchlight floods the cell, and for a heartbeat, you can see the shocked faces of the two guards as they're knocked off their feet. You watch as she thunders through the jagged opening she's made; a burning, chained juggernaut. From the corridor, her laugh, the shouting of incoming guards, and a horn alarm boom back [[towards you.->Maw's Chamber Getting there Cutscene]]

[if passage.visits == 1] You kneel down, holding the glowing stone just over the edge of the straw pile. You give it a little tap with your knuckle, right on the symbol. A single, bright orange spark leaps out, lands on a damp stalk, and dies with a pathetic *fssst*. The prisoner on the other side snores on, undisturbed. You grin. [continue] [if passage.visits > 1] You feel a bit braver this time. You hold the stone closer and give the symbol a firm press. A small, bright orange flame, no bigger than your thumb, flickers to life on a piece of dry straw. It dances for a moment, casting a tiny, warm light. Before it can grow, you quickly stomp it out. Heh. Fun. [continue] {link to: 'Prison Cell', label: 'Back'}

You drop the shifting stone directly into the clear, icy water trickling from the crack. The moment the plaster hits the freezing streamlet, it violently shivers. It instantly shrinks into a tight, rigid, spiky little ball, vibrating uncontrollably. Clearly hating the cold, it furiously scrambles its way up the wet rock, practically launching itself out of the water and diving straight into the warmth of your satchel to hide. {link to: 'streamlet', label: 'Back'}

{embed passage: 'Reset Hydra Position Logic'} *Wrong turn.* Before you can even back up, a sleepy head lashes out from the gloom, moving faster than something that big has any right to. *SNAP!* A set of jaws slams shut inches from your face, the wind of the bite blowing your hair back. A strong smell of chalk washes over you. You stumble backward with a yelp, spin around, and [[sprint for the exit->Hunting Grounds Hub]] before the other heads can decide you look like a snack.

[if passage.from == 'Lady Alerica'; dialogue delay:0.1 id:elf_meet_1] The woman doesn't notice you at first, lost in her fanning. [if passage.from == 'Lady Alerica'; dialogue delay:1.2 id:elf_meet_1 newline] It's the man who stops his pacing with a sharp, theatrical gasp. *"Alerica!"* [if passage.from == 'Lady Alerica'; dialogue delay:0.8 id:elf_meet_1] he hisses. [if passage.from == 'Lady Alerica'; dialogue delay:1.0 id:elf_meet_1] The woman's head snaps up, her eyes widening. *"My word..."* [continue] [if passage.from == 'Lord Alaric'; dialogue delay:0.1 id:elf_meet_1] You step directly into his path. He stumbles to a halt, nearly tripping over your feet. *"Good heavens!"* [if passage.from == 'Lord Alaric'; dialogue delay:0.8 id:elf_meet_1] he yelps, clutching his chest. [if passage.from == 'Lord Alaric'; dialogue delay:1.2 id:elf_meet_1 newline] The woman leaning against the crates turns, her fanning hand freezing mid-air. *"Alaric, what is it?"* [continue] [dialogue delay:1.8 id:elf_meet_1 newline] He points a trembling finger at you. *"It's...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:elf_meet_1] *...one of them.* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:elf_meet_1] *A native."* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:elf_meet_1] He pulls the handkerchief from his pocket and presses it to his nose. [dialogue delay:1.2 id:elf_meet_1] *"And my god! It...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:elf_meet_1] *...smells.* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:elf_meet_1] *Puah!"* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:elf_meet_1 newline] You scowl. *You* smell? *He* smells! Like crushed flowers left to rot in the heat. It’s so strong it makes your eyes water. [dialogue delay:2.0 id:elf_meet_1] You puff out your chest, planting your fists on your hips. *"I am Leika! Servant of the Great Goddess, and She-"* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:elf_meet_1 newline] *"It *speaks*,"* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:elf_meet_1] the woman interrupts, her voice a low, horrified whisper. [dialogue delay:1.2 id:elf_meet_1 newline] Your jaw tightens. *It?* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:elf_meet_1 newline] The man lowers his handkerchief, his eyebrows raised tall. *"And with such a...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:elf_meet_1] *...primitive affectation.* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:elf_meet_1] *Sisterrr! Did you hear that? It thinks it can just... [[address us?->Sunless Elves First Meeting 2]]"*

ElvesMet: true -- [dialogue delay:0.1 id:elf_meet_2] *"I heard it, brother.* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:elf_meet_2] *I so wish I hadn't,"* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:elf_meet_2] Lady Alerica says, her nose scrounging. [dialogue delay:1.5 id:elf_meet_2] She looks you up and down, slow enough to make your skin prickle. [dialogue delay:1.8 id:elf_meet_2] *"Goddess?* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:elf_meet_2] *This high up?* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:elf_meet_2] *Preposterous."* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:elf_meet_2 newline] You open your mouth to tell her just how appallingly wrong she is - to describe the holy warmth, the divine shape of her - but the man cuts you off. [dialogue delay:1.5 id:elf_meet_2 newline] Lord Alaric scoffs, taking a step forward. *"HA! Delusions of gran-de-ur.* [dialogue delay:1.8 id:elf_meet_2] *Typical of the local fauna, I imagine.* [dialogue delay:1.5 id:elf_meet_2] *Now see here, creature, this is a private residence. Do you know what that signifies?"* [dialogue delay:2.0 id:elf_meet_2] You just look at him straight in the eyes. [dialogue delay:2 id:elf_meet_2] He sighs. [dialogue delay:1.0 id:elf_meet_2] *"Well... perhaps not."* [dialogue delay:2.0 id:elf_meet_2 newline] *"Go away, little thing,"* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:elf_meet_2] Lady Alerica adds with a dismissive wave of her hand. [dialogue delay:1.2 id:elf_meet_2] *"Shoo.* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:elf_meet_2] *Shoo?* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:elf_meet_2] *Ugh! How undignified! if only all of our maids had made it over with us.* [dialogue delay:2.0 id:elf_meet_2] *A real shame, that one.* [dialogue delay:1.2 id:elf_meet_2] *Do try not to track any more...* [dialogue delay:0.8 id:elf_meet_2] *earth...* [dialogue delay:1.0 id:elf_meet_2] *onto the porch."* [dialogue delay:2.5 id:elf_meet_2 newline] For a moment, you imagine wiping your grimy, mud-caked hand all over her shiny red dress. [dialogue delay:1.8 id:elf_meet_2] You give them both one last, long glare before turning your back and stomping off the porch. [dialogue delay:0.2 id:elf_meet_2 newline] {link to: 'manor porch', label: 'Back'}

A landslide of jagged rock and packed dirt completely chokes the tunnel. Wedged right in the middle of the rubble is a massive, twisted chunk of the iron beast's belly, its metal skin scorched black and peeled back. You reach out, but pull your hand back quickly - the stones are still radiating a fierce heat. A thin wisp of steam hisses from a tiny crack near the ceiling, carrying the sad, bitter smell of burnt grain. You kick a loose pebble at the barricade. Well... that's that, then. The outlanders and their hot, golden fields are inaccessible. Maybe buried for good. *Bah.* What a waste of perfectly good tribute! [if SlimeCavernsMisaligned; if SunlessFieldsMisaligned] {link to: 'Fake Southwest Tunnel', label: 'Back'} [unless SlimeCavernsMisaligned] {link to: 'Southwest Tunnel', label: 'Back'} [continue]

You shield your eyes. It’s surprisingly bright in here. You’ve stepped out of the tunnel and into a vast, circular cavern that glows with a fierce, golden light. It’s not the usual moss-light - it’s coming from the floor. A sea of tall, pale yellow grass stretches from wall to wall, each stalk humming with inner light and swaying in the hot, dry draft. The air is thick with chaff and the smell of baking bread... or something close to it. It’s hot. Cook-fire hot. You can feel the moisture on your skin evaporating in seconds. In the center of the golden sea, a massive, dark shape rises. [[You push into the grass.->Sunless Fields Cutscene 2]]

SunlessFieldsFirstTime: true -- The stalks are taller than you. You fight your way through until the field suddenly gives way to a cleared circle of packed dirt. You blink twice, trying to understand what exactly it is you're looking at. A strange, lopsided fortress... palace?... well, building, sits a yard from you, built entirely from stacked wooden crates, iron trunks, and heavy tarps. It leans precariously against a massive, brass object. Standing on the "porch" - really just a wide, flat crate - are two of the tallest, [[strangest kin you have ever seen.->Sunless Fields Hub]]

You reach for the curtain of leafy vines... and your hand bumps against them. They are hard as stone, frozen in mid-sway. Behind them, the pulsing colors of the flowers are smeared and blurry, like a cave-painting left out in the damp. The air in the archway feels solid. You push, but the air pushes back. You can't go through, and you get the sharp impression that *the world simply hasn't been made here yet.* {link to: 'Southwest Tunnel', label: 'Back'}

SunlessFieldsMisaligned: true -- You step into the cool dark of the tunnel, eager to leave the suffocating heat behind. The terrible, high-pitched whine of the iron beast refuses to fade, however. It follows you, rising into a deafening shriek that vibrates right through your skull and makes your teeth ache. You stop, turning around to look back at the archway. The golden glow of the tall grass is suddenly swallowed by a blinding, white-hot flash. [[**BOOOOOM**->Sunless Fields Explosion Cutscene 2]]

A wall of solid air hits you like a charging boar, throwing you flat onto the hard stone floor. Scorching steam and golden dust roars over your head, immediately followed by the terrifying, thunderous roar of the cavern roof giving way. You squeeze your eyes shut, covering your ears as the ground shakes. When the rumbling finally settles into a heavy rain of pebbles, you push yourself up, [[coughing up soot.->Sunless Fields Explosion Cutscene 3]]

The archway leading to the fields is gone. A massive blockade of shattered rock and twisted, smoking iron has sealed the passage completely. The outlanders and their strange, broken machine... are they ok? [if SlimeCavernsMisaligned; if SunlessFieldsMisaligned] [[Oh dear...->Fake Southwest Tunnel]] [unless SlimeCavernsMisaligned] [[Oh dear...->Southwest Tunnel]] [continue]

GoddessWeightGained (GoddessWeightGained == 'ALMOST IMMOBILE'): 'IMMOBILE' GoddessWeightGained (GoddessWeightGained == 'OBESE'): 'ALMOST IMMOBILE' GoddessWeightGained (GoddessWeightGained == 'FAT'): 'OBESE' GoddessWeightGained (GoddessWeightGained == 'PLUMP'): 'FAT' GoddessWeightGained (GoddessWeightGained == 'NONE'): 'PLUMP' SunlessFieldsFutureSeen: true LastBiomeAligned: 'SunlessFields' SunlessFieldsAligned: true -- The golden bug hums, and the hot, dusty air smears into a swirl of amber. When the spinning stops, the deafening noise of the iron beast is still there, but the outlanders have multiplied. A whole crowd of the tall, purple-skinned strangers surrounds the machine. At first, you think they've finally gathered the nerve to smash it to pieces so they can nap in peace! But no. Instead, they are holding up some strange blue papers between each other, pointing from the white lines to the iron roots, their pointy ears twitching about. You watch as two of the men struggle to drag a flat, heavy rock right under the pounding iron foot. Just as the metal lifts with a hiss of steam, a careless one tosses a sack of grass-seeds onto it, much to the insult of their kin. [[**CRUNCH.**->Sunless Fields Future Vision 1.5]]

The foot comes down, obliterating the sack. When the mechanism wheezes and lifts again, you see that the tough seeds have been pulverized into a mound of glowing, yellow powder. Wait, no... that's pretty much flour, isn't it? You watch it go through a couple more slams, getting finer and finer. *Woah*... incredible. That'd save your kin so much time. [[The vision shimmers, jumping forward in time...->Sunless Fields Future Vision 2]]

The blur of time shifts, placing you right at the edge of the main warren tunnels. A group of the tall purple-skins is now strutting right among your kin. While they seem utterly lost, and doing their best not to appear too disgusted, they are not asking for directions. Instead, they hold out baskets filled with soft, puffy breads baked from their flour. You watchs some younger hunters take a bite, their eyes going completely round - it only takes a few hand gestures more to have your kin following them back into the hot dark. The view sweeps back to the golden fields, and you let out a snort. It's your kin doing all the sweating now! Dozens wade through the tall, glowing weeds, swinging bone-sickles and hauling massive bundles on their backs. The outlanders don't even touch the dirt, opting to simply stand under wide canvas shades dragged out from their crates, fanning themselves and making sharp, bossy motions with their hands. [[The vision shimmers again, accelerating...->Sunless Fields Future Vision 3]]

The blur of time spins faster. You watch as the flimsy crate-palace is swallowed up by a roaring, sprawling fortress of brick and shiny orange pipes. Steam billows from dozens of new chimneys, turning the hot cavern air into a thick fog. Down in the dirt, your kin are working themselves to the bone. They are covered head-to-toe in white dust, shoveling coal into the fires and hauling massive sacks of flour to the roaring ovens. It is a whole river of golden grain going in, and a mountain of warm loaves coming out. But as you soar high above the noise, on a newly built wooden balcony, the outlander women have set up a delicate little round table, [[and are talking amongst each others.->Sunless Fields Future Vision 3.5]]

They are having a meeting, sipping dark wine from tiny glass cups and nibbling on thick, gleaming pastries made from their new mills. One of the women lazily waves a blue paper at a kin scribe below, tapping a long fingernail against a list of dots, clearly demanding something of them. But oh, their clothes! They seem to have stubbornly refused to give up those weird clothes. Some are even wearing those stiff bone-cages... but the garments are visibly losing the fight. The shiny fabric of their dresses strains desperately across newly widened hips and thickened arms. You watch as one woman leans forward to grab another plate. Her plump, tightly laced belly presses hard against the table edge, while the pale, squeezed flesh of her heavy chest spills high over her restrictive collar. She looks like a stuffed grub ready to burst from its casing, yet she only takes a delicate, tiny bite. You... just don't get it. Are they matrons? Are they not? They do look the part, but certainly lack the spirit. [[The vision drifts one last time...->Sunless Fields Future Vision 4]]

You reach the highest balcony of the factory, shift into its room, and... well... ok, this one *has* to be the matron of the group. Surely! It takes a minute, but you do eventually recognize [unless ElvesMet] the same tall woman you met in the present, as she [continue] [if ElvesMet] Lady Alerica as she [continue] [append] sits atop a [[heavily reinforced divan->Sunless Fields Vision 5]]. [continue]

The heat here is a heavy, physical weight that settles on your shoulders. The air is still, filled with floating motes of golden dust that catch in your throat. It smells of hot iron and dry, baking grain. Dominating the clearing is the [[🎩crate-palace->manor porch]], a towering, shaky-looking pile of expensive wooden trunks and canvas that leans against the cavern wall. [if PipeSmashed; unless BoilerActivated] *A small, muddy rivulet of steaming water now leaks out from beneath it, cutting across the packed dirt of the clearing.* [continue] [if SunlessFieldsAligned || BoilerOverheating] Next to it, rising like a tree made of metal, is a [[⚙️brass contraption->boiler]]. [continue] [unless SunlessFieldsAligned; unless BoilerOverheating] Next to it, rising like a dead tree made of metal, is a [[⚙️brass contraption->boiler]]. [continue] [append] Surrounding the clearing on all sides is the wall of tall, glowing [[yellow grass->pale wheat]]. [unless BoilerOverheating] The path back to the [[⚫cool tunnel->Southwest Tunnel]] is behind you. [continue] [if BoilerOverheating] The path back to the [[⚫cool tunnel->Sunless Fields Explosion Cutscene 1]] is behind you. [continue] [if SunlessFieldsAligned; unless SunlessFieldsFutureSeen] *Just as you turn to leave, the golden bug in your satchel gives a sudden, sharp shiver, its ticking momentarily frantic...* [continue] [if SunlessFieldsAligned; unless SunlessFieldsFutureSeen; inventory for GoldenBug] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->Sunless Fields Future Vision 1]] [continue]

The shiny blue dress she was so proud of lies discarded in a corner, its rigid bone cage visibly snapped in half and its laces ripped away entirely. Freed from it, she is draped only in loose, open silks. Her bare, pale midsection has expanded into a massive double belly - the heavy upper swell resting like a soft shelf over the vast lower curve that spills unhindered into her lap like a rising mound of dough. Her face is flushed and round, sporting a deep double chin as she bites eagerly into the thick, syrup-soaked loaf her much smaller kin servant provides her. She does not look bored anymore, simply caught in a heavy, sweaty stupor of her own making. You tear your eyes away from the outlander baroness to look down at the main road. The sight makes your heart swell. An endless line of heavy wooden carts rolls out of the sweltering grotto: they are piled high with giant, golden loaves, heavy sacks of sweet flour, and sticky pastries, all being hauled by your sweating kin directly into the dark tunnels. It is a permanent, roaring river of baked tribute. Meant only for Her! *Yes!!* There we go! Bless these outlanders' kind and pious hearts. The golden bug hums in your palm, its work done. From the roaring heat of the fields, you are pulled [[back to the heart of the world...->Future Chamber Router]]

A massive, thick slab of wood has been propped up on stone blocks, bowing visibly in the middle from the sheer weight of the tribute being handled. [if LastBiomeAligned == 'SlimeCaverns'] Sweaty cooks are whisking huge clay bowls of green jelly, making absolutely certain the sweet slime is perfectly smooth and free of any gritty cave-dust before it reaches Her lips. [continue] [if LastBiomeAligned == 'FungalPlains'] Two kin stand on opposite ends, bringing heavy bone-cleavers down in a quickened rhythm, hacking massive shanks of fatty meat into smaller, richer bites. [continue] [if LastBiomeAligned == 'HuntingGrounds'] The cooks here are covered in grease, using heavy stones to smash the beast's marrow-bones to a paste, mixing it directly into the seared steaks to add even more dense, holy bulk to the meal. [continue] [if LastBiomeAligned == 'SunlessFields'] A team of kin is practically wrestling with the food, plunging their arms deep into mountains of sticky, pale dough and golden syrup, kneading it all together until their green skin is coated in a thick, sugary glaze. [continue] [if LastBiomeAligned == 'ExpeditionRemains'] The slab is a stained, purple mess. The cooks are aggressively mashing the overripe, weeping fruits into a thick, sticky pulp, ensuring the heavy wine-sap is perfectly blended for Her eager gulps. [continue] You cross your arms, a smug grin on your face. Look at them slave away! Covered in muck, panting and groaning under the chore of it all. Meanwhile, you get to just stand here, clean and favored, admiring the glorious, swelling results of their labor. It truly pays to be the chosen one. {link to: 'Future Chamber - Stage OBESE', label: 'Back'}

You peek over the shoulder of the scribe - it's Grizel, of course. He is kneeling before a large, smooth slab of slate, his tongue poking from the corner of his mouth in concentration. [if LastBiomeAligned == 'FungalPlains'] His chalk flies across the surface. He seems to be drawing hash-marks for crates of jerky, circles for baskets of mushrooms. He runs out of space at the bottom and has to start writing in the margins. [continue] [if LastBiomeAligned == 'SlimeCaverns'] He is drawing lines to track the flow. A mark for every skin filled, a circle for every barrel rolled in. He pauses, wipes his brow, and shakes his head with a grin, as if he can't quite believe the numbers he's writing down. [continue] [if LastBiomeAligned == 'HuntingGrounds'] He slashes thick white lines across the slate, tracking the massive cuts of meat being hauled in. You spot a clumsy drawing of a beast's head with a number next to it, confirming the hunters are bringing in every single piece of it. [continue] [if LastBiomeAligned == 'SunlessFields'] He is calculating... something. The entire surface of the slate is covered in tiny, panicked dots that maybe represent... *gahh*! It's too complex for you! Too much! You quickly avert your eyes from the awful scribblings. [continue] [if LastBiomeAligned == 'ExpeditionRemains'] His hash marks are incredibly messy, sloping downward and sliding right off the edge of the slate. He keeps swaying as he writes. [continue] *"Too much... well... never too much..."* he mutters happily, underlining a particularly large number three times. {link to: 'Future Chamber - Stage FAT', label: 'Back'}

FrozenChamberInteractions (passage.visits == 1): FrozenChamberInteractions + 1 -- The teaching stone is just a big slab of slate, smooth and dark, propped against a smaller rock. The Goddess draws on it with a piece of soft, white chalk-stone. Holy pictures. Power-marks. Today's lesson is frozen on the surface. There is a drawing of a mushroom, and next to it, strange, sharp symbols. There is a drawing of a goblin - a short, chubby one, just like you! - and more of the same symbols follow. Her lines are so sure, so perfect. It actually looks like a goblin. What tecnique! You do not understand the marks. A name, perhaps? A prayer to abundance? You stare, trying to burn the shapes into your memory. This is divine knowledge. Can you, a mortal, even learn this? The Goddess certainly believes it so. {link to: 'Frozen Chamber', label: 'Back'}

IronChainsSeen (IronChainsSeen === undefined): 0 --

[unless CurrentLessonState == 'rest' || CurrentLessonState == 'wardrobecheck'] Your eyes drift upward, tracing the powerful lines of the empty throne. It is carved from a single, massive piece of star-stone, its surface so black it seems to drink the moss-light. The arms are wide enough for two goblins to sit on, their edges worn smooth not by time, but by the holy weight of Her divine form. You remember when this was just a cold, strange rock in an old, forgotten ruin. Before Her. Now, a cradle! The holiest of nests. The heart of the world. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'] A soft rumble, a holy snore, escapes Her lips. She has slumped to one side, Her head lolled against the soft pillow of Her own shoulder. Her body has settled, spreading out to consume the seat entirely. The stone arms of the throne disappear completely beneath the soft overflow of Her hips and thighs. The white fabric of Her gown is pulled taut across the vast curve of Her back, revealing the precise line where the ancient star-stone presses into the yielding pale flesh of Her shoulders. With each deep, slow breath, the mountain of Her stomach rises and falls, and the whole throne seems to sigh under Her divine weight. The great throne... it seems almost small now, a mere pedestal for Her magnificent, resting form. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'wardrobecheck'] Your eyes drift upward to the empty throne. It is carved from a single piece of black star-stone, its wide arms waiting patiently in the quiet cavern. Draped carelessly over the dark backrest is Her holy white gown. The soft fabric pools onto the seat, temporarily abandoned while She inspects her old sky-walker garments. The throne seems almost lonely without Her immense resting form anchoring it to the floor. Well, it's not like this massive block of stone is going anywhere, it probably doesn't need much anchoring, but... eh, you're thinking too hard about it. [continue] {link to: 'Great Chamber', label: 'Back'}

{embed passage: 'Prophecy Text'} As the last word settles in your heart, the golden bug in your hand gives a single, sharp, impossibly loud *TICK*. [[The world shivers in response.->Return to Present 1]] [note] Redacted text hidden for demo purposes. [continue]

[unless CurrentLessonState == 'rest'] {embed passage: 'Prophecy Text'} [unless CurrentLessonState == 'rest'; align center] {link to: 'Great Chamber', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'] You try to peer past the throne, but it's no use. The Goddess, now resting, is blocking the view. It is a funny thing, is it not? To know the words of the prophecy, but to be unable to see them because the prophecy is coming true right in front of you. {link to: 'Great Chamber', label: 'Back'} [continue]

The teaching stone is a large slab of smooth, dark slate propped against a smaller rock. This is where the Goddess imparts Her divine knowledge, drawing holy pictures with a piece of soft, white chalk-stone. [if CurrentLessonState == 'letters'] Today's lesson is on Her holy marks. The chalk makes a dry, scratching sound as She draws. First, a sharp peak with a line across its middle... symbol for a stalactite, you think. Then, next to it, two round shapes stacked one atop the other... Ah, that one you know! It is the mark for a well-fed goblin. Or perhaps it is a drawing of the Goddess Herself, Her holy chest resting on Her belly. The last one is a simple curve, like a slice of sickle-cap mushroom. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'botany'] The slate is covered in drawings of... plants? Bushes? You squint at them. They are strange, spindly things. A long, straight line for a stem - no ridges, no thorns? - topped with a simple circle of loops. It looks defenseless. Weak. Where are the spore-gills? Where are the slime-catchers? She draws them with such confidence, but a plant like that wouldn't last a heartbeat in the deep tunnels. Perhaps the flora of the Sky-Walkers is just... well, it could just be badly drawn. You can't expect a Goddess to do it all. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'monsters'] You shudder looking at the white lines. She has drawn a beast! It stands on four legs, like a lizard, but it has no tail and its face is long and heavy. And on its neck... hair? A mane of fur? A bunch of lines are added behind it - it looks fast. It looks hungry. She taps the drawing with the chalk, her voice firm, as if warning you of the dangers this bloodthirsty creature presents. A "Hou-Ar See." You gulp, hoping never to meet one. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'anatomy'] It is a map of the self. She has drawn the outline of a kin, and inside, She has placed circles. One in the chest, high up. Two soft sacks to the side. But Her focus, and the focus of every goblin in the room, is on the large, central circle She has drawn low in the torso. The Stomach. She has drawn it largest of all, the center of the body's world. The Divine Furnace. The Source. You nod solemnly; this is a truth you understand in your bones. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'math'] The stone is covered in tallies. Rows of mushrooms, scratched out. Piles of berries, circled. An arrow pointing from a small pile to a larger one. It is the Law of Tribute written in stone, not unlike the one of the queen your kin once followed. You count the marks: for every five gathered, two must be given. No... wait, She just erased a line. Three must be given? *Oh dear.* It is a hard lesson, but a fair one. The Goddess must be fed. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'rest'] The slate has been wiped clean with a dry cloth, leaving only a ghost of white dust swirling across the dark surface. The nub of chalk sits in the groove at the base of the stone, unused. There is no lesson now, only the holy sound of Her rest. [continue] [if CurrentLessonState == 'wardrobecheck'] The dark slate sits ignored. The nub of chalk rests in the groove at its base, untouched. There is no lesson to be drawn today, leaving the stone as blank and quiet as the rest of the empty chamber. [continue] {link to: 'Great Chamber', label: 'Back'}

{embed passage: 'mindspace skull man cutscene 1'} {embed passage: 'mindspace skull man cutscene 2'}

FrozenChamberInteractions (passage.visits == 1): FrozenChamberInteractions + 1 -- The Great Throne. Carved from a single piece of black star-stone, its arms wide enough for two goblins to sit on. It is not goblin-work, for who of us could be something that could support her this well? It is from the Before-Times. Where Her great bottom and back rest, the stone is worn smooth as a river pebble, and the faint patterns in the rock have been polished away by the constant, heavy presence of Her divinity... well, more likely the water that once dripped from the chamber's ceiling. You remember when it was just a cold, empty seat in an old ruin. Before Her. Now... now it is a cradle. The holiest of nests. {link to: 'Frozen Chamber', label: 'Back'}

A deep, dead cold seeps into your fingertips when you dare touch the blackened granite throne. The seat is still rough, its ancient star-stone patterns sharp under your palm. A thin web, spun by a starved-looking spider, stretches from one of the wide arms to the backrest. {link to: 'Future Chamber - Stage NONE', label: 'Back'}

You lob the stone, letting it clatter against the bone backrest and falls, wedging itself in the greasy crevice where the seat meets the back. For a moment, nothing. Then, a tiny lick of orange flame, no bigger than your finger, crawls out from the crevice. It finds the ancient grease soaked into the fungus-wood and greedily drinks it down. With a low *crackle*, the tiny flame grows, climbing the back of the throne. The bones start to smoke. Big-Maw, feeling the heat on her back, shrieks as she scrambles away from the throne, landing belly first onto the ground. The guards are thoroughly distracted - [[as good a chance as any to get down and start running!->Maw's Chamber Chaos Cutscene 1]]

FireStoneThrow: 'throne' -- The Fire Stone feels heavy in your hand as you eye the monstrous throne. It's her seat of power, the symbol of her rule. To set *that* ablaze and with it her blubbering ass... *HA!* It's huge, made of old, greasy fungus-wood and bone - it would burn well, you think. But it's so close to *her*. The fire... it might spread. To her wrap, her hair... yeah... You want to cause a distraction, not necessarily cook a queen. Or do you? Ugh, this is complicated. It's making your head hurt again. [[Throw it.->Maw Fire Throw Router]] {link to: 'Maw Chamber Diorama', label: 'No, not yet.'}

config.footer.center: "{load save: 'Load'} | [[About]] | [[Settings]]" calories: 0 strength: 0 config.style.backdrop: "#563232" config.style.page.color: "amber-2 on aquamarine-3" config.style.page.link.color: "amber-2" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "amber-2" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-1 on aquamarine-3" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "amber-2" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "amber-2" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "amber-2" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-1 on aquamarine-3" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "amber-2" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-1 on aquamarine-3" isCutscene: false -- [JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] <link rel="stylesheet" href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Bona+Nova:ital,wght@0,400;0,700;1,400&display=swap" rel="stylesheet"> [CSS] .titleScreen h1 { font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif; margin: 0 auto; max-width: 80%; } .titleScreen h1 span { display: block; font-variant: small-caps; line-height: 1.1; letter-spacing: 0.03em; } /* Very Big - Title */ .very-big { font-size: 56px; margin-bottom: 0.15em !important; letter-spacing: 0.05em; } /* A Miraculous Treatise - pull up */ .very-big + .medium { font-size: 36px; margin-top: -0.25em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; } /* of Unyielding Digestion... - keep tight */ .medium + .small { font-size: 20px; margin-bottom: 0.05em; line-height: 1.3; letter-spacing: 0.02em; } /* Dictated by One - push down */ .small + .medium { font-size: 36px; margin-top: 0.4em; margin-bottom: 0.15em; } /* Leika of the Warren - reduce space above */ .medium + .big { font-size: 48px; margin-top: -0.15em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; } /* Favoured Servant... - pull up */ .big + .medium-small { font-size: 24px; margin-top: -0.2em; margin-bottom: 0.05em; } /* as Transcribed by - normal */ .medium-small + .small { font-size: 20px; margin-top: 0.3em; margin-bottom: 0.05em; } /* A Very Snobby - push down */ .small + .medium { font-size: 36px; margin-top: 0.25em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; } /* "and" connector - special case */ .medium + .small { font-size: 20px; margin-top: -0.15em; margin-bottom: 0.05em; } /* Pointy Black Stick - pull up */ .small + .medium { font-size: 36px; margin-top: -0.1em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; } /* Link preservation */ a[href="Debug Activation"] { font-variant: small-caps !important; vertical-align: baseline; letter-spacing: 0.02em; text-decoration: none; } /* Last element spacing */ .titleScreen h1 span:last-child { margin-bottom: 1em !important; } [continued] <div class="titleScreen"> <center> <h1 style="font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif;"> <span class="very-big">The Goddess of Hunger</span> <span class="medium">A Miraculous Recounting</span> <span class="small">of Unyielding Digestion, Heavy Meats, Endless Sweet-Sap, and the Squishing of False [[Idols->Debug Activation]]</span> <span class="medium">Dictated by One</span> <span class="big">Leika of the Warren</span> <span class="medium-small">Favoured Servant, Bearer of the Golden Bug, and Keeper of Tributes,</span> <span class="small">as Transcribed by</span> <span class="medium">A Very Snobby</span> <span class="small">and</span> <span class="medium">Pointy Black Stick</span> </h1> </center> [continued] [align center] [[~Start~->Intro 3.0]] [continued] <br><br> </div> {ascii backdrop, clickable: 'false', opacity: '0.2'}

InventoryDebug: !InventoryDebug -- It is done. Open your browser console (F12) to see the live inventory logs as you explore. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH3', label: 'Back'}

TotemSmashed: true -- You grab the iron wrench, glaring at the ugly, hacked face. You raise the heavy tool high over your shoulder and bring it crashing down directly onto the grinning, flint-filled mouth. *CRASH!* The dry fungus-wood explodes into splinters. Sharp river-flints and grimy feathers scatter wildly across the damp moss. A second swing obliterates the rest of the stalk, leaving nothing but a heavy dent in the earth and a satisfying pile of rubbish. {link to: 'warning totem', label: 'Back'}

You throw the white stone directly at the ugly, hacked face of the warning totem. The plaster splats against the dry fungus-wood and immediately wraps around the top of the stalk. It splits wide open, forming a massive, gaping maw lined with jagged, soft white teeth. The fake mouth snaps shut over the totem's flint-filled gash, mimicking a ferocious, chewing motion as if trying to eat the warning sign right off the stalk. You giggle, cheering the blob on, until it eventually detaches itself and floats back to you, leaving the ugly totem unharmed. Unfortunate! But that was a good attempt. {link to: 'warning totem', label: 'Back'}

The stick hovers in front of the crude face. It looks... unimpressed. It traces the air, translating the markings. ~PRIMITIVE PICTOGRAM. "BIG TEETH. EAT YOU." POSSIBLE TERRITORIAL INSECURITY.~ You nod. "Yes, exactly. It says 'Go Away'." The stick stops writing. It goes to the paper again, jotting down *~AH. SORRY. I THOUGHT YOU COULDN'T READ THAT.~* before it floats back to your bag. {link to: 'warning totem', label: 'Back'}

TotemFelled: true -- You glare at the ugly face. It's mocking you. "Go away," it says. "Weak," it says. Well then: you wrap the wire around the base of the dry stalk. *"No. YOU go away."* *ZZZ-zip!* The dry fungus-wood parts with a satisfying crunch. The totem sways, tips, and falls over with a heavy *thump*, kicking up a cloud of dust. The flint teeth rattle in their sockets. HA! Take that, Big-Maw. {link to: 'warning totem', label: 'Back'}

config.style.page.theme.override: 'dark' -- [align center] ... ...*mmph*... [[...->Transition 3]] [continue]

[align center] ... ... [[...?->Intro 3.0]]

*...oh, wow.* Caught in the amber is a floating... eye... squid? Surely one of the big ones Grama tells stories about. Its mouth is frozen open in a silent, furious roar, a single thread of drool crystallized on one of its many sharp teeth. The great central eye, wide and unblinking, stares out. This is so cool! How did such a mighty monster get trapped like this? You can't help yourself. You press your face, then your hands, then your whole soft belly and chest against the hard, smooth surface of the crystal. It's cold, so cold it makes your teeth buzz, but up this close, you can see every detail - the tiny red veins in its massive eye, the dust motes frozen in the amber around its writhing tentacles, the way the light catches on the wet-looking curve of its eyeball. Amazing! {link to: 'Slime Pool West', label: 'Back'} [if TuningForkTaken; inventory for TuningFork] [[What if...?->Beholder Tuning Fork Cutscene]] [continue] [if QuillAndPaperFound; inventory for QuillAndPaper] [[The stick twitches...->Beholder Quill Cutscene]] [continue] [if CH3PlasterTaken; inventory for CH3Plaster] [[What if...?->Beholder Plaster Cutscene]] [continue]

You grip the heavy iron wrench with both hands. It's a massive, fleshy pillar - surely a good, heavy whack will do some damage? You wind up and bring the square metal head swinging hard into the side of the giant trunk. *BOING.* The iron sinks deep into the rubbery, firm flesh of the tree, meets incredible resistance, and violently bounces right back at you. The recoil nearly rips your arms out of their sockets, sending you stumbling backward onto your rear. You rub your aching shoulders, glaring up at the tree. It continues its slow pulse, completely unbothered. {link to: 'giant fungal tree', label: 'Back'}

You hold the tiny flame against the massive trunk. It's like trying to burn down a mountain with a candle. The pale bark doesn't even blacken; it just sweats a little bead of sap that extinguishes your fire with a *hiss*. The tree pulses on, ignoring you completely. {link to: 'giant fungal tree', label: 'Back'}

You whack the fork and press it to the trunk. . . . ...dead silence. No *Flup.* Not even a little vibration. The tree is massive, so dense with water and flesh: it just swallows the energy of your blow entirely. It feels like pressing against a wall of mud. {link to: 'giant fungal tree', label: 'Back'}

{embed passage: 'Item Back Logic'} You carefully pull the fire box from its special pocket in your satchel. It feels solid and cold in your palm, much heavier than a rock its size. You flick open the little metal cap again. *Click*. Inside, there's a little hole with a bit of burnt string poking out. Useless. But the little rough wheel... ah, yes, that's the good part. Holding it away from your face, just in case, you give the wheel a good, hard scrape with your thumb. *Zzzt-CHUNK!* A burst of tiny, angry fire-spit leaps out, smelling of hot rock. It's gone in a blink. [if passage.visit == 2] You grin - still works! Ahh! A magic fire starter, all yours. Maybe... maybe you should offer it to the Goddess? A gift this powerful would surely please Her! ...No. Not yet. It's too useful. And come on now. It's *yours*! [continue] {link to: itemBackTarget, label: 'Back'}

You give the bony fingers a firm *whack* with the rock. With a dry crack, the grip loosens. You reach in - ignoring the sticky, sweet-smelling slime that coats your fingers - and pull the small object free. It's a metal box, cold and heavy in your palm. Not goblin-work, that's for sure. Too straight, too perfect. Hobgoblin, maybe? There's a little hinged part on top, and a small, rough wheel on the side. You wipe the worst of the slime off on your wrap and turn it over, looking for a way in. Your thumb brushes against the little wheel. [[It makes a dry, scraping sound...->Trench Lighter Cutscene 2]]

TrenchLighterTaken: true -- Curious, you do it again, dragging your thumb hard across the little wheel. *Zzzt-CHUNK!* A bright shower of orange sparks erupts!! You yelp, dropping the box with a clatter. It lies on the slick stone, silent. Nothing happens. No monster leaps from the shadows, no curse falls upon you. *That you know of!* You creep closer, poking it with your toe. Still nothing. is it... safe? Hesitantly, you pick it up again, your heart still thumping. A spark-maker! A fire starter in a box! A grin spreads across your face. You tuck the strange, wonderful treasure carefully into a special pocket in your satchel. {link to: 'Slime Caverns Hub', label: 'Back'}

With a grunt, you lob the stone in a high arc. It sails through the smoky air, a tiny orange comet, and disappears into the heart of the tribute pile. It doesn't clatter. It lands with a soft, greasy *thud* in the side of a roasted boar haunch. ***WHOOSH*** A column of greasy, orange flame erupts from the tribute, feeding on the rendered fat and oils. Roasted lizard skins curl and blacken instantly. A skin of berry-juice, heated beyond its limit, bursts with a wet bang, spraying flaming liquid across the other offerings. The chamber is plunged into chaos - [[as good a chance as any to get down and start running!->Maw's Chamber Chaos Cutscene 1]]

FireStoneThrow: 'tribute' -- You pull the stone from your wrap, its orange glow pulsing in your palm, warm and angry. Your eyes are fixed on the piles of tribute below. An insult! A mountain of food for a false queen while the true Goddess waits. *If She can't have it, then no one can.* It would make a huge fire, wouldn't it? All that grease... a perfect distraction. But... it's right at their feet. So close. What if they see the stone? What if they look up and spot you before you even throw it? Is this the best target?? *Oh dear...* [[Throw it.->Maw Fire Throw Router]] {link to: 'Maw Chamber Diorama', label: 'No, not yet.'}

You hold the shifting white stone over the long, curved basin and let go. The plaster drops, hitting the purple-stained interior with a wet, heavy *SPLAT*. It spreads out at the bottom of the trough, but not that much. It makes absolutely no attempt to shape itself into anything interesting. Or maybe it's mimicking slop. Yeah, well, you stare at it for a moment, unimpressed, before scooping the lazy blob back up. {link to: 'stone trough', label: 'Back'}

{embed passage: 'Item Back Logic'} You pull the Singing Stick from your satchel. It’s shiny, silver, and shaped like a little two-fingered hand. It feels heavy and cold, but if you squeeze the prongs, they tremble against your skin, eager to make noise. You give it a soft tap against your leg. *Mm...* *Hmmmm....* *Hhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmm....* {link to: itemBackTarget, label: 'Back'}

TuningForkTaken: true -- You tug at the metal stick. It's stuck fast. You brace your foot against the wall and give it a hard yank. *PING!* It pops free with a pure, high-pitched note that seems to hang in the air, much louder than it should be. The metal prongs blur, vibrating so fast they look fuzzy. You feel the buzz of it tingling the aether surronding you, going all the way up your arm to your shoulder. A singing stick! You grin, tapping it against the stone floor again just to hear it hum, before sliding the strange, musical iron into your satchel. {link to: 'East Tunnel', label: 'Back'}

SlimeGirlNorthMoved: true -- You pull out the silver stick and strike it hard against the cavern wall. *CLANG-HMMMMMMM!* The pure, high note cuts through the dripping silence. Immediately, the glowing sacs on the ceiling shudder. They ripple, their light pulsing fast and erratic, matching the hum of the metal in your hand. One by one, they lose their grip on the stone. But they don't fall! Swollen with gas, they drift slowly downward like dandelion seeds, caught in the gentle draft flowing toward the main cavern. *"Oooooh~..."* The Green Lady's eyes go wide. She watches the pretty lights drifting past her, mesmerized. *"Wait... come baaack~..."* Without a second thought, she sloshes out of her basin, her gelatinous form flowing over the rim to chase the floating lights [[out into the main hub.->Slime Pool North]]

You hold the lighter over one of the pulsing cracks. The air coming out smells sweet and... gassy? *Click-fzzzt.* ***WHOOSH!*** A ball of orange fire erupts from the vent, fed by the gas! It singes your eyebrows and you scramble back on your butt with a yelp. The flame dances for a moment, blue and orange, before the next pulse of slime snuffs it out. You clap your hands, delighted - that was pretty! {link to: 'Slime Vents East', label: 'Back'}

config.header.left: "~ ≫ ☀ ☋ ☀ ≪ ~" -- You sink to your knees in the packed earth, pressing your forehead directly against the humming figure. The heat of the stone bleeds right into your skin, a comforting weight that makes your eyelids heavy. You open your mouth, letting a low, vibrating groan rumble up from your throat to match the song. From the depths of your satchel, the muffled *tick... tick... tick* of the golden bug keeps a slow, steady rhythm. Your muscles slacken. The damp chill of the tunnel gives way to warmth, and you just sit there, letting the thrum swallow you whole. And from there, [[the world turns around you.->Season 1 Cutscene]]

You pull the white blob from your satchel. But before you can even bring it close, the clot floats forward of its own volition and nears the dark statuette. You stand by, confused, as the shifting stone slowly circles the ancient figure, hovering up and down. A few moments later, [[it begins to take shape->Vessel Plaster Cutscene 2]].

From the white sphere, a set of thick thighs pop below, followed by a long-haired head up top. A set of stubby arms float to the surface on its sides, immediately taking their place on top of the round shape of the abdomen. This is followed by rapid, invisible cuts that magically detail and shape the chest, the backside, and finally, the belly button. It's not a perfect copy of the dark stone: it's a little fatter. The replica's thighs are looking much meatier, and you cannot tell if it's bothered to detail the nether regions given how its belly is not only much more swollen, but also drooping forward enough to cover them entirely. You watch as it takes a few trembling, wobbling steps over the tunnel floor before the plaster loses its shape completely, melting back into a simple sphere and returning to your hand. {link to: 'CH3 vessel', label: 'Back'}

The stick shoots out of your bag like an arrow. It buzzes around the figurine, doing a little loop-de-loop in the air. It looks... excited? It zips back to the paper, scribbling so fast the black marks are a blur. ~HEY THERE, SPECTER! FANCY MEETING YOU HERE!~ You stare at the paper. Specter? Is that the stone's name? You look back at the figurine. It doesn't reply or anything like that, it just sits there, dark and silent. Weird. {link to: 'CH3 vessel', label: 'Back'}

You touch the vibrating prongs to the smooth black stone... well, attempt to. The figurine starts to sing an inch before they reach. A deep, throbbing note that you feel in your teeth, in your bones, in the pit of your stomach. *WOOOOOM...* It's the same note as the Goddess's morning hum, but deeper. Clearer. The fork shakes so hard in your hand you almost drop it. You pull it away, your fingers tingling, somehow hungrier than before. It's... definitely hollow. Or filled with something that isn't stone. {link to: 'CH3 vessel', label: 'Back'}

CurtainBurnt: true -- That curtain. It's so stiff. So greasy. It always scratches your shoulder when you go in. You flick the wheel. *Zzzt-CHUNK!* The spark catches the old grease instantly. *FOOM!* A sheet of orange fire races up the hide. You yelp and scramble back, batting at the smoke. It burns hot and fast, curling the leather into black crisps that drift to the floor like snow. In seconds, it's over. You cough, waving the smoke away. {link to: 'Warrens Wardrobe', label: 'Back'}

[if CurtainBurnt] You look at the entrance to your alcove. It's... open. The hide curtain is gone, replaced by a jagged line of black ash on the floor and a few singed scraps of leather clinging to the ceiling hooks. The smell of burnt hair is still strong. Your things inside - the spare loincloth, the lizard-hide, the wrap and bracers - are a bit dusty now, but at least it's easy to reach them? Ahah... why would you have done this, Leika?! [continue] [unless CurtainBurnt] You pull back the stiff hide curtain. It's not much, just a scoop in the rock, but it's yours. Your spare loincloth hangs from its peg, the lizard-hide patched in two places with gut-string where it split last season. Functional. Next to it is the brown fungus-wrap. It's a dull, dirt-color, and smells like... well, like dirt. And your spare bracers, tucked on the shelf. One has a singed spot right in the middle. *Gahh!* Your cheek still flushes when you remember it. All for a taste of that sweet, fatty slime from the falls. You were leaning out, your fingers *so close* to scooping up a perfect, jiggly glob... You didn't even get a taste! Just a well-cooked hip and this stupid spot troubles. [continue] {link to: 'Sleeping Warrens (post intro)', label: 'Back'} [if TrenchLighterTaken; unless CurtainBurnt; inventory for TrenchLighter] [[What if...?->Wardrobe Lighter Cutscene]] [continue]

GoblinDressed (LoinclothOn && WrapOn && BracersOn): true -- You pull back the stiff, greasy hide curtain that covers your personal alcove. It's not much of a wardrobe, just a shallow space carved into the stone, but it's yours. Inside, your few belongings are arranged with care. [unless LoinclothOn; append] Your [[loincloth->Goblin Loincloth]] of tough lizard-hide hangs from a bone peg. [if LoinclothOn; append] The familiar lizard-hide is now cinched tight around your plump hips. [unless WrapOn; append] Folded on a small stone shelf is your dull red [[fungus-cloth wrap->Goblin Wrap]]. [if WrapOn] The red wrap covers your torso, its rough texture a familiar weight on your shoulders. [unless BracersOn; append] Beside it lie your bone [[bracers->Goblin Bracers]]. [if BracersOn; append] The bone bracers protect your forearms, ready for the day's gathering. [continue] {link to: 'Goblin Warrens Sleeping Chamber', label: 'Back'}

PackCleaned: true QuillAndPaperFound: true -- You kneel by the streamlet, the foul pack in your hands. Taking a deep breath, you plunge it into the water. The black, sticky goo is stubborn. It clings to the canvas and to your fingers, but the clean, cold water is stronger. You scrub and scrub, the water biting at your skin, until the blackness finally begins to melt away, clouding the streamlet for a moment before being washed away into the dark. The pack is clean now, but empty. The contents lie in the shallow water at your feet. The pulpy leaves are just... thin, flat slices of some kind of white fungus, smooth as a river stone. The feather is just a feather. And among them is a pointy black stick, sharpened at one end. You pick them up, turning them over in your clean hands. And then, [[they float.->Wash Foul Pack Cutscene 2]]

The white slices and the pointy stick rise from your palms, hovering in the air before you. You let out a small gasp, scrambling back a step. The pointy stick turns, its sharp end touching the surface of the nearest white slice. A tiny black line appears on the white surface, zipping and looping and zig-zagging in a frantic, silent scribble. Your jaw drops. A magical item?? Another holy tool from the Goddess, hidden away for you to find! You watch, mesmerized, as the [[frantic scribbling continues->Wash Foul Pakc Cutscene 3]].

Then, it stops. New marks appear. Slow. Deliberate... and these ones you recognize. ~WHAT? WHAT IS IT, TRIBAL? NEVER SEEN A GHOST BEFORE?~ You stay still, unsure of how to reply. The stick and slice look left and right, then gently float down, settling into your waiting, trembling hands. With the utmost care, you place the holy items in your satchel and leave the now-empty pack. {link to: 'Rusted Grotto', label: 'Back'}

[if WaterSkinCut] The ruined water skin hangs from its hook, a sad, shredded ribbon of lizard-gut. A dark puddle on the floor beneath it has mostly dried into a sticky stain. Well. No one is making *you* refill that. Or drink from it. Or look at it, really. [continue] [unless WaterSkinCut; if waterdrunk] The lopsided water skin hangs limply from its hook, completely deflated. You give it a poke, but there's no sloshing sound, just the dull thud of your finger against empty gut-skin. You can still smell the faint, sweet scent of red-berry juice if you get close. Well. Grama will *have* to go on the next water run now - you certainly aren't. Serves him right! [continue] [unless WaterSkinCut; unless waterdrunk] The lopsided water skin, made from the stitched gut of a lizard, hangs from a bone hook driven into the stone. The gut-skin sags, looking mostly empty, but you can hear a little bit of water sloshing around inside when you poke it. Your throat is a bit dry from walking the tunnels. A sip would be nice... but it was Grama's turn to fill it this morning. If you drink the last of it, you just know he'll complain that *you* were the one who finished it, and then try to make you go on the next water run. [[Take a sip anyway.->Water Skin Drink]] [continue] {link to: 'Sleeping Warrens (post intro)', label: 'Back'} [if WireSawTaken; unless WaterSkinCut; inventory for WireSaw] [[What if...?->Water Skin Saw Cutscene]] [continue] [if TuningForkTaken; unless WaterSkinCut; inventory for TuningFork] [[What if...?->Water Skin Tuning Fork Cutscene]] [continue]

The lopsided water skin, made from the stitched gut of a lizard, hangs from a bone hook driven into the stone. The gut-skin sags, looking mostly empty. Your throat is dry from sleep, and the thought of a sip of the cold, clean water is tempting.... but no. There is no time. Besides, it was Grama's turn to fill it this morning, and if you drink it he'll say something like "Well, I'm not the one who finished it, shortie!". You hate him so much. Certainly the worst of your brothers, and that's saying something. {link to: 'Goblin Warrens Sleeping Chamber', label: 'Back'}

waterdrunk: true -- You huff, deciding your thirst is more important than Grama's whining. You pull the wooden plug from the skin and take a quick swig. The water isn't stale. It's... sweet. Faintly, but unmistakably. Someone must have mixed a little bit of red-berry juice into the skin this morning. Daka, probably, trying to make up for not waking you. Or maybe she was just hiding it from Grak. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, feeling much better. You leave just a few drops at the bottom for the next thirsty goblin. That'll teach him! {link to: 'Sleeping Warrens (post intro)', label: 'Back'}

WaterSkinCut: true -- You eye the sagging skin. Grama's turn, was it? And he left it almost empty? You pull out the toothy wire. With a wicked grin, you draw it across the bottom of the skin. *Zzzzip!* It slices through the cured gut like wet paper. The bottom drops out, and the remaining water splashes onto your feet with a wet *splosh*. Oops. Looks like the skin "broke." What a tragedy! Guess someone will have to stitch a new one. Not you, though. You're on holy duties. {link to: 'Water Skin', label: 'Back'}

You give the fork a good *thwack* and press it against the taut lizard-skin. [if waterdrunk] *Thud...* The vibration dies instantly against the empty leather. A dull, flat sound. Boring. [continue] [unless waterdrunk] *Blurble-urble-urble...* The water inside vibrates, making a funny, wet gargling sound. It tickles your hand. Heh. It sounds like the skin has a stomach ache. [continue] {link to: 'Water Skin', label: 'Back'}

This passage feels older, more primal. The walls are unworked stone, and yet are smooth. A steady, cool draft whispers from ahead, carrying the coppery scent of old blood and something musky, like damp fur. The floor is uneven, littered with small bone fragments that crunch under your feet. From a low, jagged opening to your left, the draft is stronger. You can hear the distant echo of a hunter's cry. This is the way to the [if CH3Demo; append] [[🦴Hunting Grounds->Hunting Grounds Demo Block]]. [unless CH3Demo; if HuntingGroundsFirstTime; append] [[🦴Hunting Grounds->Hunting Grounds Entrance Chamber]]. [unless CH3Demo; unless HuntingGroundsFirstTime; append] [[🦴Hunting Grounds->Hunting Grounds Cutscene 1]]. [continue] {embed passage: 'Leika Weight Tunnel Check'} *** To the north, the tunnel leads back to the [[🍄sickly yellow glow->Northwest Tunnel]]. To the east is the way to the [[🛖central caves->Central Tunnel]], and the path south continues into [[☀️deeper darkness->Southwest Tunnel]].

[if passage.visits == 1] You pull out the fire-box, stepping close to the dense wall of pale yellow weeds. You hold the little flame right up to the swollen seeds at the top of a stalk. Instead of catching fire, the heat makes the seeds shiver. *POP-POP-POP!* The hard little kernels violently explode outward, turning into fluffy, white things! You jump back with a squeak of surprise, watching the white puffs rain down. You catch one on your tongue... and it doesn't taste like much. Just warm air and a bit of salt from your own sweat. [continue] [if passage.visits > 1] You flick the fire-box on again and hold it under another cluster of seeds. *POP-POP-POP!* More fluff explodes into the air and rain down around you. You giggle, stomping on them. Very entertaining! [continue] {link to: 'pale wheat', label: 'Back'}

WhiteVesselForkTapped: WhiteVesselForkTapped + 1 -- [if WhiteVesselForkTapped == 1] You strike the silver stick against your palm and gently press it to the rim of the pristine pot. The vessel catches the vibration instantly. It amplifies the hum into a high note that vibrates the air in the quiet room. The sound travels straight into your chest, bringing with it a sudden, intense rush of warmth that makes your toes curl in your boots. You blink, lowering the fork. That felt... nice. [continue] [if WhiteVesselForkTapped == 2] You strike the fork again, pressing it harder against the white stone. The note rings out louder, deeper. The vibration doesn't stop in your chest this time; it drops right into your belly, pooling low in your gut with a heavy, throbbing heat. Your breath catches in your throat, and you find your thighs pressing firmly together. A deep flush spreads across your cheeks. [continue] [if WhiteVesselForkTapped >= 3] You strike the fork again, the metal singing as you touch it to the rim. The resonant hum wraps around you entirely. A hot, syrupy wave of pleasure shoots straight down to your groin, making your knees wobble. A soft, breathy sigh escapes your lips. Without thinking, your free hand drops to the knot of your loincloth, your fingers rubbing absentmindedly against yourself through the rough fabric. You stand there for a long moment, lost in the heavy, throbbing note, until the vibration finally fades away. [continue] {link to: 'white vessel', label: 'Back'}

WhiteVesselBroken: true -- You grip the heavy iron wrench. This vessel is just... too perfect. It sits there, sparkling, untouched by the ruin aound it. It's annoying! You raise the tool and bring it down squarely on the rounded top. *CRASH!* The vessel explodes into hundreds of glittering shards that rain down across the plinth and floor. The pristine shape is gone instantly, reduced to jagged gravel. You lower the iron jaw, a satisfied smirk crossing your face. {link to: 'white vessel', label: 'Back'}

You crouch by your little corner, the floor still covered in a fine white dust of scraped bone. Your flint knife is where you left it. You ignore it and pick up the carving. [if ShavingsBurnt] There's just a black smudge now. The soft white dust is still there, but it's now met by a smear of soot and the charred remains of your carving. It smells like a burnt cook-fire. [continue] [if CarvingSawed] The floor is clean, but the carving... well. It's in two pieces. A clean, diagonal cut runs right through the Goddess's belly. The top half has rolled away to the wall. It looks less like a statue now and more like... firewood. [continue] [unless ShavingsBurnt; unless CarvingSawed] ...it's worse. It's somehow even worse than you remember. You tried to make Her belly rounder, more holy... but you just scraped away all the detail. Now it's not even a fat grub. It's just a smooth, lumpy ball with a tiny head. It looks like a sick mushroom. A hot feeling rushes to your cheeks. Useless! How are you supposed to capture Her glory when your fingers are this clumsy? This is an insult! You almost throw it against the wall, but stop. No. Breaking it would be worse. You set it back down, very gently. [continue] {link to: 'Sleeping Warrens (post intro)', label: 'Back'} [unless ShavingsBurnt; unless CarvingSawed; if TrenchLighterTaken; inventory for TrenchLighter] [[What if...?->Whittling Lighter Cutscene]] [continue] [unless ShavingsBurnt; unless CarvingSawed; if WireSawTaken; inventory for WireSaw] [[What if...?->Whittling Saw Cutscene]] [continue] [unless ShavingsBurnt; unless CarvingSawed; if MetalGearTaken; inventory for MetalGear] [[What if...?->Whittling Gear Cutscene]] [continue] [unless ShavingsBurnt; unless CarvingSawed; if QuillAndPaperFound; inventory for QuillAndPaper] [[The stick twitches...->Whittling Quill Cutscene]] [continue] [unless ShavingsBurnt; unless CarvingSawed; if CH3PlasterTaken; inventory for CH3Plaster] [[What if...?->Whittling Plaster Cutscene]] [continue]

In the far corner, the floor is covered in fine, white dust and shavings of bone. It smells dry and chalky here. Your best carving knife rests on a flat stone, its flint edge newly chipped from a mistake last night. Beside it lies your latest attempt: a carving of the Goddess, barely half-finished. You tried to capture Her divine roundness, Her magnificent size, but the belly is all lopsided and the head is far too small. It looks more like a fat grub than a goddess... [if passage.visits == 1] ...and yet ...as you stare at the lumpy shape, the moss-light seems to catch the fungus-wood in a strange, pulsing way. [[You find yourself leaning closer, mesmerized...->CH3 Intro Skip Consider]] [continue] [if passage.visits > 1] You huff, kicking a shaving away in frustration. No time for this now. The real thing waits. [continue] {link to: 'Goblin Warrens Sleeping Chamber', label: 'Back'}

You hold the metal disc up to the wood. Maybe... maybe if you traced it? It is a really pretty shape. You try to hold it steady against the lumpy head, but the teeth of the gear dig in, scratching the wood. And your flint knife is too thick to fit in the little square hole. You huff. It's too hard! Why is making things so difficult? You toss the gear back in your bag. Stupid perfect metal thing. {link to: 'Whittling Corner', label: 'Back'}

ShavingsBurnt: true -- You stare at the pile of white shavings. They're so dry. Like tinder. And that lumpy, insulting statue... *Click-fwoosh.* The shavings catch instantly. A small, polite fire dances in the corner, consuming the bone dust and licking at the wood of the carving. You watch it burn. The little lumpy Goddess turns black, then grey, then crumbles into ash. There. *Gone!* Can't be a bad artist if there's no art left. {link to: 'Whittling Corner', label: 'Back'}

You toss the shifting stone onto the whittling bench next to your lumpy, sad carving. The plaster rolls over to your wooden statue, seemingly inspecting it. Then, in a flurry of movement, the white blob stretches and molds itself. In mere seconds, it forms a breathtaking, flawless miniature of the Goddess. The curve of Her holy belly is perfectly proportioned, Her tiny hands resting gently upon it, Her hair cascading in delicate white strands down Her back. It even managed to shape Her seeing-glasses... Mm. ...show off! Without a second thought, you bring your fist down and squash the smugly perfect white statue flat against the stone. The plaster gives a confused little jiggle before bobbing back to your satchel. {link to: 'Whittling Corner', label: 'Hmph.'}

The stick hovers over your lumpy carving. It spins once, as if shaking its head. It darts to the paper. and in seconds, a drawing appears... your mouth drops. It's Her. Perfect. The curve of the belly, the flow of the hair, her looking-glasses and freckles, the majestic weight of Her hips... it's all there, captured in a few simple black lines. It makes your carving look like a piece of droppings. You blush furiously, snatching your carving and hiding it behind your back. *Show-off!* {link to: 'Whittling Corner', label: 'Back'}

CarvingSawed: true -- You hold the lumpy statue. It mocks you with its... lumpy-ness. You thread the wire saw around its middle. *"You call that a belly?"* you mutter. *"I'll show you a belly."* *Zip!* The wire slices through the soft fungus-wood like it isn't even there. The top half of the statue slides off and hits the floor with a *clack*. Now it's just two lumps. You feel... weirdly satisfied. {link to: 'Whittling Corner', label: 'Back'}

{embed passage: 'Item Back Logic'} You pull the strange, toothy string from your satchel. The two wooden handles feel smooth and worn in your palms. You pull them apart, and the dark, shiny line between them goes taut, humming faintly. It doesn't stretch at all, not like gut-string. You run a thumb *very carefully* along its edge. The tiny teeth catch on your skin, sharp as a jaw. This would be good for cutting things. Tough mushroom stalks, maybe? Or... Grak's favorite spear? Heh. {link to: itemBackTarget, label: 'Back'}

WireSawTaken: true -- You reach into the scratchy straw, your fingers closing around the thin, dark thing. You pull it free with a soft *ziiiing*. It's a long loop of shiny, dark string, with a small wooden handle at each end. But it's not string. It's too thin, and when you pull the handles apart... well, it doesn't stretch. It's strong! *Really* strong. You run a curious finger along its edge... *Ow!* The string is covered in tiny, sharp teeth. What a strange rope. You grin - this could be useful. Much better than the flimsy gut-string Grama is always braiding. You carefully coil the shiny, toothy string and tuck it away in your satchel. Another treasure! {link to: 'Rusted Grotto', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] No satchel. No treasures. Just the rough fungus-cloth of your wrap and whatever you can hide in its folds. You run your hands over yourself, feeling for anything useful. [[➼->Leika's Belly (Prison)]] Your Belly. [if HasPrisonBone] [[➼->Prison Bone]] A sharp bone.{inventory PrisonBone} [continue] [if HasFireStone; unless FireStoneTraced] [[➼->Fire Stone]] A glowing stone.{inventory FireStone} [continue] [if HasFireStone; if FireStoneTraced] [[➼->Fire Stone]] A Fire Stone.{inventory FireStone} [continue] [if passage.name == 'Wraps'] {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'} {ascii backdrop: 'satchel'} [continue]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("isCutscene",comesFromCutscene()); [continue] {embed passage: 'Deep Wraps Menu Logic'}

AmuletSmashed: true -- You dig your hand deep into the rough root-fiber of your satchel, fingers searching for that comforting, heavy grip. Empty space meets your touch. **Well.** That is incredibly unfair! **I** really liked that club. You **tried** so hard to keep a hold on it! It had **my**... wait, *your* favorite kind of heft to it. A truly excellent weapon, doing its **best.** work on skulls. You groan, rubbing your temples as the familiar, buzzing pressure returns to your head. **Get** a grip, Leika. You just need to figure **it** out, smash him all **over** again, and be done **with** this ghost **already**. [[You look back up at the tangled remains.->amulet smash cutscene 2]]

If the ghost took your club, you will just have to borrow one of his own. You step up to the wall, grab the skeleton's thick leg bone, and pull hard. *SNAP*: a perfectly good replacement comes free in your hands. A **Neat** weapon! A very clever **trick,** pulling it right off his trapped frame. You weigh the half-rotted bone in your palm, wondering where to strike. His skull **wasn't** very sturdy last time. Should you aim for **it?** Or maybe that glowing green stone on his chest? It looks exactly like one of those **Wonderous** - well, dangerous is a better word for it - stuff the ancients made... **artifacts.** one should leave be on the ground [[if found.->amulet smash cutscene 3]]

You raise the heavy leg bone, aiming for the skull. **Do** you really want to hit that again? It feels like it would give **me** - ugh, give *him* too much satisfaction. What **a** boring chore! Smashing the glowing green rock instead would be a huge **favour.** to your aching eyes. **Tell** him to shut up! As her chosen, it's **your** duty to protect the **goddess,** and destroying his shiny toy seems like the perfect way to do exactly that. You take a wide stance in the pale dust, winding up your [[borrowed weapon.->amulet smash cutscene 4]]

ExpeditionRemainsAligned: true -- You swing **that** heavy femur with all your might. **I'll** definitely leave a mark, you grin! The bone and the green stone **meet** with a deafening shatter. Bright green shards explode outward, bouncing harmlessly off **her**... off your tough wrap. The horrible, discordant humming instantly dies, replaced by a profound, heavy silence deep **in** the cavern. A word echoes faintly in the dust as the terrible presence finally fades for good - **hell.** - whatever that means. The skull man's bones instantly crumble into a pile of fine, white ash, slipping through the dead roots to mix with the sand on the floor. [[You let out a long, victorious breath.->thicket]]

You approach the far wall where the three vessels rest. The white vessel on the left is a now perfect: an unbroken curve of sugar-stone, its surface so bright it hurts to look at. In the center, the black vessel stands whole and magnificent, without a single crack or seam to mar its polished star-stone surface. It vibrates with a deep, bone-shaking hum that you can feel in your teeth, a low song of absolute fullness. As for the lumpy one, it's now looking... ah, no. It's gone! Instead, sitting on the third plinth is now a small statuette, also carved from blackened stone. It depicts a very pregnant woman... ah, well, probably just a fat one, now that you get closer to it. It seems to be vibrating and shining more than its kin to the side. {link to: 'Second Chamber (Past)', label: 'Back'}

An older woman stands near Big-Maw's shoulder, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her wrap is dyed a deep, expensive black, and a necklace of polished knuckle-bones clicks softly when she moves. Her eyes are shut, but her ears clearly perked up - it is she who does most of the talking, her voice a low, insistent rasp that cuts through the queen's whining. The other, a man with a greying top-knot, paces at the foot of the dais. He doesn't hold a platter himself; instead, he barks low, sharp orders, gesturing sharply at a line of smaller, terrified-looking kin who scurry forward with more platters of steaming meat and glistening fungi. His gaze is constantly scanning, assessing, managing the relentless flow of tribute to the throne. {link to: 'Maw Chamber Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if HasFireStone; inventory for FireStone] [[What if...?->Attendants Pre Fire Cutscene]] [continue]

Long, tattered banners hang from the high ceiling, swaying gently in the hot, smoky air. You can tell that these ones aren't woven from fungus-cloth, but stitched together from the cured hides of... well, what must've been some massive monsters! Their scales and scars still visible. The symbols painted on them are... ugh, so crude. Not creative, really: a huge, open mouth filled with sharp teeth; a crown; a big goblin standing on a pile of smaller ones. They're all painted in the same thick, black-ish red pigment. {link to: 'Maw Chamber Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if HasFireStone; inventory for FireStone] [[What if...?->Banners Pre Fire Cutscene]] [continue]

A few ruined sleeping rolls lie scattered near the collapsed hut. The woven material is stiff with old dampness and riddled with holes chewed by deep-cave moths. You nudge the edge of one. It is incredibly thin, and placed entirely separate from the others. You shake your head, baffled by the sight. Whoever camped here must have preferred to freeze alone rather than share a proper, warm pile with their kin? Ah, well, these beddings are huge though. Maybe they were a matron of some kind, and needed the space? Or maybe they were shared by more than one. Mm... {link to: 'remains tunnel', label: 'Back'}

[if ThicketFruitGrowth == 1] The brittle, dead wood has split open. Pushing through the grey bark is a single, curled shoot. It's soft and wet to the touch, leaving a smear of clear, sugary moisture on your fingertip. You lean in and take a sniff - it smells like the deep, sweet earth right after a cave-quake. Lovely. {link to: 'thicket', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if ThicketFruitGrowth == 2] The shoot has erupted into a thick, slowly pulsing knot. It's the size of your fist now, its skin a dark, bruised shade. You give it a gentle squeeze; the flesh beneath is surprisingly firm, pushing back against your fingers like a flexed muscle. {link to: 'thicket', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if ThicketFruitGrowth == 3] The vine groans, pulled taut by the sheer weight of the swelling orb. It's now as big as your head! The taut skin is stretched, slick with a fine mist of fragrant condensation. You cup the underside with both hands to support its heavy, sloshing bulk and find it feels hot. There's also some sort of... aroma, coming off of it? Hard to describe. {link to: 'thicket', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if ThicketFruitGrowth >= 4] The vine couldn't hold it: the fruit now sits right in the dust, coming up well past your knees. The taut, bruised skin looks ready to burst. You step closer, meaning to just inspect it, but the smell hits you. Hot sugar... rich, dark earth... it fills your nose, your throat... your stomach gives a painful, hollow lurch. You, um... yeah, you should carry it back. Yes. But it looks so heavy. The flesh bulges out at the bottom, spreading against the stone. A single, thick drop of golden sap gathers on a seam, trembling, before sliding down and you watch it fall, you follow the sticky trail, you... oh, [[wow...->Leika Gorging Fruit 1]] [continue]

You find another of the pale Ancients, this one carved into a smaller, separate pillar. She is kneeling, her stone arms held out as if offering a wide, empty platter to a guest who never arrived. Even in stone, the carver captured a sense of softness. The gentle slope of her shoulders, the way her belly rests upon her thighs, the way her fabrics bunch up on top of its plint and onto her back rolls. Unfortunately for the servant-lady, right arm, shoulder, and right tit are missing, scooped clean out of torso. The polished white stone has been ground down to a rough, gritty surface inside the curve of... well, that's clearly a bite. You can even see the way the monster's teeth have just ran through the stone. {link to: 'Lair East', label: 'Back'} [if CH3PlasterTaken; inventory for CH3Plaster] [[The stone bobs upwards...->Bitten Statue Plaster Cutscene]] [continue]

[if BlackVesselBroken] The broken halves of the black vessel have been completely pulverized. A pile of jagged star-stone gravel rests on the middle plinth. [continue] [unless BlackVesselBroken] The middle vessel is made from the same stone as Her throne, a heavy black that seems to absorb the grey light from the air. Even in its current state, you can easily make out the shape: the wide hips, and the round, holy belly of an Ancient. [unless BlackVesselRepaired] It's seen better days: a massive crack runs right down its front, a jagged, ugly wound that splits the pot nearly in two. You reach out a hesitant hand, your fingers tracing the smooth, cold curve of the stone - you flinch when they meet the sharp, gritty edge of the break. [continue] [if BlackVesselRepaired] A clean, white seam now runs right down its front, a hard and smooth line of stone that has sealed the jagged wound. You run a finger over the repair: it feels warm, pulsing with a faint heat that makes your palm tingle. [continue] [continue] {link to: 'Second Chamber', label: 'Back'} [unless BlackVesselBroken; unless BlackVesselRepaired; if CH3PlasterTaken; inventory for CH3Plaster] [[What if...?->Black Vessel Repair Cutscene]] [continue] [if TuningForkTaken; inventory for TuningFork] [[What if...?->Black Vessel Fork Cutscene]] [continue] [unless BlackVesselBroken; if MetalJawTaken; inventory for MetalJaw] [[What if...?->Black Vessel Jaw Cutscene]] [continue]

[unless PapersSmeared] The papers are huge, wide enough to wrap around you twice. The colors are entirely backwards: the page itself is a deep, dark blue, while the sprawling mess of lines and numbers drawn all over it is bright white. You trace the lines with a finger. They form intricate, dizzying patterns of circles, tubes... sharp angles... It makes your eyes cross just looking at it. It also makes absolutely no sense. Who drew this? What language may this be? [continue] [if PapersSmeared] The huge blue papers are still nailed to the crate, but the intricate white lines drawn across them are completely ruined. The white chalky ink has been hopelessly smeared into a blurry, cloudy mess. The dizzying patterns of circles and tubes are now just a meaningless, fuzzy fog... not that it made much sense in the first place. Good! Much easier on the eyes. [continue] {link to: 'palace depths router', label: 'Back'} [unless PapersSmeared; if CH3PlasterTaken; inventory for CH3Plaster] [[What if...?->Papers Plaster Cutscene]] [continue] [unless PapersSmeared; if QuillAndPaperFound; inventory for QuillAndPaper] [[The stick twitches...->Blueprints Quill Cutscene]] [continue]

[if BoilerOverheating] The metal beast doesn't seem to be having a great time. But you can't help but be mesmerized by how it's belly now glows a pretty cherry-red. You do have to be a little distant from it, though- the heat radiating from it is so intense it's scorching the air in your lungs. And the wheels! Despite the dented one, they are all spinning very fast. You try to follow one with your eyes, but it just ends up making you dizzy. [continue] [unless BoilerActivated; unless BoilerOverheating; unless BoilerLit; unless GearInstalled; unless DentedGearInstalled; unless PipeSmashed] The massive contraption looms over you like a dead, leafless growth made of cold iron and dull yellow metal. Its thick underside is gently buried into the packed dirt, while a number of dark branches reach up toward the cavern ceiling. You press a hand against its side. Despite the suffocating heat of the cave, the beast's skin is comfortably cold. A number of iron wheels are attached to its flank, like a cart of some sort; you throw your entire weight against one of them, grunting with effort, but the object refuses to budge even a fraction of an inch. *Peering into a shadow near its base, you spot a gaping hole in its metal belly: a thick square peg sticks out, surrounded by a ring of iron teeth.* [continue] [unless BoilerActivated; unless BoilerOverheating; unless BoilerLit; if GearInstalled; unless PipeSmashed] The massive contraption looms over you like a dead, leafless growth made of cold iron and dull yellow metal. Its thick underside is gently buried into the packed dirt, while a number of dark branches reach up toward the cavern ceiling. The disc you found fits perfectly over the square peg, its teeth locked tight with the surrounding rings - but again, it doesn't seem to have done much for you. You try to turn the big iron wheels on its flank again, looking to see if you can... well, move it better now? Or something like that? No luck. You're not sure why'd you even want to move it about, come to think of it. [continue] [unless BoilerActivated; unless BoilerOverheating; unless BoilerLit; unless GearInstalled; unless DentedGearInstalled; if PipeSmashed] The massive contraption looms over you. A steaming puddle of hot water from the ruined pipe now surrounds its base, turning the dirt into hot mud. You press a hand against its side - the metal skin is no longer cold! It's radiating a faint, pleasant warmth, as if the iron roots are sucking the warm water right out of the steaming puddle. Still, it's not doing much of anything other than that. You throw your entire weight against the iron wheels on its flank, but they refuse to budge. [continue] [unless BoilerActivated; unless BoilerOverheating; unless BoilerLit; if GearInstalled; if PipeSmashed] The iron beast feels different now. The steaming water pooling around its base has warmed its metal skin, and the heavy disc you shoved into its belly sits locked in place. You reach out and give one of the large iron wheels on its flank a push. It groans, a harsh scrape of metal on metal, and actually turns a full hand-span! Before sticking again, of course. *Bah!* [continue] [unless BoilerActivated; unless BoilerOverheating; unless BoilerLit; if DentedGearInstalled; unless PipeSmashed] The massive contraption looms over you. Its thick underside is gently buried into the dirt, but a heavy iron hatch at its base now hangs wide open, exposing a dark, grated pipe. The dented metal disc you forced into its belly is wedged in crookedly, completely jammed against the iron teeth. You throw your entire weight against the iron wheels on its flank, but the broken mechanism refuses to yield. [continue] [unless BoilerActivated; unless BoilerOverheating; unless BoilerLit; if DentedGearInstalled; if PipeSmashed] The massive contraption looms over you. Its thick underside is gently buried into the dirt, but a heavy iron hatch at its base now hangs wide open, exposing a dark, echoing drain. The dented metal disc you forced into its belly is wedged in crookedly, completely jammed against the iron teeth. A muddy trench cuts across the clearing, but the hot water from the spring doesn't pool around the roots; instead, it flows directly down into the open hatch, disappearing into the dark. The beast's metal skin remains comfortably cold. [continue] [unless BoilerActivated; unless BoilerOverheating; if BoilerLit] The iron beast is now just a very large, very hot, and very stupid fireplace. A fierce orange blaze roars in its metal belly, greedily eating the dry black rocks inside. The puddle of water around its roots hisses constantly against the scorching metal. The disc you shoved into its side is locked tight. You glare at it, a hot flush of annoyance creeping up your neck. What's the point of it?! Who needs a stove here of all places? It just sits, making a cave that's already boiling even hotter. *Grrrr...* [continue] [if BoilerActivated] The contraption is undeniably alive. It breathes in harsh, whistling gasps, radiating a wave of heat that forces you to take a step back. The metal disc you shoved into its belly spins so fast it blurs, driving the great wheels on its flanks in a frantic, screeching circle. Well... it's doing something now! You're not sure you get what exactly it is doing. Or why. You just know that you're not getting anywhere close to that heavy metal leg. It rises and falls with a bone-shaking rhythm, driving a massive flat weight into the dirt. *WHAM.* *WHAM.* The soil beneath it has already been packed into a smooth, rock-hard indent. [if BoilerActivated; unless ElvesMet] Near it, you can see that [[the thin man->Lord Alaric Contraption]] has not left. [if BoilerActivated; if ElvesMet] Near it, you can see that [[Lord Alaric->Lord Alaric Contraption]] has not left. [continue] {link to: 'Sunless Fields Hub', label: 'Back'} [unless GearInstalled; unless DentedGearInstalled; if GearTaken; unless GearDented; inventory for MetalGear] [[What if...?->Boiler Gear Cutscene 1]] [continue] [unless GearInstalled; unless DentedGearInstalled; if GearTaken; if GearDented; inventory for MetalGear] [[What if...?->Boiler Gear Cutscene Misalignment 1]] [continue] [unless BoilerLit; unless BoilerOverheating; if GearInstalled; if PipeSmashed; if TrenchLighterTaken; inventory for TrenchLighter] [[What if...?->Boiler Lighter Cutscene 1]] [continue] [unless BoilerLit; unless BoilerOverheating; if DentedGearInstalled; if TrenchLighterTaken; inventory for TrenchLighter] [[What if...?->Boiler Lighter Cutscene Misalignment 1]] [continue] [unless BoilerActivated; unless BoilerOverheating; if BoilerLit; if MetalJawTaken; inventory for MetalJaw] [[What if...?->Boiler Jaw Cutscene 1]] [continue] [if TuningForkTaken; inventory for TuningFork] [[What if...?->Boiler Fork Cutscene]] [continue] [if QuillAndPaperFound; inventory for QuillAndPaper] [[The stick twitches...->Boiler Quill Cutscene]] [continue] [unless GearInstalled; unless DentedGearInstalled; if CH3PlasterTaken; inventory for CH3Plaster] [[What if...?->Boiler Plaster Cutscene]] [continue]

You walk up to the wobbly wall of colorful blocks. They are stacked so poorly they threaten to tip over at any moment. You cautiously pull one out. It immediately flaps open in your hands, revealing hundreds of thin, dry slices covered in those tiny, boring black scratches. A cloud of old dust puffs out, making you... no... wait... ok. Making you *almost* sneeze. You quickly shove the heavy block back into the pile before the whole shaky wall - and possibly ceiling, come to think of it - come crashing down on your head. Such an odd building material. {link to: 'palace library', label: 'Back'} [if QuillAndPaperFound; inventory for QuillAndPaper] [[The stick twitches...->Slices Quill Cutscene]] [continue]

PastChamberGorgeCounter: PastChamberGorgeCounter + 1 FicusesEaten: true -- The bowl has tipped over, spilling a heap of dark, wrinkled fruit onto the plush rug. They are drenched in a clear, golden honey that sticks to your hand as you pick one up. When you bite into it, the skin pops to reveal a mass of tiny, crunchy seeds and thick, purple flesh. *So sweet!* Your face soon becoming a sticky mess of honey and fruit-skin as you shove two, then three at a time into your mouth. The chewing is a slow, wet process, the sweetness so intense it makes your jaw ache. You feel your belly expanding, the hard-packed fruit and thick syrup weighing you down, pushing hard against the cord of your loincloth. A long, honeyed belch escapes you, making you dizzy for a second, but you don't stop until you have licked the last golden drips from the very floor. [if PastChamberGorgeCounter < 3] {link to: 'Second Chamber (Past)', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if PastChamberGorgeCounter == 3] [[The room begins to spin...->Return to Present Past Chamber]] [continue]

You inspect the strange contraption lying in the sand. It has three spindly wooden legs, though two of them are snapped clean in half. Attached to the top is a complicated mess of metal tubes and glass circles. Whatever it was, a falling rock has crushed the brass flat and shattered all the glass into a fine, glittering powder. The depths do not care for delicate stuff. {link to: 'thicket', label: 'Back'}

You kneel by a mess of splintered wood and fabric that has been pressed flat into the stone floor, as if a stampede ran over it. You pick at a stiff scrap of cloth half-buried in the rock. It's bright red, dyed with beetle-juice, and a shattered, iridescent shell is still woven into the hem. Heh. That does remind you of Daka's handiwork. {link to: 'Glutton Tunnel 2', label: 'Back'}

[unless CanisterCrushed] The crunching under your feet stops as you kneel, picking up one of the larger shards. It's made of some kind of baked red mud, thick and heavy, with an edge still sharp enough to cut. And there, on the curved belly of the piece, is Her mark. The V-shape, nestled in a rounded curve, just like on the throne itself. A giddy thrill shoots through you: were they feeding Her even then? She's a sky-walker, so why not also an ancient? Mm, no, that doesn't make any sense... she came from above, didn't she? Not from these hunting grounds. [continue] [if CanisterCrushed] You kneel by the scattered shards of baked red mud. A bright, rusty-red streak marks the white tiles where you ground one of the pieces down into fine powder. You instinctively rub your cheek, making sure none of that itchy, awful crust is still stuck to your skin. You can still spot Her holy mark—the V-shape nestled in a curve—on a few of the intact shards lying nearby. [continue] ...maybe the mark is not hers? *No!* No... that can't possibly be either. *Gah!* All of this thinking is making your head hurt. {link to: 'Lair SouthEast', label: 'Back'} [if QuillAndPaperFound; inventory for QuillAndPaper] [[The stick twitches...->Canisters Quill Cutscene]] [continue] [unless CanisterCrushed; if MetalJawTaken; inventory for MetalJaw] [[What if...?->Canisters Jaw Cutscene]] [continue]

The stone is old, its surface worn smooth by seasons of damp and drip. The thick moss of the plains has grown right into the cracks of its carvings, half-swallowing it back into the earth. You run a finger over the deep-cut lines. Straight lines crossing over spirals, and a shape that looks a bit like a kin's hand, but with one too many fingers. You've seen stones like this all over the deep paths. It... doesn't feel important? It's just another old thing laying about in the caverns. {link to: 'Fungal Plains Hub', label: 'Back'} [if QuillAndPaperFound; inventory for QuillAndPaper] [[The stick begins to twitch...->Carved Stone Quill Cutscene]] [continue]

You follow the gouges on the wall upward with your eyes. High above the basin, a row of carved spouts juts from the stone. Each one is a wide, open mouth, its stone lips pulled back in a silent gasp of hunger. Dark, greasy-looking streaks run down the wall from each mouth, stains left by whatever used to pour from them. You imagine it. A river of beer, maybe, thundering down to fill the pot below. Or sweet-jelly, thick and green. Or just pure, rendered fat. The thought alone is enough to make the whole chamber smell of roast lizard for a heartbeat, and you lick your lips, a low rumble in your own gut echoing in the quiet. [if GrakHelp; unless HuntingGroundsAligned] *You squint at the highest spout. Is that... moss growing out of it? No. That's a top-knot. A messy, black top-knot poking out of the stone mouth. And right next to it, the tip of a bone spear is braced against the lip.* [continue] {link to: 'Lair NorthEast', label: 'Back'} [if CH3PlasterTaken; inventory for CH3Plaster] [[The stone bobs upwards...->Spouts Plaster Cutscene]] [continue]

You creep to the edge of the vast, bubbling pool. The sweet, fatty scent is so strong here it makes your head swim. You lean over, peering into the shimmering, translucent green depths. The bubbles that rise are slow and thick, each one taking a long time to reach the surface before popping with a soft, wet *gloop*. [unless SlimeGirlNorthMoved; unless SlimeGirlEastMoved; unless SlimeGirlWestMoved] *Deeper down, where the moss-light struggles to reach, you see a shape.* It's... curled up at the very bottom of the pool. A sleeping green lady. The slime around her seems to pulse gently, pulling away from her form with each slow 'breath' to reveal a curve like a soft hip or a round breast, before flowing back to cover it. You bet she's real comfortable in there... a weird pang of jealousy courses through you. [continue] [if SlimeGirlNorthMoved; unless SlimeGirlEastMoved; unless SlimeGirlWestMoved] *The sleeping Green Lady has woken up!* In her place, two figures now slosh happily in the main pool. The new arrival - the ditzy one from the north - is trying to teach the pool's original resident how to do a flip. The resident, who seems just as ditzy, keeps getting tangled up with her, resulting in a lot of giggling and splashing. [continue] [if SlimeGirlEastMoved; unless SlimeGirlNorthMoved; unless SlimeGirlWestMoved] *The sleeping Green Lady has woken up!* Now, two figures occupy the pool at opposite ends. The grumpy one from the east has claimed a corner and is trying to build a wall of thicker slime to keep the pool's bubbly original resident away. The resident, looking confused and sad, keeps trying to offer her a friendly pat, which is met with a furious gurgle. [continue] [if SlimeGirlWestMoved; unless SlimeGirlNorthMoved; unless SlimeGirlEastMoved] *The sleeping Green Lady has woken up!* Now, two figures are in the pool. The one with the skull is holding court, her crystal shard pointing at the bubbles as she explains some seemingly grand theory. The pool's original resident sits before her, her form wobbling with rapt, total attention, listening to the wisest words ever gurgled. [continue] [if SlimeGirlNorthMoved; if SlimeGirlEastMoved; unless SlimeGirlWestMoved] *It's... noisy.* The ditzy northern girl and the grumpy eastern girl are in a sloshing match. The former one keeps trying to splash the grumpy one playfully, while the grumpy one sends back much stronger waves. The pool's original resident is in the middle, trying to pat both of them at once, which isn't helping at all. [continue] [if SlimeGirlNorthMoved; if SlimeGirlWestMoved; unless SlimeGirlEastMoved] *A strange lecture is happening.* The skull-headed girl is explaining the concept of soft to the ditzy northern girl, who is just nodding and giggling, occasionally poking the skull with a curious finger. The pool's original resident watches them both, her head tilting back and forth as if watching a fast game of knuckle-bones. [continue] [if SlimeGirlEastMoved; if SlimeGirlWestMoved; unless SlimeGirlNorthMoved] *A silent war is taking place.* The grumpy girl and the skull-headed girl are ignoring each other with great intensity. The grumpy one mutters to herself in a corner, while the skull-head delivers a grand, gurgling monologue to the pool's original resident, who looks very impressed. They are pretending the other doesn't exist. [continue] [if SlimeGirlNorthMoved; if SlimeGirlEastMoved; if SlimeGirlWestMoved] *It is absolute chaos.* The ditzy girl is trying to start a wave. The grumpy one is roaring for quiet. The skull-headed one is trying to gurgle a lecture about "the ee-ntro-py of communal living" over the din, whatever that means. And in the very center of it all, the pool's original resident is just spinning in happy circles, splashing everyone. [continue] {link to: 'Slime Caverns Hub', label: 'Back'} [if TrenchLighterTaken; inventory for TrenchLighter] [[What if...?->Pool Lighter Cutscene]] [continue]

[unless ClayVesselBroken] You turn to the last pot, pushed to the side on its dusty plinth. This one isn't made of either star-stone or sugar-stone. It's just... clay. A lumpy brown thing, gritty with sand. The shape is... well, the shape is all wrong. It's trying to have a holy belly, but one side is fatter than the other, and the rim is all wavy. To the back, you can even see a small thumbprint from who made it, cooked into the material. It reminds you of your own lumpy carvings back in the warren, and you feel a strange little pang of pity for it. [continue] [if ClayVesselBroken] Shattered terracotta litters the right plinth. The ugly, lumpy vessel has been reduced to flat shards of baked mud. [continue] {link to: 'Second Chamber', label: 'Back'} [unless ClayVesselBroken; if QuillAndPaperFound; inventory for QuillAndPaper] [[The stick twitches...->Clay Vessel Quill Cutscene]] [continue] [unless ClayVesselBroken; if TuningForkTaken; inventory for TuningFork] [[What if...?->Clay Vessel Fork Cutscene]] [continue] [unless ClayVesselBroken; if MetalJawTaken; inventory for MetalJaw] [[What if...?->Clay Vessel Jaw Cutscene]] [continue]

[unless PillarLicked] The massive column lies defeated on the tiles, snapped cleanly into three distinct segments like a dry twig. Deep, straight ridges run down its length; far too straight for any chisel you've ever seen. You run a hand over the break; the inside is smooth and sparkly. It reminds you of crushed sugar, actually. It must have made a terrible thunder when it fell. [continue] [if PillarLicked] The massive column lies defeated on the tiles, snapped cleanly into three distinct segments like a dry twig. Deep, straight ridges run down its length; far too straight for any chisel you've ever seen. You look at the break where the inside glitters temptingly. There is a small, wet spot right in the center of the sparkle where you tested it. It looks a little less like sugar now, and a little more like wet rock. *Tempted as you are, you're not going for a second taste.* [continue] {link to: 'Hunting Grounds Entrance Chamber', label: 'Back'} [unless PillarLicked; inventory for LeikaBelly] [[It does look like sugar...->Pillar Belly Cutscene 1]] [continue] [unless PillarSawTried; if WireSawTaken; inventory for WireSaw] [[What if...?->Pillar Saw Cutscene]] [continue] [unless PillarJawTried; if MetalJawTaken; inventory for MetalJaw] [[What if...?->Pillar Jaw Cutscene]] [continue]

You push aside the heavy canvas flap and step inside. The air immediately grows thicker, trapping the heat of the cavern in a dark, stifling pocket that smells strongly of stale perfume, dry leather, and something sharp that makes your nose itch. The walls... *aren't.* They are very much not walls, more so towering, precarious stacks of pale wooden boxes and heavy, iron-bound chests, all jammed together to form a crude, lopsided room. Above you, more canvas sags dangerously, held up by long wooden poles and tight lengths of rope. Between the stacks, there are several narrow gaps and dark crevices inviting you to [[squeeze through.->palace depths router]] Behind you is the exit leading back to [[☀️the porch->manor porch]].

A tangled, chaotic mass of thick wooden vines seals the tunnel completely. They are brittle and grey, stripped of all bark and baked dry by the stale air. You press your face close, trying to peek through the gaps. No luck: the weave forms a solid, pitch-black barricade, crushing against itself so tightly that it blocks out everything beyond it. {link to: 'dried out tunnel', label: 'Back'}

You heft the thick bone club and march right up to the giant lizard's leg, and swing with all your might. *CLUNK.* The heavy impact vibrates painfully right up your arm, making you wince and drop your makeshift weapon. *OW.* The massive leg bone withstands the blow completely. The thick metal rods and tight wires holding the beast are clearly put on tight, keeping the structure entirely rigid. Up above, the skull man... doesn't seem to have moved. You rub your aching wrists, realizing this monster is built way too tough for a simple clubbing. {link to: 'mindspace dinosaur', label: 'Back'}

[if passage.visit == 1] *You cough, waving away the last wisps of the grey haze.* [continue] The air here is brutally dry, tasting of crushed stone and old dust. A thick layer of pale, gritty sand coats the uneven floor, muffling your footsteps as you shift your weight. The walls are natural, jagged rock, scraped bare of any moisture or moss. To your back, the passage is choked by a massive wall of [[dead roots]]. Ahead, the tunnel slopes downward. A pulsing [[green light->thicket]] spills from the opening.

You squint up into the dark red glow, where the ceiling now sags in heavy, wet folds. From the lowest points, thick ropes of clear slime stretch downward, pooling into heavy beads before finally letting go. One breaks free and lands squarely on your shoulder with a heavy *splat*. You instinctively wipe at it, but your palm immediately sticks to your wrap. The ooze is incredibly thick, stretching into stringy webs like hot sap when you try to pull your hand away. It carries a heavy, sour reek. *Gahh!!* Disgusting! You rub your hand frantically against your leg, trying to get the sticky wetness off, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm in your chest. {link to: 'Glutton Tunnel 3', label: 'Back'}

A rack made of lashed-together knuckle-bones hangs in the warm, smoky air above the cook-fire. A few thin, leathery strips of teal-cap fungus are draped over the rungs, curled at the edges. They're joined by a couple of skinny cave-lizard tails, looking very dry and tough. The rack is mostly empty. Your mouth waters a little, even though they don't look like the best bits. {link to: 'farm hut', label: 'Back'}

You approach the wall of dead roots. Suspended high off the ground, completely entwined, are the crushed remains of the skull man. The roots have grown right through his ribcage and wrapped tightly around his limbs, holding him up like a doll. His jaw-less skull lolls forward, staring emptily at the sandy floor. Hanging from a thick metal chain around his neck is a large, jagged green amulet. It pulses with a horrible, bright light that makes your eyes ache, and you can feel a faint, discordant humming coming from it. {link to: 'thicket', label: 'Back'} [unless AmuletSmashed; inventory for MindspaceBone] [[What if...?->amulet smash cutscene 1]] [continue]

EntrywaySkullManSmashed: true SkullManSmashed: SkullManSmashed + 1 -- You stand up, gripping your heavy bone club with both hands. If he wants to hide under a flimsy piece of wood, who are you to deny him a proper squishing? *THWACK!* The thin wood splinters instantly, collapsing inward. The skull man doesn't even have time to react before the broken halves of the table and your heavy club crush him against the floor. His bones scatter for a fraction of a second before vanishing away. You smirk, shaking the wood dust from your weapon. [if SkullManSmashed < 9] {link to: 'mindspace entryway', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if SkullManSmashed >= 9] [[The world around you suddenly shivers...->mindspace exit cutscene 1]] [continue]

FakeCaveSkullManSmashed: true SkullManSmashed: SkullManSmashed + 1 -- You march right around the stiff hairy man, raising your bone club high, swinging it right into his ribs with a solid *CRUNCH*. He collapses instantly, his pale bones clattering against the dry floor before blinking completely out of existence. You huff, lowering your weapon. A sharp, nagging ache in your temples suddenly fades away. [if SkullManSmashed < 9] {link to: 'mindspace fake cave', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if SkullManSmashed >= 9] [[The world around you suddenly shivers...->mindspace exit cutscene 1]] [continue]

The inside of the hut is a single, round room, warm and hazy with smoke from a small cook-fire. It smells of simmering stew-grubs and the sharp, dry scent of scraped bone. [unless FungalTreeFelled; unless FarmGoblinsMet] A [[fat woman->Bera]] stirs a pot over the fire, her broad back to you. [continue] [unless FungalTreeFelled; if FarmGoblinsMet] [[Bera]] stirs a pot over the fire, her broad back to you. [continue] [if FungalTreeFelled; unless LeikaGorgedStew] The hut is empty, though the [[stew pot]] still simmers over the fire, filling the air with a thick, savory smell. [continue] [if FungalTreeFelled; if LeikaGorgedStew] The hut is empty. The [[stew pot]] sits to the side of the dying fire, now looking thoroughly conquered. [continue] In one corner is a small [[whittling bench]] covered in pale shavings. Above the fire, a [[drying rack]] holds thin strips of something leathery. Nailed to the wall near the door is a smooth slate [[tally board]] covered in white scratches. The hide flap leads back out to the [[🌾farm->Fungal Farm]]. [if passage.visits == 3; unless LeikaGorgedStew] *The stew smells a little thicker this time.* [continue]

You press your face between two of the bars, the cold, greasy wood chilling your cheek. They're made from mature black-cap fungus, grown so dense they feel like stone, and each one is thicker than your thigh. You wrap your hands around two of them and heave with all your might. Nothing. Not even a creak. You try to squeeze your head through the gap, but... *ack!* Your ears are getting stuck on it! Why did they have to be so damn long? Well, even if you could get your head through, your shoulders are definitely too wide. No escape that way. {link to: 'Prison Cell', label: 'Back'} [if HasFireStone; unless BarsFireStone; inventory for FireStone] [[What if...?->Bars Fire Stone Cutscene]] [continue] [if HasPrisonBone; unless BarsBoneTried; inventory for PrisonBone] [[What if...?->Bars Bone Cutscene]] [continue]

[unless FungalPlainsAligned] You press your shoulder against the heavy gate. It doesn't budge. Not even a shudder. The wood is dark and dense, more like stone than fungus, and it's bound with thick, rusty iron bands that look like they were hammered into place by a someone taller and stronger than most of your kin. You peer through a thin crack between the planks. It's mostly dark on the other side, but you can see the end of a massive wooden bar locking it shut. The muffled murmur of voices is a little clearer here. A guard, maybe, complaining about his shift. Well... clearly this gate wasn't built to be opened from this side. Tough luck. [continue] [if FungalPlainsAligned] You press your shoulder against the heavy gate. It still won't budge, not even a shudder. The wood is dark and dense, more like stone than fungus, and it's bound with thick, rusty iron bands. You peer through a thin crack between the planks. Glimpses of an unsteady orange light flicker from within, casting dancing shadows. You can still see the end of the massive wooden bar, locking it shut. The muffled murmur from before has been replaced by a distant ruckus - angry shouts and the occasional loud clang. It sounds like they're still cleaning up your mess. Eheh. *Good!* [continue] {link to: 'Gated Cavern', label: 'Back'} [if TrenchLighterTaken; inventory for TrenchLighter] [[What if...?->Gate Lighter Cutscene]] [continue] [if WireSawTaken; inventory for WireSaw] [[What if...?->Gate Saw Cutscene]] [continue] [if MetalJawTaken; inventory for MetalJaw] [[What if...?->Gate Jaw Cutscene]] [continue] [if QuillAndPaperFound; unless GateQuillSlid; inventory for QuillAndPaper] [[The stick twitches...->Gate Quill Cutscene]] [continue]

It towers over the farm, a silent, fleshy giant. Its stem is thicker than three goblins standing shoulder-to-shoulder, a smooth, pale pillar that rises into the gloom and disappears under the shadow of its own immense cap. The whole thing gives off a sleepy, deep red glow, pulsing with a rhythm much slower than the other mushrooms. You press a hand against its side. The surface is cool and firm as old bone, but you can feel that deep, slow pulse thrumming under your palm. The air around it smells of rich, sweet rot, like overripe blood-fruit left too long in the damp. {link to: 'Fungal Farm', label: 'Back'} [if BeraTalkedTo; if WireSawTaken; inventory for WireSaw] [[What if...?->Giant Fungal Tree Saw Cutscene 1]] [continue] [if BeraTalkedTo; if TrenchLighterTaken; inventory for TrenchLighter] [[What if...?->Tree Lighter Cutscene]] [continue] [if BeraTalkedTo; if TuningForkTaken; inventory for TuningFork] [[What if...?->Tree Tuning Fork Cutscene]] [continue] [if BeraTalkedTo; unless FungalTreeFelled; if MetalJawTaken; inventory for MetalJaw] [[What if...?->Tree Jaw Cutscene]] [continue]

You stand under the wide, fleshy brim of one of the great mushrooms. Its cap glows a deep, pulsing red. Grama always called these Death-Caps, and warned the kits away from eating the tops. Fair enough. You reach out and press your palm against the thick, pale stem. It's cool and surprisingly firm, but gives just a little under the pressure. High above, the gills on the cap's underside shift with each slow pulse of light, releasing a fine, shimmering dust that smells earthy. {link to: 'Fungal Plains Hub', label: 'Back'} [if TrenchLighterTaken; inventory for TrenchLighter] [[What if...?->Mushroom Lighter Cutscene]] [continue] [if TuningForkTaken; inventory for TuningFork] [[What if...?->Mushroom Tuning Fork Cutscene]] [continue] [if QuillAndPaperFound; inventory for QuillAndPaper] [[The stick twitches...->Mushroom Quill Cutscene]] [continue]

[if WickLit] You crouch down to get a better look. It's a small cage made of rusty metal bars and very clear glass. You tap it with a fingernail. *Tink*. Hard as stone. The little cage sits on the damp stone, now glowing with a warm, steady light. The flame inside dances behind the clear rock, casting long, sharp shadows across the grotto walls. It makes the rust look pretty... [continue] [unless WickLit] You crouch down to get a better look. It's a small cage made of rusty metal bars and very clear glass. You tap it with a fingernail. *Tink*. Hard as stone. A little handle on top lets you pick it up. Inside, a little burnt string hangs down into a small metal bowl at the bottom. The whole thing smells sharp and a little oily. Maybe it was a house for a wisp? Whatever lived in here, its light went out a long time ago. [continue] {link to: 'Rusted Grotto', label: 'Back'} [if TrenchLighterTaken; unless WickLit; inventory for TrenchLighter] [[What if...?->Cage Lighter Cutscene]] [continue]

PastChamberGorgeCounter: PastChamberGorgeCounter + 1 GlassesDrunk: true -- The ceramic cup is heavy in your hands, the surface cool but the liquid inside radiating a strange, internal heat. You tilt it back, expecting the thin, sour taste of berry-water. Instead, you get a mouthful of thick, purple syrup that tastes very fruity, with a honeyed after-taste. It’s so dense it coats your throat as it goes down, a slow and heavy river of sweetness that lands in your belly with a distinct, liquid thud. You drain the cup, then reach for the next one, and the next, until the dregs are staining your lips and chin a deep, royal purple. Your breathing is getting deeper, and you feel the familiar, lethargic weight of alcohol spreading through your limbs. [if PastChamberGorgeCounter < 3] {link to: 'Second Chamber (Past)', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if PastChamberGorgeCounter == 3] [[The room begins to spin...->Return to Present Past Chamber]] [continue]

[if SmallGolemState == 0] It’s a squat little thing, carved from black stone and covered in all sorts of carved symbols. It stands a bit taller than you, though not by much, its heavy stone feet set into a square base; as you look to its face, you see just a smooth, rounded dome for a head. The arms are locked at the elbows, held out stiffly in front of its chest. You look at the hands... they have no fingers. They are just flat, polished paddles, wide and perfectly level. This thing clearly wasn't made to fight, or defend a owner. [continue] [if SmallGolemState == 1] It’s a squat little thing, carved from black stone and covered in all sorts of carved symbols. It stands a bit taller than you, though not by much, its heavy stone feet set into a square base; as you look to its face, you see just a smooth, rounded dome for a head. It hasn't gone far - it's now frozen near the puddles. It’s back to its exact same stiff posture as before, with its paddle-hands held out in front of its chest. This thing's not made for an adventure! Where does it think it's going? [continue] [if SmallGolemState == 2] The squat little thing has come to a complete halt right in front of the giant. Its flat, square feet are planted firmly in the white scree. The smooth dome of its head is tilted upward, staring blankly at the cracked, open torso of the fallen giant. Its paddle-arms remain locked out in front of its chest, perfectly level, as if waiting to receive something from him. [continue] [if passage.visits > 1; if SmallGolemState == 0] *Actually, is this even a golem? The carvings would give it away, but like... it hasn't moved? So maybe it really is a stupid-looking statue.* [continue] [if SmallGolemState == 0] {link to: 'Ruined Buildings', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if SmallGolemState == 1] {link to: 'Hunting Grounds Hub', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if SmallGolemState == 2] {link to: 'Lair SouthWest', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if MetalJawTaken; inventory for MetalJaw] [[What if...?->Golem Jaw Cutscene 1]] [continue] [if SmallGolemState == 0; if TuningForkTaken; inventory for TuningFork] [[What if...?->Small Golem Fork Cutscene 1]] [continue] [if SmallGolemState == 1; if TuningForkTaken; inventory for TuningFork] [[What if...?->Small Golem Fork Cutscene 2]] [continue] [if SmallGolemState == 2; unless SmallGolemRefused; if TuningForkTaken; inventory for TuningFork] [[What if...?->Golem Sacrifice Cutscene 1]] [continue]

You cautiously step around the edge of the central pool to get a better look at the pile of bones. Ew. They're pale and have been polished unnervingly smooth, all the rough edges scorched by the slime. It's hard to tell what sort of creature they belonged to, though it must've been a stupid one not to realize that while the slime is sweet, it can also strike back. [unless TrenchLighterTaken] One piece looks like a hand, its long fingers curled into a loose fist. Something metallic glints inside of it. A small metal box, maybe? You find a nearby rock and consider using it to [[pry the metal box free->Trench Lighter Cutscene 1]]. [if TrenchLighterTaken] One piece looks like a hand, its long fingers now curled around nothing at all. You wonder what poor creature ended its journey here. Well, at least it didn't go to waste. [continue] {link to: 'Slime Caverns Hub', label: 'Back'} [if QuillAndPaperFound; inventory for QuillAndPaper] [[The stick twitches...->Bones Quill Cutscene]] [continue]

The pile of iron tools clinks loudly when you nudge it with your foot. The wide, flat hammers that look triple the size of those back at the warren must be for crushing, while the thick metal spikes must be for breaking apart stubborn stones. Some of the latter seem to have been vertically jammed into the ground. They are all coated in a layer of fine, dry dirt, packed tight around the grips. You pick up a chisel, finding it cold and unyielding. Mm... are these chisels, actually? They look closer to spears, or tent poles. You toss the one you picked up back onto the pile. {link to: 'palace depths router', label: 'Back'}

[unless GourdSmashed] You pick up the strange gourd. It's cold and hard, not like a proper gourd-skin, and it's a dull grey color with a big'ol dent in its side. You give it a shake. A hollow, lonely *clonk* echoes from inside. Empty. There's a strange, ridged knot at the top, but it won't come off, no matter how hard you try. [continue] [if GourdSmashed] The strange, hard-shelled gourd lies flattened on the damp stone. You've crushed it completely with your heavy iron tool, tearing the grey skin open. The inside is bone-dry and smells faintly of stale, metallic water. Was it just a weird flask? Lame. [continue] {link to: 'Rusted Grotto', label: 'Back'} [unless GourdSmashed; if MetalJawTaken; inventory for MetalJaw] [[What if...?->Gourd Jaw Cutscene]] [continue]

[if LastBiomeAligned == 'SlimeCaverns'] A hollowed beast-horn rests on a wooden stand. The attendants pour buckets of warm green jelly into the wide end. The slime slides down the bone, bypassing the shelf of Her chest, and drops right onto Her tongue. She swallows it without needing to lean forward. A brilliant invention! It saves the kin from climbing the slope of Her stomach just to deliver a meal. [continue] [if LastBiomeAligned == 'FungalPlains'] A hollowed beast-horn rests on a wooden stand. The attendants dump ladles of fatty broth and tender pork into the wide end. The stew coats the bone with grease as it slides down, bypassing the shelf of Her chest. She swallows the bounty without needing to lean forward. A brilliant invention! It saves the kin from climbing the slope of Her stomach just to deliver a meal. [continue] [if LastBiomeAligned == 'HuntingGrounds'] A hollowed beast-horn rests on a wooden stand. They shovel handfuls of grease and bite-sized cuts of monster meat into the wide end. The feast slides down the bone, bypassing the shelf of Her chest, and drops right onto Her tongue. She swallows it without needing to lean forward. A brilliant invention! It saves the kin from climbing the slope of Her stomach just to deliver a meal. [continue] [if LastBiomeAligned == 'SunlessFields'] A hollowed beast-horn rests on a wooden stand. They dump golden syrup and thick pale-brew into the wide end. The liquid bread slides down the bone, bypassing the shelf of Her chest, and drops right onto Her tongue. She swallows it without needing to lean forward. A brilliant invention! It saves the kin from climbing the slope of Her stomach just to deliver a meal. [continue] [if LastBiomeAligned == 'ExpeditionRemains'] A hollowed beast-horn acts as a slide for the fermented sap. An attendant balances on a stack of crates, fighting to keep the narrow end aimed at Her lips while She staggers. Buckets of booze pour into the funnel, rushing down the bone and splashing into Her mouth. She drinks it down in greedy gulps, Her throat working in a rhythmic pulse. You watch a drop of purple sap escape the horn and land on Her collarbone. What a waste! [continue] {link to: 'Future Chamber - Stage IMMOBILE', label: 'Back'}

The water gathers in a smooth, natural dip in the cave floor, bubbling lazily from a vent deep below. [unless PipeSmashed; append] However, most of the water is coming from the side of the pool, level with the pavement. [unless PipeSmashed] Jutting out from a jagged crack in the rock wall is a thick brass tube with a strange protrusion to the side. A steady stream of scalding water spits from the metal mouth, hitting the pool with a continuous hiss. The steam rolling off the surface is so dense it coats the nearby wooden crates in a permanent layer of heavy dew, and you can see how it's slowly rotting the wood from the bottom up. [continue] [if PipeSmashed] Jutting out from a jagged crack in the rock wall is a severely dented brass tube, knocked entirely askew. Instead of falling into the pool, a high-pressure jet of scalding water now shoots sideways, blasting across the room to fill a muddy, steaming trench out of the palace. The steam rolling off the surface coats the nearby wooden crates in a permanent layer of heavy dew. [continue] {link to: 'palace pond', label: 'Back'} [unless PipeSmashed; if MetalJawTaken; inventory for MetalJaw] [[What if...?->Spring Jaw Cutscene 1]] [continue]

IronChainsSeen: IronChainsSeen + 1 -- [if IronChainsSeen == 1] All the chains are pulled taut, running to a single, massive ring set deep in the stone wall behind her. Each link is as thick as your wrist, forged from dark, pitted iron. They smell of rust and tar. With every one of the orc's slow, rumbling breaths, the chains shift with a faint groan, the sound of metal grinding on metal. There are no locks you can see, no simple pins to pull. They look like they were hammered shut, really. What did this lady do to Big-Maw's people to deserve this? [continue] [if IronChainsSeen == 2] You find your eyes drawn back to the chains. How did they even get them on her? She's huge. It must have taken ten of those big guards, maybe more. You picture them swarming her like angry ants, a flurry of nets and clubs and shouting. She must have been asleep. Yes, that's it. They must have snuck up on her while she was sleeping, maybe after a big meal. Even then... to hammer these shut without waking her? That seems... unlikely. She's big, but is she that heavy of a sleeper? [continue] [if IronChainsSeen == 3] You creep closer, reaching out a hesitant finger to touch the thick chain leading from her collar. It's cold, so cold it feels wet, and coated in a thin, greasy film. You follow the line of it with your eyes, past the raw chafe marks on her skin, all the way back to the massive ring in the wall. That's the weak point. It has to be. Not the chains themselves, but the ring holding them. If you could just get that out of the wall... The orc shifts in her sleep, a low grunt escaping her lips, and you snatch your hand back as if burned. ...wait, why would you want to get her free in the first place? Are you going insane? Oh god, how many days have you been here?? Months, maybe?? *Years!?!?* [continue] [if IronChainsSeen == 4] *One last look. Just one more, come on, just one more look...* ...you can't help it. You lean in, your eyes fixed on the massive ring. On an impulse, your hands close around the cold, heavy chain leading to her collar. You give it a small, testing jiggle, just to feel the weight of it. The sound is impossibly loud. A sharp, echoing **CLANK-JANGLE** that rings through the cell. [[The snoring stops.->Orc Lady Escaping Death Cutscene]] [continue] [if IronChainsSeen > 4] The chains are still, no longer rising and falling with the rhythm of sleep. They look tighter now, pulled taut by the orc's quiet, watchful tension. [continue] [if IronChainsSeen < 4] {link to: 'Orc Lady', label: 'Back'} [if IronChainsSeen > 4] {link to: 'Orc Lady', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if HasPrisonBone; unless ChainsBoneTried; inventory for PrisonBone] [[Are you mad...?->Chains Bone Cutscene]] [continue] [if HasFireStone; unless ChainsFireStoneTried; inventory for FireStone] [[Are you insane...?->Chains Fire Stone Cutscene]] [continue]

You crouch beside the heavy metal box. A large chunk of ceiling rock has smashed right into it, buckling the lid and forcing it permanently open. The dirt around it glints with spilled treasure. You sift through the sand, uncovering heavy golden coins and bright emerald stones - *pretty*! But mixed right in with the gold are also chunks of carved, black star-stone: pieces of broken vessels and little ancient figurines, made from the same exact material as the chamber's floor. {link to: 'thicket', label: 'Back'}

A crowd of pale, stone women watch you from the shadows of their alcoves. Actually, no: it's the same woman, over and over. At the entrance, she is gaunt, almost starved-looking. But with each new statue, she softens. She spreads. First, a blurring at the waist, then the first hint of a crease where her inner thighs begin to press together. Her hair, a cascade of stone braids, remains the same, as do her sharp cheekbones and the serene, half-lidded expression in her eyes. Her backside swells to the edges of the alcoves, a heavy counterbalance that forces her spine into a gentle curve - her hips broaden into a shelf. By the time you reach the last and largest statue at the far end of the hall, she is magnificent. A true Ancient, just as you have always imagined them! Anchored to the earth, her thighs are pillars of carved stone, forced wide. Her belly is not as round as Hers, but a heavy, soft apron of flesh still hangs low, settling into the deep space between her powerful legs, doubled in the middle. [unless CH3PlasterTaken] Right in the center of that holy stomach, the Ancients have sculpted an [[eye->Lair Statues Plaster Cutscene 1]]. [continue] {link to: 'Lair North', label: 'Back'}

You crouch down, your eyes level with the dark, crumbling line around the stone. It's definitely loose. You can see how it sits just a little bit forward of the others, creating a shallow gap. You dig your fingernails into the dusty mortar, trying to get a purchase on the edge of the stone. The grit grinds under your nails, but the gap is too thin, and the stone itself is heavy. You pull, you wiggle, you grunt with effort, but it doesn't budge. Not even a wobble. Your fingertips are raw and dusty for your troubles. {link to: 'Prison Cell', label: 'Back'} [if HasPrisonBone; inventory for PrisonBone] [[What if...?->Loose Stone Pry Cutscene]] [continue]

You march up to the hairy beast's massive ribcage, gripping your bone club tight. You pull back and deliver a fierce, sweeping blow directly to one of the thick front legs. It sounds exactly like hitting a solid rock wall. A tiny puff of white dust floats into the stale air, but the skeleton refuses to sway, seemingly anchored to the floor. You pick up your club, rubbing your shoulder from the recoil - you are definitely not bringing this mountain of bones down today. Makes you wonder how hard it'd be to fell this thing if it had meat and stuff. {link to: 'mindspace mammoth', label: 'Back'}

You step onto the wooden slats of the porch. It creaks ominously under your weight. [unless ElvesMet; unless BoilerActivated] Looming over you are two strangers. They are impossibly tall, with skin the color of a fresh bruise and long, white hair that sticks to their sweating faces. They are dressed in... um... clothes. Those are clothes alright. Pretty ones, but they sit... wrong on them. You can't put your finger on why. [[A tall woman->Lady Alerica]] leans against a stack of crates, fanning herself with a limp hand. Beside her, [[a thin man->Lord Alaric]] walks a tight circle, dabbing at his brow with a spotted handkerchief. [continue] [if ElvesMet; unless BoilerActivated] [[Lady Alerica]] leans against a stack of crates, fanning herself with a limp hand. Beside her, [[Lord Alaric]] paces a tight circle, dabbing at his brow with a spotted handkerchief. [continue] [unless ElvesMet; if BoilerActivated] Only one stranger looms over you here, the other having left its post. She is impossibly tall, with skin the color of a fresh bruise and long, white hair sticking to her sweating face. She is dressed in... um... clothes. Those are clothes alright. Pretty ones, but she sit... wrong on her. You can't put your finger on why. [[A tall woman->Lady Alerica]] leans against a stack of crates, fanning herself with a limp hand, her eyes squeezed shut against the terrible noise echoing from the clearing. [continue] [if ElvesMet; if BoilerActivated] [[Lady Alerica]] leans against a stack of crates, fanning herself with a limp hand, her eyes squeezed shut against the terrible noise echoing from the clearing. [continue] Behind them, a heavy canvas flap serves as the door to their [[🎩crate-palace->crate-palace]], twitching slightly in the hot draft. The way back to the [[☀️clearing->Sunless Fields Hub]] is behind you.

There were once two, but the left one is barely a shape anymore; it's been crushed by the ceiling's weight, reduced to a heap of jagged white gravel. The right one, however, still stands. *What luck!* Now, she *is* missing her head. The neck ends in a jagged break, but the rest of her is... ooh! The lady wears no wrap, no loincloth. You are free to see how the cold white stone has been carved into impressively soft-looking curves. Her chest is heavy, two massive, round weights resting low against her ribs. Below them, her stone hands are cupped reverently underneath a swelling, proud belly, lifting it up as if offering it to the room. [unless StatueRootSmashed] A thick, pale root coils around her thigh, squeezing the white stone so tight it looks like the flesh is bulging around it. [continue] [if StatueRootSmashed] *A smashed, pulpy mess of dead pale root lies scattered across the floor at her feet.* [continue] {link to: 'Hunting Grounds Entrance Chamber', label: 'Back'} [if CH3PlasterTaken; inventory for CH3Plaster] [[The stone bobs upwards...->Statues Plaster Cutscene]] [continue] [if QuillAndPaperFound; inventory for QuillAndPaper] [[The stick twitches...->Statues Quill Cutscene]] [continue] [unless StatueRootSmashed; if MetalJawTaken; inventory for MetalJaw] [[What if...?->Statues Jaw Cutscene]] [continue]

[unless MarkingsRuined] You push aside some of the smaller white stones, clearing a patch of the wall. Up close they're more like raised, embossed patterns that stand out from the stone. More decorative than anything else, you reckon. But wow, they are beautiful! Wavy, silvery lines, branching out from a central point like a river, or like the marks a gourd gets on its skin when it grows too fast in the wet season. A holy sign, then. *Marks of abundance!* Of a body growing so fast and full the very skin must praise it. [unless MarkingsRuined; if LeikaWeight >= 'PLUMP'] A hot feeling rushes to your cheeks. You run a hesitant hand over your own hip, under your wrap, where things have been feeling a little... tight. Your fingers find a faint, itchy line you hadn't noticed before, and you trace its path on your own skin. A perfect, tiny echo of the grand pattern on the wall. [continue] [continue] [if MarkingsRuined] You push aside some of the smaller white stones to look at the wall. The beautiful, wavy silver lines branching across the rock have been completely marred. A jagged, ugly horizontal gash cuts right through the center of the pattern, ruining the holy marks of abundance entirely. You trace the ruin with a finger, your ears drooping sadly. God, you're so dumb!! Look at what you've done... [continue] {link to: 'Lair SouthWest', label: 'Back'} [unless MarkingsRuined; if QuillAndPaperFound; inventory for QuillAndPaper] [[The stick twitches...->Markings Quill Cutscene]] [continue] [unless MarkingsRuined; if WireSawTaken; inventory for WireSaw] [[What if...?->Markings Saw Cutscene]] [continue]

You climb a few steps up the jagged mound to see where the rock fell from. Strangely, the tunnel wall directly behind the rubble is perfectly smooth. There's no hole in the ceiling either. You pause, your hand resting on a chunk of dark stone to steady yourself. You brush the heavy dust away, revealing a deep, kin-carved groove. It's the bottom half of a spiral - the exact same territorial mark carved right outside your sleeping chamber. You swallow a sudden lump in your throat. That... well, hey, that marker is a long, long climb above you. You push the stone with the very, very common symbol among your kin off the pile, letting it smash onto the floor. {link to: 'Glutton Tunnel 2', label: 'Back'}

PastChamberGorgeCounter: PastChamberGorgeCounter + 1 PlatterEaten: true -- Oh dear... *the smell is too much.* It’s a mountain of roasted ribs, glazed in a dark, sticky syrup that smells of cloves and rendered fat... you reach out, your fingers sinking into the tender meat, and pull a piece free, finding it’s warm, *so warm*, and the grease runs down your wrist, disappearing into the cuff of your bracer. The meat is so soft it practically melts on your tongue, filling your mouth with a rich, savory heat that makes your toes curl. You grab piece after piece, your hands becoming a greasy blur as you strip the bones clean. You feel a heavy, solid weight settling low in your gut and a sweat making its way across your body. [if PastChamberGorgeCounter < 3] {link to: 'Second Chamber (Past)', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if PastChamberGorgeCounter == 3] [[The room begins to spin...->Return to Present Past Chamber]] [continue]

On closer inspection, you realize you've been fooled: The green vines drawn across it are completely dead. They don't pulse with sap, and they lack the fuzzy texture of the lumina-moss back home. They just repeat the exact same twisting pattern over and over again, stretching across the entire tunnel without ever sprouting a single leaf. What a boring painting! {link to: 'mindspace entryway', label: 'Back'}

The strange woman with the curly hair [if passage.visit == 1; append] - clearly a sky-walker by the pallor of her skin - [continue] [append] doesn't seem to have noticed you. She simply marches forward... going nowhere. Her stomach is pressed flat against the black iron fence, and she just keeps walking directly into it, over and over, her boots scraping the stone floor without advancing a single inch. She is wrapped in a bright red cloth that puffs up at her shoulders like swollen toad-sacs. Her middle is squeezed incredibly thin, making her look entirely starved. To compensate, her backside sticks out in a massive, sharp lump. But you're not one to fall for tricks! It's clearly built of stiff fabric rather than fat. *Tsk.* In one hand, she pinches a tiny white bowl by a loop. With every useless step she takes against the iron bars, the dark water inside sloshes wildly. It spills over the rim to stain the stone ledge below, yet the little bowl never empties. {link to: 'mindspace terrace', label: 'Back'}

[unless ArchivesSkullManSmashed] The pale woman rests her massive rear against the edge of the table, making the thick wood groan in a very satisfying way. She looks wonderfully huge! Her bare stomach spills out into two magnificent, heavy rolls that completely swallow the top of her strange, tight leg-wraps. Above her gut, her chest is equally heavy and bare, adorned with a shiny silver chain linking her nipples together. It swings softly against her upper belly-roll whenever she shifts. She holds a sharp stick, swiftly scratching tiny black marks into a thick stack of white slices, looking incredibly bored. Every few seconds, she lets out a sharp sigh, rolls her eyes, flips back to the first slice, and starts scratching the exact same marks all over again. She doesn't even blink as you wave a hand in front of her face. [continue] [if ArchivesSkullManSmashed] The pale woman stands awkwardly near the tangled heap of iron. Her face is flushed a deep purple - why? Well, she did make a mess of things... She holds her thick stack of white slices up high, resting them directly on the top shelf of her bare stomach to stabilize them. Her sharp stick flies across the paper, scratching marks at what looks to be an ever faster pace than before. She keeps her eyes glued firmly to her work, both refusing to look at the mess of grey blocks surrounding her thick legs and completely ignoring your presence. Works for you. [continue] {link to: 'mindspace archives', label: 'Back'}

You jump through the narrow opening and step into a long, shadowy space. The air here tastes incredibly stale. [unless ArchivesSkullManSmashed] Rows of tall, cold [[iron racks->mindspace shelves]] stretch far into the gloom. A single [[hissing fire->mindspace gas lamp]] hangs from the ceiling, casting a pool of harsh yellow light over a heavy wooden [[table->mindspace table]]. Several pried-open wooden boxes clutter the floor around it, though all seem to be empty. Resting her heavy backside against the edge of the table is a [[scary-looking woman->mindspace Violet]]. [continue] [if ArchivesSkullManSmashed] The tall, cold [[iron racks->mindspace shelves]] now lie in a tangled heap of metal on the floor, having collapsed one onto the other. A single [[hissing fire->mindspace gas lamp]] hangs from the ceiling, casting a pool of harsh yellow light over a heavy wooden [[table->mindspace table]]. Standing near the fallen shelves is the [[scary-looking woman->mindspace Violet]]. [continue] [unless SkullManHuntStarted] *The skull man stands in the deep shadows between two of the iron racks.* [continue] The narrow doorway behind you leads back to the [[🏛️cramped workspace->mindspace office]].

You stare up at the towering wooden rack, completely baffled. It is packed tight with hundreds of colorful, hard blocks, some featuring shiny yellow lines etched right into their spines. You try to pry one loose, but it flaps open in your hand, revealing hundreds of thin white slices covered in tiny black scratches. Wedged between two of the blocks, a perfectly flat, dry leaf falls out and crumbles against your toe. Who hoards dead weeds? Well, maybe it's medicinal or something. {link to: 'mindspace sitting room', label: 'Back'}

[unless SkullManHuntStarted] You look up at the towering metal woman. Oh! She is magnificent! Her heavy green-tinged robes cling to a wonderfully thick waist and substantial, swelling hips. One hand rests proudly on her round, ample stomach, while the other holds a massive horn overflowing with sculpted fruits. A true icon of plenty! Would anyone think this is **In** any way **poor** or bad **taste.**? No! Of course not. It's a beautiful idol! An intrusive thought whines in your head. You get the impression that someone **Complained,** about her, **but** that they **couldn't** manage to **get** the statue moved or **it** removed entirely. Good! Screw them. She shouldn't be **swapped.** She belongs right here, showing off her holy bulk to everyone! [continue] [if SkullManHuntStarted; unless MuseumHallSkullManSmashed] You look up at the towering metal woman. Oh! She is magnificent! Her heavy green-tinged robes cling to... wait... **Ah.** You rub your eyes, doing a double take. That's no metal woman! **You** stare at the bare ribs and pale skull. He **took** her place! The skull man is standing completely frozen on the pedestal, his bony legs pressed together, with one hand resting on his non-existent gut and the other awkwardly holding the horn of fruit. Did he really think this disguise would escape your **notice?** [continue] {link to: 'mindspace museum hall', label: 'Back'} [if SkullManHuntStarted; unless MuseumHallSkullManSmashed; inventory for MindspaceBone] [[What if...?->museum hall smash cutscene]] [continue]

[unless OfficeMapSkullManSmashed] You inspect the strange tally-board hanging near the exit. It is neatly divided into a grid of perfect little squares. **We** don't use shapes like this in the warren! Whoever **had** this board must have liked strict rules. The scratches inside the boxes seem **to** point toward specific tasks or commands to **move.** things around. It looks like an interesting way to track tribute, really. **So** many little boxes, and very **little** space to fit it all in such a tight **time.** [continue] [if OfficeMapSkullManSmashed] You inspect the strange tally-board hanging near the exit. It is neatly divided into a grid of perfect little squares. Your kin definitely don't use shapes like this in the warren! Whoever owned this board must have liked strict rules. The scratches inside the boxes seem to point toward specific tasks or commands to shift things around. It looks like a confusing way to track tribute. There are so many little boxes, and barely any space to fit a proper tally mark inside of them. [continue] {link to: 'mindspace office', label: 'Back'}

[unless MuseumHallSkullManSmashed] You inspect the broken white-stone women blocking the left path. They are carved beautifully, wrapped in flowing cloth. They look so strong! The one on the left has a stern face, like a proper matron overseeing a hunt. The one on the right smiles warmly, her stone robes clinging softly to her curves. **Leeches**? No, they look like hard workers to you! It's sad they fell. You can **hardly** imagine the immense weight they were holding, fully **deserving** of respect. It is clearly the fault **of** whatever broke **their** archway, because they certainly did a good **job.** You feel... a sudden, violent spike of anger? Well, you **Hate** who did this to **them.** [continue] [if MuseumHallSkullManSmashed] You inspect the broken white-stone women blocking the left path. They are carved beautifully, wrapped in flowing cloth. They look so strong! The one on the left has a stern face, like a proper matron overseeing a hunt. The one on the right smiles warmly, her stone robes clinging softly to her curves. It's truly sad they fell. You can easily imagine the immense weight they were holding. [continue] {link to: 'mindspace museum hall', label: 'Back'}

[unless OfficeMapSkullManSmashed] You stare up at the pale sheet trapped behind the glass frame. It is covered in sharp lines and thin red ink. The marks look almost **underfunded,** like whoever drew them was running out of pigment and had to stretch it across the whole page. What is this web of paths trying to say? It makes no sense to you at all, **but** the shapes seem very deliberate, perhaps even **fruitful.** to whoever knows how to read them. [continue] [if OfficeMapSkullManSmashed] You stare up at the pale sheet trapped behind the glass frame. It is covered in sharp lines and thin red ink. The marks look incredibly faint, like whoever drew them was running out of pigment and had to stretch it across the whole page. What is this web of paths trying to say? It makes no sense to you at all, though the shapes seem very deliberate to whoever knows how to read them. You're just glad you don't have to. [continue] {link to: 'mindspace office', label: 'Back'}

[unless PrehistoricSkullManSmashed] You step under the shadow of the giant lizard. **My** word, the skull alone is bigger than you are! And look at those two legs. And that tail... that thing is a terrifying whip. This must have been the **finest** apex predator to ever walk the deeps, making quick **work,** of anything it caught. **I'd** certainly **say.** so. **Do** **you** think it was as fast as its long legs make it look? The jagged teeth seem **like** they could snap a thick stalagmite right in two. Who would ever want to be near **it?** Not you, that's for sure. Leave it to Grak. [if SkullManHuntStarted; unless SmallSkeletonsSmashed] *Perched high above you, standing perfectly still upon the giant lizard's massive skull, is the skull man. He's looking down at you, way out of reach of your bone club.* [continue] [continue] [if PrehistoricSkullManSmashed] You step under the shadow of the giant lizard. The skull alone is bigger than you are! And look at those two legs. And that tail... that thing is a terrifying whip. This must have been a real terror in the deeps, snapping up whatever it could catch. Do you think it was as fast as those long legs make it look? The jagged teeth seem sharp enough to bite a thick stalagmite right in two. What you wouldn't do to see one of these up close... preferably with its meat on, too. [continue] {link to: 'mindspace skeletons', label: 'Back'} [if SkullManHuntStarted; unless SmallSkeletonsSmashed; inventory for MindspaceBone] [[What if...?->dinosaur smash attempt cutscene]] [continue]

config.header.left: "{embed passage: 'CH3 Ascii Logic Mindspace'}" -- You find yourself standing in a narrow, impossibly straight tunnel. The walls are perfectly flat and covered in a pale skin with [[vines->mindscape wallpaper]] on top of it. The floor beneath you is lined with a long, soft strip of woven red. Behind you stands a [[🚪massive slab->mindspace front door]] fitted with shiny metal knobs. To your left is a [unless EntrywaySkullManSmashed; append] [[spindly stand->mindspace hall table]]. [continue] [if EntrywaySkullManSmashed; append] [[splintered mess->mindspace hall table]]. [continue] [unless SkullManEncountered] {embed passage: 'mindspace entryway before skullman'} [continue] [if SkullManEncountered; unless SkullManHuntStarted] Straight ahead, the strange corridor stretches further, ending at a square [[🛋️archway->mindspace museum hall]]. To the left of this path is another, smaller [[🛁side entrance->mindspace sitting room]]. Further down, a stepped slope climbs right up into the [[⤴️ceiling->mindspace office]]. *The skull man stands near the foot of the stepped slope, facing you.* [continue] [if SkullManHuntStarted] Straight ahead, the strange corridor stretches further, ending at a square [[🛋️archway->mindspace museum hall]]. To the left of this path is another, smaller [[🛁side entrance->mindspace sitting room]]. Further down, a stepped slope climbs right up into the [[⤴️ceiling->mindspace office]]. [continue] [if passage.visits == 1] *Where in the deeps are you?!* [continue]

Straight ahead, the strange corridor stretches further, ending at a square [[🛋️archway->mindspace sitting room]]. To the left of this path is another, smaller [[🛁side entrance->mindspace sitting room]]. Further down, a bizarre stepped slope climbs right up into the [[⤴️ceiling->mindspace sitting room]].

config.header.right: "{embed passage: 'Satchel Menu Logic'}" config.header.left: "{embed passage: 'CH3 Ascii Logic'}" -- {accessory: 'right1', passage: 'Satchel', taggedout: 'cutscene, menu, ending, past, future, misaligned'} It's a sudden thing. You catch the colors of your surroundings bleed out, running like wet paint, the straight lines and sharp corners twisting, folding inward until everything is swallowed by a rushing wall of choking grey mist. You squeeze your eyes shut, throwing your arms over your face as the ground simply gives way beneath your boots. For a terrifying heartbeat, you feel yourself falling away. But then, your feet hit solid stone again. With a heavy crunch, [[you stumble forward, gasping for air.->dried out tunnel]]

You step into a tunnel that... looks like a cave. The rock walls are odd and sound hollow. There's also not a single drop of moisture in the air. In the center of this bizarre, dry space sits a stiff, unmoving [[hairy man->mindspace wax figure]]. Arranged around him are several plinths holding a variety of [[tools->mindspace glass cases]]. [unless SkullManHuntStarted] *The skull man stands in front of the figure, half crouched, staring deeply into their eyes.* [continue] Behind you, the tunnel opens back into the [[🦴echoing room->mindspace prehistoric exhibit]].

It is a massive slab of dark, heavy wood blocking the tunnel completely. You push against it with your shoulder, but it refuses to give even a hair. The shiny golden knobs attached to it are cold to the touch and too smooth to grip properly with your claws. There are no gaps to peek through, no cracks letting in a draft of air. Oh, how **You** wish you could just open it **and** go back to the caves! To let **me** return to the damp dark, with **both.** feet firmly planted on real stone. {link to: 'mindspace entryway', label: 'Back'}

[unless ArchivesSkullManSmashed] You look up at the metal lantern dangling from a chain. It gives off a harsh yellow light and hisses constantly, sounding exactly like an angry bug ready to strike. It's not a great lantern, is it? You frown. It only lights up the heavy table right beneath it, while the towering iron racks are **Left** hiding **in** deep shadows. What is the point of lighting a fire if **the** rest of the room is just going to stay completely **dark.**? You shake your head at this terrible sense of lighting. [continue] [if ArchivesSkullManSmashed] You look up at the metal lantern dangling from a chain. It gives off a harsh yellow light and hisses constantly, sounding exactly like an angry bug ready to strike. It casts a pool of light over the heavy table and the newly formed pile of metal racks and boxes on the floor. It still seems like a terrible way to light a room. [continue] {link to: 'mindspace archives', label: 'Back'}

You peer through the glass covering the wooden boxes. Resting inside on soft little cushions is a collection of chipped rocks. You spot a few dull arrowheads, a simple hide-scraper, and a heavy piece of flint meant for cracking bones. You tilt your head. These are just normal, everyday tools? Half of them look completely worn out, too. Putting basic rocks in shiny glass boxes feels like a very silly waste of perfectly good glass. Actually, more than good! This thing is spotless. Wow. {link to: 'mindspace fake cave', label: 'Back'}

[unless SkullManHuntStarted] This wooden structure is so spindly you fear it might snap if you lean your weight on it. The top is flat and polished smooth. You run your hand over the surface and pause. Right in the center, the air feels... warm. **A** lingering, heavy heat radiates from an empty spot on the wood. It feels like something important once rested here. Influencing people, like some unseen **daemon**! The thought makes your stomach give a sudden, loud grumble **of** pure **hunger**. *Your head is starting to hurt a little.* [continue] [if SkullManHuntStarted; unless EntrywaySkullManSmashed] This wooden structure is so spindly you fear it might snap if you lean your weight on it. The top is flat and polished smooth. You run your hand over the surface and pause. **Nothing** seems out of place on the polished wood. You crouch down **to** look underneath the spindly legs. You blink, trying to **see** in this awfully bright light, and there you spot him: curled up tightly into a ball, pressed against the underside of the wood, is the skull man. He holds a finger to his teeth in a shushing motion. What is he doing down **here.**? [continue] [if EntrywaySkullManSmashed] The spindly wooden structure has been completely demolished. The flat, polished top is split in two, and its thin legs are snapped and scattered across the red woven floor. You run a foot through the splinters, but there is absolutely nothing interesting left here, just the evidence of your own destructive handiwork. Which, to be fair, is very satisfying to look at. [continue] {link to: 'mindspace entryway', label: 'Back'} [if SkullManHuntStarted; unless EntrywaySkullManSmashed; inventory for MindspaceBone] [[What if...?->entryway table smash cutscene]] [continue]

You crouch beside the heavy metal trunk resting against the wall. It is locked tight with a thick iron clasp that could easily stand up to a direct hit from Grak's axe. [unless OfficeSkullManSmashed] You trace the cold metal, wishing you could open it and **make** **a** grand discovery to bring to the Goddess. It would earn you a great **name** **back** at the warren... your true **home.** A sudden, sharp thought pierces your mind: with enough shiny rocks from the deeps, you could **Fund** many **things**... What does 'fund' mean? You shake your head. You could just buy all the grub-meat for **myself,** **maybe.** No! For Her! These headaches are making you greedy. [continue] [if OfficeSkullManSmashed] You trace the cold metal, still kind of wishing you could open it and make a grand discovery to bring to the Goddess. Sure, it would earn you a great name back at the warren. But with the headache finally gone, you can easily admit that hauling this heavy thing back to Her would be an absolute nightmare. [continue] {link to: 'mindspace skull office', label: 'Back'}

[unless PrehistoricSkullManSmashed] You walk up to the massive cage of ribs. The beast is **Very** imposing, sporting two incredibly long, sweeping tusks jutting from its skull. You would feel quite **proud** **of** whichever hunter managed to take **this** creature down, that is for sure. It is a terrifying **one.** to behold! Staring at the thick leg bones, you realize it **Took** you quite **a** long **while.** to even comprehend its sheer size. The warren could feast for years on something so large! Were it to actually, succesfully hunt it. Eh. You could manage. [continue] [if PrehistoricSkullManSmashed] You walk up to the massive cage of ribs. The beast is huge, sporting two incredibly long, sweeping tusks jutting from its skull. You would definitely give a lot of respect to whichever hunter managed to take this creature down, that is for sure. Staring at the thick leg bones, you realize just how small you are compared to it. The warren could feast for years on something so large! If they could actually hunt it without getting crushed, that is. Eh. You could manage. [continue] {link to: 'mindspace skeletons', label: 'Back'} [if SkullManHuntStarted; unless SmallSkeletonsSmashed; inventory for MindspaceBone] [[What if...?->mammoth smash attempt cutscene]] [continue]

[unless SkullManHuntStarted] {embed passage: 'mindspace maps pre-hunt'} [continue] [if SkullManHuntStarted; unless OfficeMapSkullManSmashed] {embed passage: 'mindspace maps active hunt'} [continue] [if OfficeMapSkullManSmashed] {embed passage: 'mindspace maps post-hunt'} [continue]

MapHuntVisits: MapHuntVisits + 1 -- [if MapHuntVisits == 1] You pull free one of the stiff, curled slices spilling off the puffy bench. It unrolls with a dry crackle, revealing a surface entirely painted a deep, dark blue, scattered with tiny, piercing white dots. It reminds you of looking up at a very high, very vast cavern ceiling completely covered in distant patches of lumina-moss. But it's too neat. Whoever drew this took the time to connect the glowing dots with thin, faint white lines, forming strange geometric shapes. You carefully roll the painting back into how it was before. {link to: 'mindspace office', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if MapHuntVisits == 2] You unfurl another heavy rolled cloth from the pile. This one is covered in a dizzying, suffocating web of perfectly straight gray lines, crossing each other over and over to form hundreds of tiny, harsh squares. ...is this a map of some kind? Who would dig tunnels with such sharp corners? There are no wide, natural caverns for communal cook-fires, no curved, soft-edged alcoves for sleeping... just endless, boring boxes packed tight against one another. You roll the odd map back into how it was before. {link to: 'mindspace office', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if MapHuntVisits == 3] You pull a smaller, softer sheet from the middle of the pile. It's covered in messy, random scratchings - a few lopsided spirals, some poorly drawn fungus-caps, and several thick V-marks scattered in the margins. Right in the center, however, the scratchings come together to form a beautiful, highly detailed portrait. It is a drawing of a woman wearing round seeing-glasses, her hair pulled into a messy knot, with clothing that's is pulled tight, and a magnificent belly, proudly pushing against her skirt... You gasp, a wide smile breaking across your face. A holy portrait of the Goddess! And drawn so well, too! You carefully smooth out the corners of the paper before setting it gently back down. {link to: 'mindspace office', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if MapHuntVisits >= 4] You grab another stiff roll from the bench. It snaps open violently, revealing a highly detailed drawing of a tall skeleton standing straight against a stark white background. One of his arms is placed high at shoulder level - it takes you a while to notice, but a thousand little lines connect little words to each and every bone. You frown, leaning closer to the paper. This skeleton sure does look familiar... [[mm...->office map rip cutscene]] [continue]

The puffy bench is covered in discarded rolls of cloth and stiff paper slices. Right on top of the pile lie the two torn halves of a thick sheet. The paper is completely blank now. You trace the jagged, torn edge with a finger, noting how the heavy silence of the room feels much more comfortable than the buzzing pressure from before. How nice! You leave the useless scraps where they are. {link to: 'mindspace office', label: 'Back'}

You pull free one of the stiff, curled slices spilling off the puffy bench. It unrolls with a dry crackle, revealing a surface covered in wandering lines and large red rings. At first, you think it's just a drawing of shattered earth. But as your eyes follow a thick, winding path near the center... That long curve bends exactly like the main tunnel outside the sleeping warren. And that big, empty oval right next to it? It perfectly mirrors the wide hollow of the hunting grounds. Someone drew the deep places! But from where? You'd have to be floating deep inside the very rock of the cavern ceiling to see the world laid out like this. The thought makes you feel very exposed. {link to: 'mindspace office', label: 'Back'}

You look at the remaining bones resting on the wooden racks. They are perfectly clean and smooth, varying greatly in shape and size. With the angry presence of that skull man completely gone from the room, they just look like regular old bones to you. Nothing special or holy about them, really. *Eheh*, you've already taken the bestest, sturdiest one for yourself anyway. {link to: 'mindspace skull office', label: 'Back'}

You push through the tall wooden slabs and step into an enormous, echoing space. In the center of the hall stands a towering [unless MuseumHallSkullManSmashed; append] [[metal giant->mindspace bronze statue]]. [if MuseumHallSkullManSmashed; append] pedestal, now completely empty. [continue] [append] At his feet rests a wooden block holding several [[tools->mindspace replica artifacts]]. [continue] At the far end of the room, two wide, stepped slopes lead upward. The left path is completely blocked by a pile of rubble and the broken bodies of massive [[statues->mindspace caryatids]]. An entrance to the right, however, remains clear, leading up to an [[🦴archway->mindspace prehistoric exhibit]]. [unless SkullManHuntStarted] *The skull man looms over the body of one of the statues, one of his hands curled into a fist and pressed onto the stone.* [continue] Behind you, the wooden slabs lead back to the [[🚪straight tunnel->mindspace entryway]].

You reach the top of the stepped slope and enter a cramped, dusty cavern. The walls here are almost completely hidden behind towering wooden racks, each stuffed tightly with even more colorful blocks. In the center sits a large, flat wooden desk. Resting upon it, surrounded by [[thin sticks->mindspace pens]], is a [[vessel->mindspace vessel]]. [unless OfficeMapSkullManSmashed] To the left, another puffy bench groans under a pile of [[rolled cloths->mindspace maps]]. [continue] [if OfficeMapSkullManSmashed] To the left, another puffy bench is covered in a messy pile of [[discarded papers->mindspace maps]]. [continue] [append] Above it hangs a large frame holding a pale sheet covered in [[red scratchings->mindspace chart]]. Near the exit hangs a [[tally-board->mindspace calendar]]. [unless SkullManHuntStarted] *The skull man sits in the chair, his bony fingers steepled together over his empty chest.* [continue] To the left, a [[🪟narrow exit->mindspace archives]] leads into another room. The doorway behind you leads back down the [[🏛️slope->mindspace entryway]].

You reach out to touch a long, curved rib resting on the shelf. **I** wonder what beast this belonged to. **should** it have been left in the dirt? Or **have** the hunters forgotten it? It has clearly **been** kept safe. **the** smooth surface feels nice. It is **one** of the best you have ever seen! **to** hold it is a privilege. You could **take** it back to the warren. **the** Matrons would like it. **glory** awaits...? **Instead,** you feel furiously angry. **she** is all you can think about. The pale woman. The Goddess? Being **trapped** in this tiny room makes you sick. It makes **me** feel incredibly suffocated. Being stuck **down** in the dark. [[Stuck **here.**->mindspace office bones 2]]

**That** is a lie! The **fat** woman is a goddess, not a **bitch**! She hasn't **ruined** us, **everything.** is fine! Why do **I** feel like I **had** to steal **the** shiny **artifacts.**? I **had** to sell them to **the** sky-walker **buyers.**? No! **she** is holy! She **collapsed** the **tunnel** to save us, **and** she never **left** you... **me**... **to** starve and **rot.**! **Now** my chest hurts. **I** am furious. **am** I angry? I am **stuck** here **with**... **this**... I am not a **pathetic** little **green** grub! I am a proud **creature**! Get out of **in** here, out of [[**my** own **head.**!!->mindspace office bones 3]]

**I was the senior osteologist! A decade of flawless, peer-reviewed publications, and the board hands the entire expedition grant to a glorified museum assistant just because she doodles little spirals in her margins!** **What do you mean 'we must respect the site'? When have our great institutions ever done so in the face of such barbarity? Pathetic! It was a goldmine waiting to be boxed and shipped to the highest bidder. And she triggered the collapse herself. She must have. She must!! Just to keep the best pieces hoarded away! And now look at my legacy. Clinging to my own marrow, forced to watch a filthy, waddling native smear her greasy fingers all over my private office.** **Listen to me, you ignorant little beast. You are going to walk back to that rockfall. You are going to dig until your claws bleed. You will pull my remains from the dirt and you will set me free, or by the almighty himself I WILL PEEL YOUR PRIMITIVE MIND APART WITH MY OWN [[BARE-->mindspace office bones 3.5]]**

Operating on pure instinct, you throw one of the bones on display across the other side of the room. [["GET OUT!!"->mindspace office bones 4]]

SkullManHuntStarted: true OfficeSkullManSmashed: true MindspaceBoneTaken: true SkullManSmashed: SkullManSmashed + 1 -- The thick bone sails across the cramped room and smacks squarely into the skeleton's ribcage with a hollow *CLACK*. Instantly, the figure collapses - the spine gives way, the skull drops, and a cascade of pale limbs rains down. They hit the wooden floorboards with a loud, chaotic clatter. A blink later, the floor is completely bare. You gasp, clutching your head. The crushing, furious weight pressing against the inside of your skull has vanished. The room is finally quiet again. [[It is just you.->mindspace office bones 4.5]]

You cautiously walk over to the empty spot. The only thing resting on the floor is the bone you threw. You pick it up, admiring its solid heft. You tuck it safely into your satchel. [[Let him try to yell at you again!!->mindspace skull office]]

PaintingRecognized: PaintingRecognized + 1 -- [if PaintingRecognized == 1] ...ah! No, not a window. That's a painting! [append] But a genuinely masterful one, stretched tight inside a heavy wooden frame. The artist captured a terrifying, wild place - a dark, jagged rock looming over a tangled forest. Tiny, desperate hunters flee through the crushing greenery, their crude huts dwarfed by the chaos of the winds. And in the middle of it, in the far distance, a massive lake... you can't help yourself but stare at it for a long while. [if PaintingRecognized >= 1] *It really must be a massive cave, this one. You can't even see the ceiling of it through the mist.* [continue] {link to: 'mindspace sitting room', label: 'Back'}

You pick up one of the thin wooden sticks. The pointed tip is stained a deep, dark black. You rub your thumb against it, leaving a dark smudge on your green skin. Ah! These are just tools for scratching marks, like a piece of chalk-stone but much sharper and wetter. You drop the stick back onto the desk, wiping your thumb on your wrap. You much prefer your own tools. {link to: 'mindspace office', label: 'Back'}

You stare down at the thin, floppy slices scattered across the low platform. Their surfaces are completely covered in tiny, frantic black scratches arranged in straight rows. It is clearly some kind of elaborate marking system, perhaps similar to the territorial scars the hunters leave near the deep pits. The sheer number of marks is overwhelming, packed so tightly together they blur into solid dark blocks. You squint at them for a moment, feeling a dull ache forming behind your eyes, and wisely decide to look away. {link to: 'mindspace sitting room', label: 'Back'}

[unless TerraceSkullManSmashed] A cluster of baked-mud buckets sits huddled in the corner. **No** water is left to soften the dirt. You have some sad **thoughts** looking **in** at the spindly weeds. Who would trap a plant like **that**? Even a **pretty** flower needs sap to keep the **head** **of** its stalk upright. You glance at the pale woman, wondering if these dying things are **hers.** What a **Useless.**, pathetic little harvest. [continue] [if TerraceSkullManSmashed] A cluster of baked-mud buckets sits huddled in the corner. Each one holds a packed lump of dry dirt and a few spindly, sad-looking weeds. Their leaves are curling and yellow at the edges, drooping heavily over the rims of their tiny prisons. You brush a finger against a brittle stem, finding it completely drained of sap. Who would trap a plant in a tiny bowl of dust and just leave it to starve in the cold wind? What a pathetic little harvest. [continue] {link to: 'mindspace terrace', label: 'Back'} [if SkullManHuntStarted; unless PotsSmashed; inventory for MindspaceBone] [[What if...?->terrace pots smash cutscene 1]] [continue]

The baked-mud buckets have been reduced to a pile of shattered clay, dry dirt, and crushed, yellowed weeds. [unless TerraceSkullManSmashed] A very satisfying mess to make! Still... what now? You glance around the terrace again. You even dare, with quivering knees, to glance over the [[black iron fence->mindspace railing]] running along the edge. Nope, nope... yeesh! Nothing in the blue void below you anyways. [continue] [if TerraceSkullManSmashed] A very satisfying mess to make! The dry dirt is already scattering in the cold wind sweeping across the open ledge, leaving nothing but broken clay behind. Eh, it's not a great loss. It wasn't going to be much of an harvest anyways. [continue] {link to: 'mindspace terrace', label: 'Back'}

You reach the top of the stepped slope and enter a massive, echoing room. The walls are lined with tall glass boxes, but the center of the room is what demands your attention: towering over everything are several [[great skeletons->mindspace skeletons]], standing perfectly still on wooden platforms. To your left, a heavy wooden door leads into a [[💼quiet room->mindspace skull office]]. To your right, the polished floor changes into a [[🪨tunnel->mindspace fake cave]]. [unless SkullManHuntStarted] *The skull man stands beneath the ribs of the largest skeleton, touching them softly.* [continue] Behind you, the way leads back down to the [[🏛️black and white floor->mindspace museum hall]].

You inspect the twisted black iron bars. They are thick and heavy, probably designed to keep people from tumbling off the flat stone ledge and into the terrifying blue nothingness above and below. You look closely at where the iron meets the stone floor. The fence is held in place by several thick, rusty bolts driven deep into the rock. Though there's no water around, they have gotten corroded over the years - the metal is flaking off in jagged, orange-brown crusts. {link to: 'mindspace terrace', label: 'Back'} [unless RailingBroken; inventory for MindspaceBone] [[What if...?->terrace railing smash cutscene 1]] [continue]

[unless MuseumHallSkullManSmashed] You step up to the wooden block. It holds a few small items: a painted head with a tall flat hat, a tiny grease-burner, and a brightly colored drinking bowl. A fuzzy red rope hangs in front of them. You lean in closely. They aren't real. They look like dried mud, and the paint is sloppy. **Meh.** They are just crude toys. You wouldn't trade a single good digging claw for the lot of them. [continue] [if MuseumHallSkullManSmashed] You step up to the wooden block. It holds a few small items: a painted head with a tall flat hat, a tiny grease-burner, and a brightly colored drinking bowl. A fuzzy red rope hangs in front of them. You lean in closely. They aren't real at all. They look like dried mud, and the paint is terribly sloppy. They are just crude toys. You wouldn't trade a single good digging claw for the lot of them. [continue] {link to: 'mindspace museum hall', label: 'Back'}

[unless SittingRoomSkullManSmashed] You press both hands deep into the puffy bench. The fabric is strange - like very short, dry moss that changes shade slightly when you rub it the wrong way. The middle of the seat sags heavily toward the floor, holding the ghost of a very heavy, very round backside. *Nice.* It looks incredibly comfortable. A soft, square white sack rests against the backrest. You give it a firm poke, watching it squish inward and hold its shape. [continue] [if SittingRoomSkullManSmashed] You press both hands deep into the puffy bench. The fabric is strange - like very short, dry moss that changes shade slightly when you rub it the wrong way. The middle of the seat sags heavily toward the floor, holding the ghost of a very heavy, very round backside. It looks incredibly comfortable. You actually consider taking a quick nap on it, now that the room is finally quiet and empty. But you've got work to do! A Goddess to return to. [continue] {link to: 'mindspace sitting room', label: 'Back'}

[unless ArchivesSkullManSmashed] You walk along the towering iron racks, looking up at the rows of boring grey blocks and tied-up leather scraps. Whoever hoarded all of this must be **A** deeply strange person. Some kind of crazy **cultist,** maybe, to gather so much useless junk? Still, you hate to admit it, **but** it takes **a** very sharp eye to keep everything this neat. A really **fine** worker did this. The word **archivist.** suddenly pops into your head, bringing a sharp sting to your temples. *What does that even mean?* [if SkullManHuntStarted; append] *Perched on the very top of the highest iron rack, looking down at you, is the skull man. His bony legs dangle over the edge.* [continue] [continue] [if ArchivesSkullManSmashed] The towering iron racks are a complete disaster. They have fallen heavily against each other, bending the thick metal beams and spilling their boring grey blocks all over the floor. It looks like a giant metal beast tripped and fell over! You grin at the destruction. Whoever hoarded all of this junk must be devastated by the mess. It takes a sharp eye to keep things neat, but it only takes a single, well-fed goblin to ruin it all! [continue] {link to: 'mindspace archives', label: 'Back'} [if SkullManHuntStarted; unless ArchivesSkullManSmashed; inventory for MindspaceBone] [[What if...?->shelves smash attempt cutscene]] [continue]

You peer into the small, shiny basin resting on the low platform. It is made of a cold, light metal that gleams like a still pool of water, but feels completely dry to the touch. You pick it up, turning it over in your hands, and watch as your reflection stares back at you from the curved bottom - your nose looking ridiculously huge and your pointy ears stretching out to the sides like bat wings. You huff, putting the useless, but pretty thing back down on the wood. {link to: 'mindspace sitting room', label: 'Back'}

[unless SkullManHuntStarted] {embed passage: 'mindspace sitting room pre-hunt'} [continue] [if SkullManHuntStarted; unless SittingRoomSkullManSmashed] {embed passage: 'mindspace sitting room hunt-active'} [continue] [if SittingRoomSkullManSmashed] {embed passage: 'mindspace sitting room post-hunt'} [continue]

You step through the opening and into a wide square cavern. [unless PaintingRecognized] Directly across from you, above the mantel of a fireplace, hangs a large [[window->sitting room jump scare cutscene 1]]. [continue] [if PaintingRecognized] Directly across from you, above the mantel of a fireplace, hangs a large framed [[painting->sitting room jump scare cutscene 1]]. [continue] To the left is a puffy [[bench->sitting room jump scare cutscene 1]]. Scattered across a low wooden platform before it are stacks of thin, bound [[slices->sitting room jump scare cutscene 1]], and a small [[bowl->sitting room jump scare cutscene 1]]. Along the far wall stands a towering wooden rack packed tight with [[colorful blocks->sitting room jump scare cutscene 1]]. To your right, the room opens into a [[🪑different space->mindspace terrace]]. Behind you, the doorway leads back to the [[🚪straight tunnel->mindspace entryway]].

You step through the opening and into a wide square cavern. [unless PaintingRecognized] Directly across from you, above the mantel of a fireplace, hangs a large [[window->mindspace painting]]. [continue] [if PaintingRecognized] Directly across from you, above the mantel of a fireplace, hangs a large framed [[painting->mindspace painting]]. [continue] To the left is a puffy [[bench->mindspace settee]]. Scattered across a low wooden platform before it are stacks of thin, bound [[slices->mindspace periodicals]], and a small [[bowl->mindspace silver bowl]]. Along the far wall stands a towering wooden rack packed tight with [[colorful blocks->mindspace bookshelf]]. To your right, the room opens into a [[🪑different space->mindspace terrace]]. Behind you, the doorway leads back to the [[🚪straight tunnel->mindspace entryway]].

[if passage.from == 'mindspace sitting room'] *A dizzying wave washes over you. You just stepped through the passage, but here you are again.* [continue] [unless passage.from == 'mindspace sitting room'] You step through the opening and into a wide square cavern. [continue] [unless PaintingRecognized] Directly across from you, above the mantel of a fireplace, hangs a large [[window->mindspace painting]]. [continue] [if PaintingRecognized] Directly across from you, above the mantel of a fireplace, hangs a large framed [[painting->mindspace painting]]. [continue] To the left is a puffy [[bench->mindspace settee]]. Scattered across a low wooden platform before it are stacks of thin, bound [[slices->mindspace periodicals]], and a small [[bowl->mindspace silver bowl]]. Along the far wall stands a towering wooden rack packed tight with [[colorful blocks->mindspace bookshelf]]. [unless SkullManEncountered] In the middle of the room is a [[skeleton->mindspace skull man cutscene 1]]. To your right, the room opens into a [[🪑different space->mindspace sitting room]]. Behind you, the doorway leads back to the [[🚪straight tunnel->mindspace sitting room]]. [continue] [if SkullManEncountered] To your right, the room opens into a [[🪑different space->mindspace terrace]]. Behind you, the doorway leads back to the [[🚪straight tunnel->mindspace entryway]]. [continue] [if SkullManEncountered] *The skull man is staying perfectly still.* [continue]

[unless SmallSkeletonsSmashed] It's fascinating: there are dozens of bone-piles here, but they aren't just scattered on the floor like a normal refuse pit. They are all held up by stiff metal sticks and thin shiny wires, posed as if they were still walking and breathing. Spooky. Most of them are small, looking like weird bats or lizards. However, two of them are truly massive and demand your attention. One is a huge [[beast with curved tusks->mindspace mammoth]], and the other is a terrifying [[giant lizard->mindspace dinosaur]]. [continue] [if SmallSkeletonsSmashed; unless PrehistoricSkullManSmashed] The metal sticks and shiny wires that once held most of the smaller bone-piles up are now bent and tangled. The floor is littered with shattered ribs and crushed skulls from your rampage. *Much better.* However, two of the massive ones still stand: a huge [[beast with curved tusks->mindspace mammoth]], and a terrifying [[giant lizard->mindspace dinosaur]]. *Kneeling among the wreckage is the [[skull man->prehistoric skull man smash cutscene]]. He is perfectly still, holding a tiny fractured skull in one hand and a piece of wire in the other.* [continue] [if PrehistoricSkullManSmashed] The metal sticks and shiny wires that once held most of the smaller bone-piles up are now bent and tangled. The floor is littered with shattered ribs and crushed skulls from your rampage. *Much better.* Towering over the mess are the two massive skeletons that survived your rampage: a huge [[beast with curved tusks->mindspace mammoth]], and a terrifying [[giant lizard->mindspace dinosaur]]. [continue] {link to: 'mindspace prehistoric exhibit', label: 'Back'} [if SkullManHuntStarted; unless SmallSkeletonsSmashed; inventory for MindspaceBone] [[What if...?->skeletons smash cutscene 1]] [continue]

You step up to the wide wooden table. It is buried under neat stacks of paper slices and strange brass measuring tools. [unless OfficeSkullManSmashed] **My** head throbs as a strange, stuffy word forces its way into your mind - a feeling that a long stay here, a **tenure**... well, it **was** something to be incredibly proud of. The organization of the slices is perfectly clean. Utterly **impeccable.** **I** blink, shaking the confusing thoughts away. You've **had** **no** real **want** **for** this kind of boring, sitting-around work. Or for an **adventure,** either! Wait, no, you *do* like exploring! You rub your ears in frustration, **but** the thoughts won't stop mixing with your own. If the Goddess asked you to stay here, you would have **said** **yes** **anyways.** Right? What? [if OfficeSkullManSmashed] The organization of the slices is perfectly clean. You stare at the mess of tools and paper, shaking your head. You have no real want for this kind of boring, sitting-around work. Your place is out in the tunnels, gathering for the Goddess! You should really get to finding a way out of this place. [continue] {link to: 'mindspace skull office', label: 'Back'}

SkullManEncountered: true -- **What?** You walk right up to the skeleton standing in the middle of the room. You tilt your head. A small, impressed **Gah!** escapes your lips. It is **Not** scary - you've seen plenty of dead things in the deep tunnels. But to see every **one** **of** these pale bones standing perfectly upright without falling over? And with not a bone stolen? Good for **you.**, skull man. It is completely bare, though, lacking even a scrap of clothing. **Gross.**? No, not really. [[Why did that word come to mind?->mindspace skull man cutscene 2]]

You step back. **Whatever.** A standing skeleton is **Better** **than** a boring pile of dust. You look at its ribs. Inside, where there should be **nothing,** a strange object catches your eye. "**I** bet that's a treasure," you whisper to yourself. A shiny green amulet hangs suspended from a thick chain right where its heart used to be, you **guess.** You'd reach a hand out to grab it, but **NO**, you get the impression that it would be a **BAD IDEA**. **Just don't.**, Leika. {link to: 'mindspace sitting room', label: 'Back'}

You push through the heavy door into a cramped, quiet room that smells harsh. The tall wooden racks lining the walls here are filled with blocks - less colorful than the ones you've seen so far -, but also hold rows of cleaned [unless OfficeSkullManSmashed; append] [[bones->mindspace office bones]]. [if OfficeSkullManSmashed; append] [[bones->mindspace mindspace actual bones]]. [append] In the middle of the room sits a wide [[cluttered table->mindspace skull desk]], and near the back wall rests a heavy-looking [[metal trunk->mindspace iron chest]]. [unless SkullManHuntStarted] *The skull man is seated behind the table, his hollow eye sockets fixed on* **You***.* [continue] Behind you is the exit back to the [[🦴echoing room->mindspace prehistoric exhibit]].

*GAH!* A strong sense of vertigo washes over you. You lean back, staring up at a vast blue void. The solid cavern roof has been entirely replaced by a smooth, terrifyingly open expanse that shifts colors - from a bright, hot orange near the bottom edge to a deep, bruising purple directly above. Tiny, scattered specks of white light dot the upper darkness. They lack the gentle, comforting pulse of moss, instead maintaining a cold stillness. The sheer, crushing emptiness of it all makes your knees wobble, and so you quickly lock your gaze back onto the solid stone floor to settle your spinning stomach. {link to: 'mindspace terrace', label: 'Back'}

[unless ArchivesSkullManSmashed] The large wooden table is covered in deep scratches and dark stains. It holds a slab of baked clay, a pot of blackened water, and a thick glass circle set inside a brass ring. Nothing too exciting, really. And **Our** warren has better tables! The things she's laid here... her little **findings**... they **were** clearly dug up from the dirt, but they are **not** good enough **for** a true hoard. Why bring them to **this** sad, dusty **place.**? If someone tried to make you sit and stare at old broken pottery all day, you'd tell them: **Over** **my** cold, **dead** **body.** [continue] [if ArchivesSkullManSmashed] The large wooden table is covered in deep scratches and dark stains. It holds a slab of baked clay, a pot of blackened water, and the shattered, scattered remains of a thick glass circle. Your warren definitely has better tables! The little findings laid out here were clearly dug up from the dirt, but they are not nearly good enough for a true hoard. Why bring them to this sad, dusty place? If someone tried to make you sit and stare at old broken pottery all day, you would just walk away. [continue] {link to: 'mindspace archives', label: 'Back'} [if SkullManHuntStarted; unless ArchivesSkullManSmashed; inventory for MindspaceBone] [[What if...?->table artifact smash cutscene 1]] [continue]

You step out of the square cavern and onto a flat stone ledge jutting out into nothingness. [unless RailingBroken] A fence of twisted black iron bars runs along its edge. Looking up, the cavern ceiling is missing, replaced by a [[blue dome->mindspace sky]]. The wind moving through the iron bars carries a sharp, biting scent of grey soot and strange salt that coats your tongue. Standing by the fence is a [[tall woman->mindspace Mary]]. Resting near her is a table, along with [continue] [if RailingBroken] The edge of the stone ledge is completely open now, the iron fence having fallen away into the void below. Looking up, the cavern ceiling is still missing, replaced by a [[blue dome->mindspace sky]]. The wind sweeping across the open ledge carries a sharp, biting scent of grey soot and strange salt that coats your tongue. The tall woman is gone. The table remains near the edge, along with [continue] [unless PotsSmashed; append] a cluster of pale [[weeds->mindspace potted plants]]. [continue] [if PotsSmashed; append] a pile of [[smashed pots->mindspace potted plants smashed]]. [continue] [unless SkullManHuntStarted] *The skull man sits cross-legged near the buckets, looking as if plucking their leaves.* [continue] [if SkullManHuntStarted; unless TerraceSkullManSmashed] *Hovering in the empty air just beyond the iron fence is the skull man. He stands perfectly straight, his bony arms crossed over his ribs, staring directly at the tall woman.* [continue] Behind you is the way back into the [[🪑square cavern->mindspace sitting room]].

You push into the haze, keeping your arms stretched out to avoid walking face-first into a wall. Within a dozen paces, the smog swallows the world entirely. The silence here is absolute, pressing heavily against your eardrums. You blink, realizing you can't even see the green of your own fingers wiggling in front of your nose. You spin around, deciding this is a terrible idea, but the fog is an impenetrable wall in every direction. You take a hesitant step backward, bracing your heel for jagged rock, but your foot lands on something perfectly level. And... [[woven->mindspace transition cutscene 2]]?

config.header.right: "{embed passage: 'Mindspace Wraps Menu Logic'}" config.header.left: "{embed passage: 'CH3 Ascii Logic Mindspace'}" -- {accessoryoff: 'right1'} A sudden light assaults your dark-adjusted eyes, forcing a gasp out of you. As you catch your bearings, you realize that the mist no longer surrounds you. [[The cave is gone.->mindspace entryway]]

[unless OfficeMapSkullManSmashed] You approach the dark stone carving resting on the center of the desk. It looks exactly like the one near the warren. **Wonderous** shapes, these ancient **artifacts.** But as you lean your ear in, expecting to hear the deep, bone-shaking hum of the deep caves... there is nothing. It is completely silent. Whoever made this **would've** done well to make it sing. A singing stone is easily **sold** for high status among the gatherers, and is definitely **better** to trade with **than** a quiet lump of shiny **gold!** [if OfficeMapSkullManSmashed] You approach the dark stone carving resting on the center of the desk. It looks exactly like the one near the warren. It's a small thing, carved to look like a fat goblin, or maybe a pregnant one. It's smooth and cold to the touch, and feels very, very old. At a glance you'd have mistaken it for one made by the Ancients, but as you lean your ear in... there is nothing. It is completely silent. [continue] {link to: 'mindspace office', label: 'Back'}

WaxFigureHuntVisits (SkullManHuntStarted): WaxFigureHuntVisits + 1 -- [unless FakeCaveSkullManSmashed; unless SkullManHuntStarted] You walk up to the stiff man standing in the center of the fake rock. He wears rough animal furs and holds a wooden spear high in the air, his face frozen in an angry shout. **Not** a real warrior, obviously. You are quite **fond** **of** the real hunters back home. His skin is the strangest part. It shines like cooled, hardened fat, looking wet while being completely dry to the touch. Is it one of those **waxed** **statues,** or a corpse? His legs are locked straight, **but** **they** look terribly balanced. You feel a sudden, strange ache in your head, like a heavy weight being **pressured** against your skull. It makes **me**— wait, no, makes *you* wonder who talked them **into** **adding** **it.** Any real beast would knock him over in a single heartbeat. [continue] [unless FakeCaveSkullManSmashed; if SkullManHuntStarted] You walk up to the stiff man standing in the center of the fake rock. He wears rough animal furs and holds a wooden spear high in the air, his face frozen in an angry shout. **Eheh** - wait, did you just chuckle? You didn't mean to. **my** head is ringing again. His skin is the strangest part. It shines like cooled, hardened fat, looking wet while being completely dry to the touch. It's a statue, clearly. You scoff at the **intellect** of whoever made it; it **knows** absolutely **no** proper hunting stances. A real beast would knock him over in a single **bound.** [continue] [if FakeCaveSkullManSmashed] You walk up to the stiff man standing in the center of the fake rock. He wears rough animal furs and holds a wooden spear high in the air, his face frozen in an angry shout. His skin is the strangest part. It shines like cooled, hardened fat, looking wet while being completely dry to the touch. It's a statue, clearly. You scoff at whoever made it; they clearly know absolutely nothing about proper hunting stances. A real beast would knock him over in a single heartbeat. [continue] [if SkullManHuntStarted; unless FakeCaveSkullManSmashed; if WaxFigureHuntVisits > 2] *Wait a minute... you squint at the shadows behind the hairy man. Standing perfectly flush with his back, mimicking the exact same wide stance and raised arm, is the skull man!* [continue] {link to: 'mindspace fake cave', label: 'Back'} [if SkullManHuntStarted; unless FakeCaveSkullManSmashed; if WaxFigureHuntVisits > 2; inventory for MindspaceBone] [[What if...?->fake cave smash cutscene]] [continue]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [if passage.visits == 1] You reach down to your hip and your breath hitches in your throat. Your hand grabs nothing but the rough fungus-cloth of your wrap! You look down in a blind panic. Your satchel is completely gone! But... you shift your stance. The strap still digs sharply into the flesh of your shoulder. The familiar, comforting bulk of the golden bug and the rest of your tools still bumps heavily against your side when you move. You can feel it all perfectly, you just can't see it or reach into it. *What?* [continue] [if passage.visits > 1] You run your hands over the rough fungus-cloth of your wrap. The phantom weight of your invisible satchel still tugs at your shoulder, a heavy, comforting, but completely useless pressure. You can only rely on what you carry in your own two hands here. [continue] [[➼->Leika's Belly (Mindspace)]] Your Belly. [if MindspaceBoneTaken] [[➼->Mindspace Bone]] A thick bone.{inventory MindspaceBone} [continue] [if passage.name == 'mindspace wraps'] {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'} {ascii backdrop: 'satchel'} [continue]

[unless LastBiomeAligned == 'ExpeditionRemains'] Stacks of moss bound in leather sit around the dais. The attendants shove them beneath the overhang of Her stomach and into the folds of Her hips. Gravity pulls at Her flesh, threatening to drag Her right off the buried throne, but the bolsters take the strain. They mold to Her shape, absorbing Her sweat. You glare at the damp leather: ah, to be crushed by such divine weight! You would gladly trade places with a pile of weeds. [continue] [if LastBiomeAligned == 'ExpeditionRemains'] The attendants hold the leather-bound moss above their heads, wedging them between their own shoulders and the pale expanse of Her backside. She sways to the music of the cave, oblivious to the groaning kin acting below her. Is she oblivious to them? Maybe she's just having fun. When She dips, the bolsters crush flat, saving the helpers from snapping in two. *Woah!* Close one. [continue] {link to: 'Future Chamber - Stage IMMOBILE', label: 'Back'}

MuseumHallSkullManSmashed: true SkullManSmashed: SkullManSmashed + 1 -- You step onto the plint, gripping your heavy club. The skeleton doesn't even flinch as you pull back and deliver a fierce blow right to his kneecaps. *CRASH!* He topples over, his bones scattering across the polished floor before vanishing into thin air. The horn of fruit clatters away and disappears alongside him. You look around, wiping your hands. Aw... the big metal lady with the nice belly didn't come back... [if SkullManSmashed < 9] {link to: 'mindspace museum hall', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if SkullManSmashed >= 9] [[The world around you suddenly shivers...->mindspace exit cutscene 1]] [continue]

You walk between the neat rows of cultivated stalks. They stand about as tall as you, their pale stems giving off a soft, steady teal light. You run your hand over one of the caps. It's cool, smooth, and slightly rubbery. You give it a little squeeze... not that firm yet. Not ready to harvest, maybe? You're more of a gatherer than a farmer. A few of the stalks at the end of the row look a bit droopy, their light even weaker than the others. {link to: 'Fungal Farm', label: 'Back'} [if WireSawTaken; unless StalkCut; inventory for WireSaw] [[What if...?->Stalks Saw Cutscene]] [continue] [if QuillAndPaperFound; inventory for QuillAndPaper] [[The stick twitches...->Stalks Quill Cutscene]] [continue] [if CH3PlasterTaken; inventory for CH3Plaster] [[What if...?->Stalks Plaster Cutscene]] [continue]

The closer you get to it, the hotter and thicker the air gets, heavy with the smell of musky breath and wet chalk. There are no soft furs, no carefully gathered moss. It's just a great, shallow bowl worn into the stone floor, a hollow created by the sheer, grinding weight of a beast's body turning in its sleep. The bottom is lined with a miserable collection of its own leavings. Brittle, pale scales, flaked off and ground into a fine white dust. A dark, greasy stain in the very center, still damp - you scrunch your nose in disgust. This isn't a proper nest! It's just a big, lazy wallow. Its owner must be lazy. {link to: 'Lair NorthWest', label: 'Back'} [unless NestLighterTried; if TrenchLighterTaken; inventory for TrenchLighter] [[What if...?->Nest Lighter Cutscene]] [continue] [if NestLighterTried; if TrenchLighterTaken; inventory for TrenchLighter] [[What if...?->Nest Lighter Refusal]] [continue]

[unless LeikaGorgedMolasses] The wooden barrel towers over you, its pale, curved planks bound tight by heavy iron rings. It looks like a giant's brew-keg, though the thick chain and heavy brass lock wrapped around its middle suggest someone wanted to keep whatever is inside safe. Or locked away from prying hands. You press your ear against the wood. You hear a very faint, sluggish sloshing sound. A dark, dizzying sweetness leaks from the seams, strong enough to make your teeth ache just from sniffing it. [continue] [if LeikaGorgedMolasses] The heavy chain and broken brass lock lie discarded in the dust. The thick wooden door hangs wide open, revealing a mostly scraped-out interior. A sticky, black puddle of sugary sludge coats the floor where you eagerly dropped to your knees earlier. No wonder they had it locked up. The slime almost had you tricked! Curse its retchedly clever tactic of simply allowing you to soffocate on its sweet flesh. Luckily, you once again proved your talent as a hunter, and came out victorious. You lick a stray spot of stickiness from your lip, giving your bloated belly a fond pat. [continue] {link to: 'palace vault', label: 'Back'} [if MetalJawTaken; unless LeikaGorgedMolasses; inventory for MetalJaw] [[What if...?->Cask Jaw Cutscene 1]] [continue]

OfficeMapSkullManSmashed: true SkullManSmashed: SkullManSmashed + 1 -- You grab the top edge of the stiff paper and pull your hands apart with a sharp grunt. *RIIIIIP!* The thick sheet tears right down the middle, splitting the drawing of the skeleton cleanly down the spine. The very moment the paper separates into two, the black ink forming the bones simply blinks out of existence, leaving behind nothing but blank, torn parchment. You toss the empty halves back onto the bench, brushing the paper dust from your fingers. [if SkullManSmashed < 9] {link to: 'mindspace office', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if SkullManSmashed >= 9] [[The world around you suddenly shivers...->mindspace exit cutscene 1]] [continue]

[unless LastBiomeAligned == 'ExpeditionRemains'] Small clay jars sit open on the stone, releasing a heavy scent of rendered fat and crushed herbs. The Goddess is growing so fast that deep, angry red lines mark the taut limits of Her flesh. You watch, biting your lip in pure envy, as a pair of kin coat their palms in the warm grease. They press their hands deep into the heavy folds of Her thighs and the massive, sloping underside of Her gut, working the slick moisture in to soothe the holy ache of Her expansion. The wet, rhythmic sound of their labor echoes softly in the cavern. How lucky they are to touch such divine softness. [continue] [if LastBiomeAligned == 'ExpeditionRemains'] Small clay jars slosh dangerously as the kin sprint after the wandering Goddess. Because She insists on moving, the friction between Her monumental, doughy legs is a constant threat to Her comfort. A daring kin dives between Her staggering steps with hands full of slick, herbal grease, desperately trying to coat the rubbing flesh before She takes another step and accidentally crushes him between Her thighs. He's fine, if a little hurt. It is a rough duty, but oh, what a privilege to lay hands on that much divine softness! [continue] {link to: 'Future Chamber - Stage ALMOST IMMOBILE', label: 'Back'}

[if passage.visits == 1] You cautiously approach the dented metal pail. A foul, sour smell wafts up from it, making your nose wrinkle. You peer inside. It's half-full of a murky, brown-ish liquid with a few sad, unrecognizable lumps floating in it. Probably yesterday's slop. Or worse. You give it a wide berth. Ew. *Yuck.* Absolutely not. [continue] [if passage.visits == 2] Out of sheer boredom, you look at the foul pail again. The smell is just as bad. You poke one of the floating lumps with your toe. It sinks with a sad little *gloop*, releasing a new bubble of foul air. But as the liquid settles, you see it. Just for a moment, something pale and long glints beneath the murky surface before being covered again. Ugh. Do you... do you really want to know what that is? Probably not worth it, to be honest. [continue] [if passage.visits > 2; unless HasPrisonBone] You sigh, pinching your nose. There's no avoiding it. Whatever is in there might be useful! You can't just leave it. Well, you can. Maybe you should actually, that thing looks disgusting. Yes, on second thought, you should do well to just ignore it... ugh. [[You steel yourself and reach into the slop.->Pail Item Find Cutscene]] [continue] [if HasPrisonBone] You glance at the pail, and an involuntary shudder runs down your spine, remembering the feeling of the cold, greasy liquid closing over your hand. Now that its secret is yours, you can see the pail for what it is: a meal. Is this what they feed the big orc-lady? Just... this? That doesn't seem enough... You look at the few remaining lumps floating in the brown water. You have no reason to ever touch that disgusting thing again... well, unless you don't find a way to escape. [continue] {link to: 'Prison Cell', label: 'Back'} [if HasPrisonBone; unless PailBoneTried; inventory for PrisonBone] [[What if...?->Pail Bone Cutscene]] [continue] [if HasFireStone; unless PailFireStoneTried; inventory for FireStone] [[What if...?->Pail Fire Stone Cutscene]] [continue]

You push past a hanging wall of thick, heavy red fabric, finding yourself in a tight, suffocating nook. The heat is unbearable here, trapped by mounds of velvet and wool spilling from several smashed wooden chests. The air instantly burns your eyes. Scattered across the floor among the spilled garments are hundreds of [[white spores->palace white spores]], giving off a sharp, aggressive odor. Half-buried under a pile of uselessly thick coats are several fancy-looking [[wraps->palace wraps]]. There's nowhere else to go but [[back the way you came.->crate-palace]]

ElfCoupleVisits: ElfCoupleVisits + 1 -- [if ElfCoupleVisits == 1] You crawl over a half-crushed trunk, dropping into a very dark, secluded nook behind a wall of stacked books. You catch a wet gasp, followed by frantic rustling. Peeking around a corner, you spot a tangle of pale purple limbs: two outlanders, pressed hard against a crate with their garments hastily shoved aside, caught in a frantic, panting rhythm. A hot flush instantly spreads across your cheeks. You clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle a squeak and immediately scramble backwards over the trunk, eager to put a solid wall of wood between you and them. Better to turn [[back the way you came->crate-palace]] and give them some privacy. [continue] [if ElfCoupleVisits == 2] You squeeze through a narrow gap between two leaning chests, dropping into another quiet, shadowed corner. *Squeak. Squeak.* The rhythmic sound of wood straining under weight greets your ears. You peek around a stack of silk rugs... Oh! It's them again. They moved. The woman is now bent awkwardly over a precarious, teetering tower of crushed hat boxes, while the man grips her tightly laced hips from behind. You roll your eyes, turn around, and squeeze right [[back out the way you came.->crate-palace]] [continue]

ElfMaidVisits: ElfMaidVisits + 1 -- [if ElfMaidVisits == 1] You duck under a hanging tapestry and step onto a beautiful, intricately woven rug. "The mud!" a shrill voice pierces the stifling heat. An older woman in a ruined black dress and a ruffled white apron drops a wooden scrub-brush. She lunges at you, her face twisted in shock at your dusty, ash-covered toes. Her long fingers clamp down hard on your pointy ear. *Ow!* She twists it, dragging you forcefully backward through the tapestry while scolding you in a rapid, squeaky language you don't understand. She shoves you out onto the dirt and yanks the fabric shut, forcing you to turn [[back the way you came.->crate-palace]] [continue] [if ElfMaidVisits == 2] You duck under another sagging tapestry, trying to be stealthy. "Oi! You again?! The mud!!" the same shrill voice shrieks. Damn it! The older woman again. She doesn't go for your ear this time: she grabs a fistful of your fungus-wrap and hauls you clean off your feet. She frog-marches you backwards through a dizzying blur of crates, chests, and tapestries, screaming her squeaky language the entire way, and before you can even put up a fight, she violently kicks you right out of a [[side-flap of the crate-palace->Sunless Fields Hub]]. [continue]

ElfManVisits: ElfManVisits + 1 -- [if ElfManVisits == 1] You squeeze past a leaning grandfather clock, emerging into a narrow stretch of floorboards. A tall, purple-skinned man with cloudy white eyes, tall black hat, and a sweat-stained coat suddenly rounds the corner, nearly stepping right on you. He pauses, adjusting a monocle resting uselessly over his foggy gaze. "*Ah, pardon me, child,*" he says, his voice a polite, breathy rasp. Before you can even puff your chest to correct him, his hand shoots out. He grabs your shoulder and violently shoves you face-first into a pile of dusty canvas to clear his path, marching forward with long, hurried strides. What was *that* for? You rub your nose and turn [[back the way you came.->crate-palace]] [continue] [if ElfManVisits == 2] You step around a barricade of heavy armoires, only to walk right into the path of the tall man with the cloudy white eyes. He stops short, adjusting his monocle. "*Ah, pardon me, child,*" he rasps politely, exactly as before. And exactly as before, his hand shoots out, grabbing your shoulder and effortlessly hurling you out of his way into a stack of cushions. As he strides past your tumbling form, he gives a cheerful, raspy chuckle. "*Ah... a firm hand builds character! I do so enjoy educating the youth.*" You untangle yourself from the velvet, glaring daggers at his retreating back before getting [[back the way you came.->crate-palace]] [continue]

[if passage.from == 'crate-palace'] [JavaScript] let deck = engine.state.get('palaceDeck') || []; if (deck.length === 0) { let tempDeck = [ 'palace tinned food', 'palace metal jaw', 'palace clothes', 'palace pond', 'palace mining gear', 'palace library', 'palace parlor', 'palace vault' ]; if ((engine.state.get('ElfManVisits') || 0) < 2) tempDeck.push('palace cutscene elf man'); if ((engine.state.get('ElfMaidVisits') || 0) < 2) tempDeck.push('palace cutscene elf maid'); if ((engine.state.get('ElfCoupleVisits') || 0) < 2) tempDeck.push('palace cutscene elf couple'); for (let i = tempDeck.length - 1; i > 0; i--) { const j = Math.floor(Math.random() * (i + 1)); [tempDeck[i], tempDeck[j]] = [tempDeck[j], tempDeck[i]]; } tempDeck.unshift('palace pit'); deck = tempDeck; } const nextRoom = deck.pop(); engine.state.set('CurrentPalaceRoom', nextRoom); engine.state.set('palaceDeck', deck); [continue] [continue] [if CurrentPalaceRoom == 'palace tinned food'] {embed passage: 'palace tinned food'} [continue] [if CurrentPalaceRoom == 'palace metal jaw'] {embed passage: 'palace metal jaw'} [continue] [if CurrentPalaceRoom == 'palace clothes'] {embed passage: 'palace clothes'} [continue] [if CurrentPalaceRoom == 'palace pond'] {embed passage: 'palace pond'} [continue] [if CurrentPalaceRoom == 'palace mining gear'] {embed passage: 'palace mining gear'} [continue] [if CurrentPalaceRoom == 'palace library'] {embed passage: 'palace library'} [continue] [if CurrentPalaceRoom == 'palace parlor'] {embed passage: 'palace parlor'} [continue] [if CurrentPalaceRoom == 'palace vault'] {embed passage: 'palace vault'} [continue] [if CurrentPalaceRoom == 'palace cutscene elf man'] {embed passage: 'palace cutscene elf man'} [continue] [if CurrentPalaceRoom == 'palace cutscene elf maid'] {embed passage: 'palace cutscene elf maid'} [continue] [if CurrentPalaceRoom == 'palace cutscene elf couple'] {embed passage: 'palace cutscene elf couple'} [continue] [if CurrentPalaceRoom == 'palace pit'] {embed passage: 'palace pit'} [continue]

You cross between two teetering pillars of [[bound slices]] and step into a small, suffocating space. The outlanders have tried to build walls entirely out of their weird paper blocks. Lounging high up, in the center of the mess and upon a plush velvet cushion is a [[pregnant matron]]. She ignores you completely, letting out a dramatic, tired sigh as she rubs her back and stares intently at the object resting on her lap. There is nowhere else to go but [[back the way you came.->crate-palace]]

You duck under a low-hanging tarp that feels stiff with dried dirt, finding yourself in a wider, circular clearing surrounded by tall, iron-reinforced crates. The ground here is slick with dark grease, staining your toes. A massive trunk sits open in the center, its hinges snapped. Spilling out of it are dozens of strange, oily metal pieces - toothy circles, metal branches, and springs. [unless MetalJawTaken; append] Resting atop the pile as if on a throne is a very mean-looking [[club->Metal Jaw Cutscene]]. [continue] [if MetalJawTaken; append] The spot on the pile where the heavy metal tool rested is now just a greasy imprint. [continue] Nailed to the side of one of the taller crates is a spread of large, peculiar [[blue papers]]. There's nowhere else to go but [[back the way you came.->crate-palace]]

You turn a sharp corner around a stack of splintering boards and find yourself in a long, narrow dead end. The ground here belongs to the cave again, but it's uneven, completely covered by a tangle of heavy, dark iron. A bundle of thick [[pickaxes]] leans awkwardly against the far wall, their wooden shafts scarred and gouged. Scattered near your toes is a disorganized heap of [[hammers and chisels]]. There's nowhere else to go but [[back the way you came.->crate-palace]]

You push past a hefty red curtain and find yourself in a tiny, cramped corner that reeks of yeast and rot. A smashed shipping crate has been propped up to serve as a makeshift [[table]]. Wedged tightly into the corner behind it, taking up almost all the remaining space, is a massive, purple [[velvet armchair]]. There is nowhere else to go but [[back the way you came.->crate-palace]]

You squeeze past a final wall of trunks and find yourself standing at the very edge of the outlanders' hoard. The solid dirt floor drops away entirely into a vast, yawning [[pit]]. A thick wooden pole is wedged tightly between two heavy crates near the edge. Tied securely to it is a heavy [[rope]] that dangles down into the abyss. A strong, blistering hot breeze blows steadily up from the depths below, fluttering the edges of your wrap. There is nowhere else to go but [[back the way you came.->crate-palace]]

You push through a canvas flap that feels surprisingly heavy and slick with moisture. The dry, roasting air of the fields vanishes instantly, replaced by a thick, suffocating cloud of steam. The crates here have been pushed back to reveal the natural cave wall, forming a protective barricade around a small, bubbling [[hot spring]]. [unless PipeSmashed] Wading waist-deep in the water is a [[tall figure]] with her back to you, humming a slow tune while aggressively scrubbing her arms with a sponge. Lining the wet stone at the edge of the water are several glass [[scented bottles]]. [continue] [if PipeSmashed] A deep, muddy trench now cuts right across the dirt floor, carved by the jet of scalding water shooting from the wall. A coarse sponge lies abandoned on the wet stone near several glass [[scented bottles]], left behind when the tall outlander scrambled away in a panic. [continue] There's nowhere else to go but [[back the way you came.->crate-palace]]

You squeeze through a narrow gap between two towering, iron-banded chests, your shoulders scraping against the smooth wood. The gap spits you out into a very tiny, cramped dead end. The walls here are made entirely of smaller, identical wooden boxes, stacked so high they touch the sagging canvas roof. One of the boxes near the bottom has split open under the weight, spilling a pile of heavy, identical [[silver cylinders]] onto the dusty floor. There's nowhere else to go but [[back the way you came.->crate-palace]]

You crawl under a sagging canvas tarp and drop into a pitch-black, sticky dead end. The heat is incredibly thick here, carrying a heavy stench of burnt sugar and deep earth. Taking up almost the entire space is a colossal [[oak cask]] wrapped tightly in heavy iron chains. There is nowhere else to go but [[back the way you came.->crate-palace]]

You pick up one of the little white balls. It's perfectly round and hard, like a dried seed, but the smell rolling off it is awful. It reeks of sharp, sour dust and makes the back of your throat burn. It makes your eyes water just holding it near your face. Whatever giant, unseen fungus produced these terrible defensive spores, you hope you never meet it. You drop it quickly, wiping your hand on your leg. {link to: 'palace depths router', label: 'Back'} [if SporesCrushed; if MetalJawTaken; inventory for MetalJaw] [[What if...?->Spores Jaw Cutscene]] [continue]

You drag one of the smaller garments from the pile. It's incredibly stiff, lined with rows of hard, parallel bones sewn right into the fabric. Wasn't this what that tall purple woman outside was wearing? Curious, you hold it up to your own waist. It's completely rigid and ridiculously narrow. Not even the skinniest, most starved kit in the warren could fit into this, let alone a proper, healthy one. And what is with all those dangling laces? Who has the time to tie all of that? These outlanders make no sense to you. Why would anyone ever wear this? You throw it back onto the pile with a dismissive huff. {link to: 'palace depths router', label: 'Back'}

The pale yellow weeds stand just a little taller than you, pressing in on the dirt clearing from all sides. You reach out and snap one of the thick stalks. It breaks with a dry, hollow *crack*, its inside glowing with a small warmth that warms your palm. The tops of the weeds are swollen with tight clusters of hard, pale seeds. You rub a handful between your fingers, feeling the rough husks before bringing them to your nose. They smell exactly like the hot, roasted air of the cavern, just sharper. A whole endless field of this stuff... no wonder the cave feels like an oven. {link to: 'Sunless Fields Hub', label: 'Back'} [if TrenchLighterTaken; inventory for TrenchLighter] [[What if...?->Wheat Lighter Cutscene]] [continue]

You wrap both hands around the thick wooden handle of the nearest tool and heave. It barely leaves the floor before the heavy iron head drags it right back down with a dull clatter. These things are massive! A single swing would probably pull your shoulders right out of their sockets. The metal points are chipped and blunt from striking hard rock, showing they saw a lot of heavy use before ending up in this pile. They are definitely tools meant for tall, thick-armed workers, not for someone of your holy, diminuitive stature. {link to: 'palace depths router', label: 'Back'}

[if passage.visits == 1] You glare at the pathetic pile of straw in the corner. It's thin, damp, and smells faintly of mold and something musky, like a rat's nest. A few of the stalks are black with rot. This is supposed to be a bed? You'd rather sleep on the cold stone. Even the worst spot in the pile back home - the wet one - is a hundred times better than this. [continue] [if passage.visits > 1] You glare at the pathetic pile of straw in the corner. It's thin, damp, and smells faintly of mold and something musky, like a rat's nest. A few of the stalks are black with rot. Again, this is supposed to be a bed? It hasn't gotten any cleaner, but your head still aches. [if passage.visits > 1; unless LooseStoneNoticed] [[Maybe a moment's rest wouldn't hurt.->Straw Bed Sleep Cutscene]] [continue] {link to: 'Prison Cell', label: 'Back'} [if HasPrisonBone; unless StrawBoneTried; inventory for PrisonBone] [[What if...?->Straw Bone Cutscene]] [continue] [if HasFireStone; if OrkState == 'seensleeping'; inventory for FireStone] [[What if...?->Straw Fire Cutscene Sleeping]] [continue] [if HasFireStone; if OrkState == 'awake'; inventory for FireStone] [[What if...?->Straw Fire Cutscene Awake 1]] [continue]

Your own stomach gives a low, jealous gurgle just by looking down. Whole roasted lizards, their skins blackened and split to show the pale meat beneath, are heaped next to glistening haunches of meat. Mounds of fungi, the prized red-caps and deep purples, are piled so high they threaten to tumble down onto the stone floor. This alone is more than your warren offers the Goddess in a week! *How dare they?!* And... and there's more! Huge wooden bowls overflowing with twitching fat-grubs, skins of dark, fermented berry-juice leaking sticky puddles onto the hides below... all of it just... waiting. Waiting to be shoveled into that whining, overstuffed gut on the throne. What a waste. {link to: 'Maw Chamber Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if HasFireStone; inventory for FireStone] [[What if...?->Tribute Pre Fire Cutscene]] [continue]

You creep right to the edge, your toes curling over the sharp drop. ...not much there to see. The sheer darkness swallows the cavern's ambient light after just a few paces. The updraft rushing from the bottom hits you directly in the face, carrying a harsh, stinging scent of baked stone that dries your eyes out almost instantly. You step back, and single pebble gets kicked loose by your boot. It falls... and falls... and you never hear a splash or a crack. You take another, very deliberate step backward. {link to: 'palace pit', label: 'Back'} [if PlasterPit; if CH3PlasterTaken; inventory for CH3Plaster] [[What if...?->Rope Plaster Cutscene]] [continue]

*...lazy lumps.* At the main entrance and along the walls, crude barricades of sharpened fungus-wood mark the guard posts. Spears with bone tips are leaned carelessly against the rock, next to a couple dented shields. The guards themselves aren't paying much attention to the court. One leans heavily on his spear, his helmet - fashioned from the skull of some horned creature - tilted so far forward he might be asleep. Another, sitting on an upturned crate, is entirely focused on gnawing the last stringy bits of meat from a large bone. {link to: 'Maw Chamber Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if HasFireStone; inventory for FireStone] [[What if...?->Guards Pre Fire Cutscene]] [continue]

The tall purple woman is sprawled out on a velvet cushion, shifting her weight every few seconds with a grimace. She wears a pair of thick, wire-rimmed seeing-glasses that slide down her nose and magnify her cloudy eyes until they bulge like those of a bug. She holds an open book of slices on her lap, but she is mostly using it as a resting shelf for her heavy, swollen belly. The pale skin of her clearly pregnant gut presses tight against a thin, semi-transparent dress, resting its warm weight directly onto the pages below. You lean closer, stifling a giggle. The drawing of a tall, leafy tree on the open page has its roots pointing straight up at the ceiling. Is that thing backwards? Well, she doesn't seem to care much. She traces a finger over the scratchings, lets out a long, drawn-out sigh, and reaches around to rub her aching lower back. {link to: 'palace library', label: 'Back'}

PrehistoricSkullManSmashed: true SkullManSmashed: SkullManSmashed + 1 -- You march right up to the skeleton, then raise your heavy club and swing it with a vicious grunt. *CRACK!* The impact snaps his spine in two. The skull man collapses into a chaotic pile of pale limbs, but the exact moment his bones hit the polished floor, they blink out of existence. Just like that, he's completely gone. A weight immediately lifts from your mind, leaving the grand room feeling much lighter. [if SkullManSmashed < 9] {link to: 'mindspace prehistoric exhibit', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if SkullManSmashed >= 9] [[The world around you suddenly shivers...->mindspace exit cutscene 1]] [continue]

The water has gathered in long, shallow scoops in the floor, as if a giant thumb had pressed down into soft clay and left a print. It's not clay, though, the floor underneath you is hard. Under the cloudy liquid, you can just barely see how some tiles have fused into a single, dark, glassy sheet. The surface is perfectly still, holding the grey light of the high, empty ceiling without a tremor. When you lean over, a cloudy reflection looks back at you, pale and washed out against the dark bottom. [if passage.visits == 1] *You wave a hand at your reflection. It waves back!* [continue] [if passage.visits == 2] You tap the surface with a toe. It's somewhat sticky. [continue] [if passage.visits == 3] *It reminds you of spit.* [continue] {link to: 'Hunting Grounds Hub', label: 'Back'} [if TuningForkTaken; inventory for TuningFork] [[What if...?->Puddles Tuning Fork Cutscene]] [continue]

You cautiously approach the pile in the corner. They are smooth, round, and wet, like giant river pebbles, still coated in a thick, grey slime that smells sharply of half-digested chalk. Each stone has been licked clean of any moss or dirt, polished smooth inside the beast's gut before being spat back out. *Gross.* {link to: 'Lair NorthWest', label: 'Back'}

[unless ExpeditionRemainsAligned] The air here is freezing, choked with a thick, swirling grey mist that clings to your ankles and severely limits your vision. The rocky walls of the tunnel are barely visible through the haze. Half-buried in the dusty floor, you spot a collapsed [[ruined tent]] and a scattering of bug-bitten [[beddings]]. The path forward descends deeper into the [[🌫️grey fog->mindspace transition cutscene 1]]. Looking over your shoulder, the mist seems to have already completely swallowed the archway leading [[⚫back to the caves->Southeast Tunnel]]. [continue] [if ExpeditionRemainsAligned] The air here is chilly, but the choking grey mist has completely vanished. You can easily see the rough, natural rock walls of the tunnel again. Half-buried in the dusty floor, you spot a collapsed [[ruined tent]] and a scattering of bug-bitten [[beddings]]. The path forward leads downward into a [[🍂dead end->thicket]]. Looking over your shoulder, the archway leading back to the [[⚫main tunnels->Southeast Tunnel]] is clear and open. [continue]

PetrifiedRootsSeen: true -- ...what? The roots hanging from the ceiling are all wrong. You reach up, expecting the damp, rubbery feel of a proper cave-root, the kind that drips with sweet sap if you squeeze it just right. Your fingers rap against something hard. Cold. It's stone, smooth and dry, with no give at all. You find a smaller one, thin as your finger, and give it a sharp tug, thinking you can snap it off for a closer look. A jolt of pain shoots up your arm. The root doesn't even shiver. You scowl. This isn't a garden at all! It's a fake. *All fake!* The Ancients must have gotten lazy, carving the roots right into the ceiling instead of doing the proper work of digging and planting. What a cheat. Even your lumpy carvings are more honest than this. {link to: 'Lair East', label: 'Back'}

You grab the thick cord. The pale, scratchy fibers of the weave bend easily in your grip, feeling very weak compared to the tough root-vines back home. You haul a section of it up from the dark to get a better look, finding a sturdy wooden stick lashed between two parallel ropes: this was a ladder. You pull up another arm-length to see how far down the steps go. The answer is not much. The thick cords end in frayed tufts right below the second wooden stick. {link to: 'palace pit', label: 'Back'}

The heavy, pale fabric of the collapsed hut is completely unfamiliar to you. It is pinned against the stone floor by the weight of its own snapped wooden poles, the material slowly rotting away. A thick, undisturbed blanket of grey dust coats the ruins, dulling whatever color it once had. You tap the brittle cloth with your toe, sending a dry puff of mold into the air. Whoever built this camp abandoned it to the caves some time ago. Maybe a season or two? It's hard to tell. {link to: 'remains tunnel', label: 'Back'}

Several delicate glasses sit precariously on the slick rock near the water's edge. The liquid inside them is brightly colored, ranging from a sickly pink to a vibrant, dangerous-looking yellow. You lean in close to sniff the open one. The harshest scent you've ever inhaled invades your nose, stinging your nostrils and making you tear up. It is the exact same sickly-sweet rotting smell that the pacing man outside was drenched in, just much stronger here - you rub your nose, stepping away before any of it can permanently attach itself to your wrap. {link to: 'palace pond', label: 'Back'}

BlueHideSeen: true -- You tug at the scraps of hide snagged on the sharp rock. They're not leathery like sky-walker hide. It's fungus-cloth, thick and coarsely woven, just like your own wrap. But the color... it's a bright, startling blue. You've never seen a dye like it. Whoever this belongs to... *tsk*. They must be dumb to be wearing something this bright and well made out in the dark plains. That's just asking for thieves. {link to: 'Rusted Grotto', label: 'Back'}

You lean over the wide, shallow bowl carved from the same black stone as the rest of the altar, noticing that the bottom isn't clean; instead, it's coated in a dull-looking film. You reach out a hesitant finger and touch it. The film breaks apart instantly, becoming a fine, dark powder that feels gritty between your fingertips. A faint, greasy scent rises from the disturbed dust... ah! Are these the ashes of an ancient offering? You rub the holy grit between your thumb and finger, wondering what magnificent feast was once piled so high here. {link to: 'shattered altar', label: 'Back'} [if TrenchLighterTaken; if BowlLighterLit; inventory for TrenchLighter] [[What if...?->Bowl Lighter Cutscene]] [continue]

A huge, black stone table, snapped clean in two, lies half-buried in the rubble. It looks like something stepped on it. A giant, smooth scoop has been pressed down into its top, so deep it cracked the stone right down the middle. Right in the center of the scoop is a wide, [[shallow bowl]]. The two remaining columns at its sides are carved with rows of funny little open mouths, their stone tongues licking at bunches of round, stone grapes. And there, on the floor tiles right in front of it, is what you have learnt to recognize as Her mark: the belly and chest, with the small "v" in the middle of it. {link to: 'Hunting Grounds Hub', label: 'Back'}

A giant stone kin sits slumped in the rubble, its heavy head bowed against a jagged wall. It must have fallen from a great height; its torso is cracked wide open like a dropped gourd. You creep closer, peering into the break, finding nothing on the inside - the light is low, and though you can see in the dark, it's hard to make out details. One of its massive, paddled arms lies a few feet away, snapped cleanly at the shoulder. You press your ear to the cold stone chest... and you hear it. The faint, sleepy *hummmm*, deep within that many other large stuff from the Ancients share. {link to: 'Lair SouthWest', label: 'Back'} [if TuningForkTaken; inventory for TuningFork] [[What if...?->Golem Tuning Fork Cutscene]] [continue] [if QuillAndPaperFound; inventory for QuillAndPaper] [[The stick twitches...->Golem Quill Cutscene]] [continue]

You march right up to the base of the iron rack, glaring up at the skeleton perched near the ceiling. You raise your bone club and take a mighty, sweeping swing at the air below his dangling feet. *SWISH.* You hit nothing but stale air. You swing again, adding a little jump this time, but you still fall short. Well, you are short, but it still feels annoying. The rack itself is made of thick, heavy iron rods - smacking the legs would only hurt your wrists. You huff, lowering your club and stepping back. Fine. *Fine!!* You'll need to find another way to bring him down to your level. {link to: 'mindspace shelves', label: 'Back'}

[unless CylinderCrushed] You pick one of the cylinders up. It's shockingly heavy for its size, made of cold, smooth metal with no seams, no lid, and no obvious way to open it. You give it a shake. A thick, wet *slosh* comes from inside. You sniff it, catching the faintest, ghostly scent of... meat? Rich, fatty meat, trapped inside a tiny metal prison? You bite down hard on the edge, but the metal just hurts your teeth, leaving only a tiny dent. Such a cruel, mocking treasure. [continue] [if CylinderCrushed] The pile of silver cylinders sits in the dust. One of them has been violently smashed flat, its cold, salty meat-paste sprayed all over the wood of the crates and the dirt floor. A few sharp metal splinters stick out of the mush. It smells savory, but picking through the jagged metal shards isn't worth the effort to get a proper taste. [continue] {link to: 'palace depths router', label: 'Back'} [unless CylinderCrushed; if MetalJawTaken; inventory for MetalJaw] [[What if...?->Cylinders Jaw Cutscene]] [continue]

"**AHHH!!**" you yelp, stumbling backwards. "**AHHHH!!!**" you yell again, mostly out of sheer surprise. Skull man is suddenly stading right in front of you, his hollow eye sockets staring blankly, unnmoving. "**BOOO!!!**" ...are you supposed to feel **FEAR**? Your brow furrows as your knuckles strenghten around the heavy grip of your bone club. You don't feel **FEAR**. At all. The only **FEAR** you have right now is that [[he might vanish before you get to hit him!->sitting room jump scare cutscene 2]]

SittingRoomSkullManSmashed: true SkullManSmashed: SkullManSmashed + 1 -- You pull your weapon back and swing it at the dangling skeleton with all your might. *CRACK!* The heavy bone club caves his skull in completely. The pale fragments burst outward, but before they can even hit the floor, they blink out of existence. The rest of his body quickly follows, leaving you standing alone in the room. You take a deep, satisfying breath as the pressure inside your head instantly fades away. [if SkullManSmashed < 9] {link to: 'mindspace sitting room', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if SkullManSmashed >= 9] [[The world around you suddenly shivers...->mindspace exit cutscene 1]] [continue]

You glare around the echoing room. He thinks his collection is *so cool.* Well, **No!** He doesn't **Get** to act so smug while safely tucked **away** **from** your club. You turn your attention to **those!** dozens of smaller bone-piles posed delicately on their wooden stands. Flimsy little wires. Thin, brittle ribs. Very tiny skulls, [[aren't they?->skeletons smash cutscene 2]] Works for you.

SmallSkeletonsSmashed: true -- **You** swing the heavy bone club near the closest skeleton. *CRASH!* A weird, long-necked bird explodes into a dozen flying pieces. *SNAP!* A coiled lizard bursts into a cloud of ribs and vertebrae. You move quickly down the line, batting skulls into the glass cases and bending the shiny metal stands in half. What an incredibly satisfying thing! You don't care if this makes you look like a total **ignoramus!** right now. You don't even know what that word means! Panting, you finally lower your club, surrounded by [[a sea of white fragments and bent wire->mindspace skeletons]].

[if CrateBurnt] The crate is gone. Just a square outline of white ash on the damp stone and a few charred scraps of pale wood. The grotto feels bigger without it... but also emptier. [continue] [unless CrateBurnt] [if WireSawTaken] You look over the big, broken box again. It's just an empty husk now, full of dry, yellowed straw. Whatever treasure it once held is now safely tucked in your satchel. [continue] [unless WireSawTaken] You poke at the big, broken box with a cautious foot. It's made of a strange, pale wood, not like any root you know. Cool! You'd bring some with you but it's clearly dry and splintered, and the whole thing has been smashed open on one side, probably from a long fall. Strange, sharp black marks are painted on its side, like the Goddess's teaching-marks but... blockier. Peeking through a crack, you see the inside is full of a dry, yellow straw. And tangled in that straw, something thin and dark [[glints->Wire Saw Cutscene]]. [continue] [continue] {link to: 'Rusted Grotto', label: 'Back'} [if QuillAndPaperFound; inventory for QuillAndPaper] [[The stick twitches...->Crate Quill Cutscene]] [continue]

You run a hand along the curve of the tunnel. Up close you can feel a little roughness, sure, but it's still surprisingly smooth, with none of the gritty dust or sharp edges you expect from the deep paths. It feels a lot like a giant river stone, polished down by rushing water over many seasons. But... you don't remember a river having ever been this close to a main tunnel? And the ceiling is just as polished as the floor. You rub your thumb against your fingertips; they've come away coated in a thin, clear slickness. It feels a bit like a snail-trail, but smells faintly of old chalk. {link to: 'Glutton Tunnel 1', label: 'Back'}

[unless LeikaGorgedStew] You lean over the big, soot-blackened pot. A slow, thick *blub... blub...* sound comes from inside as a single, lazy bubble of grease rises and pops on the surface. The smell is so good it makes your stomach ache. It's rich and fatty, the scent of simmering grub-meat and savory roots. Peeking over the rim, you see big, pale lumps of fat floating amongst chunks of the teal-cap mushrooms. This is a proper tribute! A stew like this would please the Goddess, help Her grow strong and holy. Your gut gives a low, jealous growl. This Big-Maw doesn't deserve a meal this good. [continue] [if LeikaGorgedStew] The heavy iron pot lies tipped on its side near the coals, scraped so clean the metal shines. A single, lonely drop of brown gravy dries on the rim. You give your now bloated belly a firm, approving pat. *BUUUUuuurp* A very good tribute indeed. [continue] {link to: 'farm hut', label: 'Back'} [if FungalPlainsAligned; unless LeikaGorgedStew; inventory for LeikaBelly] [[The stew has been left unattended...->Leika Gorging Stew 1]] [continue]

You stand beneath the bell, craning your neck back. It's huge! Clearly carved from a single piece of polished stone, it hangs from the heavy beam on a thick, fossilized rope. The inside is a smooth, hollow scoop, but the clapper... well, it's dark, but... it seems gone? Just an empty space where the tongue should be. Carved around its wide lip is a pattern: a wavy row of open eyes. [if passage.visits == 1] You plant your feet and give the heavy stone a mighty shove. Instead of a ring, a deep, groaning **RRRUMMMBLE** rolls out - a sound so low you feel it in your teeth. *Ack!* That sounds awful. [continue] {link to: 'Second Chamber', label: 'Back'} [if WhiteVesselBroken || ClayVesselBroken || BlackVesselBroken; inventory for GoldenBug] [[What if...?->Bell Watch Ruined Cutscene]] [continue] [unless WhiteVesselBroken; unless ClayVesselBroken; unless BlackVesselBroken; unless BlackVesselRepaired; inventory for GoldenBug] [[What if...?->Bell Watch Broken Cutscene]] [continue] [unless WhiteVesselBroken; unless ClayVesselBroken; unless BlackVesselBroken; if BlackVesselRepaired; unless SecondChamberFoodEaten; inventory for GoldenBug] [[What if...?->Bell Watch Repaired Cutscene]] [continue] [if TuningForkTaken; inventory for TuningFork] [[What if...?->Bell Fork Cutscene]] [continue]

You run a hand over the surface of the nearest bench. Or, what's left of it. Most of the low, white stone benches lining the wall have been snapped clean in two, their jagged halves pushed apart. But one, near the wall, is still whole. You stop, tilting your head. The surface isn't flat, but saddled, worn smooth into two perfect, shallow hollows. Just wide enough for a truly magnificent backside to settle into. The stone curves, cradling a form that must have been vast, heavy... holy. [unless GrakHelp] You look again at the broken benches, seeing now that each one is snapped right at the center of that same, wide scoop. A grin and a flush spreads across your face. [continue] [if GrakHelp; unless HuntingGroundsAligned] *You stare at the dark space beneath the broken bench. A shadow there seems... thicker than the others. And it's breathing? You catch the faint glint of a wide, nervous eye blinking in the dust before it quickly squeezes shut.* [continue] {link to: 'Lair NorthEast', label: 'Back'} [if CH3PlasterTaken; unless HuntingGroundsAligned; unless BenchesPlasterSeen; inventory for CH3Plaster] [[The stone bobs upwards...->Stone Benches Plaster Cutscene 1]] [continue]

You stand before a huge hanging-stick of black stone, balanced perfectly on a pointed pillar. From each end, thick iron chains hang down to hold two giant bowls, each one big enough for you to curl up and sleep in. The bowl on the left is pristine, its polished black surface coated in a familiar dark, greasy film that smells faintly of old roast meat. The bowl on the right, however, hangs crooked. A huge scoop has been taken out of its side, the polished black stone ground down to a rough, chalky white. You can see the unmistakable scrape of giant teeth running through the break. {link to: 'Lair West', label: 'Back'} [if GearTaken; inventory for MetalGear] [[What if...?->Scale Gear Cutscene]] [continue] [if CH3PlasterTaken; inventory for CH3Plaster] [[What if...?->Scale Plaster Cutscene]] [continue]

You crane your neck back, and back, and back, until the bones in your neck creak. The shelves are impossibly high, their smooth white undersides lost in the gloom far above. A whole section in the middle has been sheared clean through, leaving a wide, ugly gap filled with a cascade of fine white dust that coats the floor. But the shelves that remain... your mind fills the empty spaces, painting them with the bounty they must have once held. Jars of sweet-jelly as tall as you are, mountains of roasted meat dripping with fat, bowls of glistening grubs so vast you could swim in them. *A larder meant for the gods themselves!* A low sigh escapes you. {link to: 'Lair SouthEast', label: 'Back'} [if GearTaken; inventory for MetalGear] [[What if...?->Shelves Gear Cutscene]] [continue]

[if LeikaWeight == 'NONE' || LeikaWeight == 'CHUBBY'] You approach the long basin as it sits low, barely coming up to your hip. Clearly a trough of some sort, perfect for some great, four-legged creature to stick its snout in. You run your hand along the purple-stained interior. It smells faintly of something sweet and fermented. You lean over the dip to get a closer look... and the hard stone edge digs uncomfortably into your ribs. You wince, rubbing your side. Ow. [continue] [if LeikaWeight == 'PLUMP' || LeikaWeight == 'FAT'] You approach the long basin as it sits low, barely coming up to your hip. Clearly a trough of some sort, perfect for some great, four-legged creature to stick its snout in. The deep curve in the front rim seems to call to you. You lean forward, and... *ah*. The cold stone slides perfectly under the soft overhang of your belly, taking the weight instantly. Your feet relax as the curved bottom of the trough becomes a shelf for your gut, holding you up effortlessly while leaving your hands free to reach into the purple-stained interior. You could stand here for hours! *Smart.* [continue] [if LeikaWeight == 'OBESE'] You heave yourself toward the basin, your breath coming short. It sits low, barely coming up to your hip; clearly a trough of some sort, perfect for some, four-legged creature to stick its snout in. You try to lean into the curve to get a better look inside, but your massive gut is too wide. Instead of nestling in, your belly spills over the rim on both sides, the stone edge pressing tight into the soft flesh, compressing your stomach. You grunt, shifting your weight, but the trough just feels like a hard, cold belt digging in. A shame... if it were just a *little* bit wider, it would have been a perfect resting spot. [continue] {link to: 'Ruined Buildings', label: 'Back'} [if CH3PlasterTaken; inventory for CH3Plaster] [[The stone bobs upwards...->Trough Plaster Cutscene]] [continue]

The little streamlet is odd. It trickles out of a dark crack in the back wall, clear as a seeing-crystal as it flows over to the orange-stained stone. It doesn't smell like rust or dirt. You dip a hand in. It's cold! So cold it makes your knuckles ache. You pull your hand out, and where the water touched, your skin is surprisingly clean, all the grime washed away in a single swipe. Where does water this clean even come from? It's not right... but it's kind of nice. {link to: 'Rusted Grotto', label: 'Back'} [if SlimePackRemoved; unless PackCleaned; inventory for FoulPack] [[What if...?->Wash Foul Pack Cutscene]] [continue] [if CH3PlasterTaken; inventory for CH3Plaster] [[What if...?->Streamlet Plaster Cutscene]] [continue]

You creep to the edge and peer down. It's a hole. A big, round hole, scooped out of the floor, its black stone sides sloping down into the gloom. You lean out, gripping the rim, and see the bottom. It's covered in a layer of gritty dust, but you can make out a dark stain around a circular grate in the very center, carved with a spiral pattern. It reminds you of a bowl, almost. You pick up a loose pebble from the ledge and flick it in. It falls for a long time before... *tink... tink... tink...* the sound echoes back. {link to: 'Lair NorthEast', label: 'Back'}

You grip your heavy club tight, eyeing the cluttered table. Why not? Why not vent some of your anger away on some of these stupid objects? With a smile on your face, you raise your weapon high and bring it down hard, right onto the thick glass circle sitting inside its brass ring. *KRRR-SHNK.* Shards of clear glass explode across the dark wood, scattering everywhere. You giggle, very pleased with yourself, and ready yourself to do the same to one of the tablets... but the scratching sound coming from the pale woman [[has stopped->table artifact smash cutscene 2]].

As you look up, you see the pale woman as she shuts her thick stack of white slices. The silver chain resting on her massive upper belly clinks ominously in the sudden, oppressive quiet of the room. She turns her head, fixing you with a truly furious glare. She pushes herself off the table's edge and takes a slow, deliberate step toward you. Then another. Her enormous gut sways with a terrifying momentum as she advances, her eyes locked dead on you. Panic flares in your chest as you scramble backward, then back again, then finally into the narrow aisles between the towering iron racks [[to get away from her.->table artifact smash cutscene 3]]

You dart between the cold metal columns, putting a solid row of grey blocks between yourself and the pale woman. She turns into the narrow aisle right behind you, but... *eheh!* Her wide hips immediately scrape the supports. She turns to the side with a grunt to solve the problem, only for her belly and ass to now be the ones touching the sides of both shelves. [[You watch as she forces herself forward anyway.->table artifact smash cutscene 3.5]]

Her enormous double-belly presses hard against the racks on either side, the soft flesh bulging through the gaps in the iron. The heavy metal structure groans under her immense, wedged weight. She heaves her body trying to push through, but she only succeeds in getting completely stuck. The rack to her left leans... dangerously... outward... *Gah!!* Panicked, you quickly run backwards, tumbling through the woman's thighs as [[the metal gives way.->table artifact smash cutscene 4]]

ArchivesSkullManSmashed: true SkullManSmashed: SkullManSmashed + 1 -- The rack surrenders, falling heavily into the next one, which tips into the next, sending a wave of spilling grey blocks across the entire room. At the very top of the last rack, the skull man loses his balance - he plummets down, hitting the wooden floorboards *hard*. His bones scatter in every direction before vanishing completely into thin air. The crushing weight on your mind lifts instantly. [if SkullManSmashed < 9] {link to: 'mindspace archives', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if SkullManSmashed >= 9] [[The world around you suddenly shivers...->mindspace exit cutscene 1]] [continue]

[if passage.visits == 1] You stay quiet, watching the bather from the shadows of the crates. She is another one of the tall, purple-skinned strangers, though currently stripped of all those ridiculous, squeezing clothes. Her bare back is slick, her long white hair piled messily on top of her head. You watch as she reaches around her torso with a coarse sponge, fiercely wiping at the sides of her heavy chest. The forceful motion makes her flesh sway visibly from your angle, sending rhythmic splashes echoing against the wet stone. "*Disgusting...*" she mutters to the water, her voice bouncing in the steamy nook. "*So much sweat... I feel like a roasted boar... such a wretched place...*" [continue] [if passage.visits > 1] You peek through the crates once more. The tall woman is still complaining to herself in a low mutter, but she has shifted her stance in the shallow pool. The water level drops just enough to expose her hips. With an annoyed huff, she moves the sponge lower, pressing it hard against the wide, pale-purple swell of her backside. Soapy suds run in thick rivulets down her thighs as she aggressively massages the fragrant foam into her skin, completely unaware of your presence. [continue] {link to: 'palace pond', label: 'Back'}

A smooth, dark piece of slate is nailed to the wall, a nub of white chalk-stone resting on a little ledge below it. A line is scratched down the middle. On one side, ten spirals are scratched deep into the stone. The tribute-mark for Big-Maw. On the other side... ohhh, would you look at that. There are only five mushroom-marks - two more have been furiously scrubbed away, leaving a pale, blurry mess on the dark slate, like someone made a mistake and tried to hide it. ***HA!** They're behind. *Wayyyy* behind. You giggle; that's no good. {link to: 'farm hut', label: 'Back'}

PotsSmashed: true -- You raise your heavy bone club and bring it down on the baked-mud buckets with a satisfying *crunch*. Dry dirt, shards of clay, and brittle yellow weeds scatter across the stone floor. The little pathetic harvest is completely ruined! You grin, wiping dust from your wrap. Fun! Very fun. You look out past the edge of the ledge. The skull man is still hovering out there. Untouched. [[...now what?->terrace pots smash cutscene 2]]

You tap the bone club against your chin. Let's think this through a moment... There's not much you could do here, is it? You could just throw the bone at him! That's one option. But... he's floating over a bottomless void. If you throw your club and miss, or even if you hit him, the bone is going to fall right down with him. You don't want to lose your best smashing tool! There has to be another way. Maybe these fresh fragments? He's not that far out, but you never had that great of an aim. And they don't seem like they'd do much damage. Your eyes drift from the scattered dirt to the heavy [[black iron fence->mindspace railing]] separating the ledge from the empty air. {link to: 'mindspace terrace', label: 'Back'}

You grip your bone club with both hands, marching up to the rusty bolts at the base of the fence. It's worth a try! Not sure how this is going to help out, but still you swing, smashing the heavy bone against the rusted metal. *CLANG!* A shower of orange flakes explodes into the air. You hit it again. And again! *CLANG! CLANG!* With a loud, metallic shriek, the bolts snap. The heavy iron fence groans, leaning outward under its own weight, before tearing completely free from the stone and tumbling down into the vast blue void. [[You step back, panting, as the edge opens up completely.->terrace railing smash cutscene 2]]

TerraceSkullManSmashed: true SkullManSmashed: SkullManSmashed + 1 RailingBroken: true -- The tall woman keeps on marching forward. Her boot steps out into empty air. Without a single sound of surprise, she simply drops, plummeting straight down along with her little bowl of water. As she falls, the stiff, puffy red fabric of her sleeves catches the wind, and her ridiculous hat flies right off her head. It tumbles wildly through the air and tickles the hovering skull man right in the jaw, getting him to simply... give up? As if remembering that gravity exists, the bones plummet after the woman, tumbling into the blue abyss. It feels as if a weight has lifted off of your mind. [if SkullManSmashed < 9] {link to: 'mindspace terrace', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if SkullManSmashed >= 9] [[The world around you suddenly shivers...->mindspace exit cutscene 1]] [continue]

ThicketFruitGrowth (ExpeditionRemainsAligned && ThicketReadyToGrow): ThicketFruitGrowth + 1 ThicketReadyToGrow (ExpeditionRemainsAligned): false -- The dry and sandy tunnel dumps you into a dead end. The ground is a thick bed of pale dust that shifts loosely under your boots, completely devoid of any damp moss or fungus. Near the center of the room, an [[iron chest]] lies half-buried. A few paces away, a [[broken instrument]] of some sorts rests in the dust. The far end of the cavern is choked by a massive wall of dead roots, identical to the one you saw earlier. [unless ExpeditionRemainsAligned] Tangled within is a [[skeleton->embedded skeleton]]. Behind you is the way back up the [[⚫sandy passage->dried out tunnel]]. [continue] [if ExpeditionRemainsAligned; if ThicketFruitGrowth == 1] Where the skeleton used to hang, a tiny, bright green [[leaf->berry]] has sprouted from the dead wood. [continue] [if ExpeditionRemainsAligned; if ThicketFruitGrowth == 2] You can see that a plump, purple [[bud->berry]] is now growing from the wood. [continue] [if ExpeditionRemainsAligned; if ThicketFruitGrowth == 3] A heavy, sweet-smelling [[berry]] hangs low from the newly green vines. [continue] [if ExpeditionRemainsAligned; if ThicketFruitGrowth >= 4; unless LeikaGorgedFruit] A truly massive, overripe [[fruit->berry]] rests heavily against the cavern floor, leaking a dark syrup. [continue] [if ExpeditionRemainsAligned; if LeikaGorgedFruit] *A mess of crushed purple skin and sticky sap stains the floor.* [continue] [if ExpeditionRemainsAligned] Behind you is the way back up to the [[⚫sandy passage->remains tunnel]]. [continue] [if ExpeditionRemainsAligned; unless ExpeditionRemainsFutureSeen] *Just as you turn to leave, the golden bug in your satchel gives a sudden, sharp shiver, its ticking momentarily frantic...* [continue] [if ExpeditionRemainsAligned; unless ExpeditionRemainsFutureSeen; inventory for GoldenBug] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->Expedition Remains Future Vision 1]] [continue]

The throne is a monstrosity of fungus-wood, as wide as three of you and dark with age and grease. The backrest is a fan of sharpened bones, their tips glinting in the torchlight, with arms carved into the shapes of snarling creatures, their stony teeth worn smooth where generations of queens must have rested their hands. Big-Maw isn't resting her hands on them. Her bulk has forced her to the very edge of the seat, and the lizard-head armrests are buried somewhere deep in the soft overflow of her hips. A dark, greasy stain has soaked into the wood where her sweaty back has been pressing against it. {link to: 'Maw Chamber Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if HasFireStone; inventory for FireStone] [[What if...?->Throne Pre Fire Cutscene]] [continue]

The massive seat is wedged so tightly into the corner that its wooden legs don't even touch the dirt. It is covered in a dark purple fuzz that looks a bit like cave-moss, but feels like damp, heavy cloth. [unless SpringCut] You press a hand into the seat, watching it sink deep into the padding. A sharp curl of rusted metal wire immediately pokes right through the purple fuzz, scratching your palm. *Ow*. A terrible spot for a nap! Why even drag something this heavy down here if it bites you back? [continue] [if SpringCut] You press a hand into the seat. It sinks deep into the padding without any sharp metal wire poking out to bite you. The offending spring lies completely severed on the floor nearby. This still isn't the best spot for a nap, what with the heat of this place, but at least it knows who's in charge around here. [continue] {link to: 'palace parlor', label: 'Back'} [unless SpringCut; if WireSawTaken; inventory for WireSaw] [[What if...?->Armchair Saw Cutscene]] [continue]

You pause, lifting your face to the air. The breeze flows in long, slow waves, rather than a steady current. A wave of humid heat washes over you, bringing a thick, heavy scent that reminds you of a stew-pot left on the coals for a few days too many - a rich, cloying sweetness. The air then turns dead and still for a handful of heartbeats, before the next hot wave pushes past your ears. {link to: 'Glutton Tunnel 1', label: 'Back'}

[if TotemFelled] The totem lies in the dirt, face down. The ugly, painted mouth is buried in the moss, eating dirt, its feathers matted and sad. A clean cut runs through the base of the stalk where you felled it. It looks much less scary horizontal! [continue] [if TotemSmashed] The warning totem has been destroyed. Splinters of dry fungus-wood and crushed flint teeth are scattered across the damp moss. A heavy, satisfying dent in the earth marks exactly where you brought the iron jaw down. You doubt anyone will be intimidated by this mess! [continue] [unless TotemFelled; unless TotemSmashed] A thick stalk of dried black-cap fungus, hard as bone, has been stabbed into the earth. A face has been hacked into its side, not carved with any real skill. The mouth is just a wide, hungry gash filled with sharp river-flints for teeth. A few grimy feathers and a string of yellowed knuckle-bones hang from the top, clacking softly in the cave-wind. Hmph. Such a ugly thing! Big-Maw must like ugly things. [continue] {link to: 'Gated Cavern', label: 'Back'} [unless TotemFelled; unless TotemSmashed; if WireSawTaken; inventory for WireSaw] [[What if...?->Totem Saw Cutscene]] [continue] [unless TotemFelled; unless TotemSmashed; if MetalJawTaken; inventory for MetalJaw] [[What if...?->Totem Jaw Cutscene]] [continue] [unless TotemFelled; unless TotemSmashed; if CH3PlasterTaken; inventory for CH3Plaster] [[What if...?->Totem Plaster Cutscene]] [continue] [if QuillAndPaperFound; inventory for QuillAndPaper] [[The stick twitches...->Totem Quill Cutscene]] [continue]

A huge face is carved into the black wall, its eyes squeezed shut and its mouth a wide, round O. From the corners of its eyes, a slow, thick, dark fluid weeps, tracing glistening black trails down the stone cheeks and into a shallow basin below. [unless FountainLit] A dark, greasy stain has pooled at the bottom. You lean closer, sniffing the air. The smell is faint, but unmistakable and kind of disappointing. Stagnant water. Likely a run-off from somewhere else. Was it always like this? Couldn't have. You shiver. A sad soup for a sad god? [continue] [if FountainLit] The greasy fluid pooled at the bottom is currently on fire. A low, steady blue flame dances across the surface of the basin, casting a cool, flickering light across the black tiles of the room. It actually makes the crying face look a bit more majestic and a lot less miserable. [continue] {link to: 'Lair West', label: 'Back'} [unless FountainLit; if TrenchLighterTaken; inventory for TrenchLighter] [[What if...?->Fountain Lighter Cutscene]] [continue] [if CH3PlasterTaken; inventory for CH3Plaster] [[What if...?->Fountain Plaster Cutscene]] [continue]

[unless WhiteVesselBroken] You approach the pale pot on the left. It sparkles faintly in the grey light, carved from that same sugar-stone as the pillar downstairs, but this piece hasn't been smashed. It is smooth, round, and perfect. It’s shaped like a very fat gourd... or maybe a lady sitting down with her knees pulled up? It's hard to tell with Sky-Walker art sometimes. You run a finger over the rim. It sings a high, clear note under your touch, like thin ice. [continue] [if WhiteVesselBroken] A pile of crushed sugar-stone lies on the left plinth. The pristine vessel is no more. [continue] {link to: 'Second Chamber', label: 'Back'} [unless WhiteVesselBroken; if TuningForkTaken; inventory for TuningFork] [[What if...?->White Vessel Fork Cutscene]] [continue] [unless WhiteVesselBroken; if MetalJawTaken; inventory for MetalJaw] [[What if...?->White Vessel Jaw Cutscene]] [continue]

The bench is low to the ground, just a thick slab of fungus-wood, but its surface is covered in a fine white dust of scraped bone. A half-finished amulet sits in the center. You pick it up. He was trying to carve a spiral, but the lines are all wobbly and it keeps turning into a lopsided circle... Hmph. Even *your* carvings are better than this. A few other finished pieces lie nearby: more clumsy spirals, a thing that might be a cave-lizard if you squint real hard, and something that looks like a lumpy rock. Or maybe a carving of a lumpy rock, made of rock... how *masterful!* {link to: 'farm hut', label: 'Back'}

You press the toe of your boot down. The ground gives way with a wet, heavy squelch. It isn't moss, and it certainly isn't dirt. The surface is bare, a pale pinkish-grey, and covered in thousands of tiny, rough bumps that grip skin of your calloused feet. You kneel and press your bare palm against it. It is feverishly hot, and as you push down, the surface actively pushes back, shivering - quivering - against your skin. You quickly stand back up, violently wiping your hand on your wrap. {link to: 'Glutton Tunnel 3', label: 'Back'}

:: Title Screen CH.2 {"position":"1650,12900","size":"100,100"} config.footer.center: "{load save: 'Load'} | [[About]] | [[Settings]]" calories: 0 strength: 0 config.style.backdrop: "#563232" config.style.page.color: "amber-2 on aquamarine-3" config.style.page.link.color: "amber-2" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "amber-2" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-1 on aquamarine-3" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "amber-2" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "amber-2" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "amber-2" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-1 on aquamarine-3" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "amber-2" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-1 on aquamarine-3" isCutscene: false -- [JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] <link rel="stylesheet" href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Bona+Nova:ital,wght@0,400;0,700;1,400&display=swap" rel="stylesheet"> [CSS] .titleScreen h1 span { display: block; } .very-big { font-size: 88px; font-variant: regular; line-height: 0.8; margin-bottom: 0.2em !important; } .very-daemon { font-size: 84px; font-variant: regular; line-height: 0.8; margin-bottom: 0.2em !important; } .medium { font-size: 48px; position: relative; top: -0.1em; line-height: 0.5; margin-bottom: -0.3em !important; } [continued] <div class="titleScreen"> <center> <h1 style="font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif;"> <span class="very-daemon">Daemon</span> <span class="medium">of</span> <span class="very-big">Hunger</span> </h1> </center> [align center] [[Start->Intro 2.0]] [continued] <br><br> </div> {ascii backdrop} :: Title screen CH.2 variant {"position":"1525,12900","size":"100,100"} config.footer.center: "{load save: 'Load'} | [[About]] | [[Settings]]" calories: 0 strength: 0 config.style.backdrop: "#563232" config.style.page.color: "amber-2 on aquamarine-3" config.style.page.link.color: "amber-2" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "amber-2" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-1 on aquamarine-3" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "amber-2" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "amber-2" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "amber-2" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-1 on aquamarine-3" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "amber-2" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-1 on aquamarine-3" isCutscene: false -- [JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] <link rel="stylesheet" href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Bona+Nova:ital,wght@0,400;0,700;1,400&display=swap" rel="stylesheet"> [CSS] .titleScreen h1 { font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif; margin: 0 auto; max-width: 80%; } .titleScreen h1 span { display: block; font-variant: small-caps; line-height: 1.1; letter-spacing: 0.03em; } .very-big { font-size: 56px; margin-bottom: 0.15em !important; letter-spacing: 0.05em; } .very-big + .medium { font-size: 36px; margin-top: -0.25em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; } .medium + .small { font-size: 20px; margin-bottom: 0.05em; line-height: 1.3; letter-spacing: 0.02em; } .small + .medium { font-size: 36px; margin-top: 0.4em; margin-bottom: 0.15em; } .medium + .big { font-size: 48px; margin-top: -0.15em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; } .big + .medium-small { font-size: 30px; margin-top: -0.2em; margin-bottom: 0.05em; } .medium-small + .small { font-size: 20px; margin-top: 0.3em; margin-bottom: 0.05em; } .small + .medium { font-size: 36px; margin-top: 0.25em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; } .medium + .small { font-size: 20px; margin-top: -0.15em; margin-bottom: 0.05em; } .small + .medium { font-size: 36px; margin-top: -0.1em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; } a[href="Debug Activation"] { font-variant: small-caps !important; vertical-align: baseline; letter-spacing: 0.02em; text-decoration: none; } .titleScreen h1 span:last-child { margin-bottom: 1em !important; } [continued] <div class="titleScreen"> <center> <h1 style="font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif;"> <span class="very-big">The Daemon of Hunger</span> <span class="medium">A Further Account</span> <span class="small">of Institutional Ambition, Social Maneuverings, and Rapidly Expanding [[Proportions->Debug Activation]]</span> <span class="medium">by One</span> <span class="big">Eleanor Lovelace,</span> <span class="medium-small">Museeum Curator, Glutton, and Soon to Be Expedition Leader,</span> <span class="small">as Guided Through</span> <span class="medium">Deepening Resonances</span> <span class="small">and</span> <span class="medium">An Unseen, Ever-Present Influence</span> </h1> </center> [continued] [align center] [[~Start~->Intro 2.0]] [continued] <br><br> </div> {ascii backdrop, clickable: 'false', opacity: '0.2'}