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[Attack of the Time Pirates!]

Attack of the Time Pirates!

   â€œOh Professor!  Your trailer is so cluttered with inventions and artifacts!” Suzy exclaimed.

   â€œQuite right, my dear.  Quite right.  They are my stock and trade, after all,” the Professor explained.

   â€œBut I thought you said there would be room to, you know... lie down for a bit?”  Suzy bit her lip suggestively.

   â€œWhat I said precisely was that we could have a good time making my trailer rock,” the Professor replied, starting to fidget with the switches on various consoles.  Some unseen mechanism beneath the trailer began to hum, causing the floor to vibrate slightly.

   â€œOh, that's right!” Suzy said, smiling.  “And you also said something about needing my assistance navigating you erogenous zone....”

   â€œWhile of course that would be most welcome in due time, my dear, what I actually said was I needed your help navigating the Zymogenous Zone.  It is a transient dimension of many dangers that lies at the heart of the time-space continuum.”

   â€œOh Professor!  I don't know what you just said but it sounded impressively clever!”

   â€œMy dear, it's a good thing you've got looks,” the Professor said smiling before turning back to his consoles.

   â€œYou're such a gentleman, Professor!  Ha, ha.... Did you know I'm actually 46 and weigh 90kg?”

   â€œI had guessed as much, yes.  But most of the women in my time are in their mid-200s and weigh as much as a small elephant.  So by those standards you are but a mere slip of a girl!”

   â€œOh Professor!”

    “Plus there are strict laws in my time against exploiting children under 50....”

   â€œWhat was that, Professor?”

   â€œNothing, my dear!  Nothing!  Now, I need you to operate the stereo-oscillameter for me while I conduct the temporal jump from the quantum-fluoritron.  It's basically very simple: if these little avatars of bugs get below your line of motion then the chrono-flux in the quark-inverter will build up and destroy us all!  You merely need to blast the flux beforehand using this simple joystick and plasma-blast trigger.”

   â€œUh.  So it's kind of exactly like Space Invaders....”

   â€œOh my dear!  Your quaint twentieth-century notions are as bizarre as they are adorable.  I challenge you to beat my high score!”

   â€œAre you the one with the initials BBW?”

   â€œUh.... no, actually.  Now stay sharp!” Suddenly the trailer began to lurch this way and that as fantastic lights flashed outside the windows.  Reality began to bend into absurd loops.

   â€œWe're entering the Zymogenous Zone!” the Professor cried.  Suzy began to dutifully blast away at the bugs on her console.  The trailer began to shake violently, and ghostly apparitions of clocks began floating through one wall and out the other side.

   â€œWhat the-?” Suzy called out, perplexed.

   â€œMy theory is that they are an-atomic manifestations of light!” the Professor called back.

   â€œBut why clocks?!?”

   â€œNobody knows!”

   And then everything stopped.  “Ah, we're here!” the Professor announced.

   â€œWhat, already?” the woman blinked.  “We were only moving for like ten seconds!”

   â€œOh no, my dear!  We were actually moving for about fifteen-hundred years!”

   â€œHuh?”

   The Professor fiddled with the cheap plastic latch and opened the trailer door before stumbling out onto a rocky plateau overlooking a small stone city in the gorge below.  The landscape was dry and devoid of all vegetation, but a great purple storm cloud loomed menacingly to the south.

   â€œWhat-?  Where are we?” Suzy gaped.

   â€œWe are actually in the fourth-century Roman province of Arabia Petraea,” the Professor said, taking off his tie.  “Look, I've got a bit of a confession to make, Sandy-” 

   â€œSuzy!”

   â€œOh yes, of course, Suzy.  You see, science in the 2850s doesn't exactly pay the bills.  So I've got this sideline looting ancient artifacts for the illicit market.”  As he spoke the Professor pulled out a broad cavalier hat with a massive ostrich plume and placed it rakishly on his head.  “I'm more of a time-pirate than a professor, actually!”

   â€œBut.... wouldn't stealing things from the past be noticed?”

   â€œMy dear, my dear, ha ha!” chuckled the Professor.  “Not if it's done properly!  I'm a professional, after all.  No, see we wait until just before the very moment that the artifact would be destroyed anyway, and then we simply save it for posterity.  It's a victim-less crime!”  said the Professor as he stuffed a large pistol into his pants.

   â€œWhat's with the gun, then?”

   â€œOh, pish!” the Professor chided.  “All those people down in the city are going to die in the coming flood anyway!  They might just need to be helped along a bit in the highly unlikely case that they try to get in the way.  Besides, this old thing only shoots one musket ball per hour.  If I can manage it, I will only slightly maim one of the guards in order to scare away all the others.  Oh, I almost forgot, here's your kit.”

   â€œA pen and notepad!?”

   â€œYes, I need you to take notes on the proceedings.  Twenty-ninth century women have completely lost the art of shorthand!”

   â€œWhy not just take a digital recording?” the Suzy asked in exasperation.

   â€œDo you have any idea of the compatibility issues that accrue over the eons?  I'm not futzing with 18 different format conversions every time I want to analyze a job.  Now get ready, here we come!”

   â€œUh.... what?”

   â€œLook!  In the canyon!”

   Suzy looked.  Remarkably there she was, walking behind the Professor with her notepad, down at the bottom of the canyon.  As if on cue the other Suzy looked up to smile and wave at her.

   â€œProfessor?!?  Isn't that a paradox of time-travel?  And are those platform boots?”

   â€œIt's not a paradox until the thread of continuity is compromised!  As long as we follow their steps exactly, everything will work out fine.  A proper paradox would manifest itself as an unravelling of reality itself!  But do make note of the platform shoes: I think I forgot them back in 1970s San Francisco.”

   â€œBut... why?!?!?  Why are we running the risk of being at the same place at the same time twice over?!?”

   â€œSimple, simple!  If anything goes wrong we'll be able to take note of it, and adjust the plan accordingly when we go back in time to do the job ourselves!”

   â€œBut... wouldn't that involve changing the past, thereby destroying the future??”

   â€œMy dear simple girl, no!  Not as long as we can keep the thread of continuity going, everything will play out exactly as we have pre-seen.  Oh, and make a note of waving up at yourself.  That might be important.  We might not have this conversation if not for that.”

   â€œOkay....  But who are those guys?!”  There was another couple approaching the city along the canyon from the opposite direction.  The man was dressed in a villainous black cape with red underpants on the outside, while his assistant was wearing a glam-rock costume from the 1980s.

   The Professor squinted down into the canyon, scowling.  “Murdough!  And I see he's got himself a new hussy as well.”

   â€œWho are they, Professor?”

   â€œTime-pirate competitors.  See?”

   Suzy glanced up to see another iteration of the same pair waving at them from across the canyon, also taking notes on the proceedings.  She waved back shyly.

   â€œDon't acknowledge them!” the Professor barked, his brow furrowed with concentration.  “Aha!”

   Suzy followed his gaze to see a pair of donkeys walking along the canyon towards the first iteration of the time-pirate competitors.  But as they dawdled past the time-pirates one of the donkeys suddenly split into a head- and hind-quarter, revealing itself to be none other than the Professor and Suzy in disguise.  Quickly the Professor smacked Murdough in the back of the head with a police truncheon, rendering him unconscious.  Suzy struggled a bit more with his assistant, but with the Professor's help she was able to muscle the poor woman into a potato sack.  Suzy looked up to see the second iteration of Murdough raving and his assistant furiously scribbling notes.

   â€œUh oh....” the Professor began.  Suddenly the second donkey also split into a head- and hind-quarter, revealing itself to be Murdough and his assistant in disguise!  They rushed the third iteration of Suzy and the Professor from behind, quickly subduing them with what looked like stun zappers.  “Are you getting this?!?  Special note, writhe in pain, Suzy!”

   â€œWhy would I have to remember to do what's natural when-”

   â€œLook!”  Indeed, Suzy and the Professor suddenly bounded to their feet, snatching the stun zappers and turning them on their erstwhile attackers.  “Grounded zap-proof jackets!  Brilliant!  Are you writing all of this down?!?”

   â€œGrounded what?!” Suzy asked, scribbling frantically.  But then suddenly she was blindfolded from behind.

   â€œMurdough!” she heard the Professor shout, “you diabolical genius!  Too bad I anticipated this little manoeuvre next Wednesday!”  Suddenly the blindfold was removed.  Behind her was Murdough's assistant in a skimpy nurse costume (the name tag said “Tammy”) being wrestled to the ground by another iteration Suzy herself wearing a giant chicken costume.  Nearby another version of Murdough and the Professor were duking it out.  Murdough was wearing an 18th century ballroom gown, while the Professor was wearing nothing but a giant diaper and beating him with an over-sized lollipop.

   â€œKeep writing!” the original Professor shouted.  Across the canyon yet another instance of the Professor was charging atop a unicycle towards the voyeur Murdough on the canyon rim and another instance of Suzy crashed in from above via parachute, only she missed and got hung up on a jutting stone leaving her to dangle helplessly above the canyon floor.  Then another instance of Murdough emerged from the trailer behind her dressed as an asparagus and carrying a huge armful of toilet paper, cackling maniacally, only to trip on an oil-slick dumped by another instance of the Professor wearing a top hat and a pink tutu.

   â€œKeep writing!” the Professor shouted again, but Suzy couldn't keep up with the madness.

   â€œHelp me!” gasped the chicken version of her, who was now being strangled with a stethoscope by the nurse version of Tammy.  Immediately adjacent two further versions of the two women were quietly sharing coffee at a glass café table, seemingly oblivious to the chaos around them.  Then the Professor charged by riding backwards on a war elephant, followed by Murdough in a golden unitard bouncing terrifically high with springs on the bottom of his shoes.

   â€œOh no, here comes the flood!” the original Professor shouted.  Indeed, a wall of water was now crashing down the canyon towards the unsuspecting city.

   â€œWhere are we?” Suzy asked, desperately trying to spot herselves in the canyon below.  To her consternation two further versions of Murdough and the Professor were surfing on the crest of the wave, trying to out-compete each other for the world's tiniest speedo.  The crashing echoes of the water were now reaching the city, which now resembled an ant colony stirred up with a stick.  In the commotion she thought she saw the back end of a donkey dashing up the stairs of a stone temple, but in a blink the ass was gone.  “What if we die down there?!?”

   â€œThe thread of continuity will be fine as long as we do everything else first and die last,” the Professor assured her.  “Keep writing!”

   â€œBut.... why would we ever go down there knowing that we would die?!?”

   â€œPrecisely!  We'd be fools to!  Knowing the wave was coming we would therefore have taken precautions such as wearing life-jackets or oxygen tanks.  Oh, look!  I never would have thought of that....”

   Suzy looked down to see a version of her trying vainly to run upstream in a giant waterproof hamster bubble.  Suddenly another iteration of Tammy emerged from the churning water wearing a shark costume.  Tammy latched onto the outside of the hamster bubble only to be flung round and round as Suzy continued to try to beat the current.

   â€œHow do we know when we get the artifact?” Suzy wondered.  “How do we know who wins?”

   â€œI have another confession to make,” said the original Professor, unzipping his skin to reveal a velociraptor wearing a bow-tie.  “Being a time-pirate doesn't really pay the bills in the 2850s,” the velociraptor told her sincerely, “so I've got a second sideline as an aspiring opera singer.”

   Another version of Tammy and the Professor ran past on their hands.  No, wait...  They had feet where their hands were supposed to be, and hands for feet!  Another iteration of Suzy and Murdough followed, their bodies equally mixed-up, waltzing to the music of giant trout dressed as a one-man-band.  Suzy tried to write this down, but snapped the pen in the lobster claw that had replaced her right hand.

   â€œReality is beginning to unravel, isn't it?” she sighed, dropping the notebook.  The asparagus-dressed Murdough and top-hat and tutu-dressed Professor wrestled each other in the oil slick to try to retrieve it first.

   â€œI'm afraid so!” sang the velociraptor next to her.

   Suzy looked down to see a rainbow coloured bunny staring back up at her, picking its nose.

   â€œWhat the-?” she began to ask.

   â€œI'm the paradox!” the bunny said, a look of huge satisfaction crossing his fuzzy little face.  He pulled a giant green jewel out of his nostril and held it up to her.  “See?”

   And then the universe ended.

   
   
   

[Poof!]

Didn't I already tell you that that's not going to work?  I mean, you need to develop a time-machine first and with designing and building this thing when would you have time to write?

No, no, no, Sinitrena.    I don't have to develop a time-machine first.  I just have to invent one at some point in the next fifty years, and then float it back to myself after I miss the deadline.  Then - Poof! - my entry will make it in on time! 

If you want to think inside the box, though, it might be a good idea to grant a short extension.... 

Well, I've thought about working on something. 

I just figured I could write it over the summer and then time-travel back to submit it at my leisure. 

Congratulations Sinitrena!  A well-deserved victory. 

[Best Character]

Best Character: I'm going to go with Sinitrena for her knight, who I thought exhibited the truest, most selfless quality of courtly love.  I mean, geez, he even offered to hunt down her real true love; how more courtly can you get? 

Best Atmosphere: I vote Mandle by a whisker, just because I was drawn into his weird delusional movie-world.

Best Writing: I vote Sinitrena by a whisker on this one.  I felt her poetic technique best represented the theme.

Best Heart Throb/Break/Ache: It must be Sinitrena, since she actually delved into the woes of unrequited love, whereas Mandle delved into.... actually, I'm not sure exactly what Mandle delved into, but I'm pretty sure he delved too greedily and too deep and awoke something terrible in the darkness of Khazad Dum.... 

[Edit]

I've got something started but it's a bit of a hot mess right now....  Interested in doling out an extension or two? 

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Edit

Well, I haven't heard, so I'm going to post what I've got.  It would be better with the climatic conclusion, but without the extension you'll have to read it as-is:

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Edit Edit. 

Well, now I'm done, so no [further] extension needed. 

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The Love-Fool Diaries

March 30, 1348,

   Hello parchment.  It is I, Timon the Fool, who dares confide in thee.  If my lord the dread Vlard the Bowel-Weaver were to read these words, he would have me split six ways in twain.  Happily he can read but two letters, each being painted in blood upon his many victims to indicate their fate.  Well, in truth both letters are exes written in subtly different ways -but never mind that!  There are more important matters to record than the barbaric habits of a brutal madman.

   Ha ha!  Just kidding Vlard.  I was JOKING!  If you are having this read to you should know that your old crazy Fool is pretending to write silly letters!  Silly, boring letters.  Funny foolish Fool!  Ah ha ha ha.....  But my, all this reading grows tiresome, doesn't it?  Best to put the parchment down now and go enjoy a nice bit of skull-busting.  Yay!

   OK parchment, now it's just you and me.  The great matter weighing on my heart and mind is Vlard's beautiful daughter, Buzella.  I fear I can no longer bestill my pounding heart in her presence.  Every dawn she seems to bloom fairer and fairer.  Her eyes bedazzle like frosty jewels.  Her hair cascades in great curly tresses of brilliant gold.  Her skin is the colour and smell of a peach flavoured yogurt.  Her laugh peals like a choir of angels.  And her bosom, sweet Gar!  Poetry does not do it justice!

   But stunning beauty aside, it is Buzella's soul that I most admire.  Whereas her father and siblings are all murderous brutes with all the sophistication of a fleet of crocodiles, sweet Buzella is as kind and pure as a cherub.  She is sharp of wit and is quite enthralled with music, tales, and high-brow jests.  I would happily saw off my own arm to spend a quiet afternoon basking in her radiance.

   Alas, Lord Vlard would happily saw my arm off for me in such a circumstance, and more limbs yet.  He has declared that young Buzella's purity is to be preserved in case he needs to placate the demon Frytemare with a virgin sacrifice.  So any amorous advances on my part must be courtly, careful, fleeting, discreet, and bold. 

   Wish me luck, parchment!  For tonight I hatch the first steps of my daring plan....

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March 31, 1348

   Dear diary, I am bored.  Boredom bore Boreson boredy-bored McBored.  Bored bored bored bored bored.  BORED.  Methinks the meanest ditch-digger of the realm has more
amusement than I, Buzella, high princess of Cruhl.  He at least would have the discovery of the sundry beasts of the earth to pique his interest, the husbanding of little trickling rivulets to challenge his mind, and the sport of evading the whip to give thrill to his miserable existence.  But what have I besides the cold walls of this palace prison and daddy's olympic belching contests?

   True, there was today the hollow entertainment of poor Timon the Fool.  In truth he can be quite amusing if left to jape or jest, but as long as daddy's around the funniest thing he does is dodge axes while screaming like a little girl.  Oh, if only daddy would go off on another crusading massacre!

      Oh, but there was one moment of mild amusement this day.  My wicked step-sister Scuzella received a love letter secreted amongst the berries of her breakfast.  She tried to eat it at first, but after spitting it out in disgust I was able to read it to her.  Her suitor waxed most romantically (indeed quite charitably) about her looks and figure.  He is apparently quite smitten with her use of the flute.  All I've ever seen her use it for is to pick at the crusty snots wedged deep within her monstrous nose, but who am I to judge the reckless whimsy of love?  Scuzella is to leave a favour with some words of encouragement in a specific alcove if she wishes to encourage the suitor further.  Of course she just raged venomously at the craven spinelessness of the whole affair, which made it all the more diverting.  Alas, the only encouragement she plans to offer is the sharp end of a rusty halberd axe, but for my own amusement I may just happen to forget a favour and a few words in her stead....

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March 32, 1348

   I have joyful news, parchment!  While lurking unsuspected behind a tapestry I did witness princess Buzella herself surreptitiously leaving her favour for me!  Oh happy, joyous, frabjous day!  But what is more inspiring yet are the words she there left me, which I shall paste herein so that they might be preserved for all eternity:

   Dear noble sir, I am overcome with emotion at the boldness of your devotion.  You brave such peril lest it be discovered!  I fear for your safety, and yet I must read more of your sweet affection.  Prithee write as often as opportunity affords but secrecy allows.  My heart barely dares to beat out the seconds until I hear from thee again.  Lonely for you love,

                                                                                              Princess

   I tell you, parchment, I tumbled and flipped through every corridor of the castle upon reading it!    My chest feels as light as a thrush flitting from twig to twig in rapturous song.  Everyone I meet seems cheered by the aura of joy radiating throughout the keep.  Even dread Vlard seemed in a congenial mood this afternoon, barely singeing the soles of the prisoners with his favourite hot-poker.  The only sour expression in the whole court was worn by the pig-faced Scuzella, wicked step-sister to Princess Buzella.  Of course the joy of others would pinch the gitch of the world's most spiteful lizard....  Mayhaps if she didn't fart every time she opens her mouth she might one day entice the interest of a lover herself?  Well, a blind and scaly lover, at any rate.  Yes, my gaiety is such that I can even wish a pale imitation of happiness upon such a wretched creature as Scuzella!

   And now, parchment, I am off to compose another daring letter.  Wish me luck!

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April 2, 1348

   Dear Diary, I have never laughed more than I have this day.  Scuzella received another letter, this time hidden carefully within her riding gloves.  Her wicked step-sister Blobella shrieked with mirth upon hearing the words, which sent Scuzella into an epic tantrum of vandalism.  Apparently her admirer wishes to caress her tiny feet as one snuggles with a squirming infant!  Her feet are only so tiny because all the toes and adjacent flesh were hacked off on the field of battle....  But never mind that, for the very idea sent her into a fit of such hysterical wrath that daddy caught wind of what's been happening.  He insisted that Scuzella marry the man, lest she be forever painted as the shameless flirt.  Scuzella lost all control at this point, screaming a vow that she would sooner feed the cur into the kitchen meat-grinders and eat him as sausage, bones and all! 

   For my part, I must caution the utmost secrecy upon her admirer, for I do detest the glee with which Scuzella doth grind the flesh of her living victims.  But I cannot bear to have the fun stop now -more letters must be sent!

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March 33, 1348

   Hello again, parchment.  I am running out of room to write on you due to this large rune occupying your lower reaches.  It vaguely looks like a tattoo, which makes me wonder at your provenance, good parchment....  So, keeping my words short, I must confide to you the details of the great disaster unfolding in my love-life.  Apparently my letters have somehow been misdirected to the repulsive Scuzella, who has vowed to slowly murder the sender slowly by means of culinary mangling.
Only my anonymity shields me from her tenderizing wrath.

   Alas, I fear in my haste to court the beautiful Buzella I *might* have left several letters in various spots of hiding around the palace.  So now I am off to seek them as quickly as non-nonchalance allows.  Wish me luck, parchment!  If I do not return you must assume that I have been pulped into processed meat.  Tell my story! 

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April 3, 1348

    Dear Diary, the plague has struck again, carrying off my step-sister's step-sister Blobella and Harolf the Pretty-Man.  Alas, Turderic the Ass-Wafter remains healthy as an ox, as do Jarles the Pants-Chaffed and Chavid Pus-Squirter.  Daddy says the sickness has decimated his army, so there will be no campaign of havoc this season.  The plague has also caused poor Momsie to cut short her visit with relations in the Incestulands.  I almost didn't recognize her with her newly braided moustache! 

   I have no update to give regarding the love-life of Scuzella.  Astonishingly, her vows of torturous murder and constant patrolling of the castle corridors with a cudgel seem to have put off her would-be suitor.  Like all pleasant diversions, this bit of fun I've had at her expense has been but a passing shaft of sunlight in the otherwise eternal dreariness of life at court.  Off to bed, I suppose....

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April 4, 1348

   Dear Diary.  I did this morning discover another letter for Scuzella!  How her admirer managed to circumvent her patrols I will never know.  True, in his haste he left the note beneath my pillow instead of hers, but the mistake is understandable given the circumstances.  Of course I showed it to her right away, expecting another cannonade, but her only reaction was a hideous curl of her lip into a grin most villainous.  She bade me tell no one of my discovery, and then took the note directly to the kennels, whereupon she set father's half-starved bloodhounds to get the scent of its composer.  In a trice she set them loose upon the unsuspecting castle, running behind them with venom in her eyes and a meat-hook in her hand.  I followed closely, a knot in my stomach for what was about to pass.

   Soon the hounds began to bay in unison, and Scuzella too began to howl along!  Together the pack leapt up the stairs, and through the halls, salivating at the prospect of running their quarry to ground.  The blood pounded in my ears at the effort required to keep up, pounding out the last seconds of some poor man's life like some monstrous mechanical clock.  At last they had him cornered behind the closed door to the garderobe....

   â€œFitting!” spat Scuzella as the dogs clawed ravenously at the door.  “That a piece of shit shall meet its end in the privy!”  With an unholy scream she kicked the door open, and all as one mass she and the hounds rushed in.  I waited in the corridor, wincing in anticipation of splattering blood, but it never sprayed.  In a moment Scuzella stalked out, fuming. 

   Holding a handkerchief to my nose I entered, curiosity getting the better of me.  Indeed, the tiny chamber was empty but for the throng of confused dogs.  I let out a long sigh of relief, marvelling at the desperate ingenuity of the man who had just so narrowly evaded a most violent mutilation.  It was probably just the gentle clinking of the dogs' chains, but I almost thought I heard tiny bells echoing as if through a narrow tunnel....

Oh man, I recognize that cover art!  I must have read that novel when I was like 13 years old.  Didn't the knights take some kind of oath to keep the princess or whatever alive, but one dies off every month until the curse is broken (or permanent)?  I think I stopped reading the series after book two, so now I'll never know if their courtly love was in vain....

[@ Sinitrena:]

Thanks for all the votes, peeps! 

@ Sinitrena:  Thanks for all the feedback.  I agree that the within-walls vs. without-walls choice was a bit arbitrary, but no less random than other choices I've encountered in the CYOA genre.  Both branches do have exactly one happy-ish ending, although you are correct that to achieve your ultimate goal of returning to the waking world with Katarina you must choose without walls to start. 
        I also feel guilty as charged with Enrico.  Originally I planned to have him feature in several subplots, but the story just became too ambitious to plausibly finish even with an extended fortnight.  So now he's just a mystery from the past who helps to build Katarina's complex psyche.   
        Thanks for the great topic and the link-proofreading. 

Congratulations WHAM!  I look forward to an even more ambitious topic next time.  Epic fantasy series!  No, Russian novels!  No, Diary of an Adventure Game Maze Junkie! 

[@ Frodo]

Wow!  That's an impressive amount of writing, folks!   I'm not going to say that I read every branch, but I think I read most.

@ Frodo: I felt your story had a very strong beginning, and I personally liked the dichotomy of having half the story in the past and half in the present.  I was slightly frustrated by only discovering two possible endings (death or happiness), but maybe I didn't find them all.... 

@ cat: I only found one ending, which I guess makes sense for a regular commute, but it was a slight disappointment given the illusion of choice.  I think a few racier events would have really spiced things up: not just exchanging contact info with the old schoolmate but falling in love, not just watching the businessman struggle with an interface but glimpsing something suggestive of criminal activity....  But, in the end, I guess that misses the point of the story: that small things are different on a commute if you choose them to be, but basically it's always the same. 

@ WHAM: Holy writing storm, BatWham!  The sheer magnitude of differentiation between the story branches was amazing.  I think you sacrificed some valuable character development and atmosphere by spreading yourself too thin (see below), but it was an impressive opus nonetheless.

And now my votes:

Best Character: I'm going with Frodo for Gunther.  He was a wretched, despicable creature, yes, but he stood out for his greedy abrasiveness in a field of flexible characterizations. 

Best Atmosphere: This one was closer, but I'm going with Frodo again for the suspenseful scene at the beginning where the terrified princess flees through the stormy moor.  I almost went with WHAM for some of his more colourful scenes where he fires up the crowd, but in the end I found his descriptions a bit thin.  I also almost went with cat for capturing the subdued drudgery of the daily commute, but in the end I'm a sucker for stormy action scenes.   

Best Writing: I'm going with WHAM for this one for many a turn of clever phrase.  Near the beginning of one of the branches you move your hands downwards "as if pushing the very sounds in the air to the dirt".  One branch describes evocatively as the dancing crowd "resembles a field of tall grass in a windstorm, the people its blades of grass, the sheer energy of your presence the fierce wind that drives the people on."  I also liked what I envisaged as a silk dress "glimmering like liquid water as it runs down your skin".

Best Branching Plot: I have to go with WHAM on this one, just for the impressive variety of endings.  A few notable ones beyond the generic CYOA random deaths were: revolution, strip dancing, war, Christmas 1914, love, turning into a dragon and eating everyone, and a massive orgy! 

I'm glad of it, Frodo.  But you'll have to book off a sick day from work to manage it all.... 

Every branch?!?  Sorry guys, I wrote a lot.  I'd be happy if you gave it two tries, then voted based on your sample.

That's the exclusive story branch available only to VIPs. 

Actually, I haven't had time until now to check that everything working, but I am now confident that everything leads to where it is supposed to.  Probably. 

I think I'm done.  I just have to check all the links to make sure they work.

[The End]

   Suddenly you are standing in the midst of a great medieval battle.  All around you is the din of metal clanging on metal, of voices shouting and screaming in agony or triumph.  Faceless warriors behind helmets and masks slash viciously at each other on all sides.  What kind of crazy dream world is this?!?

   You catch motion in your peripheral vision and duck Katarina's head just as a halberd goes swinging past.  You hear rasping behind you and you dodge to the side just before a great sword cuts though the space that you just occupied.  Katarina kicks the off-balance warrior and he falls at the feet of the halberd-bearing one.  The halberd warrior raises his axe for a death-blow, but the swordsman is faster, using his momentum to swing his great sword around and cut the axe-man's leg clean off.  A billowing cloud of black vapour spills out of the wound.

   â€œOh shit,” you mutter, ducking a volley of arrows.  A warrior falls into you shield first, knocking you and Katarina into yet another duelling pair, whose own heavy armour brings them down as well, like a run of dominoes.  The first warrior in the chain reaction has an arrow sticking out of the eye slot of his helmet, and great plumes of black vapour are spilling out of his wound into the air.

   â€œThe Sgruck will be here in moments,” you say to Katarina.  “The black smoke forms them.”

   Katarina looks around, dazed by the amount of stimulus all around her.  “Ace of spades or jade necklace,” she keeps muttering to herself.  “Ace of spades or jade necklace....”

   You grab the shield from the fallen warrior and regain your feet, pulling Katarina up with you.  Using the shield, you begin to ram your way through the fray, trying to find some kind of opening where you can think.  “Ace of spades or jade necklace....” Katarina keeps incanting.  “Ace of spades...  ace of spades....”

   A warrior with a dragon emblem dispatches his opponent and notices you before you can knock him off balance.  He parlays your awkward body-check easily, swinging a spiked mace around and smashing it right into Katarina.  Except it is not Katarina next to you anymore, but yet another warrior who is now gushing black smoke.  The mace seems to be stuck in its victim's helmet, and its wielder bends over awkwardly to try to pry it loose again.  You step past him to collect Katarina, who is now wandering obliviously through the mêlée.  “Ace of spades...”

   â€œKatarina!” you call, grabbing her by the hand once more.  “Katarina, we have to get out of here!  The Sgruck will be here at any moment.”

   â€œAce of spades...” she says, trying to stumble past you.

   â€œWe have to-”

   â€œAce of spades!” she repeats again.  You can see a brightness in her eyes, but she can't seem to say anything else at the moment.  You turn to follow her gaze, barely raising the shield in time to block a sword thrust.  Your attacker is quickly smote from behind by another warrior, causing billowing clouds of black smoke to shoot out of his body.  But through the cloud you notice a spear held aloft in the air, clearly shaped like a spade.

   â€œC'mon!” you yell, pulling Katarina through the fray towards the sword.  Only as you near it do you realize that it is held by a great hulking warrior.  “Aaaaaaah!” you scream, throwing yourself into him with your full force.  Unfortunately you bounce right off of him and land roughly on the empty armour of previously fallen warriors.  Black smoke wraps around you like a den of snakes, and you can hear the snarling fury of the forming Sgruck.  You desperately fight your way back to your feet, only to notice the great warrior fall over with a sword in his back, revealing Katarina behind him.

   â€œReady?” you ask, grabbing the spear.  You are relieved to see an “A” emblazoned near the corner of the spade.

   â€œWait!” Katarina cries.

   â€œWhat?!” you call back.  “Let's go!  Let's get out of here!”

   â€œWe need the jade necklace,” she says.

   â€œThere's no time!” you shout.  Spikes and claws are shooting out of the black fog, and the black shell-like armour of the Sgruck begins to emerge along with shrieking mouths teeming with rows of iron-looking teeth.

   â€œWe can't get away without the necklace!” Katarina shouts back.

   â€œWe can find the necklace again in the next world!”

   â€œWhat if the next world is worse than this one?!?”

   â€œWhat can be worse that this!?!”

   Katarina grabs the spear from you and shoves it towards the nearest snarling Sgruck.  Instantly it disappears with a loud pop.  “How about worse than this with a bunch of Sgruck raining in from another world?” she shouts at you.

   You look down at the spear and then back to Katarina in disbelief.  Of course!  You grab the spear from her and start slicing your way through the growing field of Sgruck, sending them popping out of this dream-world to the left and right.  Warriors, half-formed Sgruck, even just the tenuous black clouds, all blink out of the world as soon as the tip of the spear touches them.  And through the hole thus carved in the smoke a shaft of dazzling sunlight pours through, as if heralding the coming of a new dawn.

   â€œThere it is!” Katarina points.  You can see the talisman, glinting in the sunlight, worn around the neck of a warrior mounted on a great black, eyeless steed.  Katarina grabs your hand as you slice your way towards him.  You draw the spear back, ready to strike.

   But then the warrior removes his helmet, revealing the wrinkled old face of the ancient Mind-Melder.

   â€œWhat the-” you and Katarina both say at the same time.

   Silently the warrior Mind-Melder removes the talisman and tosses it towards you.  Katarina catches it.

   You turn to her, noticing suddenly that her beautiful face is now bruised and bandaged.  The annoying chirp of medical instruments fills the small hospital room.  Katarina is in a gurney, and you are sitting next to her, holding her hand.  In her other hand she clasps her jade necklace.  Your other hand is now empty except for the ace of spades tattoo partly up the arm.  You look across the bed to the old Mind-Melder, who gently sets down the metal helmet on the bedside table.

   â€œI think I'll leave you two alone now,” she says softly before shuffling out of the room.

   Katarina stares at you and you at her for a very long time, both of you lost in a world far from medicine and surgeries.  It is a world far from the pain and burdens of reality.  It is like a dream come true.

The End

[Turn to PAGE 25]

    You dare not race the Sgruck, and so quickly close and lock the door to the tube.  “Come on, this way!” you shout to Katarina, tugging her towards the other tube.

   â€œWhat are those things?!?” she asks, not needing much coaxing to flee.

   â€œSgruck,” you reply.  She looks at you as if you just swore at her.  “They're called Sgruck,” you explain as you both shoot down the tube.  “If we can find and touch the ace of spades we'll get away from them.”

   â€œHow?”

   â€œYou'll see.”

   The far door opens automatically as it is unlocked, and you are briefly seized with panic as your momentum carries you through the doorway into unknown peril.  Fortunately there is no Sgruck in the command pod yet.

   â€œThat screen?” Katarina asks, immediately identifying the correct monitor.

   â€œYes.  That symbol stands for an axon chute, kind of a portal between worlds.  When we touch it we'll be sucked into a new reality.”

   â€œAnd there will be no Sgruck in that new place?”

   â€œNot exactly,” you say, pausing in front of the monitor.  “They'll come looking for us, but we'll have a head start.  When we get to the new world we have to quickly find another ace of spades or the jade talisman.”

   â€œJade talisman?”

   â€œYour necklace.  That's how we get away from the Sgruck forever.  We hold hands and touch the jade talisman.”  You notice black smoke leaking into the command centre pod.

   â€œOkay.  The ace of spades or the jade necklace,” Katarina repeats to herself.

   â€œI prefer to think of it as a jade talisman.”

   She shakes her head at you incredulously. 

   â€œReady?” you ask.  She nods.

   You grasp her hand firmly and you both touch the monitor together.  All goes black.

   â€œWhere are we?” asks a disembodied voice in the blackness.

   â€œWait for it,” you reply.

   â€œWait for what?”

Turn to PAGE 25

[Turn to PAGE 4]

        Deciding that the odds are not in your favour in this world, you dash back to the sign-post.  Blood pounds hard in your ears, or is that the pounding of clawed feet in pursuit?  You dare not look over your shoulder as you sprint the last few paces and touch the sign-post.

        Instantly you are in the black stillness of the void once more.  With any luck the next dream will find Katarina and the jade talisman in close proximity to one another.  You cross your fingers, as suddenly a new world resolves itself around you.

Turn to PAGE 4

[Turn to PAGE 34]

        Katarina is gone.  You doubt you will find her quickly in this thick crowd, and the Sgruck are closing in.  With a heavy heart you decide that your only option for survival is to dash for the jade talisman, only twenty paces away.

        There is the furious baying of predatory creatures all around you, but you can see nothing but the churning crowd that hems you in and the ghostly ringlets of black smoke wafting along the ground.  You try to push your way towards the jewellery stand, but you are blocked by bodies standing shoulder to shoulder.

        "Peace be with you, friend," a veiled man tells you, grasping your arm firmly.

        "Peace!" mutter others, also trying to latch on to you.  In desperation you grab at the first man's veil, causing is clothes to collapse into an empty pile and the foul smoke to erupt from them.  Only this time you grab the pile of empty clothes, quickly throwing them over your own.  Your plan is to camouflage yourself for the last couple steps.

         As you expected, the crowd suddenly pays you no mind.  There is fearsome growling all around you, but even the Sgruck seem to be thrown off by your ruse!  Only ten paces to the jewellery stand remain.  Now only five!

         You are but two paces from the talisman when a great armed claw bursts out of belly of your clothing, flailing towards you.  Another bursts out of the shoulder, and a third from your hip.  There is an intensely malicious snarl from your right leg, and then your only sensation is sharp, stabbing pain.  You reel, careening off of people in the crowd.  Blood is spattering over their colourful costumes; your blood!  You fall towards the jewellery stand with its dangling talisman, arm outstretched.

         Suddenly all goes black.  You are not sure whether you managed to touch the talisman or not, but in the stillness of the void you are suddenly at peace.

Turn to PAGE 34

[Turn to PAGE 58]

        Your experience on the space station was harrowing enough.  You cannot imagine trying to escape from a pack of Sgruck stuck out in the open.  After one last longing glance at Katarina, you begin to push your way through the crowd once more.  Behind you is the fearsome roar of a Sgruck, but no one else seems to notice it.  The crowd is packed too tightly together now and you can barely move.  The beast will be upon you in moments.

   In desperation you being ripping the veils off of the people blocking your path.  Instantly they fall into heaps of clothes, each off-gassing the fearsome tendrils of smoke that herald the coming of another Sgruck.  Dozens fall, then scores.  You are almost there.

   The original Sgruck emerges from the crowd right behind you, bellowing fiercely.  But it seems momentarily distracted by the great clouds of other Sgruck wafting up from the fallen clothing.  You seize your chance and make a last push towards the carpet stand, diving to put your hand onto the carpet.  Instantly you are in the safety of the black void once more.

Turn to PAGE 58

[If you decide to go for the talisman despite the Sgruck, turn to PAGE 19]

        You decide that you must persevere in this dream scenario despite the dangers.  You approach the first door, feeling the nob for heat and listening for the nightmarish sounds of the Sgruck on the other side.  Suddenly the door lurches in its frame and there is a hideous, bloodthirsty baying from the other side.  You sense that you have only moments before the creature bursts through the door.

   The second door you try also barely contains a Sgruck, but the third is quiet, although the knob is hot to the touch.  Steeling yourself, you jerk the door open.  Flames lick up the stairwell, but at least there is no monster.  However, great scratch marks criss-cross the inside of the doorway.

   Setting aside your fear you charge up the stairs.  The stench of flame consuming hair fills your nostrils, but you succeed in emerging comparatively unscathed onto the second floor.  “Katarina!” you yell, but there is no response.  You do notice a painting of a ship at the far end of the hall, and from the frame dangles the jade talisman.

   You go from room to room, desperately searching as the flames lick walls and ceilings.  The heat is unbearable, but you are acutely aware that this will be your last chance to find Katarina.  You open the door to the last room, discovering it to be empty.  Shit!

   And then you see the ghostly figure of a girl walking through the snow outside, wrapped in what looks like a bed-sheet.  To your frustration the window will not open.  You are about to kick through the glass when a burning joist falls from above, narrowly missing you but blocking your path to the window. 

   You dash back to the burning stairwell, which is now entirely consumed by flame.  You take one step into the inferno before considering what happened back in the ruined city.  Instead, you walk backwards, retracing your steps into the room with the fallen joist.

   â€œI know you are lost, and I'm here to find you,” you say, without turning around, not daring to hope that your reverse thinking has worked.

   â€œWho are you?” Katarina's voice asks back.

   You turn to see her, wrapped in a bed-sheet but nothing else.  Her hair is dishevelled and there is a stunned look to her eyes, but she is otherwise completely unscathed by the fire all around her.

   â€œThere is no time to explain,” you say, grasping her by the hand.  “We just need to get to the jade talisman, ok?”

   She nods absently, allowing you to pull her into the hallway.  But where there was once glowing flame there is now a chilling blackness.  A grotesque creature is blocking your path to the talisman at the end of the hallway, baring large metallic teeth and snarling menacingly.

   You quickly drag Katarina into the room across the hall, slamming the door behind you.  There are only moments before the creature bursts through the door.  Do you try somehow to outflank it to get to the jade talisman?  Or do you try to jump from the window with Katarina and make a run for the axon chute back at the sign-post?

If you decide to go for the talisman despite the Sgruck, turn to PAGE 19

If you decide to go for the sign-post axon chute, turn to PAGE 22

[Turn to PAGE 43]

    You decide the safest course is to head back to the command centre and try another axon chute.  You fly through the tubes of the space station head-first like a super hero, never flinching at the doors that always open for you at the last possible second.  That is, until the second last door opens to reveal a frightful creature clad in black smoke and wearing two menacing grins.

   At the last second you stretch out lengthwise to collide with the frame of the door, quickly manipulating the button at the edge to close and lock the door.  Immediately tendrils of black smoke begin to seep in from along the edges of the door.

   You push off to fly in the opposite direction once more, trying to conceptualize how the pods of the station are linked in order to find a route around.  You pass through a medical bay, a plant-growing room, and a lounge. 

   You are about to lose your cool when you notice the giant monitor on the lounge wall and an idea strikes you.  You stop yourself and rush over to the monitor, mashing at buttons to try to change the feed.  A variety of programmes, each more bizarre than the last flash by.  You are aware that black tendrils of smoke have begun leaking from the lounge's ventialtion and that you have only moments before another Sgruck bursts into the room.

   And then suddenly the ace of spades symbol comes up on the screen.  You release the breath that you hadn't realized you were holding and press your hand against the screen.
   
Turn to PAGE 43