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Wordle 1,062 4/6

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Hi @cat
Yes, I haven't forgotten, I've just been focused on other stuff.    I have something in mind, and can hopefully post it this week.

@Crimson Wizard I don't have links, but i made sure when downloading that the sounds I used were all Public Domain (CC0).

Hi @Crimson Wizard I did my best to locate the creators of all the sprites and credit the authors of the sounds. These are included in the in-game credits.

EDIT: Here are the in-game credits:
Original Roger sprites by ProgZmax (Shane Stevens), recolored by Hobo.
Roger sprite mage paint-overs by Rootbound.
Background art by Rootbound.
Inventory item art by Danvzare.
Cursor icons by CaeserCub
APOLLO color palette by Adam C Younis (lospec.com).
Public Domain sounds by Freesound.org users egomassive, kyles, maodin204, and splicesound.

[Can You See Into My Stomach?]

Finished!

Content advisory:

Spoiler

Self-harm and mild body horror. No blood or gore.

[close]

Can You See Into My Stomach?

Spoiler

The mirror in the bathroom hung fogged by the shower, and I drew an aimless line across it with the tip of my finger.

The cold wetness of the glass slid up to my first knuckle as my finger pushed right through the mirror.

I wrenched my hand back. The first segment of my finger had been erased. Not severed—it just wasn't there, the boundary between finger and not-finger a strange blankness. The finger was, and then it wasn't.

I stood there frozen, unsure whether to let out a terrified laugh or just scream. Instead I stood frozen, the steam condensing in cold rivulets on my skin. The fan sucked the moisture from the shower up out of the bathroom, until the mirror finally cleared.

My reflection was whole. Missing nothing.

My real hand still missing a fingertip.

Part of my brain switched off. Nothing computed. I couldn't think, couldn't feel.

Moving robotically, I put on my school clothes, combed the shower-knots from my hair, and came downstairs to grab breakfast on my way out the door. When I saw my mother in the cramped kitchen piled with dishes, the smell of mildewed water and sour garlic brought me back to my body. The absent part of my brain switched back on again.

I held up my finger to my mother. Heart pounding. Hoping. "Look at this."

She sighed and studied my hand. Where my finger should have been. "What, Priscilla, a papercut? I don't see anything. You're fine."

As if she'd turned a key, my thoughts and emotions locked up again. Heart slowing. Back to numbness.

"OK."

She waved me away. "Take a muffin with you, you're late."

A twinge tightened my stomach. I left the kitchen.

"You have a good day," she called, as if in warning.

I dug through the mess of coats piled on the couch, found my backpack, nearly tripped on my brother's old shoes strewn across the living room floor, and left to catch the bus.

On the noisy ride, next to some other antisocial girl buried deep in her headphones, I stuck my hand inside my hoodie pocket and poked the missing finger outward. The fabric stretched—as long as a regular finger? I wasn't sure—but I couldn't feel the sweatshirt against my fingertip. Was my finger there, or wasn't it?

At school, I put my things in my locker, while several doors down a group of brainiacs congratulated each other over how easy the SATs had been for them. Musing over how dense you'd have to be to bomb it. Like I had.

I looked at myself in the mirror on the inside of my locker door. Baggy clothes, hair still wet from the shower, crooked teeth needing braces my parents couldn't pay for, moles in weird places.

Was it just the one mirror, or all mirrors?

I pushed my finger in as far as it would go.

The hand and its reflection merged as if I were reaching into water, up to my wrist. When I pulled it back out, no hand came with it. Only empty space, but a hand remained in the reflection.

I held up a pen in my good hand, and moved my non-existent one toward it, watching my reflection to see if I could still use what was missing.

The hand in the mirror grabbed the pen fine. The non-hand in the real world dropped the pen on the floor. Nothing to grab it with.

I looked up at my face in the mirror again. I looked scared.

Then I didn't.

I glanced at the laughing High Score Club a few doors down, and yelled "Hey!"

I pushed my wrist on the mirror and leaned in nearly up to my shoulder, and stayed half-swallowed by whatever mouth of hell lay beyond the glass. Me and my reflection joined at the shoulder, with no arm between us.

Let them call this a papercut.

One of the kids, a boy with a ponytail and wire-rim glasses way too small for his face, looked at me, decided I had been yelling at someone else, and turned away.

What had I looked like to him? My reflection's arm had now dropped down to her side. Like a whole person's. I had no arm anymore.

I went to class, remembered my reflection holding the pen, and placed a pencil on the desk. I moved my shoulder as if I were taking notes. None appeared, that I could see. But if everyone else saw only my whole reflection, maybe they'd also see the things it was able to do.

I handed in a blank quiz sheet at the end of class. The teacher nodded knowingly. At emptiness or at invisible answers my reflection had written? I'd have to wait and find out.

Out in the hall, I kept experimenting. I got out my phone and took a selfie with my good hand, holding my absent arm in front of me, hand waving at the screen. At least that's what the camera showed. I couldn't feel my missing appendage, so I couldn't pose it at all.

Mirror me was already having a better life.

I wondered what would happen if I lost my head. Would I die? Would my reflection keep on living? The sleeve of my hoodie swayed limp as I walked, hanging empty off my shoulder. I looked at passing faces, reactions one way or the other, but no one was looking back. I had never been the type of girl people wanted to look at.

Knowing something everyone else didn't felt like a high and a gut-punch and a mounting tidal wave. What I knew was terrible.

At after-school swim practice, I sat on the cold concrete by the edge of the pool, looking at my wobbly mirror image undulating on the water's surface, separating into globs and re-forming as the liquid bounced pieces of my reflection every which way.

Was water reflective enough to count as a mirror? Would I completely evaporate if I jumped in? Or would I just drown, because I couldn't swim with one arm? Or could I—the invisible arm pulling me along?

I stared at the chlorine-smelling expanse, wanting to know. Dreading the answer. Pulling toward it. Falling. Having lost my arm, I felt like I'd already jumped from a plane, and now I had to decide whether to open my parachute.

I didn't want to drown. I told the swim coach I was sick.

He looked me up and down and narrowed his eyes. "You look fine to me."

"Well can you see into my stomach?" I said.

"What?"

I'd thought it a clever retort. Sickness lived on the inside. But he didn't see how miserable I looked. Maybe the opposite—maybe my reflection kept looking more whole as I looked more missing. Maybe she was getting smarter, fitter, more socially adept and well-adjusted. Maybe the version the swim coach saw was driven, ready to be team captain.

But my reflection didn't really need to get any better. I was shrinking. She wasn't. That was enough to put her a lap ahead of me.

When I got home, my brother sat playing some army sniper video game, muttering obscenities while his character did complex maneuvers and killed people.

When I passed him he didn't even glance up.

Once I got upstairs, I knocked on my parents' bedroom door. No answer. Mom was still at work.

I went in. Next to the closet hung my mother's full-length mirror. The one she tried on old dresses in front of and grimaced at herself. The one I tried on regular clothes in front of and did the same.

In the mirror stood whole me.

Here in front of it stood half me.

At least with a true mirror, I knew I wouldn't drown. All I'd have to do is lean forward.

Accept the falling.

Even if I didn't go now, I knew I'd keep pushing myself into nothing one piece at a time. Like unraveling a sweater. The curiosity only got worse the more I did it.

If I could just stop, I could still go through life with one arm. That wouldn't be easy but wouldn't be impossible. Lots of people did it, because they had to.

But it wasn't the missing arm that made me want to fall into the mirror.

It was the arm I still had. And the legs. The torso that could never be flat enough. The face. The brain that went into blank panic on multiple choice tests, knowing every answer could pin you on a technicality.

The person that everyone else said was fine. Really. There's nothing wrong with you.

Well, OK then.

Look. See? Over there is a version of me that is fine. The one in the mirror.

You can have her.

When I disappear, you won't miss half me. Whole me will walk around and talk to you and be totally OK. She'll swim and get braces and retake tests, and you'll love her.

You'll never realize there's no one inside.

[close]

@speksteen Yes, updates are strongly encouraged. 

No worries, I've been making games for a while and I still make lots of simple mistakes. After a while you'll get a feel for all the usual places to check when something isn't working right. 

Hi @DiggingUpGraves

Sorry my code didn't work for you. Did you make sure of the following?

-Your GUI gCredits is set to "visible" when the room is loaded
-Your GUI label containing the credits themselves is also set to visible in its properties pane
-Text is not the same color as the background
-Credits GUI is not blocked by another GUI or room object

If all that is true, I suggest slowing down the speed of movement. Moving 10 pixels per loop is very fast (adds up to 400 pixels per second if your game speed is set at 40). I would try 1 pixel per loop (that is, gCredits.Y -=1) and Wait(2) to see if that changes anything.

I got stuck here too, but figured it out.

Spoiler

You can get through the door if you click on it fast enough. You have to be very very quick. I think you can turn down the game speed to make it easier.

[close]

The way I do it is as eri0o said, putting all the credits in a gui label, and then either using the tween module with GUI.TweenPosition().

Or I do something like this:

Code: ags

StartCutscene(eSkipAnyKey); //make credit scroll skippable with key press
while(gCredits.Y > (0 - gCredits.Height)){  //set credits destination 
 gCredits.Y -=1; // move credits (increase number to speed up credits)
 Wait(1); //increase wait time to slow down  credits 
}
EndCutscene(); //skipping credits goes to here
 

I got an idea yesterday and wrote a first draft (1400 words). Gonna let it sit a few days and then revise.

The editor deletes outdated versions of the game from the compiled folder automatically, so if you make changes you'll have to compile it again. There's a build EXE icon near the you of the editor and an option in the dtop down menu too. Then it should show up in the compiled folder... until you make more changes to the game. 

Patch 1 is now released, with minor bug fixes. This might not fix issues with old save games though, depending on where you are in the game. (Hopefully this doesn't put me in itch.io quarantine again  ).

I also made a walkthrough here. 

Enjoy!

I created a walkthrough for anyone who's interested.    Let me know if you have any questions.

Puzzle 1: Getting your bearings

Spoiler

-Talk to the Monk
-Click on the stone plaque to find the "make light" spell inscription
-Uncover the Mage's grave in the forest path and add the foreign text to your notebook

[close]

Puzzle 2: Piecing things together

Spoiler

-Hear the Monk's story
-Talk to the miller and offer to help in exchange for translation
-Go to the top of the hill and discover the stone hand. Take the stone hand.
-Offer the stone hand to the troll

[close]

Puzzle 3: The troll's task

Spoiler

-Agree to the troll's request. If you doubt or disbelieve the troll, this will increase the number of stones you have to carry, and may give you the "slightly less satisfying" ending (a small change in the final monologue).
-Talk to the farmer about the stones.
-Talk to the monk about the stones. If you don't talk to the farmer first, you'll have to talk to the monk a second time.
-Inspect the stones until it's clear the mossy stone is the oldest and the generic stone is the mage's.

[close]

Puzzle 4: Move mountains

Spoiler

-Talk to the farmer. Exhaust any remaining dialogue options
-Open the notebook to the page with the spell
-Go to the staircase and use the spell on the small, medium, and large stones
-Use the spell to lift one stone at a time and carry them to the troll until the creek flows with water again

[close]

Puzzle 5: Solving the riddle

Spoiler

-Talk to the empty window until the miller appears
-Use "I must insist" option to get the translation. If you are rude to the miller, you may get the "slightly less satisfying" ending.
-Ask the monk about the riddle, and sit like a stone.
-Examine the mage's forest grave again.
-Use the spell on the forest grave (you must examine it first).

[close]

The end!

Ok, I've got a solution!

A RISKY SERIES OF UPSETS

Spoiler

You can't believe your rotten luck that at the other end of the narrow street stands the WORST PERSON you could possibly run into: your ex-boyfriend, a security guard at a museum, who you screwed over to steal your most PRIZED POSSESSION--a priceless Egyptian Amulet made of blue gold! If he sees you he will definitely call the police! Who are already not far behind you! It's too late to turn back.

You frantically take note of each obstacle and formulate a scheme-- but it will never work unless you do everything in exactly the right order, without drawing too much attention to yourself too quickly.

First you need to steal several hotdogs from the HOTDOG STAND, but it takes a few tries because you have to keep looking at your PHONE (from your BACKPACK), to assuage the suspicion of the vendor, and you can only steal the hotdogs while his back is briefly turned. It takes quick reflexes.

You stow TWO HOT DOGS for later use.

Next, you engage the GARDENING WOMAN in conversation, but you have limited time because the TALKATIVE OLD MAN is already approaching. His arms look strong and wiry, and if he clutches your arm, there's no escape.

You convince the GARDENING WOMAN you're fascinated enough by her work that she goes inside to get a gardening magazine to show you. Acting quickly, you snatch up the WATERING CAN from her garden and dash across the street to fill it from the KIDDIE POOL. The OLD MAN is right at your heels!

You dump the WATERING CAN over the OLD MAN'S head. He is so stunned he cannot speak!

Now you're beginning to cause a scene, so you have to keep moving. You grab the abandoned VOLLEYBALL and throw it right at the BULLY, hoping to start with the upper hand.

The volleyball bounces right off the bully's face. But you've only made him angry! Before you can run, he storms up to you.

Mini-game: dodge the bully's punches long enough to stick the HOT DOGS in his pockets. Then lure the BULLY to the DOG.

Sure enough, the DOG breaks free of its leash and starts chasing the BULLY.

At this point the street is in chaos. Your best bet is to use the other item from your BACKPACK: a lockpick. You use it to break into the nearest PARKED CAR and wait for things to die down.

But it isn't that easy. When you emerge from the vehicle, you face obstacles in both directions. The soaked OLD MAN is walking straight toward you again, ranting because you broke into his car! In the other direction is the WORST PERSON, your museum security ex-boyfriend, whose face fills with shock and anger as he recognizes you.

He makes to reach for his phone. You have only seconds to act.

You reach into the OLD MAN'S MAILBOX next to his car, take out a PACKAGE, and throw it to your WORST PERSON ex-boyfriend, yelling that this is the stolen amulet and you had it hidden here all along.

He takes the bait and catches the package, despite knowing you must be lying.

And finally, the last piece falls into place. The OLD MAN starts ranting at your ex-boyfriend to give him his package back, and grabs the WORST PERSON by the arm with his infamous grip strength. He talks and talks and won't let your ex-boyfriend go.

Now is the time! You run as fast as you possibly can out the other end of the street, exiting into the next room.

[close]

Anybody else want to throw something in and make it a proper contest? 

I admit I completely forgot about it. '^^ Will see if I can come up with something today.

I'm excited to see this coming along already! I look forward to trying it out. 

I'm pretty sure "got nothing to say" is a default line from the global sctipt unhandled_event function in the BASS Template. It's called when there's no script associated with talking to a character.

EDIT: Yes, listen to Crimson Wizard above. Make sure you call the dialog under the function where you click on the character you want to talk to.

Thanks so much for the kind words @cat ! It makes me very happy when people notice the small details like what happens when you get to the final room.

And I notice we have a winner! Glad to see every entry was someone's favorite. Congratulations to @jfrisby and @Babar for a really sweet entry.

Thanks again to everyone who played MORT, both those who voted for it and everyone who gave feedback and reported the bugs. Great competition all around!

That first return is fine if you don't want anything to happen each time the dialog starts.

True, I was reading the hellos as coming before the options but I guess OP didn't specify that.