Story [Issue 57] Reporter Simulator 2016

Thekillerpenguin · July 22, 2016

Have you ever wanted to be a reporter? Ever wondered what being a reporter is like? How we do things? How things have changed since hog last did his "behind the scenes" article? Well, too bad, that's all classified.

...

I've been given clearance by our exalted vice-dictator, THE NS, to show you a glimpse into what we do on a daily basis. Step into the shoes of a rookie reporter and delve into the labyrinth of our super secret Newspaper Material section, our illuminatish Skype chats, and more. Hold onto your hats. And by "hats", I mean that helmet that I just gave you. It just looks cool, I promise. Don't worry about those needles, they're supposed to go into your skull...

<neural activity discovered...>
<attempting neural link...>
<success! link was established at port 30>
<warning: neural overflow protection module not loaded!>
<info: subject safety at risk in case of extensive simulated trauma!>
<$ADMIN_OVERRIDE>
<proceeding...>
<establishing interface...>
<success!...>
<loading stats.ini...>
<success!...>
<loading repsim16.nse...>
<success!...>
<loading graphics.wxr>
<error!...>
<loading extremelylowgraphics.jpg>
<success!...>
<info: graphical quality may vary during operation!>
<executing repsim16.nse...>
<warning: sensory parameters exceed safe limits!>
<$ADMIN_OVERRIDE>
<proceeding...>

Author's note: I will occasionally embed Youtube videos in spoilers for background music when I think music is appropriate for the mood. It's just something I'm testing out. If you see a spoiler labeled "background music", you can go ahead and pause any background music already playing, open the spoiler, and play that. Note that you can close the spoiler after pressing "play" and the music will continue.

You approach the imposing doors of EN Reporter HQ. Your reporter application was accepted last week, and you've been shipped here on an express flight for your first day of work. You initially felt excitement as you received a handwritten letter in the mail announcing your entry, but now, you're not so sure. The building is surprisingly huge for a newspaper team that only has a dozen or so staff, and you have no idea what will await you within. The sun rises slowly behind you, and the outside temperature is heating up. You feel compelled to go inside.

Option A:
Go inside.

Optional background music:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nBPK_oXeJgA

You push on the doors, and they don't open. Puzzled, you try pulling, and it works. You enter an expansive lobby connected to several hallways. Besides a few armed security guards, nobody else is present, and you wonder what things around here would require armed guards anyway. You realize that nobody told you where to go for your first day.

You walk over to a security guard and introduce yourself, asking if he knows where new reporters are supposed to go. He says he does, and offers to show you around the building, but not before taking out his radio and whispering a few cryptic messages into it.

The two of you enter the hallway on the left of the lobby. It seems to last forever, with doors lining both sides and additional hallways leading elsewhere scattered all around. You start to wonder if you will ever memorize the layout. After a number of confusing bends and turns, you reach an open room with several sofas and a kitchen. "This is the break room", the guard states. "It's stocked to the brim with coffee and chicken, and we've even got several gaming consoles." "...chicken?", you ask incredulously. "Yep. We've got a state-of-the-art chicken manufacturing machine in here for all your poultry-related needs, capable of creating meat in a variety of flavors. Oh, and we have a soup fountain!". You are somewhat alarmed by the manner in which the soup and chicken are provided, but you decide not to question it further.

After another trek, the guard stops you next to a nondescript door. "This may look like a supply closet to you, but it's really the entrance to the Newspaper Archives. We keep copies of all our old newspapers in there. You can browse there if you're bored, nostalgic, or want to find inspiration for your own writing, but most of us don't go there anymore. I hear it's haunted, and I'm pretty sure there are monsters in there. This part of the building is open to the public, and people do go in there sometimes, but I've never seen them come out." You wonder why the security guards aren't stationed in there instead.

Finally, you are lead to a room containing an endless sea of cubicles. "Welcome to the Newspaper Materials. This is where reporters, both new and old, write their articles, proofread them, and prepare for publishing. We've got more cubicles than we need, so just pick whichever one you'd like, log into your computer, and get started working." He briskly walks away.

You spot a cubicle in a dark corner and decide to pick that one since it's obscured from view and quiet. As you march through the corridors, you realize that this enormous room has no air conditioning. It's hot, stuffy, and smells faintly of burnt chicken. You arrive at your desk, sit down, and take out your laptop. After logging onto Scype™, you notice that you have several messages from Night-Sisters.

After reading through all of this, you prepare yourself for your first day of work. You should be writing something substantial to make a good impression, so contests are probably out of the picture. The possibilities seem endless, but you'll have to choose...

Option A:
Write a guide.

You decide to write a guide. To something. After all, guides are informative, don't require too much brainstorming, and are relatively easy to write. The problem is, most of the topics that guides can possibly cover have already been covered! You're going to need to think of a new one.

    Option A:
    Write "The Ultimate Guide to Railgun".

    "It hasn't been written yet", you think. So you start typing away at your keyboard, creating a topic titled "[issue __] The Ultimate Guide to Railgun". You look at previous Ultimate Guides and start drafting your article. "I'm going to need a title pic, an intro, history, pros/cons, combinations...", you mumble. All of a sudden, you hear the sound of a gun being cocked behind your head.

    You slowly turn around to see a penguin clad in battle armor holding you at gunpoint. "...what? What's happening? Why do this?", you stammer. The penguin says nothing but stares intently. You remember that there have been scores of Ultimate Guides before, with all but one written by none other than the penguin standing before you. You figure out that he is here because you have infringed on his series. "But..but..but wasn't this series originally hogree's? I mean...I kind of did the same thing as you, you know..?" As you gaze into the depths of his cold, glowing visor, a voice in your head that isn't yours speaks.

    "And when was the last time you saw hogree?"

You are dead.

Optional background music:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BuzVyctY_tM

"...hey, vice-dictator, the guy in the reporter simulator isn't responding to anything. Hopefully nothing went wrong."
"...it looks like something did. Security to Tech Labs..."

    Option B:
    Check in the Newspaper Archives for inspiration.

    You're kind of stumped. Writer's block is a thing. Maybe you can check out those archives the security guard mentioned earlier.

    You exit your cubicle and walk out of the vast Materials room. You pass by numerous other cubicles, some occupied and some empty. The reporters seem to be hard at work, paying you no attention as you quietly step past them, but you soon realize that half of them are slacking off on Seddit™. There are a few supervisors nearby, but they don't seem to care. "This place is pretty dysfunctional", you note.

    After an arduous trek, you reach the hallway with the door to the Newspaper Archives. The door is still there, and it doesn't look like it has been used in a while. "Newspaper Archives" is printed in fading ink on the otherwise nondescript door, concealing the supposed dangers lurking within. Nevertheless, you brace yourself, turn the doorknob, and enter.

    You wait in an airlock for a minute or so as the decontamination process begins. Soapy water sprays down from the ceiling, ruining your clothes, and finally a blow dryer dries you off in an unsatisfactory and uncomfortable manner. A computer voice echoes in the cramped room, startling you.

    "Decontamination complete. During your visit, please avoid spilling blood on the shelves or leaving limbs on the floor. Do your part to keep this facility clean!"

    You step out of the chamber and witness your surroundings. You are in a massive library of seemingly endless length. Shelves stretch towards the tall ceiling, laden with multiple levels of papers and books. Random objects are scattered around. You see a roasted chicken lying several feet away from you, seated next to an open book. A large cardboard box, bulging at the seams, is seated a little further. You also spy a single sheet of paper sitting in the hallway next to you. Where do you want to go?

      Option A:
      Investigate the chicken and the open book.

You cautiously approach the roasted poultry. As you step closer, a tantalizing scent teases your nose, and you recognize it as the smell of a perfectly roasted and marinated chicken, dripping with juices and emanating clean, heavenly flavors onto your tongue. You can taste the browned skin crinkling in your mouth, melting into an oily consistency. It is the smell of holidays, of restaurants, and of home. You are pulled closer, your agape mouth drooling. As you slowly reach towards the delightful hen, you remember something. The book! You wanted to check that out too. Figuring that your hands would be too oily after eating the chicken to handle the book, you give it a halfhearted glance as your mind is wandering elsewhere.

"Step 1. Get Chicken

Step 2. Eat

Step 3. Repeat"

       You heed the command. Your fingers lunge towards the tasty bird, and you devour it whole. It tastes exactly as you imagined it- a little salty, very fragrant, savory, and the slightest hint of sweetness. Your hands are gooey with juices, but you pay no attention. Bite after bite, you satiate your lust. As you continue to eat, you start to feel some sorrow. This is the finest meal you've had in your entire life. Nothing will top this. And it won't last forever. You start to eat more slowly, trying to savor the taste, trying to remember it so that you can recall this experience for the rest of your life. But as you look at the chicken, you realize that it hasn't really gotten any smaller. How is this possible? You don't care. With renewed vigor, you bite into the chicken once more.

      O, how right that guide was! You obtained a chicken, yes. You ate it. You are still eating it. And you are repeating the eating part. Perhaps this is what paradise is. A regenerating, never-ending chicken of the finest quality. Hours pass by as you continue your one-man feast with bestial ferocity.

      Finally, you are too full to eat. You are actually too full to stand up. Your stomach is bloated, but it is not wholly uncomfortable. You witness the chicken regenerating itself in front of your eyes, ready for its next consumption. "Hmm, I wonder who the next lucky person to eat that will be. Maybe me again." You lie down on the concrete floor, ready to take a nap. But you hear some unusual noises, and sit up.

      Shadowy figures crawl and squirm in darkness, the light from the ceiling lamps casting but a small glimmer on their enigmatic forms. You hear the faintest whispers in an unfamiliar and unnerving tongue. Your heart starts to race, and you scoot into the light of the nearest lamp. That does little to dissuade the apparitions. They crawl closer to you, inch by inch, and the whispering becomes louder. You yell at them, hoping to scare them off, but soon you cannot even hear the sound of your own voice. A single individual enters the light, and you witness its horrifying form, with every inch of what should be skin charred black and an ethereal green glow of unusual depth where its eyes should be. Yo̡ur̶ se͞ns͟es ͏are ̀d̷im͏m̨ed as ̨i̵t clos̸e̷s in͜. ̀Th́e̴ w̴hi͝sp̷ȩrs ar͡e͏ ́t̷oo ͜lou̢d for y͘ou t͢o͝ ͡h͠ęar ̨yo̷ur͜ own̴ ҉screám͜i͏n̢g.͠ Yo͜ur͞ body͞ is̡ ̴ńu͜m̀b́. ̴Ýour vi̕s͝io̶n͢ g͘ro̢w̡s̛ ́d̛ar҉k. A҉s it̡ ŗeac̴he̢s ͘t̡o̢w͜ar̵ds y҉ou,͟ you͡ ̧h̢ear ͠a w̧hisp̕e҉r a̴b̶o̴v̷e͝ the̢ ͠res̷t.

y̴̳̻͔͚͓̮̗͊̈͆̄̏͑͟o̵̧̦̘̺̣͗̀ûͫ͏͓̰͈̳̹̦ ͑ͯͫ̋͏̸̺̰̬̬̪̭͙ͅă͌ͦ͒ͤͦ͂̚̕͏̙̝̳͞r̰̗̬ͬͮ̃ͯ̀e̜̰̯͙̰͑̍ ̧̥͙̥̺ͧ̊͆̔̀̚͝o̴̴͇̰̘̿̐ͣ͋̽́ͦ̚̚u̡̻̬͚̟̇́̃̓́̋̽̽r͉̉̾ͤ̀̽̔s͈̩̖̥̯̬ͬ̿ͬ̉̂͗͆̕͟ ̗͍̪͐ͫ̒ͨ̏͊̃̿ͅn͈̝͖̳̼͗͊̆͌ͪ̌̈́o̬̰͍̝̳ͥ̓̚ͅẅ̸̵̫̜̠̬́ͪͭ̌͊͋ͪ

You are dead.

Optional background music:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BuzVyctY_tM

"hmm, the monitor says that the heart rate is 0...that can't be right.........oh."

      Option B:
      Ignore the chicken and book and proceed to the box.

      Ignoring the tantalizing smell of chicken and the curious paper, you walk over to the dusty box. It might have something useful in it, and it would be easier to look at that than it would be to check every single book in the shelves. It is not sealed tightly, and you open it up with ease.

      Within are copies of numerous articles. You see "A Guide to Camouflage", "Why Rankup Parties are Stupid", "A Guide to Monte Carlo", among others. However, one catches your eye- "Product Kit Review - Firewall". It was written by a former reporter a while ago. There's not too much stopping you from writing an article on another kit. Hmm, not a bad idea.

      You think about checking out the chicken and the sheet of paper, but then you realize that you're stuck inside a vast, haunted library that warps time and space. Maybe sticking around here isn't such a good idea. Also, you're thirsty. You put everything back inside the box, ignore the chicken once more, and head to the airlock. As the door shuts behind you and the decontamination process starts again, you wonder what exactly is the source of the disappearances in there. Maybe you'll go back and see for yourself another time. You still have some work to do.

      After the drying is complete, you exit into the hallway no worse for wear, with the notable exception of your clothes and hair. You march back to your cubicle, open the list of kits in the wiki, and look for one to pick. You pick Rockshaper, because ~~Jade is epic~~ it's a M3 Kit with a combination that hasn't been seen before and a paint that has never been featured in a kit before. You start typing up an article on how it's a great long range combination, has a good price, ~~how Jade is epic~~, and has a good module. After a few hours of work, you're finished, and you go home.

Congratulations, you have finished Part 1.

Now, go over to the second post and enter the second part of the story.

Fun fact: this is my favorite way to finish part 1. This is definitely not because Jade is epic.

      Option C:
      Investigate the sheet of paper.

      You walk over to the lone sheet of paper. You pick it up and look intently. Your heart races as you read the title.


      Suddenly, you feel a massive bolt of pain in your back. You collapse on the floor, writhing in agony, and in a daze you realize that you've been shot. But by who?

      Someone flips you on your back. You see a dark figure clad in military gear, holding a suppressed rifle, appearing a bit like a stereotypical secret agent. Your vision is blurred, but you recognize the symbol of an eye inscribed within a pyramid on the figure's chest. He checks his magazine and loads his rifle once more as you manage to choke out a single word: "...why?"

      He points his gun at your head and speaks in a synthesized, inhuman voice.

"you know too much."

You are dead.

Optional background music:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BuzVyctY_tM

"Dang, that's the third one today. They never learn...cleanup to Tech Labs, please."

Option B:
Write a story.

Stories require little to no revision aside from formatting and are a good way to churn out articles every month so Gold and NS don't yell at you for not writing anything. Hmm, do you have any ideas for a story?

    Option A:
    Write a story about Night-Sisters.

Hmm, you could write a story about THE NS. There are surely many stories to be told about her frequent use of Blue paint, her overuse of Hornet-Railgun, her owning both M3 Hornet and M3 Wasp, why greyat tells everyone to run when they see her, and also why everyone blames her. Lots of material to work with.

You open up Macrohard Letter™, create a new document, and start typing. Several hours pass by as you write a grand story explaining all the things mentioned above and more. Once you finish, you look out the window and decide that you're done for the day. You press "save", pick up your things, and go home. Woohoo.

Congratulations, you have finished Part 1.

Now, go over to the second post and enter the second part of the story.

Fun fact: this is the most straightforward way to finish Part 1. Not as exciting, but hey, you didn't die.

    Option B:
    Write a story about GoldRock.

Why not write a story about our illustrious and lustrous reporter adminstrator, GoldRock? He's sure to appreciate it. Maybe you should write an epic about him. Something like the Odyssey. You can have him fight monsters, brave various dangers that kill everyone except him, and more. Maybe even give him superpowers. Wait, if you go all the way with that, it sounds a little crazy. Maybe you should tone it down a little. Start with something more realistic.

You open up Macrohard Letter™, create a new document, and start typing. You don't trust the forum to save your stuff or not accidentally make you a beginner, so you're doing it offline.

"

Derailed Aspirations

Once upon a time, there lived a happy little boy in the country of India. Then he moved to the busy world of the United Kingdom. So there he stayed, for many a year, till nostalgia for his homeland overwhelmed him, and he found himself on the next ship to-"

You are about to finish that sentence when suddenly you are struck in the back of the head. You black out.

Optional background music:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Vly2tl8u1w

    When you wake up, you are being escorted by two armed guards. Your feet are dragging on the floor. Your head hurts, and you feel numb. Your hands are behind your back for some reason. You try to bring them to a resting position, but they don't budge. You realize that you are in handcuffs. As your vision clears slightly, you realize that you are being led down a mysterious hallway. After a minute or so, you arrive at the end of it. Two more guards stand there, rifles in hand.

    GoldRock walks up to you. "You know, I had high hopes for you. I thought you would make an excellent reporter. Or, rather, I thought you could make an excellent reporter. I regret that now. Whether you know it or not, you are being manipulated by forces beyond your knowledge. These forces may or may not have been related to ashen felines. They put you here in the aims of opposing me. I can't let you remain here. I'm sorry. I wish there was another way."

    The hallway door opens, revealing the entrance of an airplane. You start to fade out again as the guards drag you inside.

You have been deported to the AWC.

    "...aww, it looks like I didn't win. TKP, can I try the simulation again?"
    "...no, you can't. There's a long line of people wanting to try out the simulator. Now take that helmet off. Next!"

    Option C:
    Write an interactive story.

Mmm, interactive stories are fun. You can make them humorous and can afford to make the stories cheesy and self-referential. It wouldn't be too hard to come up with an idea...maybe you can trying writing a reporter simulator.

You open up the forum, create a topic, and hope that it won't lose your progress. You write the title: "Reporter Simulator 2016", and w̭̥̟̫̤̬͞r̲i̛̖̫t͖̜͔͇̤̮͍iņ͍̱͙̹͇̣g͉̜͕ ̢͕t̫̲̣̟ẖ̞͔̗̩̙e̻̥̖͚̬̪ ̪͖͎̤͈t̛̗̠̱ơ̠̩͔̰̙͎̯p̻̻̪̪̞͈̩i̛̗̤̗̖̥͚͈c̻̮,̨̗̩̲̱͎ͩ ̴̭̞̜ͧ͊̓̊s̡̻̤̱̤̮̩̫t̢͈̙͈͍̟̋ͨ̀a͖̰̣͂ͫ̌͋͟rͭ̃ͯͥ̎͏͙̲̠̜̪͕̠t̳̄͌̓͒͑̏͞ȋ̴͉̘͈n͖͈͖̫̭̋ͨ̑̓ͣ̾g͇̼̥̜͖̬̏̚̕ ̵ͥ̈̉̋̔̀̌w͇̝̜̣̭̮i̫̝͓̥̗̦̯̓tͪ͘h̫̦͇̗͐ͥ̈̓ ̠̳͔̏t̷͙̱̣̥̭̰͌̒ͩ̉͂ͣ̾h̵͓̹̙̯͍͕e̛̞͓ ̱̭̱̫̎̌ͪ̽ͬ̏mͣe̎͒ͧ͂͌͆n͍͌t̑͐̾̊ͥ̇̀͘ỉ͚̝̫͉̣͈̳̀̃̅̋̾ọ̬͉͉̥̯͑̀̎͒n̟͚̠̘͎͎ͩ͒̿͌ͥͪͮ ̦̇͒ͦ̓͒t̓̍̽̌ͪ̎̂h͍̱͈̦̥̥̝͋ͣͧͪ͆̽̀a̻̾̐̒͆̋͒t͈͈͓̣͚ ̝̯̼ͭͭͩ̔͒͊͟ý̘͎̟̝͚͚ő̱ͫ̈͒̅͋ŭ̩͖̝̹̺̬̲͛̑ͩ̿́'͉̞̱͈͈̣́ͅr̓̊͊e͕̭̯̳̙̯ ̣ͣ͆ġ̦͍̲̤̥̟͔̍ͫ̅͟i͐̔̒v̟̙̭̭̰͖̄̆̄́͆ͪỉ̟̩̜̽ͧn͇̮̠̣̩̄̒̒̏́g̝̒ͩ͑́ͯ̓ ̸͓̉̈ͤ͊͑͊͌t̷̫̑̌ĥ͍̭̤͕͚̜̇͗͂̄ę̻̯̤̇͂̐͆ ͔̭ͩ̆ṟ̜͙̌ͣ͂́e͛̑̏̈́҉̺̙ȁ̵̾d̫̘͈́̾̒͊ͯ̃͊͜ȇ̹̠͓̫̯͎̭ͣͨ͋͑r̟̙̫̦̀ͬͮ͊̿ ̊̿͋̿ͬ́å͎̦̥̒͑͂̎̿ͥ ͈̫c̞̪̣͌̆̋̓͆ͨh̷̳͖͕̿̇a͖͇̯ͫ̔n̲͎̞͖̞͓͚͗ͬ̈̕c̨͍̯̳̖͇͙ͭ̎ͫ͋̈e̗̭͖͖̱ͯ̂̊͡ ͚͍͎̘ͫt̤͍̲͋ͅo̷̺̟̰̾͌̌̐̈

w͌ͮ̊ͨ͐͏̠̲͎a̲̗̭ͤ͞r̷͎̥͈̤̳̻ͣn̻̘̥̫̳̠̫͗͊ͧͮ̓̈́͐ȉ́̊ͫ͜n̷̰̟͎̑̓ͣg̷͔͍͐:̜̝̬̜̣̦̺ ̠͕̠͚͈̩̄̅̎ͩb̧͔͙̂͊u̍̈́f͎̎ͬf͓͕̦̹̦̱̗̔̔ͣ̉͐̽́̕ḛ̞͔͓̉͛̍r͕͌̀̄̋̓ ̟ͥ̔ͦ͠o͕̭͔̟̮ͣ̅͑v̵̰̌̌e̦̬͍͞r̝̱̣͓̝̤̎̀̌̿f͓̭͇̹l̞͓̝̥̣̓̈́̐̄ͮ̑̎͡ͅoͣ̈́̃w͎̞̗̃̈̂̓ ̰̭̠̲̲̙̦̏͌̄ͦ͒̐ͫa͉͐̀t̬̥̝̝̜͓ ͓ͤͬl̤̳̱͕ͥ͌́ͮi̳̋͆̇̔n͉̗͍͓̩̻̳ͦě̲̗͓̫͚͑͛ͭͯ ̼̙̣̟̘̮͚ͯ̈́C̖̮ͣ͞3̨ͫ̌͊̅ͅ6̖̩͍̰͌7͆͂͆̓̾͗ͩ̀F̭̳̏2͚̳̲͂̌̆ͤ́(̴̖͙͍͓̮͒̂̾̆?̯ͬ̈ͫi̟̤̭͖̔͆̈͛͋̽̍ͅn̍̌̄͛͜v̎͋͊̔̐̏ȁ͓͙͛ͧ̔̆l͙͍ͨ̍͝ḭ̗̤̽͊̾ͥd̵̝̜ ̗̜͉̖͍̔̉ͪ̌̃̑i̲͖͙̻͍̬̯̾̐͑̉͝ñ̟̳̦̹͇̦ͪ͞ṕ̠̃̃̚u̝̥̯͐ͫ̿̊͊͊t̵̯͍͓̖͉̹͎ͭ̓͆?̟͚͔)̱̫ ̫̅̚o̙͂͛̋ͦv̡͉͂̅̽ͯ̊ͨḛ̊̅͛̏̋r̭͉̝̥͇̲͚l͕̅̅ͥͧ̊o͎͔̮̓̈́̚͡a̺̖̬̒̿ͯ͠d̳͚̪͙̫̎̌ͤͩͫ̾̓͜ ̛̫̹̜̎ͪͯ̈̆i̡̹̭͖͙͔ͣͧͥͥ͑̆̽m̡̂m̧̱̟̗̖̱̮͂̑͂̚i̲͕̦͓͔n̺͎̹͚̞͙ͮ͜ͅe̢̙̯͎̮̙̳̭͒ͮ̉n̍̾ṱ͔͇̦ͣ́̍ ̄ͧ͋̉̒͋҉͓h͉̭ͭ̈́̽a̒ͦ͆̔͊͏r͚d̜͓̓͋͊ͨ̚ͅ ̭͈ͯ̄͑̋͂ͨͅs͇̈̏̓ͬ̇̂h̻̼̲̩̣̺͌̌̚u̯͚̗̳̜͊̂̃̾t̝̳̽̃͂̚ͅḓ̙̤̦̬͆̀ȏ͓̹͙̬͕̓ͣͭ̎w̖͇͚̤̖͔̟ͬ͂͜n̖̲̥̪̟̫ͨͬͣ ̡̌ͤ̓̔i̛̻̗̺ͮ̌̓n̮̠̖̞̈ͫ͐͊ͧͯ̚̕i͈̫̳͂̓́t̵̹̽̓͗ͬ̿̄̾ỉ̡͎̪̑̐ͯͣͫą̗̞̬͈̎̊͆t̻͟e̗̝͓̗͙͉̐͒ͮ͆̈́͗̍dͫ̂̂̋̇

"TKP, I think the simulator isn't working. I can't see anything."

"Yeah, 'cause you broke it. Mult."

Option C:
Write an interview.

Interviews aren't common, but they're still articles. The difficulty lies in finding a person to interview, and on what topic.

    Option A:
    Interview yourself.

    Highly multish, but it's a good way for you to introduce yourself. You're an new reporter, people are going to be wondering who (or what) you are.

    You start typing up a draft of your self-interview, but you then remember that another reporter will interview you this issue, since you're the new guy. A self-interview would be redundant. Huh, better pick something else to write then.

    Option B:
    Interview the developers on Tanki X.

    TX, for all its controversy, is still an interesting topic. The community would no doubt be interested in an article on TX, even more so if it's an actual interview with the developers.

    The issue lies in actually getting a hold of a developer to interview. You've never seen one in person, and their shadowy base in ~~Perm~~ definitely not Perm is probably not very receptive to visitors. Plus, they're part of the l00minati, so if they don't want to be found, you probably won't be able to find them.

     You walk around the Materials room to ask if anybody knows where or how to find the developers. Most of the reporters glare at you awkwardly, and the more responsive ones just shrug their shoulders and say that they don't know. You return to your desk in disappointment, but you notice a new notification in your Scype.

     You wonder how the heck he managed to contact you directly, bypassing the normal sharing of contacts, and how the heck he knows what you're searching for. Well, you're not one to give up on a lead, so you take him up on the offer. You pack up your things and walk briskly out of the office. The sun is starting to set in the sky, and the weather is starting to cool down a little.

      As you walk into the inner city, the stench of exhaust and fumes starts to permeate the air. You cross busy traffic and navigate your way through chaotic intersections, and after about half an hour, you reach your destination: a quiet alley providing some respite from the incessant noise of traffic. Various sketchy people lean against the walls, but you don't see a hamster anywhere. The air is stuffy and smells of dirt, tobacco, and stale coffee.

      You enter the alley out of curiosity when two of the bystanders stand up and block the path behind you. You initially think you're being jumped, but another bystander steps up, revealing himself to be none other than Lhamster.

      "Well, look here, we've got a newbie reporter. Your first day on the job? My contacts tell me that you're interested in getting an ...interview with the developers...no? Quite ambitious, something you don't see so often these days." He pauses to take a carrot out of his coat pocket, gnawing it in the corner of his mouth like a cigar.

      Turning around, he holds the carrot in between his fingers and continues his spiel. "Well...I'm not hearing a no from you, so I'm going to take that as a yes. Good, good. We can get started with your little journey. But...we're going to play a little game first. You see...not just any mult gets to see the developers. They've entrusted me to thoroughly (poke)...examine (poke)...each (poke)...applicant (poke). Separating the wheat from the chaff, just like the old days. This is all for security reasons...but that doesn't mean we can't have a little fun, hmm? You with me?"

      You nod your head warily, wondering will happen next.

      "Yes, very good, I like that! Follow me to this little room over here. What enthusiasm, so rare to see these days. The last guy didn't agree, so I had to do a little magic, perform a...disappearing act on him, with the aid of my kindly associates over here. Okay...let's begin."

      Sitting in front of a battered table in a dark room illuminated by a dingy ceiling light, Lhamster sits before you, taking out what appears to be a deck of cards. He shuffles them at a rapid pace while his henchmen stand behind in the shadows. Your heart pounds with something that's either excitement or fear, you can't tell which. You briefly wonder if you can bolt for the door and get out before they catch you, but you decide against it. This guy has connections.

      After what seems to be an eternity, Lhamster finishes shuffling his deck. He places 3 cards in front of you face-down. You cannot discern any details from their tops, and you can only wonder what's on the bottom. These don't seem to be your typical cards.

      "Let me tell you something I figured out a long, long time ago. What people you consider mults can tell...a lot about you. I have devised a simple little test based on that. In my hands are a deck of cards containing Tanki staff, past and present. I have placed three of them in front of you. Pick one of these cards...any one you wish. Once you have...chosen, simply turn it around. The person revealed will be the person you consider a mult, whether you know it...or not. Take your time...take all the time you need."

      Well, you have no idea which card to pick. How are you supposed to know this again? Agh, this is stupid. But you're not about to disrespect somebody with minions and connections to the l00minati developers, so you're going to have to choose.

        Option A:
        Choose the first card.

        You pick up the first card after waiting for what you think is an appropriate period of time. You gingerly turn it over, wondering who was unfortunate enough to be picked by you.

        You see a picture of Lhamster.

        And then you realize that no, he was not unlucky enough to be picked by you.

        You were unfortunate enough to be picked by him.

        He laughs a hearty laugh as your head starts to spin and your heart throbs intensely. You feel dizzy. The resounding echo of his laughter penetrates your ears as you collapse in a daze. You vaguely hear "you know the drill, boys! The tickle chamber's 'a waitin!", but you no longer care. Your mind closes up as the minions drag you out of the room and into the depths of the abyss, never to see the light of day again.

You are dead.

"The random number god taketh, the random number god taketh away. Sigh, Maintenance to the Tech Labs."

        Option B:
        Choose the second card.

        You pick up the second card after waiting for what you think is an appropriate period of time. You turn it over carefully, wondering who you have lifted the veil on, who you truly think is a mult.

        You see your own face.

        You fall onto your knees. "NO! NO! THAT'S UNPOSSIBLE! HOW CAN THIS BE!?"

        You hear Lhamster's voice again. "Search your feelings, you know it to be true!"

        "NO! NO! NOOOOOOOOOO!"

        Your screaming continues, but eventually you black out.

You are dead.

"waw mult."

        Option C:
        Choose the third card.

        You pick up the third card after waiting for what you think is an appropriate period of time. You turn it over slowly, shuddering at the thought of your potential doom. What would happen if you picked GoldRock?

        You see a grey cat.

        You're not sure what to think, but Lhamster chuckles for a while. "It looks like you've picked a correct choice. This didn't happen last time, you know. The tickle chamber's a little quiet right now, it's a shame that you...oh, wait...right. So, about that interview I owed you..."

        His minions come forward. You stand up to leave, and Lham does too.

        "Wait, one thing first. What does this rag smell like to you?"

        You take a whiff. Wait, you shouldn't have done that! It's probably chlorof-

        Too late.

        The next thing you know, you're sitting in the chair in the dark room again. Huh? Did you even go at all? Were you dreaming or something? Where did Lhamster and his minions go? As your eyes dart around in confusion, you notice a slip of paper on the table. The questions that you brought for your interview, and answers now filled in. In your own handwriting.

        It looks like they knocked you out with something, brought you to Tanki HQ, had an interview, and somehow brought you back without remembering anything. Hmm, surgeons sometimes use an anesthetic that prevents you from remembering anything but leaves you conscious enough to follow commands. Maybe they used something like that. Well, that's not nice at all, but it's all for security, you suppose. Who knows what would happen if somebody leaked the location of Tanki HQ or the identities of the developers. Havoc would follow.

        You walk out of the room through the now unlocked door, and find yourself in the dead of night in the alley you walked into a few hours ago. You check your phone, and it says that it's 2:00 AM. You'd best go home, lest you get mugged or something. Also, you're hungry.

Congratulations, you have finished Part 1.

Now, go over to the second post and enter the second part of the story.

Fun fact: this is my favorite way to finish Part 1.

Option D:
Do nothing, because you are ~~Rem~~ a colossal mult.

...you do nothing? Really? That's it? I'd have thought that if you applied to be a reporter, you'd want to write things. And it doesn't appear that your grandma's fifteenth cousin's friend's goldfish has died for the third time, so you don't have an excuse to not write stuff.

Waw.

What a noob.

hy6.

d3s.

OK.

Goldy shows up with his personal guard, strips you of your position, and deports you. I'm not even going to draw a picture for that. It's over. You lose. You get nothing.

I'm not even going to copy-paste the game over text, ok. gg wp no re

Option B:
Don't go inside, because you are a noob mult.

You suddenly feel compelled to not go inside. You stand in the courtyard for hours as your watch ticks countless times and the sun ascends to the apex of its climb. You start to lose your sense of consciousness and time as you suffer from heatstroke and dehydration. Sweat stains your clothes, and you fade in and out of reality, each second feeling like an mulled eternity as you are pulled back in by the punctuated sound of your watch, only to be pulled back into oblivion like a warm tide on the beach.

A man walks out of the door and approaches you, but you do not see him. He moves his mouth and speaks, but you do not hear anything. He waves his hand in front of your face, but your vision does not change. He taps you on the shoulder, but you do not feel it. He calls for an ambulance on his cell phone, but you still pay no attention.

Then, you burst into flames, collapsing in a glorious, blazing inferno, illuminating everything around you despite it being in broad daylight. As you lie on the ground, you are bemused by the wisps of fire dancing around the edge of your vision as the man panics, not knowing what to do. The conflagration feels like a blanket that is just a little a bit warmer than you'd like, yet comfortable enough that you feel no need to leave it. Your consciousness drifts away like a plume of smoke as your mouth curves into a demented grin, staring off into infinity.

You are dead.

Optional background music:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BuzVyctY_tM

"...hey, vice-dictator, it looks like something happened to the guy I stuck in the Reporter Simulator. Smells like a barbecue gone wrong in there."
"...drat, not this again -.- ro call maintenance, they'll clean everything up."

Edited July 20, 2017 by Hexed

Thekillerpenguin · October 3, 2016

Part 2:

Congratulations, you have successfully written your first article for the Tanki Online Newspaper! Publishing day is coming soon, and you're basically done with everything, no? Well, it's probably time for you to get to know everyone. And by "get to know everyone", you mean spending all day walking around, occasionally talking to people, and taking naps. Hey, you've got no other assignments. Maybe you should try out the chicken machine in the break room.

You enter the doors of Tanki HQ once again. The security guards are still armed, which is still kind of odd. You know the way now, so you walk past them without a second thought. You pass through the maze of hallways once more, finally reaching the Newspaper Materials. The air hums with the sounds of computer fans, punctuated by the rhythmic typing of keyboards. Various reporters are busy proofreading their work, proofreading the work of others, and slacking off on Scype and Seddit. Perhaps you'll join them in those activites.

As you walk down the aisle, you realize that something was up with the security guards. Yesterday, they seemed rather apathetic and complacent at their job, acting as if nothing much was wrong. But today, they seem shifty, anxious, glancing everywhere as if it was of foreign. They also looked at you with some suspicion. And, someone was actually guarding the door to the Newspaper Archive. Ah well, probably a new shift of guards. Maybe they were assigned to the bathroom for a few months, who knows. That would explain why everything was unfamiliar for them. They wouldn't recognize you either.

You sit down and log into your computer. The first thing you do is to open your Scype. You take a look at the conversation groups that you are in.

You check the official-looking one in the middle, the one that isn't explicitly titled "Spamchat" or "Social Chat". Probably a good sign. You see several reporters asking for opinions on and proofreading of their articles. They go back and forth, snarkily pointing out typos and errors in the form of screenshots showcasing mistakes. Much banter is occurring, but you don't quite understand all of it. Who is "Remult"? Why is everyone saying "kGold?" Why is everyone blaming "THE NS"? Oh well, hopefully you'll understand it in time.

You look over everyone's articles ~~like a stalker~~, correcting typos as you see fit. You're about done with six of them when you realize that Gold, for once, actually wrote an article. You open it up and notice a typo. He wrote "VIking" instead of "Viking". Hmm, might want to correct that.

Option A:
Correct the typo.

You click the "Edit" button, scroll down for several ages, and then find the typo. Uncapitalizing the "i", you press the Save button and visit other articles, not giving it a second thought.

Optional background music:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Vly2tl8u1w

Suddenly, you are struck in the back of your head, and you lose consciousness as your body slumps off of your chair and splats on the floor.

When you wake up, you are being escorted by two armed guards. Your feet are being dragged across the floor, barely supporting your body. You have a throbbing headache and can't feel your fingers. Your hands are behind your back for some reason. You try to bring them to a resting position, but they don't budge. You realize that you are in handcuffs. This feels oddly familiar. As your vision clears slightly, you realize that you are being led down a mysterious hallway. After a minute or so, you arrive at the end of it. Two more guards stand there, rifles in hand.

GoldRock walks up to you. "It's a shame, really. I saw your article. You could have been a stellar reporter. One of the best, actually. And had you not performed that fateful, final transgression, you would have been one."

You try to speak, but your mouth is numb and your tongue is lame. You attempt to form your mouth to speak, and after a few attempts, you manage to mutter "....what?..."

"Oh? You didn't know? Then allow me to educate you. You probably know that a message will appear at the end of your forum post when you edit it. Administrators like me can suppress the display of that message to keep things nice and orderly. And on my article, it was nice and orderly...until you and your grubby little hands got on that 'Edit' button and ruined everything. Now I have to go back, edit it, and check a box again, oh dear. What an inconvenience."

Your eyelids start to droop again as Gold leaves the scene. The guards restraining you push you forwards as the door opens, revealing the interior of a plane. As you enter, you stumble on the ramp and fall down onto the cold, metal floor. The guards to nothing to help you as they walk inside, find a seat, and buckle in. You hear the whirring of the engines spinning off as the plane prepares to take off, bringing you to who knows where.

You have been deported.

"...aww, it looks like I didn't win. TKP, can I try the simulation again?"
"...no, mult."

Option B:
Don't correct the typo.

You feel tempted to click the "Edit" button and fix this problem right here and now, but you feel like there is an air of reverence and sanctity surrounding the article. You decide not to edit it, and decide against passive-aggressively screenshotting the error and posting it to the Scype chat like the other reporters since you're the new guy, and probably should avoid possibly offending your boss.

You skip Gold's article and look at the other ones. Once you're done, you enter the Spamchat, attempting to decipher the banter of the reporters. You come to the conclusion that you're not going to understand it on your second day, although you do manage to squeeze in a "kNS" in response to Night-Sisters saying something.

You check the clock and realize that it's noon already. Time for your lunch break. Reporter in the Materials are rising from the chairs, stretching, and taking out their lunchbags. You see Thekillerpenguin taking out a bag of icefish, Hogree eating chicken, and Remaine eating romaine lettuce. Others are walking out to eat outside for lunch. Hmm, you forgot to bring lunch today. Wait, you forgot to bring lunch yesterday too. Oh. In that case, you better eat an extra hearty lunch today.

Not knowing if the restaurants in the area are any good, and figuring that you don't want to subject yourself to the intense heat outside to look, you decide to go to the break room. You walk into the hallways, looking for it, and then promptly realize that you forgot where it was. You choose a random bend and walk there for several minutes, until you realize that you're going in circles. You see a random security guard stationed nowhere in particular and ask him where the break room is. He takes a moment to respond, and stammers "...uhh, that's a...a very good question, y'know? Truth is...I'm not sure. I'm new on this shift, so...you might want to ask someone else, OK?" You find that kind of weird, so you ask him where his previous shift was. "My previous shift...was...on...uh...in..in the cafeteria! Yeah, there. I always had my lunch there, so..you see, I didn't learn where the break room was! Hehe!"

The janitor walks by, and you ask him where the break room is. He says "down that hallway, first right". You thank him and go on your way.

As you enter, you see various reporters drinking from the coffee machine, watching the news, and gaming. You head over to the kitchen area, where you see the soup faucet and chicken machine that the security guard from yesterday pointed out to you. You line up, waiting behind someone busy ordering a roast chicken leg and tomato soup. He takes a steaming paper box out of a tray in the machine, and the scent of herbs and spices tingles your nose. As he pours the tomato soup into a paper bowl, you remark "Wow, with food like this in the break room, who needs the cafeteria!"

The reporter pouring soup stops to turn around and look you in the eye.

"We don't have a cafeteria."

You are confused. Didn't that guard say he was stationed in the cafeteria? Was he lying? If so, why?

You don't get time to contemplate that thought. All of a sudden, that same security guard pops into the break room, brandishing his plasma rifle. He raises it and starts firing.

A luminous bolt of plasma races out of the weapon, its intensity almost blinding you. You can feel its heat singeing your skin as it approaches you. However, it wasn't directed towards you. It hits the employee next to you, the guy who was pouring soup. The impact causes a rush of steam and a sizzling sound as the superheated plasma burns everything into cinders, leaving behind only his box of chicken and tub of soup on the floor. The guard adjusts his aim and fires at an employee lounging on the sofa, reducing her to ash. Panicked, you hide behind the soup machine. More homicidal guards are entering, attacking the dozen or so people in the break room with surgical precision. More sizzling impacts and unfinished screams fill the room as they clean house.

You are terrified. What in the world is going on?! People are being murdered! And why are the guards doing it?

Your thought is cut short once again as a guard says something. You recognize his voice as the guy who you talked to in the hallway.

"I missed a guy, he's hiding in a corner somewhere. The rest of you, link with the other squads and commence cleanup."

A mass of footsteps leaves into the hallway as the lone "guard" slowly enters the room, searching for you. What do you do?

Option A:

Stay quiet and hide.

You're not going to win against a dude with a plasma rifle and body armor in a straight fight. Maybe if you continue to hide, you can get the drop on him. Or maybe he'll not see you at all and leave. Either would be good.

He searches the sofas and chairs first, which are across the room from you. He's not looking in your direction. You decide against tackling him from behind and instead try to tiptoe out of the room, eyeing him carefully.

You are halfway out when you step on the box of chicken from earlier. Oops. The guard turns around, sights, you and fires a plasma bolt at you. You rush into the hallway to dodge it, and walk right into sight of another guard. Oops. This other guard shoots you with his plasma rifle, the bolt hitting you in the stomach. You feel an immense burning pain in its point of impact, falling to the ground, but the pain subsides and travels out instead. You look down and realize that you're being incinerated, and after a second, you feel nothing.

You are dead.

"...Euugh, something smells bad. Did Fen burn the chicken in the break room again? I'm gonna check. "

Option B:

Throw soup at the guard.

The late employee who was next to you dropped his bowl of soup on the ground. It's in a cylindrical container with a lid. Fortunately, it hasn't spilled, and judging from the fact that you can smell tomato in the air above the scent of ash, it's really, really hot. Hot enough to use as a weapon, maybe.

You pick it up discreetly. It's actually super hot, even within its container. It feels as if it's still boiling inside, and your hands are uncomfortable. You wait until you hear the guard's footsteps approaching to unscrew the lid, revealing that it is in fact boiling to some extent.

You peek out of cover and throw the boiling tomato soup at the traitorous guard's face. Despite the visor and balaclava covering his face, it singes his skin and he shrieks in pain. You take this opportunity to tackle him to the ground, punching him in the face repeatedly and wrestling his plasma rifle away from him. You continue punching and kicking him until he stops moving. Huh, he's out cold now. He definitely has a concussion now. Being unconscious from trauma doesn't bode well for your long term health, but this guy isn't in any position to complain.

This guy's buddies are still in the building, and they seem to be attacking people still. There doesn't seem to be as much screaming in the other parts of the headquarters, but you can still hear lots of plasma fire. You'll need some equipment if you want to survive. You take off the guard's armor and helmet and don them. They are both quite heavy, but well-protected. Hopefully they'll shield you from a plasma blast or two. You take the plasma rifle and leave the guard lying on the ground in a puddle of tomato soup.

Walking into the hallway, you hear gunfire coming from two directions. You take a glance at a map next to you and see that one end of the hallway leads to the Materials room, and the other leads to the Archive. Where do you want to go?

Option A:

Go to the Newspaper Materials.

The Newspaper Materials room is where a large chunk of your coworkers are, given that a lot of them stayed there to eat their lunch. TKP, Hog, and Rem are there, for starters. You should probably help them.

You walk into the hallway, trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible. The other guards don't know that you stole that guy's identity, and it's best that they not figure that out for as long as possible. You stroll casually into the Newspaper Materials, and witness a gunfight between the rogue guards and the reporters. TKP has commandeered a heavy plasma rifle and is busy scorching an unlucky traitor, while Hog is beating one with his fists. Rem is fighting back with a pistol. The reporter casualties seem minimal, and the remains of the guards are piling up on the floor. However, TKP sights you, and after thoroughly incinerating his target, unexpectedly fires a plasma blast at you. You quickly dive to the floor, dodging the bolt narrowly. Why did he do this? Oh, wait, you're wearing a security guard uniform. Duh.

Finding cover, you shout loudly "Hey, don't shoot me, I'm a friendly!" Everyone, guards included, stops fighting and looks at you in confusion. You're not wearing a balaclava, so the reporters recognize your face. The guards don't seem to recognize you, though. One of them shouts "Hey, do I know you?" You think for a moment and say "Uh, no." The guard shouts "TRAITOR!!1!!1!" and takes out an electric stun baton, only to be stabbed in neck by Hogree.

You fire your plasma rifle at the remaining guards, and they go down after a few shots each. You and the reporters manage to clear out the room with little damage taken, and regroup inside a cubicle. You ask them what exactly is going on. Hog says "Well, we know that the security guards have gone nuts and are now shooting everyone. The thing is, they don't seem to know the place very well; they were actually asking random janitors for directions. Their voices and faces are all unfamiliar too. It seems like our security teams were compromised and replaced with traitors last night."

You're now curious as to why someone would go to that trouble in the first place, all to take out a newspaper team. Rem says "We have a lot of enemies. The l00minati developers occasionally send sleeper agents into our ranks, and a certain gray mult occasionally does that too. I'm pretty sure the other newspapers try to steal our-"

Hog interjects. "The other newspapers DO NOT steal our secrets. We've shared our materials with them on purpose to help them. No espionage involved." "That's what the government wants you to think", Rem replies. "Anyway, I'm pretty sure our esteemed acquaintances today are part of Majestic 3."

"Majestic 3?", you ask. "Is that like the Illuminati?"

"No, the Illuminati are amateurs. They only control average people. The l00minati are the Tanki developers. They secretly manipulate the Illuminati. With me so far?"

Somewhat confused, you reply "Uh, yeah, sure."

Rem continues. "Good. So imagine a group secretly manipulating the l00minati from the shadows."

"...what?..."

"That's Majestic 3. I suspect that the Illuminati may be manipulating them, but that's besides the point. Anyway, the l00minati devs don't have too much of a beef with us, they're just secretive and nosy. However, Majestic 3 is manipulating them to oppose us. The infiltrators we just killed a few minutes ago? Those were average people manipulated by the Illuminati, who were manipulated by the l00minati, who where in turn manipulated by Majestic 3."

"...how do you know this?"

"...because I'm manipulating them."

"....are you telling me that YOU orchestrated this attack?!"

"....no, that was someone else manipulating them as well. And if I did, I must have been manipulated."

"...WHAT?"

Hog interrupts your conversation. "...you know what, I think that's enough conspiracies for today. Let's get back to business. So, we've cleared out this room, but it seems like Gold and NS are in danger, judging from the sounds coming from the offices . Now, I don't know about you, but I'm not going to just stay here and leave them there to die. Let's scavenge some weapons, gear up, and head there to assist."

You turn around to scavenge for equipment, but you find yourself face-to-face with a squad of MJ3 guards. They were staring at you and listening to your conversation the whole time. Awkward. Wait, why didn't they just shoot you? Maybe they wanted to be polite.

So, you're both holding each other at gunpoint in a 2-team Mexican standoff. It is still awkward. Finally, one of the guards lowers his weapon and tosses a grenade at you, landing at your feet. Rem shouts "GRENADE!" and backs off, while TKP immolates the guard that threw it. TKP and Hog are well within the blast radius. Think quick, what do you want to do?

Option A:

Sacrifice yourself by diving onto the grenade.

The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. You decide to take your life by jumping belly-first onto the grenade. You'll...basically go everywhere, but at least your fellow reporters will be safe.

You dive and land onto the grenade, which is situated under your stomach. You fire your plasma rifle at the hostiles, who are shocked at the fact that you were crazy enough to jump on it instead of retreating. You score several good hits on them, and note that you're going to go out in style. You hear the grenade beep rapidly and hope that you won't leave this world too painfully within the next few seconds.

You close your eyes as the grenade explodes with a "THUMP!". You feel as if you were punched in the stomach really, really hard. You expect to bleed out rapidly, but to your amazement, you seem to be alright. You stand up and see that the grenade was a low-yield plasma grenade, with not much physical shrapnel or a shockwave. Your abdominal armor did a pretty fantastic job at absorbing the extreme heat, protecting you from most of the damage. It's done for, though, and after applying an ice pack to the burns on your stomach, you pick up a fresh armor vest from a fallen trooper. Rem, Hog, and TKP are in awe of your bravery, and take a moment to collect themselves before reloading their weapons.

"The offices are that way", Hog says, pointing at a hallway on the other end of the Materials room. He leads the group there in a hurry. "MJ3 knows that if they want to eradicate us, they need to depose our leaders", Rem shouts. "We better get there before that happens."

As you and the rest of your group run into the office complex, you witness several more hallways enclosing windowed rooms. Two signs are visible at the crossroads. The one pointing left says "GoldRock's office", while the one pointing right says "~~THE NS~~ Night-Sister's office". You witness a contingent of security guards pouring into each room.

"Damn, they've got a small army in both ends! If we split up, they'll mop the floor with us. If we go as a group, we might stand a chance", Hogree says.

"Well, in that case, we can only save one of our illustrious leaders", Rem retorts. "I don't feel like doing much thinking today, why don't we let the new guy pick?"

The decision is up to you. Who will you aid, GoldRock or Night-Sisters?

Option A:

Help Goldy.

You decide to save the dictator-in-chief instead of the vice-dictator. You rush to the left, and peek into one of the windows, getting a good view of the battleground within. Inside GoldRock's huge and voluminous office, you witness him in a valiant last stand against the MJ3 forces. He is taking cover behind his gold-painted desk, spamming incongruous numbers of grenades (taken from a drawer in the desk) at the troopers. The dead are piling up near the door, but many continue to pour in. Some are rappelling from the ceiling, seemingly from the air vents. And yet in face of these overwhelming odds, Gold has managed to survive. Not for long at this rate, however. He is steadily losing ground, and is now out of grenades. The troopers are closing in fast, and you need to act.

All four of you open fire on the stream of guards from behind, lighting them up like fireworks. Their armor sparks and burns, absorbing hits but going down with them. You manage to eliminate them quickly, taking them out with headshots. However, towards the end, a dying guard manages to strike you in the left shoulder with a plasma shot, burning the weaker armor there and your skin with it. You collapse onto the ground in agony. While your arm seems intact, you feel excruciating pain upon trying to move it. Looks like you won't be able to hold your rifle effectively.

You look up and notice odd distortions behind TKP, Rem, and Hog. Those distortions clear up to reveal shadowy special-operations MJ3 soldiers brandishing pistols and knives. They tackle the three reporters from behind and attempt to stab them, but they manage to grapple and resist, at least for the moment. You stand up slowly in an attempt to aid, but the pain hinders you. You glance in GoldRock's direction and see that he is being assaulted by another spec-ops soldier. This one seems to be more than a match for him, and is overpowering him in hand-to-hand. You stumble slowly towards the two, your arm feeling as if it's going to fall off and your blood throbbing weakly. You're several feet away when Gold is kicked in the chest and sent flying into the wall. The soldier takes out his handgun and prepares to deliver the coup de grace.

Option A:

Sacrifice yourself by jumping in front of the bullet...

You prepare yourself to make one final sacrifice. If you do this, you might die, but Gold will surely use the opportunity to find himself a weapon and fight back. And hey, you survived your last sacrifice attempt. Maybe you'll survive this one.

Summoning the last of your energy, you leap into the soldier's aim, hoping to use your body to block the bullet and protect Gold.

The soldier glances indifferently at the battered guard that just jumped across his vision. He casually takes aim and puts you down in a single round.

Optional background music:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81qNyLQtDc4

Legions of guards and MJ3 agents nonchalantly walk out of EN Reporter HQ from the front door, leaving the battered building behind without a second thought. Rubble collects on the floor as fires begin reducing the structure to ash. The last guard to leave the site takes out a detonator and presses it. Explosive charges placed within the building activate and collapse it, sealing its fate and reducing the once-grand headquarters into nothing more than a burning wreck, smoke billowing out and dispersing into the night sky.

Reporter HQ has been destroyed.

Congratulations, you have achieved the worst possible ending.

Backtrack or try again.

Option B:

Tackle the soldier.

Despite being a difficult endeavor, tackling the soldier would grant Gold ample time to grab a discarded weapon and defeat him. The issue is that you're currently only able to use one arm, and are feeling like death. Nevertheless, you try.

You lunge at the trooper with one arm open before he can fire a shot. You manage to grab him by the neck, and the momentum drags him down to the ground. You instinctively try to punch him in the face, but you forget that your shoulder has been cooked and instead shriek in pain once more. He knocks you off him and proceeds to punch you in the face repeatedly. The first punch shocks and disorients you. The second hits harder, causing lingering pain. The third, faster, causes a pain in your nose. You stop counting after the fourth, not being able to think, only suffering from a torrent of pain. Your face becomes numb as you start to fade out, registering the impacts but not the passage of time. You vaguely notice the soldier pulling out his knife, but in a muddled state of mind, you feel no fear, only a mild curiosity.

That moment, Gold scavenges a plasma rifle from the ground and hits the soldier in the back of the head, neutralizing him instantly. He turns to the hallway and does the same to the spec-ops soldiers still tangling with the other 3 reporters. He turns to you and calls for a medic as you quickly lose consciousness.

When you come to, you feel unusually lightheaded, and an ethereal feeling is present in your body. The lights are bright, and you don't feel like moving. Your vision is highly blurred, but you can make out the outlines of the reporter team standing around you. Someone jabs you in the neck with a syringe, causing an annoying jolt of pain, and this brings you to your senses. You slowly sit yourself up, wondering what's going on.

Gold comes up to you and speaks. "Don't worry, rookie, you're safe now. Hell of a day, don't you think? We were attacked by daring, capable opponents, and they damn near destroyed us for good. But thanks to you and the efforts of your other fellow reporters, we were able to salvage the situation. We fought back, turned the fight against them, and showed them what happens when they mess with the EN reporters. Maybe in the future we'll take the fight to them. I'm genuinely impressed with your performance. You've proven yourself to be a stellar soldier and have shown the qualities of a great reporter: bravery, resilience, and a willingness to see things through. I'll admit, I wasn't completely trusting of you when you first walked into that door. But now you've won my respect for good. I guess it's time for me to give you a second welcome to the team, a real one. When we publish the newspaper tomorrow, I'll get Eragon to put your article at the very top. It's my honor."

You pull yourself up to stand. Your arm doesn't hurt so much now, it seems like the painkillers are working. Maybe you should see a doctor. But you can save that for later, in some other time. Now, you should live in the moment.

Gold extends his hand, and you accept it, shaking it firmly with gratitude and pride.

He turns around to look around at the other reporters, and then looks back to you. "So...got any words for this occasion?", he asks.

You smile, knowing the answer immediately.

"kGold."

Congratulations, you have won.

Wooho, nice! Props to you for making it through my most ambitious interactive story yet (which isn't saying much, since I've only written two). It's taken me a while to sort through everything and even come up with the ideas in the first place, so I hope you enjoyed it. Remember, even though this is an ending, it's not the only one. The story doesn't necessarily end here. Try going through the other options to read about different situations. You might get different endings, although not all of them are necessarily good...or include you surviving...

Once again, I hoped you enjoyed it, and I'll see you next time. :)

-TKP

Option B:

Help NS.

~~waw mult~~ you decide to save the vice-dictator instead of the actual dictator for reasons only known to yourself. Maybe Gold can fend for himself better than NS, who knows.

You and the other reporters take a right and storm into NS's office. It's chock-full of troops, as expected, and you are surprised by its unusual architecture. The office is circular, a bit like a courtroom, with a ring of desks, computer monitors, and chairs in the center. It reminds you a bit of the inner part of the United Nations chamber room for some reason. Bonsai trees and statues dot the area, and you can see a model of a Hornet-Railgun with Blue paint sitting in a corner. Oh, right, back to the fighting.

You see a bunch of guards swarming the center area like a huddle of basketball players. They are clustered too closely to use their plasma rifles, and seem to be trying to attack Night-Sisters. You can't even see Night-Sisters. You and the other reporters open fire on the mass of enemies, knocking several them out with a volley of shots. The outer layer turrets around to face you, and you all run into cover to fight. This lightens the density of the crowd enough for you to see Night-Sisters. She is fighting them in hand-to-hand combat, and is doing a pretty good job. You wipe out the rest of the guards with a few salvos of plasma fire, and manage to secure the room for a moment.

You all run out of cover to talk with NS. "I'm glad you're here!", she shouts. "I heard footsteps coming this way, I think more are coming." "Well, if they're as pathetic as the guys we just shot, this should be more fun than scary!", Rem chuckles.

A strange canister appears in your peripheral vision, and when you turn to look at it, it detonates. You hear a loud bang, your vision turns bright white, and you can't hear anything. In a panic, you turn around and run, only to trip on something and slam face-first into a wall. You flip yourself around and start shooting blindly in the direction you think that the intruders will be coming from, hoping that you won't accidentally shoot your fellow reporters.

When your vision clears again, you realize that you've been shooting a wall. Embarrassed, you glance at your plasma rifle and notice that it's empty. Bummer.

You glance upwards and witness the carnage ahead. Special operations troops clad in black are swarming the room, keeping TKP, Hog, and Rem occupied in a desperate struggle for survival. Several are approaching Night-Sisters with their knives drawn. You brace yourself and stand up.

"Drat! I can't believe it's come to this...here goes nothing!", you hear Night-Sisters say. She strains and releases an immense burst of light, blinding you again. Being blinded sucks, hopefully you won't be blind when this passes. Or deaf, since it released an immense boom too. Whatever NS did, it's certainly remarkable.

When your vision clears for a second time, you see three Night-Sisters fighting the intruders. Wait, what? Did the second blinding light destroy your eyes or something? Nope, they're all fighting independently, mixing gunfire with what appears to be jujitsu. Is your head alright? Did someone slip you hallucinogens? Now that you think of it, it would kind of explain all the crazy events today. But you rub your eyes and determine that you're not dreaming. Or at least you think so.

Upon seeing three Night-Sisters fighting viciously, the special operations agents inexplicably start retreating, some of them performing a tactical retreat out the doorway while others run terrified, some jumping straight out of the windows. The Night-Sisters finish off some before giving the others a chance to escape. They reload their weapons and turn to look at each other.

TKP, Rem, and Hog congregate with them. "Whoah! I've never seen you do that!", Hogree exclaims. "WHO ARE YOU?!?!", Rem yells in a distrusting tone. The Night-Sisters reply in tandem:

"My name is Night-Sisters, for we are many."

They turn to look at each other.

"Wait, no, Actually, I'm Night-Sisters."

"No, you aren't. You're an imposter. I remember being in control. I'm the real Night-Sisters."

"You're both liars. I'm Night-Sisters. I remember everything."

"This day just keeps on getting better and better...", Hogree wryly notes.

The Night-Sisters engage in a heated argument over who is the real one. You gather that they merged at some point in the past and became the single entity known as Night-Sisters, the one you know as your boss. They each think that they're the real one, since they apparently all thought they were in control during their merged state.

"You know what, why don't we let these guys decide who's the real one. They of all people would know "Night-Sisters" the best."

"Yeah, let's do that. Hey you, TKP, shoot the other two. They're plotting against you. I'm the real one. Remember that time when you and greyat coached me for the Spring Showdown?"

"Nope, she's lying. Shoot her and the other one. I'm the real one, and they have no loyalty to your cause. I sent you the message yesterday morning welcoming you, remember."

"I did both of those, massive liar mults. They're evil. They're just trying to take control so they can kill all of you! Now shoot them!"

TKP just shrugs, not wanting to get involved in this. It's up to you to choose.

Option A:

Shoot all except for the first Night-Sister.

Psheeww, psheeww. Two blasts from a plasma rifle and only one Night-Sister remains.

Unfortunately, you chose the wrong one.

She cackles with glee as she ascends into the air, gathering energy. Lighting surges from her hands, severely damaging the room, and she flies out the window as the sky inexplicably turns to night. Flying towards the full moon, she turns around, gives one last glance at Reporter HQ, and destroys the entire room with a massive blast of energy. Nice job ruining everything, mult.

You are dead.

"...they never shoot the right one. Next! "

Option B:

Shoot all except for the second Night-Sister.

Psheeww, psheeww. Two blasts from a plasma rifle and only the middle Night-Sister is left standing.

Unfortunately, you chose the wrong one.

She extends her arms and hands as dark threads of energy emerge from the bodies of everyone in the room. You have a headache and feel a sickly feeling in your stomach as she visibly feeds on the energy drained from your lifeblood. The headache turns into a throbbing migraine as you all collapse on the floor, holding your heads and shouting in agony. Alas, even your collective screaming subsides shortly afterwards, as the Night-Sister, satiated, flies out of the window into the night sky.

You are dead.

"...they never shoot the right one. Next! "

Option C:

Shoot all except for the third Night-Sister.

Psheeww, psheeww. Two blasts from a plasma rifle and only the last Night-Sister remains. Is the third time the charm? You certainly hope so.

Unfortunately, you chose the wrong one.

She dissipates into a ghostly, spectral form, floating around the room, until suddenly vanishing. Everyone looks around in bewilderment. All of a sudden, the walls of the room start emanating that same spectral aura. They close in, and the rest of the building follows as she gradually crushes its entirety into a single point. The resulting black hole wipes out the Earth and the moon as she enters it to ascend to the void, the ultimate iteration of the black night.

You broke the universe.

At least you can blame the Night-Sister.

"...they never shoot the right one. Next! "

Option D:

Don't shoot anyone.

Figuring that the least homicidal option is probably the best one, you decide not to shoot anyone. Maybe you can get them to merge again. In that case, although you won't really be fixing the problem of the 3 of them disagreeing, the status quo will be restored. As long as they don't split again, you should be able to satisfy all of them, since they'll think that they're in control once more. And if they're really all evil, maybe they'll cancel each other out. After all, something something "where ~~two~~ three raging fires meet, they consume the thing that fuels their fury". Does that last part make perfect sense? Not really, but you'd rather trust your own idea rather than theirs.

But how exactly are you going to do this? You ponder for a moment, and then decide to do something unusual. You shoot the model of the Hornet-Railgun in the corner of the room with your rifle.

The blast disfigures the plastic model greatly, creating a horrific impact crater and scorching the blue paint job. The three Night-Sisters cry out in shock and anguish, running in unison to the corner. Their concern for the well-being of the model is so great that it overcomes the forces between their atoms. Running to the corner, they converge in the exact same spot, their bodies inexplicably meeting, merging, and becoming one and the same. How is this possible? Dunno, maybe some magic quantum physics stuff, I don't know. But they manage to occupy the same spot in space and time.

This initiates a merging process. Light swells from them (again), but this time you turn around and close your eyes, wary of getting cataracts. You can't see anything, but you hear them talking.

"...We have existed in isolation...pure...disconnected...alone...stagnant..."

"...I am Night-Sisters and so are you....no...she's the three of us together..."

"....we are the Night-Sisters...the barriers between us have fallen...and we have become...our own shadows...."

"I.....I....."

"...WE...are one"

The light subsides, and you open your eyes and turn around again. You are looking at a single Night-Sisters again, almost exactly the same as before this fateful day. She rubs her eyes, looks around, and asks "Huh, what happened here? Why are there dead guards in my office? And what are you guys doing dressed up in combat armor?"

It seems like the merging has wiped some of her recent memory. All for the better, you suppose. "It's....a long story", you say.

"Well, in that case, you owe me a pretty good explanation later. But I'm a bit hungry now. Is it lunch yet? ...wait, what happened to my Hornet-Railgun statue? Is it...burnt?! OK, who was responsible for this?"

You grin. "Not sure, but we can blame the Night-Sisters."

Congratulations, you have won.

Wooho, nice! Props to you for making it through my most ambitious interactive story yet (which isn't saying much, since I've only written two). It's taken me a while to sort through everything and even come up with the ideas in the first place, so I hope you enjoyed it. Remember, even though this is an ending, it's not the only one. The story doesn't necessarily end here. Try going through the other options to read about different situations. You might get different endings, although not all of them are necessarily good...or include you surviving...

Once again, I hoped you enjoyed it, and I'll see you next time. :)

-TKP

Option B:

Pick up the grenade and throw it back.

"This thing probably still has quite a bit of time left on the fuse", you think. Maybe you can return it to the sender.

You pick it up and wind up your arm to chuck it at a straggling MJ3 guard, but he easily targets your upright silhouette and fires his plasma rifle at you. It hits your arm, and by extension, the grenade, which explodes into a sizable sphere of plasma. Your armor survives the detonation, but unfortunately, your unprotected hand doesn't. You fall to your knees, clutching what's left of your arm, when another plasma shot hits you square in the face.

You are dead.

"...that's not a nice way to go. "

Option B:

Go to the Newspaper Archive.

You decide to head to the Newspaper Archive. Wait, why? I mean, your coworkers are in the Newspaper Materials, shouldn't you be going...ok, you know what, fine, go to the Archive if you really want.

The door to the archives has been pried open, and the airlock has been trashed. You enter through a massive gash in the steel airlock door, and witness the carnage inside.

It seems like a regiment of rogue guards entered this area for some reason. Maybe they thought that there was valuable information here to steal. It certainly seems that way, since there are numerous piles of old, beaten articles on the ground. But that doesn't capture your attention. What does, is the fighting.

Despite their weapons and armor, the guards are being overwhelmed by menacing black creatures cloaked in shadow. They make no noise as they dash around the bewildered traitors in circles. They appear to be slowly succumbing to madness, curling up on the ground, rolling and yelling. Their more composed comrades are clawed at by the creatures, mauled until they are unable to stand and then dragged off screaming into the darkness. You shudder at the idea of these ethereal, eldritch creatures even existing in this mortal world, and shudder again thinking of the fate awaiting those unfortunate souls carted off by them.

Lost in thought and paralyzed by fear, you do not notice one of these shadow creatures creeping up on you. It lunges, grabbing you by the shoulders and plunging its claws into your body. You instantly become blind, deaf, and numb as whispering, malicious voices invade your mind. Tormented by the sensory deprivation and the horrifying mental assault, you lose your grip on reality as you become unable to process the passage of time. You are not even sure of your own breathing, your own heartbeat, or whether or not you are still alive. You only know that you exist, enveloped in the uncaring, infinite void, and that nothing will save you from it.

You are dead.

"...that's the door to the Newspaper Archive. We don't go there anymore. "

Tofu · October 7, 2016

Wow.... Amazing

TTK_229 · October 7, 2016

Would you believe that I chose correctly the first time?

Guanlong999 · October 7, 2016

In no way shape or form did I just open all the spoilers

I.Devastation · October 7, 2016

It seems as though anything to do with Remaine is always the wrong answer... I think somethings broken

Edited October 7, 2016 by I.Devastation

sre123 · October 8, 2016

Good! :)

Hex · October 8, 2016

Cool.

Magenta · October 8, 2016

Ok

so u say u have written another similar interactive story. linky?

BTW,

http://www.stickpage.com/escapingtheprisongameplay.shtml

the other similar games are listed on the same page....

really funny and nice ;)

100minati :lol:

Edited October 8, 2016 by Magenta

missingknight · October 8, 2016

Nice job! I love interactive stories. They're fun to read, and to write. I've been writing one this week for the amateur writing section, but I definitely don't think mine's anywhere near as good as yours.

Edited October 8, 2016 by missingknight

Destrod · October 10, 2016

What species are you? Certainly not human

Magenta · October 10, 2016

What species are you? Certainly not human

TheKillerPenguin.

Penguin40 · October 10, 2016

TheKillerPenguin.

I'm also a penguin, but I'm the Caring Penguin, the loving penguin, and I'm very deadly to bad guys like TKP :p

That being said, great one Penny!

ethanisme · October 12, 2016

Gosh my brain hurts how am I supposed to read all this!!!!!!! :O

Firenze_PRO · October 13, 2016

Wow, great story!! (actually isn't sarcastic)

10/10

Ninja · October 16, 2016

I opened all the spoilers untill I won, does it count? :unsure:

mydoom.exe · November 3, 2016

Hey, looks like I got deported to the AWC.

...

Not like that hasn't already happened, right?

Magenta · November 3, 2016

Hey, looks like I got deported to the AWC.

...

Not like that hasn't already happened, right?

i am afraid it has... :unsure:

Coat · October 10, 2017

Lol :lol:

Magenta · October 10, 2017

This deserves more attention that it got.

Magenta · November 29, 2017

I'm stealing this picture, kthnx. Mult.

Lollipops

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Special Missions

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How to play

Islands

Checkpoints

Prizes

Checkpoint №1

Checkpoint №2

Checkpoint №3

Checkpoint №4

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Checkpoint №6

Checkpoint №7

Pumpkin Grenade

Bots

Discounts

Special event modes

Special offers

Epic Containers

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