Under dah Sea

Having deemed the Evil Power Master small potatoes, I decided instead to wage war on the motherfucking ocean. That's right, R.A. Montgomery and Co. are taking me on a...

So check this shit out: I'm looking for nothing less than Atlantis itself. I am a deep-sea explorer in a personal submarine that shoots lasers (no, I'm not kidding--I think the corporation that funds my research must be shopping at the same store as the EVIL POWER MASTER).

Much like The Jewels of Nabooti, there are several what I like to call chickenshit endings. They're sensible enough: "A giant squid has just destroyed your submarine. Do you A) fire a harpoon that has roughly the ratio of mass to the monster as a toothpick does to you, or B) hop the next friendly dolphin the fuck out of there?" "You are suffering from the bends. Do you A) put your helmet back on and give it another go that afternoon, or B) sit the expedition out, go to a waterpark instead?"


The adventure is already gasp-worthy before you even start to explore Atlantis itself (what with the bends and squid and man-eating fish and all). Down in the sunken ruin, you can explore the remains of ancient Greek triremes and explore Rapture Atlantis with the help of your trusty high-beams.

Although the people of Atlantis seem wary of outsiders at first, it becomes clear, through several story options, that they are in fact looking to enjoy your company in some form or other. I was given the choice at one point either to undergo an operation that would allow me to breathe underwater with a brand new set of gills or be imprisoned in the Atlantean Zoo. Nope, that's not canon.

In one story arc, I was commissioned by some peasants to have a chat with their cruel king. And this was actually a quite satisfying arc in its branching paths: I could talk to the king, find him charming, and become one of his advisors. I could threaten the king with insurrection, which would be interrupted by the discovery of leaks in the city walls caused by a volcano; at this point, I could then either join in the effort to shore up the walls, at considerable danger to my person, or hop back in the sub and get out amid the chaos.

Thank you, chaos.

Machtmeister!

I am tired of the mountains--the bitter winds, the Yeti threat, Nepalese diplomats rubbing my shoulders. Creepy. Considering my choices for a fresh, new adventure, I stumbled upon a very interesting tour package:

War with the Evil Power Master, you say? Ho molte demande, signore. What sort of job description is "Power Master"? Master of what powers? And are you describing the master himself as "evil" or simply the power he wields? Oh, the horrors of an uninflected language.

The picture on the cover, however, may elucidate the nature of the master's power and evil: from the picture we can clearly see that the power master is one of those assholes who walks around with a Bluetooth headset and shouts (always shouts, always with the shouting), but this headset not only annoys but also fires laser beams. I guess that's not really so scary, as far as evil power masters go. I shall ready my withering derision.

R.A. Montgomery CYOA 1: The Abominable Snowman

When you last left your intrepid choose-your-own-adventurer, he was rooting out heresy in the Nabootian Church. Now that that's done, it's time to fix the scimitar above the mantel in my papal estate and embark upon another adventure, this time some place a little less humid.

The new quarry: the abominable snowman, or Yeti. The branches of this particular adventure are longer in general than those of The Jewels of Nabooti, ie, there are far fewer instant deaths (although this can be frustrating when you go make sound decisions for several pages only to fall down the mountain ten pages in). In fact, most of the "bad" endings are simply endings in which you don't achieve your goal of finding the Yeti: you refuse a Nepalese diplomat's help, and you can't fund your mission; refuse the Yeti's offer to abandon the world for Shangri-La, and you're plopped (by the same diplomat no less) on the first flight out of Kathmandu).

The theory that the last-page ending is canon may need to be revised, since this one involves being stuffed onto an airplane unceremoniously. To paraphrase one of the freedmen at Trimalchio's banquet, laecasein dico ("fuck it, I say"). Success in this adventure takes two primary forms: the enlightenment achieved when one abandons the world and enters the higher realm of the Yeti, or the fame and wealth achieved by showing off your snapshots of the Yeti. I choose the photos and a pleasant flight back to my stronghold. To hell with Shangri-La; I've got a scimitar to wield.

Nabooti: New Game+

The Jewels themselves are multifarious: depending on your choices throughout, you will encounter entirely different "jewels" with different properties. So it is clear from the very beginning that you must be the chosen one, because what you do fundamentally alters the nature of the jewels. With this knowledge you must set about the task of bringing the doctrine into line among the adherents of the jewels of Nabooti. A) You could put to the bejeweled scimitar anyone who doesn't agree that the jewels are indeed a scimitar, or B) you could call your own little Council of Nicaea to hash out the differences into one unifying doctrine, which will probably never sort the matter out entirely. But hey, there's always option A. Once you have consensus, label all other interpretations apocryphal (especially that nonsense about some African kings with a claim to the jewels--who needs two papacies at this point, amirite?). Maybe keep around the "jewels are the beauty all around us" for the inevitable rebranding once the consensus falls apart and you need to soften your image after putting thousands to death with your Bejeweled Scimitar of Reconciliation.

The Slings and Arrows

I have been shot, electrocuted twice (once by landing on a third rail and another time by divine intervention), fed to crocodiles, abandoned in the desert, and blown up by exploding robot dog. All in a day's work for a choose-your-own-adventure hero. Come what may, I shall persevere, even if that means sliding my fingers between the pages as a crude method of saving my progress before choices.

So, once I had exhausted all the ways to shirk any sort of responsibility, I went to the airport, and the crazies came out: there were various unsavory characters both at Logan and Charles De Gaulle looking to stab me or hustle me into helicopters, cars, speedboats, on the way to Spain, Greece, Morocco, Senegal. A woman gave me a piece of ivory that was apparently some kind of signal that led me to another group of people looking to hustle me to a rug merchant, to a cafe, to the third rail of a subway track, into the path of an oncoming rocket.

And these jewels of Nabooti? What are they, anyway? Jewels that curse those who touch them? Jewels that choose their bearer and bestow upon him great power? A metaphor for the peaceful rulers of Nabooti? A metaphor for the beauty that is all around us in the world? Or a sweet, jewel-encrusted scimitar that flies into my hand because I am the chosen one?

Well, if you believe that the "canon" answer is whatever one is on the very last page of text, then it's the scimitar, which is awesome because it is some sweet fucking loot. In terms of material reward, this is the best ending, although there are some others that leave you with a warm fuzzy feeling about the good you've done for the world etc. etc.

To celebrate my ahievement, I have created and unlocked a New Game+ for The Jewels of Nabooti, in which I will create a new path through the book with the scimitar already in my possession. Mwuh ha ha!

(Quick walkthrough to obtain the scimitar, if you wish:
Agree to go on tomorrow's plane for Paris
Make excuses and refuse his help
Tell them there must be some mistake
Tell them about the jewels of Nabooti
Accept the offer of police protection
Accept the offer of a weapon
Skip the proposed meeting
Go with Peter and Raoul

Enjoy!

The Lost Jewels of Nabooti

Back from a weekend in Georgia, I'm ready to get back to the next choices in the Thief story, and I've begun reading the stack of R.A. Montgomery books that I requested last week from the library. The first one that I've been picking my way through is The Lost Jewels of Nabooti. In this story you attempt to recover a cursed set of jewels. You may ask, Why recover cursed jewels? Well, the jewels provide power to a chosen few but doom to all others. So there. Explained.

The book is a globe-trotting adventure, from Paris to China to Morocco. So far I haven't progressed very far into the adventure of looking for the jewels, as I've been picking my way through all the chickenshit choices: Board plane for Paris or Go home and forget about cursed jewels and adventures that your twat cousins want you to go on for them. That's right, cos, not my problem.

I like that Montgomery offers these ways out at the beginning, because sitting out isn't an option in adventure fiction. I just played through Fable 2 again last week (love the gameplay but loathe the story) and hoped that I would simply be allowed to tell Theresa: You've given me no reason to trust you. You are a five-hundred-year-old seeress who tells me that I am the Great Hero, but you sure try hard to formulate plans that will put me through the greatest amount of hell possible. No, you don't get the Spire--I did all the work, I get to make the wish. My wish? That your brother killing you with the Sword of Aeons was the canon ending of Fable.

Part I: You continue the conversation.

...