the year is 2019. it is the last day of guide camp. you have been given some free time before everyone's parents arrive to pick them up.
you are in the centre of camp. this is in a field in the english countryside. you can smell pollen. there is a faint breeze blowing through your hair.
[[go west, to the scout hut.]]
[[go north, to the campfire.]]
[[go south, to the woods.]]you walk west across the grass to the scout hut. it is a squat wooden building with a balcony round the edge to keep the damp out. you step up onto the balcony and walk round to the door. it is closed but unlocked.
[[go inside.]]
[[go back.|start]]you go across camp to the campfire area. it is a fire pit with benches and pieces of tree stump around it in a circle. the oracle is sat on one of these pieces of tree, his feet in the fire pit, sharpening a stick with his penknife.
[[say hello.]]
[[turn back.|start]]you go south, tramping across the grass to the edge of the woods. there are grass stains on your white socks, and on your trainers. you are not bothered by this in the slightest.
you meet the edge of the woods. there are nettles to the east, and paths to the west and south. to the west, there is the bees' nest. you have been forbidden to go there. however, to the south, there is the leader's dog. she hates children. every child at guide camp has decided they will be the exception to the rule and that the dog will love them. this has not gone well for any of them.
[[go back the way you came.|start]]
[[go east, where there are nettles.]]
[[go west, where there is the bees' nest.]]
[[go south, where there is the leader's dog.]]
you try to run through the nettles. however, you have failed to account for the fact you are wearing shorts. the nettles are more painful than you had anticipated, pricking and tingling at your numbing legs.
[[run faster.]]you wander further into the woods, dry leaves crunching underfoot like the noise of eating dry cereal straight from the box in the back of your best friend's car with a blanket over both of your shoulders.
you hear the faint echo of songs coming from deeper in the woods.
[[continue.]]
[[turn back.|go south, to the woods.]]you speed up, sprinting madly. your legs are going numb surprisingly fast. you swear the nettle patch is increasing in width and length under your ankles.
you trip on a giant piece of rotting wood that esme tried to bring back for campfire but abandoned halfway. fucking esme, you think. you wish you'd had the sense to leave her behind on your last hike. you fall on your face, skidding unceremoniously across the nettles. your entire body has now been stung by nettles.
[[well shit]]you wonder when your body will be found. (it'll be a while.)
you die a slow but mostly peaceful death and the leader's dog comes along and eats part of your ear. you never get the opportunity to fail your gcse's.
fucking esme.
[[you're properly dead now. play again?|start]]the dog is tied to a tree, sniffing at her own arse. she is a rescue, which is really no excuse.
'scooter?' you say. she barks and growls at you. luckily, her lead is tied to the tree. the lead doesn't look particularly sturdy, however. you take a step back. she continues to growl at you, which is an extraordinarily ugly noise for a relatively nice-looking dog.
[[go closer and try to pet her.]]
[[back away slowly and say calming words.]]
[[decide that lead won't hold her and leg it.]]you take a hesitant step closer, stumbling over your untied shoelace, and put a hand out to pet the dog. her low growling slowly turns to a rumbling that you think might be pleasure. you continue to rub her warm dark fur, breathing quickly and hoping she is your friend now.
[[continue to pet her.]]'shhhh,' you say, in the same voice you use to talk to babies and esme, who is in your patrol. 'shhhh. nice dog. good scooter.'
this sends the dog into a snapping frenzy. she hisses and snarls and snaps at your ankles. every step you take infuriates her more. over the sound of your desperate 'shhh'ing, you hear a much more concerning noise: the sound of the dog's lead breaking.
then a tree falls, crashing headlong and just missing the dog. you hear a buzzing noise. turns out you were misinformed about the location of the bees' nest.
[[run away from the bees, towards the dog.]]
[[run away from the bees, towards the nettles.|run faster.]]you realise after you have already sprinted several metres that the ground is covered thickly with nettles. you figure it will probably be okay try to run through the nettles if you run super fast, though, right?
however, you have failed to account for the fact you are wearing shorts. and ankle socks. the nettles are more painful than you had anticipated, pricking and tingling at your numbing legs.
[[run faster.]]it turns out the dog really doesn't like children, and you are no exception.
you've died. [[play again?|start]]it dawns on you briefly that this is strange behaviour for the dog, considering her unnecessarily violent reactions to anyone else who has attempted to befriend her. you try to pull your hand away a little, but she growls until you regain your petting speed.
[[keep petting her.]]she seems to have relaxed a little more into you, making a sound that's almost gentle. you breathe a sigh of relief. this isn't so bad.
some deity proceeds to shout 'SIKE' from the clouds. the dog eats your hand in one impressive gulp, then most of your face, then you're not really around enough to watch the rest of it. you'd always thought you could live without your nose, but it's harder than you'd imagined.
[[you are dead. play again?|start]]you walk further into the woods, coming into a clearing, and discover that this is where the rest of the guides have gone.
they're in a big circle, moving around in a strange dance, penknives out and chanting ominously. you do not have your penknife because you failed your penknife proficiency test for the second year in a row. the first year, you were so incompetent you had to have the knife reposessed by the leaders for your own personal safety. this year, you had been doing swimmingly well and certain to pass, until you dropped your knife and said fuck quite loudly and the leader failed you out of spite.
you look closer at the circle. it's moving round something, you notice. it's a rooster, which has been square lashed to a spit. you're angry they didn't enlist your help in this. you're very good at square lashing.
[['hello?']]the circle stops moving, though the chants continue. one of the guides is lifted up by the others in a way that looks fairly sturdy, if not particularly comfortable. she has clearly been elected the leader.
'we're very pleased to see you!' she bellows.
'thanks,' you say. 'what are you doing with that rooster?'
'it's the one that's been keeping us up at night the whole week,' she bellows back. you do have faint memories of being awoken repeatedly by rooster calls.
she continues. 'we made wire cutters so we could break into the field next to us and grab the rooster. we're going to sacrifice it. will you help?'
[[sure]]
[[no thanks]]the circle absorbs you and you move round in a kind of trance with the other guides, waving your hands and singing strange songs.
one of the girls opens a book, studying it closely. it's the brownie guide handbook, bookmarked to a page on demon summoning.
'we're almost done!' she calls. 'we have to do the special chant at the end and draw the pentagon in washing up liquid, then we set one of our neckers on fire, stamp it out, and satan appears in the embers.'
[[hell yeah]]'i'm chill, thanks,' you say, backing away with your hands held up in a gesture of peace.
the guide cult swarms closer to you, their leader still raised above them. there is a minor scuffle somewhere within the swarm, and the leader falls into the dust. she gets cross and calls one of the girls a dumb cow. the girl bursts into tears. you try to take this opportunity to leave, but discover the circle has re-formed, this time around you.
[[stay very still]]'we can't just let you go,' says the leader, picking mud out of her hair. 'you'll only go snitch on the leaders to us.'
'i won't snitch,' you say, as earnestly as you can manage. 'i won't! i swear on my mum's life, i would never-'
they will not listen.
'for control measures,' says one of the guides, who looks like a proper karen in the making, 'we have decided you must be sacrificed as well.'
'you wet yourself at a sleepover last year, charlotte,' you say. charlotte makes an angry noise and slithers away to hide within the swarm, but the rest of the guides seem to have barely heard your comment. they begin their chant again, flooding into a circle around you.
[[bollocks]]'what's even going on here?' you ask, smiling nervously. the circle pushes you back towards the rooster and one of the girls ties your wrists t you stand with him as the circle continues to move around you, humming and clapping and snapping the compartments of their penknives in and out for ambient noise. you feel bad for the rooster. you might have got yourself into a dodgy situation, but at least you haven't shat yourself.
'we're summoning satan!' says one of the guides, smiling like a child actor in a low-budget horror movie.
[[you're fucking what?]]'summoning satan,' says the girl, waving a book at you. it's the brownie guide handbook, bookmarked to a page on demon summoning.
'oh, okay,' you say, because that seems legit. 'will it take long?'
she studies the page. 'not really,' she says. 'we're almost done. we have to do the special chant at the end and draw the pentagon in washing up liquid, then we set one of our neckers on fire, stamp it out, and satan appears in the embers.'
[[seems legit tbh]]'thanks!' she says, beaming.
the guides continue with their ritual. the special chant turns out to be the macarena, which surprises you a little, but you take it in your stride. the pentagon is drawn. the necker is set on fire a little too close to your feet. one of the guides stamps it out, and then you wait.
'where the fuck is satan?' says a guide who is far too young to say fuck.
'shit,' says another guide, who is too young to say shit. 'i know what we've done wrong.'
[[what?]]she proffers the brownie guide handbook in your face. 'we needed thirteen people in our circle! and we only have twelve, look!'
'can't you count?' says another guide, angrily. 'we had thirteen! we double checked! we definitely have thirteen!'
one of the guides says, 'we only have twelve here now.'
there is a pause, and then someone says, 'oh. daisy went for a wee a while back and i don't think she came back.'
'i am so fucking done with this,' says the leader, kicking the burnt necker. the rooster squawks. the leader squawks back at it to show who's in control, then begins to stomp back through the woods.
[[wait!]]'can i go now?' you call after her.
she turns on her heel, scowling. 'no! you've seen too much and your face is weird. also you smell like rooster.'
the guides swarm around you. you sense something is wrong. one of them cuts your wrists free from the spit with a penknife, and you breathe a sigh of relief. then four guides lift you up, one for each limb, and dump you in the nettle patch.
you feel a tingling sensation that almost tickles. the rooster makes an annoying noise. your body decides it has had enough for today.
[[you are dead. play again?|start]]'hi?' you say, nervously.
the oracle looks up at you. he is wearing shorts, a guide polo shirt, a baseball cap and his penknife round his neck on a lanyard. his dark hair is in his eyes, and his cheeks are tan and freckled. he does not look as if he trusts you.
'who are you?' he says.
[[someone.]]
[[no one.]]'that's good to hear,' he says. 'there aren't many someones around nowadays.'
you feel awkward, and decide to shift the conversation back to him. 'why do they call you the oracle?'
'who's calling me the oracle?' he says, but his voice is amiable.
'i don't know,' you say. you're not sure you recall anyone mentioning his name was the oracle, but you just knew. 'isn't that your name?'
'oh yes, it is,' he says, continuing to sharpen the stick.
[[but why?]]
'you'd best be on your way, then, hadn't you?' he says. 'no point me wasting time talking to nobody.'
he flicks off another few flakes of the stick with his knife, and waits for you to leave.
[[walk away.|start]]
[[protest.]]
'it's hardly fair you sending me away,' you say, kicking at the dirt on the ground with your trainers. 'what issue do you have talking to nobody?'
'if you're nobody, how am i meant to know you're even real?' he says. 'no point me talking to you if you're not real.'
'you're not real either,' you say.
'that's beside the point. if you come back in five minutes and decide you're someone now, we could talk then, but for now i think you'd best be leaving.'
[[return to the centre of camp.|start]]'i am good,' he says, flicking a few more splinters of wood into the fire pit, 'at answering questions. you may ask a few, if you wish.'
[[why are you at girl guide camp when you're a boy?]]
[[what is that stick for?]]
[[are you real?]]he shrugs. 'if i'd realised i was a boy sooner, i could have gone to scout camp, but then i still would have had to share a tent with girls and that would have made me sad. i'm only here because one of my friends from school is.'
[[who's that friend?]]
[[is that the only reason?]]'marshmallows,' he says. 'i have a lot of them. i was saving them for an emergency but whenever emergencies happen i usually predict worse emergencies, even when i am at the worst point i will get to. therefore, i have some marshmallows left over. you can have one later if you wish.'
'thank you,' you say.
'that's perfectly alright. would you like to take a second question?'
[[no, thank you.]]
[[yes, please.]]'as real as you,' he says, 'perhaps marginally less so. i could argue that nothing is real, but i doubt you'd be particualrly interested in hearing it.'
'i think i might be,' you say.
'no, you wouldn't. would you like another question?'
[[yes, please.]]
[[no, thank you.]]'she's not exactly a friend so much anymore,' he says, looking up at the sky, 'but she was a very good friend a while ago. so i still endeavour to make contact with her even though we don't have much in common anymore.'
'isn't that unhealthy?'
'not as such,' he says. 'it is important to honour the things that once were. would you like another question?'
[[no, thank you.]]
[[yes, please.]]'no,' he says. 'there are other things i enjoy about guide camp, such as the games we play and the shitload of sugar i get to eat, and the woods, and cooking on the open fire. but that is definitely one of the reasons.'
'i like all of those things too,' you say.
'i am pleased but not surprised; they are somewhat universal. would you like to take a second question?'
[[yes, please.]]
[[no, thank you.]]'well, it's been nice talking to you,' he says. he checks his watch, which is worn brown leather. 'i expect your mother will be here to pick you up soon enough anyway.'
'thank you,' you say. he smiles, quickly but genuinely, and then you leave to go back to camp.
in the car on the way home, your mother asks you, 'did you do anything nice on the last day?'
you are about to mention the oracle to her, but then you decide perhaps he was never real at all. you have been very tired, these past few days. in fact, you feel your eyes falling closed in the back of the car, where it is warm and you can still just about smell grass and wildflowers, and the radio is playing softly in the background.
this is the end of the game. [[would you like to play again?|start]]'go on, then,' he says. 'one more question, and i'll tell your fortune, then it's time for me to go.'
[[what's that noise coming from across camp?]]
[[what's the best campfire song?]]
[[could you tell my fortune now, please?]]you and the guides continue with the ritual. the special chant turns out to be the macarena, which surprises you a little, but you take it in your stride. the pentagon is drawn. the necker is set on fire a little too close to your feet. one of the guides stamps it out, and then you wait.
'holy fuck,' says a guide who is far too young to say fuck.
an eldritch being twelve feet tall, seemingly made of dark, floating abstract shapes, has appeared in the embers.
'shiiiiiiit,' says another guide, who is too young to say shit. 'that's really him!'
[[continue with the ritual, it's too late to stop now.]]'we, first and third (your town name) girl guides, have summoned you!' calls the girl with the brownie guide handbook.
'OH, FOR FUCK'S SAKE,' says satan. he has an irish accent. 'I AM SO FUCKING SICK OF BEING SUMMONED BY GIRL GUIDES.'
'we demand you stay silent!' says one of the girls, voice shrill. satan doesn't seem to be listening.
'JUST LAST WEEK I GOT CALLED OUT ELEVEN TIMES BECAUSE THE FUCKING RAINBOWS WANTED THEIR DEMON SUMMONING BADGES. I'M SO TIRED OF IT. WHY CAN'T THEY GO FOR A SMALLER DEMON? BUT NO, WE ALWAYS HAVE TO HAVE SATAN, BECAUSE OUR PATROL IS THE BEST AND THE COOLEST AND OUR NECKERS ARE THE UGLIEST.'
'i thought our neckers were kind of cool,' said one of the girls, looking sad.
'WELL, I THINK THEY'RE UGLY,' says satan, and then he instantly destroys every one of your mortal forms with his pinky finger.
[[you have died. play again?|start]]'oh, i think they're summoning satan or something,' he says. 'it's not exciting, it's actually really boring. they do it every year. i got my demon summoning badge when i was eleven, back before it was cool.'
'oh,' you say. 'okay.'
'ask me nicely, and i'll tell your fortune,' he says, 'and then i really do have to go.'
[[could you tell my fortune now, please?]]'i have a list, actually,' he says. 'a long list. but i think softly falls is a good song for goodbyes, which is what this is.'
'sing it with me?' you ask.
he smiles.
'softly falls the light of day / as our campfire fades away / silently, each guide must ask / have i done my daily task? / have i kept my honour bright? / can i guiltless sleep tonight? / have i done, and have i dared / everything to be prepared?'
you both finish in the same breath, and he looks happy. you have chosen the correct option, it seems.
'i'll tell your fortune, then, and after that it'll be goodnight. oh, and don't tell the developer, but in my eyes you've won the game,' he says. 'this is the best option.'
[['the game?']]'okay,' he says, 'give me your hand.'
you do. his hands are warm but not sweaty. he unfurls your fingers and draws a circle on your palm with his finger. this tickles, and you try to choke back your laugh before you realise he is only messing with you.
he stands up, dusting wood shavings off his shorts. 'you should have a little faith in yourself,' he says. 'you know yourself very well and you don't realise that. sometimes you will ruin songs for yourself by playing them too many times, and it won't be the end of the world because there will always be more songs.'
'oh, and one more thing,' he says, snapping his fingers. 'in february twenty twenty, get yourself a shitload of frozen pizza and hand soap, and make sure you have two pairs of headphones that work, because the next few months are going to be hell.'
[[thank him for his service and good conversation.]]'well, it's been nice talking to you,' he says. he checks his watch, which is worn brown leather. 'i expect your mother will be here to pick you up soon enough anyway.'
'thank you,' you say. he smiles, quickly but genuinely, and then you leave to go back to camp.
in the car on the way home, your mother asks you, 'did you do anything nice on the last day?'
you are about to mention the oracle to her, but then you decide perhaps he was never real at all. you have been very tired, these past few days. in fact, you feel your eyes falling closed in the back of the car, where it is warm and you can still just about smell grass and wildflowers, and the radio is playing softly in the background.
this is the end of the game. [[would you like to play again?|start]]'you've had your questions now,' he says, smiling. 'now ask me nicely and i'll tell your fortune, and after that i really must be off.'
'okay,' you say. [[could you tell my fortune now, please?]]inside, the walls are square and plain. the floor is the kind of speckled plastic-y wipe clean stuff that reminds you of church youth groups and primary schools. there is someone sat in the middle of the room, cross-legged on the floor, typing on a laptop. he is not wearing girl guide uniform, but he has a camp blanket over his shoulders.
there is a photo montage on one of the walls, and a wicker basket in the corner.
[[look at the basket.]]
[[look at the photos.]]
[[talk to the typing boy.]]the basket has a strong, sweet, woody smell. it seems to have been hand-woven due to its rampant imperfections and spiky offcuts that have not yet been trimmed. there is a swiss army knife on a lanyard nestled in the bottom of the basket.
[[pick up the knife.]]
[[put the basket down.]]there are several photos on the bulletin board. you notice:
- a photo of a smiling circle of girl guides, holding hands and skipping round some kind of eldritch horror
- someone who looks a lot like the typing boy and a lot like the oracle, eating macaroni cheese and smiling while having a nosebleed
- the outside of a green canvas tent with what looks like a rooster standing outside
- an overexposed photo of some grass
- a beautiful shot of the night sky, in which the stars are spelling out some somewhat unsavoury language
[[look at the basket.]]
[[talk to the typing boy.]]
[[go back to camp.|start]]on closer inspection, he looks an awful lot like the oracle. he looks up at you, blinking.
'oh, hello,' he says. 'sorry this option is a bit of a cop-out. i was going to put something cool and interesting in here, but i've been programming this for bloody ages and i'm a bit sick of the whole thing.'
'programming what?'
'something,' he says, vaguely. 'you can go back to camp if you want.'
[[go back to camp.|start]]
[[stay to talk to him.]]
[[explore the rest of the room.|go inside.]]'surely you must have something more to say,' you tell him. 'anyway, why do you have a laptop? that's against camp rules. no technology.'
'i'm not actually here,' he says. 'i mean, well, i am, but i'm not. would you like some haribo? the tuck shop had loads left over. there were apple chupa chup lollipops but i ate them all.'
he tosses a packet of haribo at you. you half-fumble but make the catch.
[['i don't understand,' you say, picking out a haribo heart and eating it.]]'that's fair enough,' he says. 'this is getting awfully meta, isn't it?'
'what is?' you ask.
'this interaction,' he says. 'i think i originally had a structure for this but it's all gone a little sideways. there's nothing else for you to do here, really. you'd best be off.'
[[go back to camp.|start]]
[[stay.]]'there must be something else here for me,' you say, 'or this option wouldn't be here.'
'i wouldn't bet on it,' he said. 'and you're becoming too aware of yourself, be careful. lots of things exist for no reason.'
[[go back to camp.|start]]
[[stay.|stay. ]]'there must be something else here for me,' you say, 'or this option wouldn't be here.'
'i wouldn't bet on it,' he said. 'and you're becoming too aware of yourself, be careful. lots of things exist for no reason.'
[[go back to camp.|start]]
[[stay.|stay. ]]'there must be something else here for me,' you say, 'or this option wouldn't be here.'
'i wouldn't bet on it,' he said. 'and you're becoming too aware of yourself, be careful. lots of things exist for no reason.'
[[go back to camp.|start]]
[[stay.|stay. ]]'there must be something else here for me,' you say, 'or this option wouldn't be here.'
'i wouldn't bet on it,' he said. 'and you're becoming too aware of yourself, be careful. lots of things exist for no reason.'
[[go back to camp.|start]]
[[stay.|stay. ]]'there must be something else here for me,' you say, 'or this option wouldn't be here.'
'i wouldn't bet on it,' he said. 'and you're becoming too aware of yourself, be careful. lots of things exist for no reason, you know.'
[[go back to camp.|start]]
[[stay.|stay. ]]'there must be something else here for me,' you say, 'or this option wouldn't be here.'
'i wouldn't bet on it,' he said. 'and you're becoming too aware of yourself, be careful. lots of things exist for no reason, you know.'
'is this one of them?'
[[go back to camp.|start]]
[[stay.|stay. ]]'there must be something else here for me,' you say, 'or this option wouldn't be here.'
'was there something you were looking for in particular?' he asks.
[[go back to camp.|start]]
[[stay.|stay. ]]'very resilient of you, you know,' he says.
'i think i'm almost there,' you say.
[[go back to camp.|start]]
[[stay.|stay. ]]'are you reading these words, or just clicking through to the next one and the next in the hope that you'll find something at the end?' he says.
'so there is something at the end?' you say.
[[go back to camp.|start]]
[[stay.|stay. ]]'perhaps,' he says, and smiles.
[[go back to camp.|start]]
[[stay.|stay. ]][[go back to camp.|start]]
[[stay.|stay. ]][[go back to camp.|start]]
[[stay.|stay. ]][[go back to camp.|start]]
[[stay.|stay. ]]'humans have always been distance predators,' he says, standing up. 'our special skill is being unrelenting. the way to catch a lost cat is not to sprint after it and spook it, but to walk after it for miles on end until it tires and lets you catch it.'
'so i've caught the cat?' you say.
he nods. 'pop this link into your browser and you'll get some cool extras: ( https://imgur.com/a/EvpoI9U ).'
'wow,' you say. 'was that really worth all the clicks?'
'worth is subjective,' he says. 'don't you feel better now you at least know what was at the end of all that? have a nice day.'
[[go back to camp.|start]]welcome to guide camp 2019, a text-based game by rowan joseph.
[[begin.|start]]
you pick up the knife. the metal is slightly warm and it fits well in the palm of your hand. you pinch the side of the biggest blade instinctively, ready to pull it out, and then the typing boy speaks and makes you jump.
'do you have your penknife proficiency?' he says.
[[yes, i do.]]
[[no, i don't.]]you put the basket down onto the floor.
[[look at the photos.]]
[[talk to the typing boy.]]
[[go back to camp.|start]]'you wouldn't lie to me, would you?' he says, in a very conversational tone.
you do not have your penknife proficiency because you failed your test for the second year in a row this summer. the first year, you were so incompetent you had to have the knife reposessed by the leaders for your own personal safety. this year, you had been doing swimmingly well and certain to pass, until you dropped your knife and said fuck quite loudly and the leader failed you out of spite.
[[admit defeat and put the knife back in the basket.|put the knife back in the basket.]]
[[risk it and open the blade.|open the blade.]](you do not have your penknife proficiency because you failed your test for the second year in a row this summer. the first year, you were so incompetent you had to have the knife reposessed by the leaders for your own personal safety. this year, you had been doing swimmingly well and certain to pass, until you dropped your knife and said fuck quite loudly and the leader failed you out of spite.)
'better not open that blade, then,' says the boy.
[[open the blade.]]
[[put the knife back in the basket.]]you pinch the thumb groove in the side of the blade and flick it out. it is appropriately shiny and has sawdust caught between the blade and the handle. you reach in to swipe it away with the pad of your thumb, and somehow the blade reaches round to cut you and the knife is on the floor, bouncing away.
'motherfucker,' says the typing boy, groaning. 'this is what happens when you don't have your penknife proficiency.'
'i swear i didn't even touch my thumb on it-' you start, then stop abruptly.
there's a weird noise in the air. crackling, maybe even roaring, like you're standing right next to a campfire. except you're not, you're standing inside the scout hut, and that should be impossible.
[[listen.]]the typing boy exhales. 'i'm glad you did that,' he says, glancing over at you. 'i was having a terrible feeling about what might've happened if you'd held onto that knife.'
'thanks, i think?' you say. you're suddenly interested in what the typing boy has to say. 'can i ask you-'
he waves you away. 'give me a second,' he says, tapping the space bar more times than what seems necessary. 'come back in five if you want to talk, alright? i'll be available then.'
[[go back to camp.|start]]you turn back around and realise a little fire has started near your feet.
you look up at the typing boy. 'uh, did your laptop get hot?'
'ah, shit,' he says, closing his laptop and shuffling backwards, pulling his blanket tighter around his shoulders. 'my camp blanket is flammable as all hell.'
[[try to stamp the fire out.]]
[[leave the fire.]]you try to stamp the fire out, but it seems to pass right through your grubby grey adidas. in fact, the fire doesn't seem real at all - your feet would properly be on fire by now.
you look up at the typing boy. 'uh.'
'something trippy's probably going to appear in five... four... three...'
[[wait.]]you take a step away, looking down at the fire. it's spreading further towards your feet, as if there was a line of lighter fuel leading right up to them. you hop back but not in time - the fire licks agressively at your feet.
but something's off - it seems to pass right through your grubby grey adidas. in fact, the fire doesn't seem real at all - your feet would properly be on fire by now.
you look up at the typing boy. 'uh.'
'something trippy's probably going to appear in five... four... three...'
[[wait.]]'... two... one...'
there is a pop of smoke like a firework, and you blink at the thing that has appeared in the scout hut. it is made of black smoke, the smell of something burning that probably shouldn't be burning, tendrils and a weird aura that is hot and cold all at the same time.
'hello,' it says, and does a little wave. it has an accent sounding remarkably like the queen.
[[what the everloving fuck]]you blink at the thing. it stops waving and continues to be imposing.
the typing boy's laptop makes the windows error noise, and the apparition looks over at him. 'i'm trying to do my thing,' it says.
'sorry,' says the boy. 'carry on.'
the apparition inhales, and then waves its tendrils. a shockwave of heat sends you crashing backwards. you make a dent in the bulletin board, and photographs scatter down behind you.
the apparition says, 'i've been sent by the girlguiding authority to enforce proper treatment of penknives. you do not have your penknife proficiency and therefore should not be playing with swiss army knives. it's very disappointing to see.'
[[am i going to be punished for this?]]'your mother will be informed,' says the apparition. 'and then because she feels so bad about it, i will be invited to sunday dinner once a month in order to make amends, and it'll be terribly awkward for everyone but especially you.'
'that's evil,' you splutter. 'you - you wouldn't-'
'i already have her number,' says the apparition, one of its tendrils producing a battered little nokia. 'shall we give her a ring?'
'dude,' says the typing boy. 'i thought we sorted you out with the smartphone? it's the year twenty nineteen. you can't still be using that.'
the apparition hesitates. 'look, i just - i didn't really understand it and i keep reading these awful things about what 4g does to your brain, and i really think it's not a good idea to-'
[[use the opportunity and beg for the apparition not to call your mother.]]'oh yes, your mother,' says the apparition. 'thank you for reminding me.'
'fuckkkkkkk,' you say, sadly. 'look, please don't - can i at least go back to camp?'
'i think not,' says the apparition. 'you don't get priveliges if you can't prove you can be trusted, you know.'
'this is so unfair,' you groan.
[[wait to see if the apparition changes its mind.]]the apparition does not change its mind. it makes you sit in the scout hut on the floor while it sits there with your arms folded. the typing boy goes out twice to walk down to the co-op for energy drinks. he asks if you would like one, but the apparition says they're horrible for your diet and he shouldn't be drinking them at all. the typing boy apologises and says he's suffering from severe caffeine deprivation, and also boredom.
after about three hours have passed, your mum arrives to pick you up, apologising profusely and arranging dinner dates.
[[this is the end of the game. close the tab or click this option to play again.|start]]