You are asleep! But you do not know this. As far as you are aware, you are perfectly awake, and everything is normal. You do not know the time, or the date. You cannot see a light source, but everything is illuminated just enough for you to see, but not enough to hurt your eyes. You stand in your living room. It is fairly large, and was at one point two rooms, as evidenced by the excess of doors and beam through the middle of the ceiling. The walls are a sickly orange, mottled with white in the traditional style of 80s design. In actuality, this was stripped and repainted many months ago, but you do not question the sudden reversion, and it does not hurt your eyes as much as it once did. In one half of the room is a pool table, and a rack for the cues. You ignore this. Your attention is instead focused on the sofa, or rather loveseat. It can comfortably seat two people, and has a demin effect cover from ikea. You take a quick break from exploring your subtly unnerving dreamscape to curse your mother for thinking denim makes everything cool. On this demin-effect couch sits controversial Russian leader, Vladamir Putin. [[Approach Mr. Putin|hiputin]] [[Leave|You leave the room]] You approach Vladimir Putin, for whatever reason. Perhaps you wish to extend hospitality to even the most tyrannical of guests in your home, perhaps you are vying for a summer internship at the Kremlin, or perhaps you merely see it as the only option for interaction in this incredibly limited game. Your motives are irrelevent, however, and whatever your thoughts, you still decide to strike up conversation. [[Talk politics| pol]] [[Welcome him| welcome]] [[Wait|cereal]]You have left the room through the door to your right. You have entered the void, and the door has disappeared behind you. You are stuck in your dreamscape until such a time as you are awoken. There is no concept of time in the dreamvoid, and it will feel eternal or momentary, dependent on how merciful the dream elders feel towards you. Pray for your sanity. You attempt to strike up a conversation about the politics of your guest's country. He does not respond to any questions about Ukraine or LGBT+ rights. You do not try any other lines of questioning, as your knowledge of Russian politics is limited at best, and this is a patently fruitless endeavor. (Display:"cereal") You welcome Vladimir Putin to your home. He does not respond. Rude //and// a dictatorial abuser of basic human rights? ''Shocking''. (Display:"cereal") After a period of silence, he looks at you. He speaks. You do not know the exact words he says, but he is requesting chocolate cereal. [[Give him cereal| too early!]] You try to give Vladamir Putin cereal. You have no cereal on your person. He seems angry to have been given cereal that doesn't exist. [[Attain cereal| Kitchen]] You leave through the door on your left, entering the Morning Room. It is really just a part of the kitchen, but you chose to call it the Morning Room. It sounds more fitting to your very old house. Plus you're a pretentious fuck. You arrive at the cupboard in which you keep the cereal. There is no chocolate cereal. [[Tell Putin there is no cereal|Sorry]] [[Get creative!| icing]]You have angered the Putin. He is unhappy with your inability to serve him chocolate cereal, and he chases you. You run back through the morning room. [[Enter the glassware cupboard| stairs]] [[Wait for putin to catch you| catch]] You have a clever plan! You have many cornflakes, and a tube of pink icing. You ice the cornflakes so each looks like a tiny poptart. He'll never tell the difference! A flawless plan, the muses salute you. He notices. (Display:"Sorry") Because of dream logic, you are inexplicably drawn to the glassware cupboard. You open the door, to find a staircase rather than the normal assortment of pint glasses and brandy balloons. You have no time nor inclination to question this, and you run down the stairs to avoid the wrath of the angered russian. At the bottom of the stairs, there is what appeares to be part of a mall, except for the fact that it only contains one shop space. You enter this shop, which is reminiscent of a tourist shop without the tourism, it sells everything from bongs to bras to books on nazi germany. [[Purchase socks| socks]] [[Purchase candy| snacks]] [[Run! | revolving door]]Putin catches you. You are extradited to Russia and fed to bears on unicycles in neo-gladitorian winter games. Game Over. You purchase a pair of plain white long socks. You run to a revolving door, the floor of which is also revolving. You sit down to put these socks on your bare feet. They have Ford logos on and you are tremendously disappointed. Once the door and floor have completed a full revolution, you [[exit.| 50s]] You buy your candy bar of choice. You bite into it, only to find it is full of caterpillars. You spot a set of revolving doors, and run towards them, walking patiently out of the building. You are [[outside.| 50s]] You see a revolving door. You run towards it, and [[exit.| 50s]]You leave the revolving door, and although there is nothing to indicate it, you know you are sometime in the decade of the 1950s. In front of you sits a portacabin being used as a recording studio. You enter, and it is immediately demanded that you record the song you have been working on. You have not been working on anything, and it is likely they have mistaken you for someone else, but they will not let you leave. You sing a mediocre, half remembered version of one of your favourite songs, accidentally spawning a musical style early and drastically changing the course of human culture. Good thing it's only a dream.