Anchorhead -- With that dark pitch the Sea of Death

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al-azad: May 28, 2009

H.P. Lovecraft posted:

The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.

Anchorhead posted:

November, 1997.

You take a deep breath of salty air as the first raindrops begin to spatter the pavement, and the swollen, slate-colored clouds that blanket the sky mutter ominous portents amongst themselves over the little coastal town of Anchorhead.

Squinting up into the glowering storm, you wonder how everything managed to happen so fast. The strange phone call over a month ago, from a lawyer claiming to represent the estate of some distant branch of Michael's family, was bewildering enough in itself... but then the sudden whirlwind of planning and decisions, legal details and travel arrangements, the packing up and shipping away of your entire home, your entire life...

Now suddenly here you are, after driving for the past two days straight, over a thousand miles away from the familiar warmth of Texas, getting ready to move into the ancestral mansion of a clan of relatives so far removed that not even Michael has ever heard of them. And you've only been married since June and none of this was any of your idea in the first place, and already it's starting to rain.

These days, you often find yourself feeling confused and uprooted.

You shake yourself and force the melancholy thoughts from your head, trying to focus on the errand at hand. You're to meet with the real estate agent and pick up the keys to your new house while Michael runs across town to take care of some paperwork at the university. He'll be back to pick you up in a few minutes, and then the two of you can begin the long, precarious process of settling in.

A sullen belch emanates from the clouds, and the rain starts coming down harder -- fat, cold drops smacking loudly against the cobblestones. Shouldn't it be snowing in New England at this time of year? With a sigh, you open your umbrella.

Welcome to Anchorhead�

Anchorhead is an interactive fiction game released in 1998 by Michael Gentry. It is gothic horror in the style of Poe and Lovecraft, set in the coastal town of Anchorhead, Massachusetts. That is all the information you are required to know.

In-game passages will appear in quote boxes. Some editing for readability will be be made to the passages, however the text is presented unadulterated. Player actions and commentary are written outside of quote boxes. Player input is encouraged. For example

>inventory

quote:

You are wearing your wedding ring, your trenchcoat and your clothes; in addition, you have in your hands a ~~keyring, on which are two keys (a key to the house and a key to the cellar) and your~~ umbrella.

The pockets of your trenchcoat are empty.

Because October is known among the art community as "Inktober" and I desire an excuse to dust off my pens, illustrations will be provided for key scenes.

Table of Contents
The First Day - Outside the Real Estate Office

al-azad fucked around with this message at 04:42 on Oct 25, 2017

# ? Oct 24, 2017 21:39

Adbot: ADBOT LOVES YOU

# ? May 4, 2024 21:06

al-azad: May 28, 2009

The First Day

H.P. Lovecraft posted:

I was far from home, and the spell of the eastern sea was upon me.

quote:

ANCHORHEAD

An interactive gothic by Michael S. Gentry

(Type HELP or ABOUT for some useful information.)

Release 5 / Serial number 990206 / Inform v6.15 Library 6/7

Outside the Real Estate Office

A grim little cul-de-sac, tucked away in a corner of the claustrophobic tangle of narrow, twisting avenues that largely constitute the older portion of Anchorhead. Like most of the streets in this city, it is ancient, shadowy, and leads essentially nowhere. The lane ends here at the real estate agent's office, which lies to the east, and winds its way back toward the center of town to the west. A narrow, garbage-choked alley opens to the southeast.

al-azad fucked around with this message at 21:41 on Oct 24, 2017

# ? Oct 24, 2017 21:39

Neurophage: Oct 11, 2012

Examine the rain.

# ? Oct 25, 2017 00:19

al-azad: May 28, 2009

>examine rain

quote:

It's coming down in uneven spatters, broken by intermittent gusts. Most of the time you enjoy such weather, but this has to be the most thoroughly depressing rain you've ever experienced in your life.

It's cold. It's getting dark. You don't want to be any more miserable than you already are.

>examine office

quote:

The door has a glass front with the name of the real estate company -- Benson & Brackhurst -- stenciled across it. The blinds are drawn, the lights are off inside, and no one appears to be home. Odd, since the agent knew you were coming today.

The clouds overhead mutter restlessly to themselves.

>knock on door

quote:

You rap on the glass sharply, peering through it into the dark room inside. Nobody answers. Strange; you just talked to the real estate agent -- Miss Benson, you think it was -- yesterday. She was going to meet you here.

# ? Oct 25, 2017 03:43

Glazius: Jul 22, 2007; Hail all those who are able,
any mouse can,
any mouse will,
but the Guard prevail.; Clapping Larry

We've already got the keys. I'm sure local law enforcement will understand us spending the night in a place we only technically don't own.

> REMEMBER MICHAEL
> REMEMBER MANSION
> W

# ? Oct 25, 2017 04:07

al-azad: May 28, 2009

>Remember Michael
>Remember mansion

quote:

You pause momentarily, lost in thought.

Something's not right. Your pockets feel lighter. You reach for your keys to no avail. But you could've sworn you had them on you!

Maybe this is a horrible trick, or a cosmic mistake. Perhaps this is proof of an imperfect God. If such a being exists in the wide universe, it apologizes profusely for any confusion.

No, no. The real estate agent definitely has the keys.

# ? Oct 25, 2017 04:42

al-azad: May 28, 2009

Miserable.

These New England row houses often have back doors. Maybe Miss Benson is smoking.

>southeast

Alley posted:

This narrow aperture between two buildings is nearly blocked with piles of rotting cardboard boxes and overstuffed garbage cans. Ugly, half-crumbling brick walls to either side totter oppressively over you. The alley ends here at a tall, wooden fence.

High up on the wall of the northern building there is a narrow, transom-style window.

# ? Oct 25, 2017 07:35

Neurophage: Oct 11, 2012

Examine can
Examine window

# ? Oct 25, 2017 08:45

al-azad: May 28, 2009

>examine can

quote:

The metal garbage cans are stuffed to overflowing with slowly decomposing refuse.

>examine window

quote:

It's about eighteen inches wide and a foot tall, with hinges along the top that allow it to swing out. It's currently closed.

No backdoor, no service entry, not even a drat fire escape. You entertain thoughts of swinging the window open and yelling inside but--

>open window

quote:

The window is too high.

# ? Oct 25, 2017 14:41

Added Space: Jul 13, 2012; Free Markets
Free People

Curse you Hayard-Gunnes!

I'm feeling deja vu, wasn't there another thread of this game with a similar gimmick?

Well, maybe we can make a way up?

》stack boxes
》climb wall

# ? Oct 25, 2017 17:27

Neurophage: Oct 11, 2012

Search can

# ? Oct 25, 2017 21:46

Deceitful Penguin: Feb 16, 2011

> consider eldritch geometries

no wait

> file for divorce and leave ex

# ? Oct 25, 2017 23:02

al-azad: May 28, 2009

Deceitful Penguin posted:

> consider eldritch geometries

You consider eldritch geometries. What would that be, exactly? Not measurable 2D planes. Surely not a 3D object we can weigh. What about negative space? Most intelligent creatures can perceive depth, but we are trained at birth not see what lies inbetween. You imagine yourself as a black silhouette cutting through the light, but what if you could see the opposite? If everything you couldn't see was tangible and your mass, your form, your very being like the air you breath. You, a conduit for what lurks in the veil between time and space. Crawling. Creeping. AGONIZING as it claws through the vast space between our stars!!!

The moment passes. You really need those keys.

>Search can

quote:

You are not about to go digging through garbage.

In the distance, you can hear the lonesome keening of a train whistle drifting on the wind.

》stack boxes
》climb wall

In Texas, breaking in entering would get you shot. Wasting your client's time would result in the same. Thankfully you're not in Texas. For Miss Benson's sake.

quote:

Grunting and holding your breath, you manhandle one of the filthy cans under the window. You clamber onto the wobbling garbage can, precariously balanced. You can just reach the lower edge of the window from here.

You open the transom window.

(closing the umbrella first)
It's a tight squeeze, but you just manage to wriggle through, dropping quietly to the floor inside.

Glazius posted:

We've already got the keys. I'm sure local law enforcement will understand us spending the night in a place we only technically don't own.

We have established that you're not afraid to... interpret the law liberally. We can look around and feign ignorance if caught.

quote:

File Room
Peering through the murk, you can make out the blocky outlines of filing cabinets lining the walls and a doorway to the west. A window high up on the south wall lets in a very faint illumination.

You're more worried about making your presence known than snooping through personal files.

>w

quote:

Office
Pallid gray light trickles in through the drawn blinds. The office is deserted, papers still scattered across the top of the desk. The front door lies west, and the file room lies east.

Sitting on the corner of the paper-strewn desk are a telephone and an answering machine.

Someone seems to have left a cup of coffee sitting out, half-finished and cold.

Well, drat. Nobody home. You really, really need those keys. Really.

# ? Oct 26, 2017 05:39

dscruffy1: Nov 22, 2007; Look out!; Nap Ghost

Clearly we need to play the answering machine and drink the coffee. Waste not want not.

# ? Oct 26, 2017 12:31

al-azad: May 28, 2009

>examine coffee

quote:

Muddy-looking and unappetizing. Who knows how long it's been sitting out?

>drink coffee

quote:

(first taking the styrofoam cup)
You take one sip and nearly gag. Awful stuff!

Funny thing about coffee: delicious hot, arguably better cold, loving unpalatable at room temperature.

>examine answering machine

quote:

A simple answering machine, with a small display indicating messages received, a button labeled "PLAY", and a button labeled "DELETE".

You can hear a fly buzzing around, hovering over the back of your neck.

Reflexively you swat at the unseen fly

quote:

You can't see where the fly is. You're not even sure where the buzzing is coming from.

Wait, flies? In chilly November in New England??

You can't think about that now.

>press play

quote:

For a while there is nothing but a quiet hiss, followed by intermittent skirls of strange-sounding static. It sounds like one of those annoying glitches where the caller hangs up but the machine keeps recording anyway. Then, barely audible through the static, you detect what sounds like a human voice whispering a single word:

"Verlac."

The machine beeps.

A brief shudder ripples up your back. You remember now, "Verlac" is the name of this branch of Michael's family.

# ? Oct 26, 2017 15:01

Neurophage: Oct 11, 2012

Examine desk
Search papers

# ? Oct 26, 2017 15:46

Deceitful Penguin: Feb 16, 2011

> Find basement
> Find body

drat that is a great pic btw, this some rock solid art up in here

# ? Oct 26, 2017 16:29

al-azad: May 28, 2009

>find basement
>find body

quote:

You'll have to specify where you want to look.

Wait, no, why are you letting these thoughts creep into your mind?

>examine desk

quote:

The top of the desk is littered with paperwork -- notes, messages, files, etc.; the way most desks tend to get at the end of a busy day. A telephone sits on one corner, next to a digital answering machine. There is a small drawer to one side.

>open drawer

quote:

It seems to be locked.

>search papers

quote:

Sifting through the paperwork, you find nothing that catches your attention.

But you're on the right track. Maybe back in the file room?

>look up verlac

quote:

(in the filing cabinets)
Strange; the file on the Verlac property has been cleaned out. Title, deed, all the papers, all of it gone. There is, however, a set of keys tucked down in the hanging folder. You quickly pocket them.

Your score has just gone up by two points.

Well, you got what you came for. Checking your watch you see it's been... thirty minutes. Peering out the window you don't see Michael with the car. He'd say he'd only be a few minutes at the library. Where could he be?

# ? Oct 26, 2017 16:38

Deceitful Penguin: Feb 16, 2011

> Examine room for foul play
> Call the library

# ? Oct 26, 2017 16:47

al-azad: May 28, 2009

>examine room for foul play

quote:

You needn't worry about that.

Yes, you think to yourself wiping the lip smudge from the cup of coffee with your black gloved finger. No need to worry about that.

>call michael

quote:

(on the telephone)
You start to dial out, but you can't get anything but a busy signal no matter how much you jiggle the receiver. Frustrated, you hang up.

It's not like Michael to be late. The university library is a five minute walk from here.

# ? Oct 26, 2017 16:54

Neurophage: Oct 11, 2012

Take the coffee. Michael might be tired.

# ? Oct 26, 2017 19:30

Glazius: Jul 22, 2007; Hail all those who are able,
any mouse can,
any mouse will,
but the Guard prevail.; Clapping Larry

Well now. I think we may just have won The Lottery.

We probably should not go out the front door in case they locked it behind them. Let's head back out the back way and try to find where Michael was.

# ? Oct 27, 2017 02:00

Deceitful Penguin: Feb 16, 2011

> Search for weapon
> Look for books

# ? Oct 27, 2017 03:10

al-azad: May 28, 2009

You guys asked to consider eldritch geometry? This is loving eldritch geometry.

>take coffee

quote:

You pick up the styrofoam cup. In the styrofoam cup is some cold, murky coffee.

You'll share this with Michael. For making you wait so long.

>go through window

quote:

It's a tight squeeze, but you just manage to wriggle through, dropping gracelessly into the alley outside.
The rain is still coming down, so you open your umbrella.

You clamber onto the wobbling garbage can, precariously balanced. You can just reach the lower edge of the window from here.

The clouds overhead mutter restlessly to themselves.

You close the transom window.

You push the garbage cans around aimlessly.

You mentally pat yourself on the back for pulling off the perfect crime. No detective can solve the case of the missing gas station coffee, the greatest locked room mystery there ever was!

It's a five minute walk straight west to the Miskaton University. The sun has kissed the horizon casting long shadows on the narrow street. Time to get moving.

>nw (Outside the Real Estate Office)
>w

quote:

Narrow Street
As the lane winds along from east to west, it narrows until the steep, jagged rooftops on either side of the street practically touch each other. To the south, a side street leads across Whateley Bridge toward the center of town, and a twisting lane leads up a hill to the northwest. A short flight of steps to the north leads down to the local watering hole.

You briefly consider a drink but reconsider when a patron visibly spits on the floor. You recall the bar scene from Desperado. The bathroom. Cheech Marin's leathery mug. The $300 bet. Mmmmyeah, maybe later.

>w

quote:

Junction
To the north, a gap in the crowded press of gloomy buildings opens onto a country lane, heading out over a grassy heath. The main street continues to the east, while to the northwest, over the top of a steep rise, you can just make out the vaulted rooftops of the university.

>nw

quote:

University Court
Isolated and serene within its high, ivy-covered walls, Miskaton University represents this benighted town's single, if somewhat dubious, claim to cultural achievement. Founded some time in the early 1800s, the school's reputation and enrollment have diminished somewhat as Anchorhead drifts further and further into the abyss of provincial backwaterism. Still, it is generally recognized for its collection of folklore and esoteric mythology (one of the oldest and most extensive on the east coast). The Board of Deans was also kind enough to offer Michael a full professorship upon hearing of his recently discovered heritage and his plans to move into the estate. Ivory tower, perhaps, but at least they take care of their own.

There are numerous buildings surrounding this cobbled court, but the only one you are interested in is the library to the west, where Michael told you he'd be until he came back to the real estate agent's office to pick you up. Which, incidentally, he has not yet done.

quote:

Library
Shadows roost thickly in the vaulted ceiling, and small, green-shaded desk lamps cast pools of warm radiance here and there around the library's dim interior. You pause a moment to let the hushed peacefulness of this place soak in -- a welcome relief from the unsettling events of the day. An exit lies east, and a small alcove to the north houses the circulation counter.

Peering through the shadows, you spot your husband sitting at one of the reading desks, absorbed in some sort of weighty tome and clearly oblivious to the time.

# ? Oct 27, 2017 06:42

EagerSleeper: Feb 3, 2010; by R. Guyovich

This is good art! I look forward to seeing how this LP goes.

>poke husband

# ? Oct 27, 2017 08:15

al-azad: May 28, 2009

No poking in this game. What about a playful punch? You know, for making you wait.

>punch Michael

quote:

You would never do anything to hurt your husband.

Yet.

>touch Michael

quote:

Michael looks up, startled, then realizes it's you and smiles. "Hi, hon," he says, closing the book and stretching. Then he glances at his watch. "Good grief, what happened to the time? I'm so sorry -- I just lost track." He smiles sheepishly.

"Well?" he asks. "Did you get the keys?"

Oh right, we have some coffee for Michael.

>give coffee to Michael

quote:

"Yuck," Michael says, not taking it. "What are you carrying around a cup of cold, murky coffee for?"

Michael turns to a new page in the book and begins reading intently.

The greatest crimes go unappreciated. Now what the heck is he reading?

>read book

quote:

Michael jerks the book away from you. "Excuse me," he says, a bit more sharply than you had expected, "I'll be done with it in a minute."

...

~~>punch Michael~~

>ask Michael about book

quote:

Michael casually places his hand on the book, obscuring its title. "Oh, just doing a bit of research. Musty old stuff."

>take book

quote:

It's obvious Michael is trying to hide something from you, and while you very much want to know what in the world it is, it would be best not to make a scene about it here.

Fine!

>give keys to Michael

quote:

"Great!" says Michael. "You hang on to that. Just a second, I'll put this back." He takes the book up to the circulation desk and hands it to the librarian. "Okay then," he says, returning, "let's go."

Michael suddenly smacks his forehead. "Oh, crap, I forgot to tell you. The car broke down." He spreads his hands. "I don't know what happened to it; one second I'm parking outside, the next second it dies and I can't get it started again. I called a tow truck, but the nearest garage is up in Arkham. They picked it up but won't be able to look at it until next week at the earliest. Anyway, it looks like we'll have to walk back to the house." He offers you a lame smile. "You can hold the umbrella."

Your score has just gone up by two points.

Great, the car broke down. Barely two years old. Maybe there is something to these Firestone/Ford defects.

al-azad fucked around with this message at 14:30 on Oct 27, 2017

# ? Oct 27, 2017 14:27

Deceitful Penguin: Feb 16, 2011

> Throw Coffee at Book

> File for divorce

failing that

> walk "home"

# ? Oct 27, 2017 18:26

Glazius: Jul 22, 2007; Hail all those who are able,
any mouse can,
any mouse will,
but the Guard prevail.; Clapping Larry

Hoo boy, he's started getting into the things man was not meant to know. I hope we can remember that book by its cover for later!

Anyway, let's go home.

# ? Oct 28, 2017 01:36

al-azad: May 28, 2009

Going to fast forward to Day 2. The rest of Day 1 is linear and uneventful.

But hey, let's get a tour of the town. To the north is the paper mill and lighthouse.

Heading south down Narrow Street

quote:

Whateley Bridge
A hoary monument of crumbling, moss-eaten flagstones, Whateley Bridge is possibly older than any other structure in the entire city. Ponderously it spans the dark, torpid waters of the Miskaton River, connecting the north and south halves of the city and occasionally raining bits of gravel and mortar from its underside into the water. It looks just wide enough for two cars to pass each other between the flanking stone parapets, but you wouldn't volunteer to try it.

Michael strolls along after you.

>kiss Michael

quote:

Michael smiles and kisses you back.

Heading south from here

quote:

Town Square
A wide expanse of uneven pavestones lies open to the sky, bordered on all sides by the leaning, steep-roofed architecture that looms over everything in this city. The municipal courthouse stands at the south end of the square, next to the mouth of a dark, narrow alley to the southwest. Avenues to the west and east lead back into the cramped and ingrown streets, while to the north lies Whateley Bridge.

In the center of the square, rising from a circular lawn of unhealthy-looking grass and weeds, stands a strange, stone obelisk. It seems to be a monument of some sort, although you can see no plaque or marker anywhere near it.

Michael hurries to catch up.

What's an Egyptian style obelisk doing in the middle of a New England town?

quote:

The obelisk measures about two feet square at its base, narrowing slightly as it rises a good fifteen feet to a bluntly pointed tip. An iron ring is embedded in the stone high up on one side, about two feet from the top. Dense, twisting hieroglyphs cover all four sides of the obelisk, although they are too worn to be read clearly.

>x hieroglyphs

quote:

They are not Egyptian, which is what you first assumed from the general shape and design of the obelisk. In fact, though you're no archaeologist, these carvings don't look like any sort of ancient writing you've ever seen. The characters, which must have been carved very deeply in order to survive this much erosion, twist and squirm in disturbing ways, flowing into and through each other and almost seeming to shift slightly as you try to follow their lines. The effect is deeply unsettling, and you have to suppress an urge to take a step or two back away from the monument.

Weird. Anyway the path to the house winds to the east, south, then south west.

quote:

Riverwalk
A low, irregular brick wall to the north divides this street from the steep, mud-slick banks of the sinuous Miskaton, while a rusty iron gate provides access to a precarious flight of stone steps leading down the bank to the water's edge. The street bends south here, turning into a misty avenue between the trees. The town square lies west, a vacant lot lies east.

Michael strolls along after you.

quote:

Chilly Avenue
Perhaps it is merely the effect of some unwholesome vapour rising from the murky waters of the nearby Miskaton, but the temperature along this street seems perceptibly cooler than normal, even for a New England autumn. Two dirt roads lead south and southwest, into the dense woods at the edge of town.

A clammy mist hangs thickly in the air, seeping through your clothes and making you shiver.

Michael strolls along after you.

quote:

As you walk through, the mists part before your husband almost deferentially, quickly dissolving away into nothing.

The ground begins to rise sharply as the road climbs up into the hills south of town.

Scenic View
The treeline falls away on the north side of this northwest-northeast bend in the road, giving way to a panoramic view of the Miskaton River Valley and the grubby little town of Anchorhead nestled within it. From here you can see the paper mill almost directly to the north; the solitary lighthouse and surrounding ocean to the northeast; and the dilapidated stone church below you to the east. Winding through it all is the oily black ribbon of the Miskaton, and almost directly in the center lies the little clearing of Town Square. You can just make out the shape of the obelisk from here.

Michael follows you.

quote:

Outside the House
The lane runs up from the southeast and ends at a wide clearing surrounded by gnarled and ancient trees. A wide, curving driveway runs up to the front door of your house, which lies north.

The fabled Verlac family mansion looms before you in the gloom, its dark creaking presence dominating the clearing and, somehow, even though it is not visible through the trees, the entire valley. The foreboding shadow of the Verlacs seems to enshroud all of Anchorhead from here.

A typewritten notice has been attached to the front door.

Michael follows you.

"Well," says Michael, "this must be the place. We finally made it, honey. We're home!"

>examine note

quote:

It's a letter from the Arkham Regional Utilities Company, explaining that, due to wiring difficulties, the electricity will not be installed until next week. No phone service, either.

"Well, that's wonderful news," remarks Michael dryly, reading over your shoulder.

Oh, Michael doesn't mind reading over your shoulder.

quote:

You unlock the front door.

(opening the front door first)
You close your umbrella, as is your habit after coming indoors.

quote:

Foyer
Although it appears spacious from the outside, the house's interior feels cramped and gloomy. The walls seem too close together; the ceiling is too high. The doorways, leading in several directions, are narrow and filled with shadows, and the stairs leading up to the second floor are steep and rickety. This is not a house that makes you feel welcome. It is a house that makes you feel tiny and timid, and afraid of dark places. It is a house that makes you feel alone.

The front door stands open to the south.

Carelessly stacked in a towering heap in the middle of the room are all your luggage and belongings, which you had sent ahead through a moving company before driving up to Massachusetts. Everything you own is boxed away and piled up in the middle of the floor. The reality of this move finally slams home as you stare at the sprawling jumble of stuff, and suddenly you feel very lost and adrift.

Night has now undeniably fallen, and the house is very, very dark. There is probably just enough residual ambience to feel your way upstairs to the bedroom, but the rest of the house is a tenebrous maze of shadows, and any exploring would probably best be done in the morning.

Michael strolls along after you.

Michael stretches his arms and yawns. "Well," he says, "I think I'm going to turn in. There'll be plenty of time to unpack and explore tomorrow. Good night, hon." He kisses you on the cheek. "Don't stay up too late."

And with that, he goes upstairs.

Unfortunately with no electricity it's too dark to explore. Hopefully the water at least works. You could use a bath.

Heading upstairs and into the Master Bedroom

quote:

Upstairs Landing
A narrow hallway runs east, from the top of the stairs down the length of the house. To the north, directly opposite the stairs, is the master bedroom.

Master Bedroom
The master bedroom is a picture-postcard of rustic New England charm. Faded sketches of rural landscapes adorn the walls; a beautifully carved dressing mirror stands in one corner; an old-fashioned accordion radiator gurgles quietly beneath the window. The most striking feature, an enormous, antique, four-poster bed, must be the largest piece of furniture in the house.

Michael is curled up in bed, sound asleep.

If it weren't for this hopelessly backwater town and the disturbing circumstances surrounding the house, you'd say this was your dream home. Even so, as much as you would like to relax and enjoy the comforts of a fully furnished historical New England estate, you can't help but be put off by the shady aura surrounding the family that used to live here. The last of the line, you remind yourself, recently committed suicide after killing his wife and two daughters with a shotgun. Involuntarily you shiver, glancing nervously at the doorways to the south and west.

Michael tends to sleep lightly at the best of times; tonight he tosses fitfully, as if plagued by dreams.

Time to inspect the bath.

quote:

Bathroom
A small chamber of cold, white tile and floral-print wallpaper. It sports a genuine, whitewashed, claw-foot bathtub with a shower attachment, which is a definite plus. The bedroom lies east.

You take off the trenchcoat.
You take off the clothes.

keyring: Dropped.
trenchcoat: Dropped.
clothes: Dropped.
umbrella: Dropped.

Grateful for the opportunity to relax, you draw a hot bath (the water, at least, is running, even if nothing else in the house is) and soak. The tension of this strange day melts gently from your body. After thirty minutes or so, you begin to feel normal again. After forty-five, you begin to think you might be able to adjust to this place after all. By then the water has begun to cool off, however, so you drain it and quietly dry yourself off. All in all, you feel enormously better.

Your score has just gone up by one point.

>x self

quote:

You look good, and being naked doesn't hurt, either. A bit rattled by recent events, perhaps, but well-poised and collected, all the same.

I'm glad we managed to settle in with our sanity intact, trying as today was. Time for bed.

>kiss michael

quote:

Gently, you kiss your husband's forehead. His skin feels dry and feverish.

>lie in bed

quote:

Gratefully, you crawl into bed and pull the covers up to your chin.

>think

quote:

You pause momentarily, lost in thought.

>pray

quote:

Your prayers are not answered.

>sleep

quote:

Almost immediately you fall asleep, and as the wind slithers around the eaves and the house creaks furtive secrets to itself, you drift into troubling dreams�

You are waiting in your bed, with the coverlet up under your chin, waiting for Father to come tuck you in. Footsteps in the hall pause outside your door. You close your eyes; when you open them again Father is standing at the foot of the bed. His eyes are bloodshot, rimmed with red, and you wonder if he has been crying. Slowly, he starts to take off his belt.

Only it's not your father after all, it's Michael. He hands you a golden sphere and says:

"I don't know what it opens yet but I have an idea."

Your reflection is like a little doll trapped inside the sphere. Everything is tinged with gold. Your face swells and stretches comically as you stare back at yourself through the curved, distorting walls. Reaching out, your fingers curve back on themselves... the wall breaks and...

You are running from the eyes, the terrible red-rimmed eyes, through endless, narrow corridors of wooden slats and crumbling plaster. You stumble through turn after turn, hopelessly lost. There is a small hole in the boards -- peering through it you see Michael in the study, typing diligently away. You scream, you pound on the wall, but he can't hear you. The red-rimmed eyes draw closer; hurrying down a twisting passage you find a dead end... the wall breaks and...

Outside, you stand at another dead end, a high brick wall at the end of a steep, twisting lane. Written in black spraypaint...

He always returns to his blood.

Behind you, you hear the buzzing of a fly. You turn�

THE SECOND DAY

H.P. Lovecraft posted:

It is hard to prevent the impression of a faint, malign odour about the village street, as of the massed mould and decay of centuries. It is always a relief to get clear of the place.

quote:

You wake up. Steam billows gently by, and you can hear the sound of running water coming from the bathroom.

You can hear Michael splashing around, noisily enjoying his shower.

On the four-poster bed you can see Michael's pants (in which is Michael's wallet
(which is closed)).

Okay, let's do this.

>get wallet

quote:

With a nervous glance toward the bathroom, you slip the wallet from Michael's pants.

You can hear Michael splashing around, noisily enjoying his shower.

You open the wallet, revealing Michael's faculty card.

The shower suddenly stops. Quickly you palm the card, replace the wallet and arrange the pants the way you found them. A moment later Michael emerges from the bathroom, toweling his hair. "My, don't you look tempting this morning," he says, giving you a kiss. He tosses the towel back into the bathroom and gets dressed. "I think I'm going to stay home and get some writing done. I don't actually start work until tomorrow, so..." He kisses you on the cheek as he walks out into the hall. "If you go out today, see if you can find a newspaper. I want to learn as much as I can about this town."

He looks at you for a moment, and his voice becomes serious. "I love you, hon. You know that, don't you? I really want us to try and be happy here."

Then he turns and pads down the hall.

You take a deep breath as he goes. You've never lied to Michael or hidden anything from him before, ever; now, hardly two days into your new life, you're already sneaking through his wallet.

Oh yeah. You're off to a great start.

First thing on your mind: explore this estate. From what little you heard from the real estate agent this is a stately colonial manor. You have kitchen and living facilities on the first floor, a library on the second, an attic, a large cellar, and a family crypt which doesn't sound too appealing right now. You have the keys for the doors and cellar.

Where to first?

# ? Oct 28, 2017 20:00

Glazius: Jul 22, 2007; Hail all those who are able,
any mouse can,
any mouse will,
but the Guard prevail.; Clapping Larry

I suppose waiting for the power to come on is far too much time.

Hmm.

Well, we should probably use the daylight while we can and explore the manor. Maybe we can find an old lantern or something?

# ? Oct 29, 2017 02:57

al-azad: May 28, 2009

Maybe you packed a light or something in your luggage. The movers dumped it all in the foyer. Leaving bed and getting dressed, you head downstairs.

quote:

Foyer
Although it appears spacious from the outside, the house's interior feels cramped and gloomy. The walls seem too close together; the ceiling is too high. The doorways, leading in several directions, are narrow and filled with shadows, and the stairs leading up to the second floor are steep and rickety. This is not a house that makes you feel welcome. It is a house that makes you feel tiny and timid, and afraid of dark places. It is a house that makes you feel alone.

Your luggage is still here, spread out all over the foyer.

>x luggage

quote:

It's all a huge, hopeless mess. Just looking at it instantly drains you of any desire to unpack.

A cold, noiseless draft coils through the narrow entrance hall. You shiver, wondering where it came from.

Ugh, forget it. Maybe there's something in one of the storage areas of the house. Let's try the dining room.

quote:

Dining Room
Much of the elegance has faded from this room. The huge dining table running the length of it is covered with a thick gray film of dust, and the china cupboard standing against the far wall is draped in shadow. Doorways to the north and east offer little relief from the gloom. For what must be the hundredth time, you wish you could open the windows in this place.

>x cabinet

quote:

It's a free-standing cabinet about as tall as you are, crafted of cherrywood. The double paneled doors are closed.

The cupboard is empty; the china must have been auctioned off, in the confusion before Michael was contacted, perhaps. Down at the bottom of the cupboard is a velvet lining, where the silverware would usually be kept.

Nothing in here. Although that velvet is curious. Kitchen maybe?

quote:

Kitchen
Where once pots and skillets and various utensils hung in profusion, the kitchen walls are now merely ranks of dusty cabinets and a forest of empty hooks. Doorways lead east and south, a small pantry lies to the northwest, and the back door to the north leads out of the house.

Someone's flashlight is lying on the kitchen counter; one of the movers must have left it.

An odd feeling of gloom overtakes you momentarily, and you find yourself thinking about the Verlac family's personal effects -- the everyday mundanities, such as kitchen utensils. Were they thrown out, or donated to charity, or auctioned off as grisly souvenirs? What about the canned goods? Did anyone think to take them? The cabinets might even still be stocked. Morbidly, you wonder what Mrs. Edward Verlac might have been cooking for dinner the night her husband blew her head off.

>take flashlight

quote:

(slipping the faculty card into the pocket of your trenchcoat to get a hand free)
You pick up the flashlight. It's battery-powered, and waterproof too, by the look of it.

The flashlight is currently switched off.

Bingo. We feel a little safer with some light in hand.

>open cabinet

quote:

The cabinets are not, after all, still stocked -- much to your relief. There's nothing in there but an old book of matches.

>take matches

quote:

(slipping the umbrella into the pocket of your trenchcoat to get a hand free)
You pick up the book of matches. A label on the side reads, "Water-resistant matches. Strike on cover." There are six matches left.

Where to next. You have a key to the cellar. There's a gallery to the east. An attic and library where Michael has sequestered himself.

# ? Nov 1, 2017 11:27

Glazius: Jul 22, 2007; Hail all those who are able,
any mouse can,
any mouse will,
but the Guard prevail.; Clapping Larry

Six matches. That portends.

Oh well, time to get eaten by the darkness in the basement or whatever.

# ? Nov 2, 2017 14:46

EagerSleeper: Feb 3, 2010; by R. Guyovich

Check gallery. Maybe we can find a painting with a hint to what cosmic evil we're dealing with here.

# ? Nov 3, 2017 15:25

al-azad: May 28, 2009

The gods have returned from holiday. Back to torturing our poor protagonist.

>east

quote:

Back Hall
A short hallway, connecting rooms to the east, west and south.

>east

quote:

Gallery
A long, oak-paneled room, with doorways to the south and west. Paintings line the walls, mounted beneath small, shaded lamps that would illuminate the canvasses nicely if only the electricity were working. Still, even in the shadowed gloom you can see that all were done by the same artist.

>examine paintings

quote:

All of them are bizarre, and most of them border on the grotesque. Alien landscapes peopled by writhing, malformed creatures; ancient temples built in strange, eye-bending architectures; monstrous beasts crawling through shadows that cannot quite conceal their disturbingly human shapes -- these seem to make up the bulk of the paintings' subject matter. And yet, despite the fantastical nature of the images painted, the style is neither abstract nor surreal. In fact, the level of detail approaches the photorealistic. Excruciating attention has been paid to light, shadows, and textures; even the alien creatures are depicted with gruesome anatomical accuracy. It is as though the artist had worked from actual, living models rather than from what must have been a thoroughly deranged imagination, and the overall effect is rather chilling.

One scene in particular catches your eye.

>examine scene

quote:

A strange scene, showing only a clergyman staring down into the pages of a large, black-bound book. The point of view is that of someone standing beneath the pulpit, looking up -- so that the text of the book is hidden from the viewer, while the preacher's face is clearly visible.

He seems to be caught in a paroxysm of terror: his face livid; his lips stretched back in a gruesome rictus; his eyes bulging wide and shot red with blood. The cords in his neck are rigid and taut, as though he were straining to tear his gaze from the page, and yet he still grips the edges of the pulpit with whitened knuckles.

You shake yourself suddenly, and realize you've been staring intently at the painting for minutes on end. You step back and rub your tired eyes. When you look again, however, the picture you were just examining is no longer in front of you. None of the other paintings have moved as far as you can tell, but that particular scene seems to have disappeared without leaving so much as a blank space on the wall.

>examine scene

quote:

You search the paintings thoroughly, but cannot find the scene you saw earlier.

# ? Nov 11, 2017 20:23

Glazius: Jul 22, 2007; Hail all those who are able,
any mouse can,
any mouse will,
but the Guard prevail.; Clapping Larry

Ah, the gallery was designed by one of those fans of the MAD Magazine fold-in. The secret of the creepy gallery is that the person who would judge us isn't actually there? That's comforting.

Now let's walk south and NEVER COME BACK HERE.

# ? Nov 12, 2017 03:29

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# ? May 4, 2024 21:06

StrixNebulosa: Feb 14, 2012; You cheated not only the game, but yourself.
But most of all, you cheated BABA

That art is incredible!

# ? Nov 12, 2017 13:54

The Something Awful Forums > Discussion > Video Games > Let's Play! > Anchorhead -- With that dark pitch the Sea of Death