All text will now be saved to the script file. Type UNSCRIPT at any time to discontinue scripting. >restore Restored. Blasted Plain You stand on uneven footing, the dry terrain buckled underneath you. A few twisted shrubs and bushes, leafless and gaunt, cling to the cracked ground, ekeing out enough sustenance to maintain a shadowy half-life. Light filtering through the roiling clouds above gives the entire scene an unhealthy grey tinge. Your father stands on the plain two meters in front of you. >x father He looks as he did shortly before he died: prematurely-white hair, seamed face, narrowed eyes. Your father looks at his left hand thoughtfully. "Not that I haven't enjoyed this, but it's time." You feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up. In your head a voice says, "Let go, Terry." >drop all I don't see what you're referring to. >i You are empty-handed. Your father clenches his left hand again. A rush of air is all the warning you get before something slams into your head with all the care of an errant baseball bat. Blood spurts from your nose in an arc as you fall. You lie on the ground next to Founder and hazily watch the ground absorb your blood. A booted foot appears in front of you. You try to look up at your father but pass out from the effort. You remember nothing else after that. --=== Your journey is over ===-- You have achieved a score of 72 points out of a possible 100. You may restore a saved game, start over, quit, or undo the current command. Please enter (R)ESTORE, RE(S)TART, (Q)UIT, or (U)NDO: >undo (Undoing one command) Blasted Plain You stand on uneven footing, the dry terrain buckled underneath you. A few twisted shrubs and bushes, leafless and gaunt, cling to the cracked ground, ekeing out enough sustenance to maintain a shadowy half-life. Light filtering through the roiling clouds above gives the entire scene an unhealthy grey tinge. Your father stands on the plain two meters in front of you. >let go What do you want to relax? >thought I don't know the word "thought". >let go of hold I don't understand that sentence. >relax hold I don't understand that sentence. >let go and let God. I don't know the word "god". >let go of smoking I don't know the word "smoking". >let go of grip I don't know the word "grip". >let go of hand I don't understand that sentence. >let go right hand You relax your hands as best you can. A sense of momentary peace spreads throughout your body. Your father clenches his left hand again. There is a rush of air and something slams into you. It passes through you; the pain is excrutiating but bearable. Then it is past and gone. Your father slumps, something vital drained from him. The world around you goes grey before reforming. Hospital Room You are in the room where your father died, though you never saw it until he was already gone. It is crowded with familiar medical equipment which clusters around a bed. Your father lies under the bedcovers. >x father He breathes in shallow gasps. His face is pale as a candle flame. The cancer has crept from his lungs to the rest of his body. >touch father How rude! Your father coughs violently several times. "Dammit, Terry, I never planned any of this." He is interrupted by another spasm of coughing. >talk to father I don't know the word "talk". >ask father about father He makes no response. "Oh, Terry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." Your father shifts in his bed, the sheets rustling under him. "My heart was in the right space, but after your mother died..." >x equipment The array of equipment only succeeded in prolonging your father's agony. Your father laughs; it changes to a cough. "It wasn't even me. Ah, dammit," as his arms jerk spasmodically upwards, then fall back down. You see faint strings tied through them; blood oozes from the holes through which they are threaded. "This wasn't me!" your dad cries in a reedy voice. >x strings When your father shifts in his bed, you see that one is attached through each wrist; two others presumably run to his ankles. You follow the path of the strings with your eyes. They run up into the darkness above, far above. The harder you stare, the farther you see, until you catch a glimpse of the person at the other end of the strings. The face is your own. Darkness enfolds you. [Press a key to continue] Epilog: Release "When I see the future I close my eyes" -- Peter Gabriel Hospital Room From the bed you can just see a door and a window through which light streams. Abstract patterns on the ceiling catch your eye every time you glance at them. Beside you rises an IV stand; your hand is at the other end of the IV. >x iv Which iv do you mean, the IV needle, or the IV stand and bag? >stand A bag hangs from the stand. A burst of muzak leaking through the door makes you glance up in time to see Dr. Boozer slip into your room. He grins at you. "No need to get up," he says, then laughs. "Oh, it's good to see you awake. The nurse told me you'd been near to waking up for some time." >ask boozer about me You can't reach that from the bed. >get up The covers hold you down. Dr. Boozer rocks back and forth, heel to toe, heel to toe. "I won't stay; I'm sure you're tuckered out. We'll talk more in a while." He heads for the door. "You just work on getting well," he adds over his shoulder. >move covers You are too weak. Your eyes grow heavier and heavier the longer you keep them open. Eventually you let them drift shut. You fall into a healing sleep, smiling gently. --=== Your journey is over ===-- You have achieved a score of 92 points out of a possible 100. You may restore a saved game, start over, quit, or undo the current command. Please enter (R)ESTORE, RE(S)TART, (Q)UIT, or (U)NDO: >undo (Undoing one command) Hospital Room, on the bed From the bed you can just see a door and a window through which light streams. Abstract patterns on the ceiling catch your eye every time you glance at them. Beside you rises an IV stand; your hand is at the other end of the IV. >undo (Undoing one command) Hospital Room, on the bed From the bed you can just see a door and a window through which light streams. Abstract patterns on the ceiling catch your eye every time you glance at them. Beside you rises an IV stand; your hand is at the other end of the IV. Dr. Boozer stands at the foot of your bed. >g (Undoing one command) Hospital Room, on the bed From the bed you can just see a door and a window through which light streams. Abstract patterns on the ceiling catch your eye every time you glance at them. Beside you rises an IV stand; your hand is at the other end of the IV. Dr. Boozer stands at the foot of your bed. >g (Undoing one command) Hospital Room, on the bed From the bed you can just see a door and a window through which light streams. Abstract patterns on the ceiling catch your eye every time you glance at them. Beside you rises an IV stand; your hand is at the other end of the IV. >g (Undoing one command) Hospital Room You are in the room where your father died. It is crowded with familiar medical equipment which clusters around a bed. Your father lies under the bedcovers. >g (Undoing one command) Hospital Room You are in the room where your father died. It is crowded with familiar medical equipment which clusters around a bed. Your father lies under the bedcovers. >g (Undoing one command) Hospital Room You are in the room where your father died. It is crowded with familiar medical equipment which clusters around a bed. Your father lies under the bedcovers. >x father He breathes in shallow gasps. His face is pale as a candle flame. The cancer has crept from his lungs to the rest of his body. "Oh, Terry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." Your father shifts in his bed, the sheets rustling under him. "My heart was in the right space, but after your mother died..." >ask dad about mom There is no reply. >z Time passes... Your father laughs; it changes to a cough. "It wasn't even me. Ah, dammit," as his arms jerk spasmodically upwards, then fall back down. You see faint strings tied through them; blood oozes from the holes through which they are threaded. "This wasn't me!" your dad cries in a reedy voice. >z Time passes... The light dims as your dad's breathing slows. "...sorry..." is the last you hear. Darkness enfolds you. [Press a key to continue] Epilog: Release "When I see the future I close my eyes" -- Peter Gabriel Hospital Room From the bed you can just see a door and a window through which light streams. Abstract patterns on the ceiling catch your eye every time you glance at them. Beside you rises an IV stand; your hand is at the other end of the IV. >undo (Undoing one command) Hospital Room You are in the room where your father died. It is crowded with familiar medical equipment which clusters around a bed. Your father lies under the bedcovers. >x stringe I don't know the word "stringe". >x strings When your father shifts in his bed, you see that one is attached through each wrist; two others presumably run to his ankles. You follow the path of the strings with your eyes. They run up into the darkness above, far above. The harder you stare, the farther you see, until you catch a glimpse of the person at the other end of the strings. The face is your own. Darkness enfolds you. [Press a key to continue] Epilog: Release "When I see the future I close my eyes" -- Peter Gabriel Hospital Room From the bed you can just see a door and a window through which light streams. Abstract patterns on the ceiling catch your eye every time you glance at them. Beside you rises an IV stand; your hand is at the other end of the IV. >quit You have achieved a score of 92 points out of a possible 100. Do you really want to quit? (YES or NO) > y Thank you for playing Losing Your Grip.