To Be or Not To Be
Page 8
“Why doesn’t he sue this guy for assault after he dug up his skull with a shovel if he’s such a fancy lawyer?” you say.
“I’d have to say...it’s probably because he’s dead,” says Horatio.
“Maybe it was a landowner’s skull instead! Maybe he owned all this land and had all this complicated accounting for it. Hah! Is one of those accounting rules that his empty skull now gets filled up with dirt??” you say.
“Yes, I believe that’s generally what happens when you die,” says Horatio.
You stare at him wildly, then back to the skull, then back to Horatio. Then you stare at the skull for a bit.
“Listen,” Horatio says, “maybe you want to talk to the gravedigger for a while? I’m sure he’d find your viewpoint absolutely novel and riveting.”
☠ Talk to gravedigger ☠
* * *
* * *
The gravedigger and you chat back and forth. Here’s a snippet of the conversation you have.
“Whose grave is this?” you say.
“It’s mine,” he says.
“I thought it was yours, because you’re the one lying in it,” you say.
Really, Hamlet? He’s not lying in it, he’s standing in it, digging, and if you’re going for a “lying down / lying untruth” pun then I’m sorry but it’s not going to wor—
“And you’re lying out of it, so it’s not yours!!” says the gravedigger, super proud of this dumb wordplay. He goes on: “Actually, I’m not lying, it really is mine.”
“But you are lying,” you say before I can stop you, “because you’re in it and saying it’s yours, but you’re alive and graves aren’t for the living! Ah hah! Got you there!”
RIVETING. This back-and-forth goes back and forth, and eventually it comes out that he’s digging a grave for a young woman, and you — as you are an uncouth brute — ask how long he’s had this job before you even ask him his name, and he says he’s been working as a gravedigger since the day Hamlet was born.
Hey, that’s you! What a crazy coincidence!! You should probably say something?
» Tell the gravedigger you’re Hamlet «
☠ Play dumb ☠
* * *
* * *
Anyway, you decide to play dumb. “Hamlet? Who ees Hamlet?” you say, elbowing Horatio, who’s standing beside you. Horatio rolls his eyes.
“Why the accent?” Horatio sighs. “You didn’t have it a second ago.”
“Hamlet is the prince who went to England because he was crazy,” says the gravedigger. “He’ll get less crazy there, or he won’t, but either way it won’t matter because everyone’s crazy in England!”
“Racism,” says Horatio.
“How did zee Prince Hamlet go — how do you say — crazy?” you ask.
“Very strangely,” he replies. Oh God, you two are going to go at it again, aren’t you? Oh God. You are.
“How strangely?” you ask.
“By losing his mind,” he says.
“On what grounds?” you ask. HEY. STOP SETTING HIM UP.
“Why, right here in Denmark,” he says. HAH HAH HAH, listen I’m cutting you off.
The rest of your conversation is censored, but at some point he gestures to one of the skulls you were looking at earlier and volunteers that that’s the skull of Yorick, once the jester to the king, now dead and buried 23 years.
“He poured a flagon of Rhenish on my head once,” says the gravedigger. Check this out: you are really interested in hearing about either one of those things!
☠ Talk about Yorick ☠
» Talk about Rhenish «
* * *
* * *
“Ah, you refer to any of several white wines from the Rhine River valley in Germany!” you say.
“Yes,” says the gravedigger, “and though it was many years ago, I do recall the wine being sweet.”
“That makes sense, as Rhenish wines do tend to fall on the sweet side of things,” you say. “Did you know that grapes have been grown there since Roman times and their development was even promoted by Charlemagne?”
“I did not!” says the gravedigger, “But did YOU know that there are many different varieties of grapes grown in the region, which allows it to support a wide and varied viticultural output?”
“I was not aware of that,” you reply, continuing, “though I was aware that typically it’s the grapes that are grown closest to the Rhine that produce the best wines, as the richer soils there allow for a more complex, subtle flavouring.”
“Yes,” says the gravedigger. “I knew that, as I have tasted Rhenishes of infinite subtlety, of most excellent finish. I have chugged them down my throat a thousand times.”
Suddenly, you hear a noise! What a relief; I was really tired of hearing about wine!
» Investigate noises «
* * *
* * *
You, Horatio, and the gravedigger investigate the noises and discover that they were caused by Gertrude (your mom!), Claudius (your new dad that you swore you’d murder!), Laertes (Ophelia’s brother! You haven’t really hung out with him that much actually!), a priest (priests are ordained ministers of the church!), and a coffin (coffins are what people get buried in; dude, you should know this).
It seems like Gertrude was — screaming? Wailing? Weird.
You elbow your friend. “Hey,” you say. “Look how sucky that coffin is, look how small this ceremony is. It must have been someone who killed themselves. You know what’d be hilarious? If we stayed and watched.”
“Listen...Hamlet, there’s something you should know,” Horatio says.
“Shh!” you say. “Look, that’s Laertes!” you say to the gravedigger. You pause and stare at him intently. “Yeah, he’s pretty rad,” you say.
“Hamlet,” Horatio says, “don’t you wonder why Laertes is at a funeral? Maybe if he’s here it means it might be someone close to him who die—”
You cut him off. “I CAN’T EAVESDROP ON PEOPLE IN THEIR MOST PRIVATE MOMENTS OF GRIEF IF YOU KEEP TRYING TO HAVE A SERIOUS CONVERSATION ABOUT A LIFE-OR-DEATH MATTER WITH ME,” you hiss at him.
Turning your attention back to Laertes, you see him arguing with the priest, asking for more rites. More rites, he says! But the priest says he’s done all the rites he should do already and then some. Since this person committed suicide (called it!), they don’t get as many rites. “If we do any more rites, we’ll profane the blessed souls of the other people buried here,” he says.
You, Horatio, and the gravedigger all wince as you glance at the skulls he’s dug up. Um...whoops?
Laertes continues to argue with the priest. “Well fine, then go ahead and lay her here, jerk-a-rama priest!” Laertes says. “My sis will be an angel in heaven while you’re burning in hell!” They lower her body into the grave.
Wow, he’s really upset!
Wait...sister?
OPHELIA’S DEAD?!
☠ Ophelia’s dead?! ☠
* * *
* * *
“Ophelia’s dead?!” you say out loud, shocked. The gravedigger shrugs. He’s not friends with any of these people!
“I tried to tell you —” Horatio says. “I meant to tell you earlier but you seemed so happy to be back and I — I wasn’t — look, I’m sorry, Hamlet. She passed away shortly after you left on your trip.”
Gertrude and Laertes and Claudius are still unaware that you’re here. Gertrude throws flowers on her grave, saying that she’d always hoped Ophelia would marry you, and that instead, she’d be throwing flowers on her wedding bed.
Geez, Gertrude. Inappropriate. That is not something for a new mother-in-law to do for newlyweds.
Laertes curses three times whomever it was who robbed Ophelia of her sanity, and then curses them again ten times three times, for a total of thirty-three curses. Then he jumps into the grave so that he might hold her in his arms once more.
Geez, Laertes. That’s like — double inappropriate to the power of three, for a total of eight in
appropriates.
Okay, so they’re all really upset and acting crazy. The right thing to do here is to go home, approach them later, and say you saw them at the funeral but didn’t want to interrupt. Also, it’ll give you a chance to deal with your grief too, which you should be feeling. You are feeling it, aren’t you, Hamlet? She was your sweetie, and you’ve come back from a trip to find her dead of apparent suicide!
What do you do?
» Go home and talk to everyone later «
☠ Step from the shadows and introduce yourself dramatically ☠
» Be Ophelia «
* * *
* * *
You say, “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea” to Horatio and the gravedigger, say your goodbyes, and go home, avoiding a big scene and likely an even bigger stupid fight. You are the better man here, Hamlet, and I applaud you. As a token of my appreciation, I am giving you a Potion of Not Grieving Anymore Because Feelings Are Boring.
Your inventory bag suddenly feels heavier!
Okay. So we’re still on track for tomorrow though, right? You’re still going to go to the court and goad Claudius into admitting his plan to murder you, and then you’ll claim the throne with the help of Calypso’s Gale.
For now, you’ve got to deal with your feelings about Ophelia. She was always really important to you, whether you were dating or not. She was smart, attractive, clever, funny — she was great, Hamlet, and now she’s dead.
Tell you what: grieving sucks, and you’ve been mopey enough in this story. Why not drink the contents of the bottle I gave you?
» Drink the Potion of Not Grieving Anymore Because Feelings Are Boring «
» No, I want to explore this feeling, I want to put my flag on it, I want to set up camp and build a new home here in Griefland «
* * *
* * *
What’s that? Sorry, I couldn’t quite make out what you said. You say you...want to drink the potion anyway? Well, alright!!
You drink the potion and feel a bit better about things. You’re still sad Ophelia’s gone, obviously, but it’s not as bad as it was. This is really great because it allows us to skip ahead to the action part of the story instead of having to slog through you choosing your own depression for the next 400 pages! You can thank me later.
Okay! Time to go to bed and wake up bright and early the next day! You have a fake king to expose!!
» Go to bed «
* * *
* * *
You go to bed and spend about eight hours lying unconscious while you hallucinate. Wait, humans call that “dreaming,” right?
Right! Because we’re all humans here!
So you “dream” (it still sounds weird when I say it) about dogs with spiders for mouths, which is scary, but then it kinda shifts into a situation where you’re back at school, only it’s NOT your school, and your best friend is your teacher, only he’s NOT your best friend, and before you can get your bearings it shifts again into this weird sex thing that has the effect of making me wish that I, as narrator, wasn’t quite so omniscient.
Anyway, after a while it’s tomorrow!
» Greet the new day «
* * *
* * *
“No man, I’m good for swordfights,” you say, and Osric leaves.
Nicely done! Alright, now all we need to do is expose the king. To the royal court! It’s just up ahead, actually!
As you step forward, Horatio puts his hand on your chest to stop you. “Look,” he says, “I know you’ve been different since you got back from England. And I know you don’t really trust me, though I don’t know why. But when you declined that fight, I saw a glimmer of the old you. I want you to know that I’m still your friend. And if I can help you now, I wish you’d let me.”
You search his eyes.
“Please,” he says.
“Okay,” you say, “alright.” And you bring him up to speed on what really happened, telling him all about Rosencrantz and Guildenstern and Calypso’s Gale, all waiting on your signal.
“I’m in,” Horatio says. “Let’s do this.”
“Let’s,” you say, and you kick in the throne room door.
» Enter throne room «
* * *
* * *
The crowd gasps. “Is this true?” someone shouts.
“It is,” you say, “and I have proof. Here’s the original letter he wrote and sealed with the royal mark, instructing the King of England to murder me! Here, you can read it right now,” you say, passing it to someone in the crowd. “When you’re done with it, pass it around clockwise to the person next to you. Don’t worry, I’ll wait until you’ve all had a chance to read it.”
You wait while the assembled courtiers each read it, one by one. They’re not the fastest readers in the world, and it actually takes a full 20 minutes for everyone to have a turn. Come on, guys. But when everyone’s finally done reading it, you can sense the change in the mood of the crowd. They definitely seem to be on your side! Claudius looks nervous. You raise your sword. He looks even more nervous now.
“Defend yourself, incestuous pretender to the throne!!” you shout.
Claudius picks up his sword and drops into a defensive stance.
» Swordfight Claudius! FINALLY! «
* * *
* * *
You drop the sword and leave. “Well, um, see you later I guess!” you say. You walk to the docks and swim out to Calypso’s Gale.
“I’m a big wimp,” you say, “and I couldn’t even competently confront Claudius.” Rosencrantz and Guildenstern suggest you still could kinda confront him, and it wouldn’t even have to be a direct confrontation, as long as you don’t mind killing everyone else in the castle too.
“One sec!” you say, diving into the ocean and swimming back to shore. Re-entering the castle yet again, you say, “Hey Mom, come here for a minute?” and lead Gertrude outside. You ask her to stay out of the castle for the next 15 minutes.
“Why?” she asks.
“It’s gonna be a big surprise,” you shout over your shoulder, already running back down to the docks. Climbing aboard Calypso’s Gale, you give the order to fire. Twenty-six cannons fire in unison and the outer wall of the castle crumbles. You keep shouting “Fire!” and more cannonballs keep tearing into stone walls and you only stop when there’s nothing left of the castle but a big ol’ pile of rubble.
Congratulations, you killed Claudius!! And you kept your mom alive. You also killed tons of innocent bystanders too though, as well as the entire castle staff without exception, so your final score is...1.
Man you did all this reading for 1 measly point!
You’re a champ!
THE END
* * *
» Restart? «
* * *
“Hey Claudius, does it smell in here?” you say, striking his sword.
“A lot of things smell in here,” he says, gesturing briefly to the crowd gathered to watch you fight. You glance over and see a bunch of people smiling and shrugging, as if to say, “Wow he’s got my number, that’s for sure!”
“Okay that’s true,” you say, “but the point is, you are smelly!”
Claudius shrugs.
“I hope that damages your self-esteem!!” you shout. It is not the most super-effective insult ever deployed.
You continue attacking, but you notice that Claudius seems to have learned your fighting style, and the more you fight, the better he gets at it. Horatio seems to be having the same problem. You’re both losing. Finally, your back’s up against the wall, and Claudius knocks the sword out of your hand.
“If I die, I’ll come back as a ghost and ask someone to kill you for me!” you say in desperation.
“Who,” says Claudius (and at this point he’s stabbing you in the chest) “would be stupid enough to do that?”
“Um, ME, obviously,” you say, and then you’re dead, so if you’re keeping track, the last word you ever said was “obviously” and your first word eve
r was “Look” when you were a baby and together they make the phrase “Look, obviously” and that’s almost a sentence so that’s pretty cool! I know it’s kinda weak, but I’m reaching here to find some Accomplishments in Hamlet’s Life, okay?
THE END
P.S. Turns out you don’t come back as a ghost after all, whooooops.
* * *
» Restart? «
* * *
He straight-up ignores your zinger.
☠ Well, shoot ☠
* * *
* * *
King Claudius goes on to tell you, in so many words, to buck up, stop dressing in black, stick around for a while, and have a little fun. He says all the feelings you’re having are boring and wimpy. Your mom echoes his sentiments. Dude. Your own mom just called you a wimp.