by Ryan North
* * *
You’re certain? You want to be Ophelia, even though you JUST saw her coffin get lowered into the ground?
» It’s okay, I’ve got a plan «
» On second thought, keep being Hamlet, go home, and talk to everyone later «
» On third thought, keep being Hamlet, step from the shadows, and introduce yourself dramatically «
* * *
* * *
You step out of the shadows of the graveyard, leaving Horatio and the gravedigger behind.
“Who’s the man whose grief is so extreme, whose words of sorrow can make even the stars themselves stand still and wonder in sadness at what they hear? It’s me, Hamlet the Dane!”
Then you hop into the grave, joining Laertes there. Why not? Emotions are a competition, right?
Laertes sees you and screams in rage. “The devil take thy soul!” he shouts, which, I mean, if you’re going to yell anything, it’s pretty much the awesomest and classiest thing to yell at a time and place like this. And with that, you fight! That’s right. You and Laertes fight, in a graveyard, during a funeral, in an OPEN GRAVE, with the coffin of Ophelia at your feet. This is how you choose to live your life.
Laertes punches you in the teeth, and you stagger back until you collide with the muddy grave wall. You raise your eyes up to Laertes, wiping blood from your mouth with the back of your hand. You glance down at your bloodied hand. “That’s a funny way to pray,” you say, and laugh. Laertes looks at you.
“Here’s how I do it,” You jump at him, forcing your head into his chest as hard as you can. He falls backwards, winded, gasping for air.
“Our father,” you say, your left fist connecting with his cheek, “who art in heaven” — here your right fist collides in a punishing blow with his jaw — “hallowed be thy —”
His arms shoot out and encircle your throat and before you can react, he squeezes. You see stars dance around the edge of your vision. “You don’t want to do that,” you gasp, but Laertes only squeezes tighter.
“Now why’s that, Hamlet?” he says, smirking, mock concern written on his face.
You lock eyes with him. “There’s something dangerous inside of me, and you should be afraid of it,” you say. “I am. You shouldn’t make me angry, Laertes. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.”
Laertes laughs at you, and you feel almost giddy. You can feel yourself losing control. You can feel yourself starting to want it.
“I won’t tell you again, little man,” you say, unsure if you’re threatening him or pleading with him. “Take. Your. Hands. Off.”
» Turn into a gamma-irradiated monster «
☠ Continue being Hamlet ☠
* * *
* * *
Rather than embracing the madness, you bring your hands up between Laertes’ hands, and bashing them outwards, free your neck from his grasp. You’re vaguely aware of your mother shouting your name as you punch Laertes over and over again, avoiding his own punches as best you can. You’re both getting in some good hits. Finally Horatio and the gravedigger jump down into the grave and hold the two of you apart. You’re both trying to break free.
“WHAT THE HECK IS THIS ABOUT?” yells your mother. “THIS IS A FUNERAL AND YOU’RE FIGHTING IN AN OPEN GRAVE FOR NO REASON.”
“Mom, Laertes is saying he loved Ophelia more than I did!” you say. “I loved her more than 40 billionty stupid ol’ brothers!”
“He really is crazy,” says Claudius.
“I’ll eat a crocodile to prove how serious I am,” you offer.
“I’m sorry for my crazy son,” Gertrude says. “Usually he calms down after a little while.”
You decide to prove her right. Turning to Laertes you say, “Listen, bro, why are you treating me like this? I’ve done nothing to deserve this.” But Laertes stares at you, aghast, almost like he...holds you responsible for Ophelia’s death?
“Anyway,” you say. “Hamlet out.”
You leave.
A little while later, Horatio catches up with you. “Hey, sorry, Claudius made me leave too.”
“What about the gravedigger?” you say.
“Um, I think he’s back to digging graves. He was supposed to be working the whole time we were there, anyway.”
“Ah,” you say.
☠ Talk to Horatio about your pirate trip again ☠
» Talk to Horatio about what just happened «
* * *
* * *
But you — you already told him about it. If you talk to him about it again, the story’s just going to be super repetitive.
☠ Talk to Horatio about the pirate trip again!! ☠
» Talk to Horatio about what just happened «
* * *
* * *
Coming in loud and clear, buddy!
You drink the potion and feel better about things. You’re still sad Ophelia’s gone, obviously, but it’s not as bad as it was.
Okay! Time to go to bed and wake up bright and early the next day! You have a fake king to expose!!
I’m not joking!
» Go to bed «
* * *
* * *
This is it, Hamlet! THIS IS THE DAY YOU CONFRONT CLAUDIUS.
You put on your best confronting-the-king tights, and your fanciest confronting-the-king scabbard. Don’t worry, I looked it up: it’s a sheath for holding a sword.
You and Horatio are walking into the castle when Osric shows up! Hey, I know this guy! He’s a member of the royal court, and he’s super manipulable. Here, I’ll show you!
“Put your hat on,” you say to Osric.
“No thanks. It’s too hot today,” he says.
“No man, it’s cold, with winds from the north and a 30% chance of precipitation,” you reply.
“Oh yeah, it’s cold,” he says.
“And yet, it’s also super hot and humid!” you say.
“Yes. Yes, it’s quite hot out,” he says.
See? SEE?
Okay. I need to apologize because I’ve been making fun of your choices this entire book, but when I took over here all I did was have a pointless conversation with a dude who isn’t even a real character in this story. I’m sorry. Maybe...maybe this ISN’T as easy as it looks?
So I’ll tell you what Osric’s here to say: the king wants you to fence with Laertes, and he’s gone ahead and made a bet. He thinks that in a dozen rounds Laertes won’t win by more than three hits. Oh, and he’s put six horses on the line, six swords complete with sword accessories, and three fancy carriages. He is wagering all this neat stuff!
On the one hand, you’re here to expose Claudius, not Laertes, and fighting Laertes won’t actually solve anything at all and is entirely unrelated to avenging your father’s death. Also, he’s probably upset about, you know, his sister and father dying, and I’m not really sure what swordfighting him will accomplish in the “helping him get past his grief” department.
On the other hand...well, no, actually, I can’t think of a good reason why you should fight this guy. Did you hear that? I, the author of this story who has imagined this entire realm wholesale and brought it to life inside my head, cannot conceive of a single reason why you should fight Laertes.
What do you do?
☠ Accept the swordfight invitation ☠
» Decline the swordfight invitation «
* * *
* * *
“Okay, let’s do this!” you say. Why not, right? It’s not like you’ve got anything else going on hah hah hah THAT WAS SARCASTIC.
Osric leaves and then comes back immediately. “King wants to know if you’ll fight him now.” he says. “He’s just in there.”
Oh right, I forgot to mention! You’re right outside the royal court, which is also the castle fencing room. Anyway. Messengers gonna message, right? You say that’s fine, and Osric says okay and leaves.
Horatio turns to you. “Listen man, I don’t think you should do this. I don’t think you’re gonna win, Hamlet.” he says.
>
“Sure I am!” you say. “I’ve been practicing fencing since the start of this story.”
“What?” says Horatio, and I’m saying “What??” too, because there have been zero fencing scenes? Like, at all? Unless you count the pirate battle, but that was more swordfighting than fencing. There’s a difference, you know. They both require swordsmanship, but in the same way that poetry and essays are both “writing.”
You realize that you were lying just now and start to feel bad about your chances.
“Maybe I won’t win after all,” you say. “I suddenly feel a sense of foreboding that would perhaps trouble a woman.”
Aw geez, Hamlet. Aw geez.
» Talk about how sometimes you say terrible things about women and how sometimes, in private moments of reflection, you wonder what that says about you «
☠ Talk instead about the nature of free will ☠
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* * *
“Listen, Horatio, sometimes I say sexist stuff and I don’t really mean it,” you say, trying to salvage things.
“But why would you say something you don’t mean? And then keep saying those things over and over again?” asks Horatio.
“Look, Horatio, you can’t judge the past by the standards of the present. Maybe in the future we’ll have more evolved attitudes, but it’s unfair to judge someone from the past by those higher standards as he or she was raised in a different cultural context.”
“Okay, sure, but we’re both in the present,” says Horatio.
“Chicks, man, am I right? They crazy,” you say.
“Yes, what IS the deal with over half the human population of the planet? They’re definitely all 100% insane,” Horatio replies sarcastically.
Well, this isn’t going very well. You decide to stand around silently and wait for something to happen.
» Stand around silently and wait for something to happen «
* * *
* * *
The crowd murmurs their assent, but Claudius raises a hand and speaks.
“I was born with a stupid face, yes. And I admit it freely. But I should not be killed by my adopted son because of that. We must look beyond our bodies and judge people not by circumstances — accidents, really — of their birth, but by who they are. And despite my stupid and irritating face, I have been a pretty decent king to you all.”
The crowd murmurs their assent again. You hear someone in the crowd shout “I never liked his stupid face but I always strive to rise above my prejudices” quite clearly.
Horatio is distracted by the speech and Laertes stabs him through the heart, killing him almost instantly. His last words are “It’s still a stupiiiid faaaaace...*gurgle*”
Everyone looks at you expectantly. If you attack Claudius now, it’ll appear unjustified, and you’ll seem like a usurper to the throne. On the plus side, you could at least kill Claudius, which is all you wanted to do in the first place. Assuming Laertes doesn’t kill you first!
» Kill Claudius «
» Say “Hah hah, nevermind, my mistake” «
* * *
* * *
As Claudius is distracted by Horatio dying, you send your sword through his heart.
Claudius looks at the sword sticking out of his chest, then up at you. “Sorry,” he says. “But if I’m to be hung, I’d prefer it to be in the court of public opinion.” He then pushes you aside and takes a step towards the crowd.
“Look at what this usurper has done to your king!” he shouts. “You are all witness to this murder most foul, in the sports sense! By that I mean it wasn’t fair.”
You hear murmurs of people saying “Yeah, cheap shot” and “I can’t believe he stabbed his own stepfather.”
He then PULLS THE SWORD OUT OF HIS OWN CHEST (super gross) and all this blood comes out. He lifts the sword above his head and says, “It’s also foul in the gross-nasty sense. Avenge me, everyone!” and then falls backwards onto the royal tiles, dead.
You turn to face the crowd, which is now advancing on you. Laertes is advancing too.
You make the only choice you can: you run. You run all the way down to the dock, hop into the water, and swim out to Calypso’s Gale. Climbing on board, you explain that things didn’t go well down there, and you’ve KINDA turned the entire country against you.
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern stare out at the shore.
“Bummer,” says Rosencrantz. “Well, I guess we can start new lives here on the high seas as awesome pirates, since we already know we’re awesome at it.”
“Or we can fire our cannons and destroy the town,” suggests Guildenstern. “Then you could be king of a destroyed town.”
» Start new lives as pirates «
» Destroy the town «
* * *
* * *
“It’s a pirate’s life for me!” you say, referencing nothing because you’re actually the first person in history to say it! You order Calypso’s Gale turned around and head out into the open seas. Ocean spray splashes up into your face.
You may have messed up in Denmark, but out here in the open seas, you’re going to be alright. You’re going to be alright, Hamlet.
A few years pass, and you and your crew become legendary pirates! But you all use assumed names so if you want to read about your adventures, just read any pirate book and you’ll know it’s secretly about you. I’m not even lying, they’re all really about your adventures. You’re that good!
THE END
P.S. At one point you find 15 men on a dead man’s chest, but it’s more of a necrophilia thing, not a treasure thing, so that’s weird.
* * *
» Restart? «
* * *
It seems some time has passed since you killed yourself and became a ghost. Horatio, who was clean-shaven when you last saw him, now has a beard. He’s at the castle talking to Ophelia. Apparently she’s invented a device of alcohol and glass that can measure the temperature of things, a sort of “thermo-meter”? She was always so good at stuff. She says she thinks they could be used in medicine.
Anyway, neither Horatio nor Ophelia can sense you. You go to Horatio’s house and throw some pots and pans around. It’s pretty spooky, but nobody’s home right now, so it’s also pretty futile.
You continue this style of annoying haunting for several hundred generations of Horatios, generation after generation, never leaving their houses, never learning of anything else going on in the world, until Earth is baked to a crisp by an ever-expanding sun shortly before it consumes the planet entirely. It’s a pretty frustrating way to end your story, but it’s also pretty frustrating to only be able to communicate through the not-so-universal language of throwing pots and pans, so you’re used to it.
THE END
* * *
» Restart? «
* * *
It seems some time has passed since you killed yourself and became a ghost. When you finally catch up with your dad, he’s appalled to see you. “Why didn’t you come see me when I tried to contact you months ago?” he demands of you, and all you can say is that you were really depressed back when you were alive.
“You know what would’ve cured that depression?” says your dad.
“Nope,” you say.
“AVENGING MY DEATH, BECAUSE CLAUDIUS MURDERED ME.” Your father throws his hands up in the air and leaves you alone, but at least you’ve got all of eternity to work it out between you, because you’re both already ghosts.
Eventually a few hundred years pass and you do patch things up, and just in time too. It’s now the year 2100, and an alien probe has landed on Earth. While it looked empty to the living people who opened it, it actually contained thousands of ghosts from another world: an invasion force escaping from their dying planet! And they’re attacking every ghost on the planet! And the living people of Earth have no idea this is even happening!
You’re right in the middle of a ghost-on-ghost war for the survival of the afterlife, and the two of you, Hamlets Jr. and
Sr., are leading the armies of humanity’s greatest ghosts into battle. You’ve just finished a super dramatic pre-battle speech, whipping the troops into a frenzy. It is the morning of your biggest strike yet. You look to your right, and your father is grinning in grim determination. You look to your left, and the ghost of Franklin D. Roosevelt cocks his shotgun and says, “Let’s do this, Hamlet.”
It’s so awesome. This is an awesome ending.
Your horse rears, you raise your sword, and you charge.
THE END
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» Restart? «
* * *
You find Ophelia and tell her she’s the most important person in your life, and you mean it. You’ve lost faith in your family, you realize, but not in love itself. As she stares at you, tears welling in her eyes, you tell her that the love you have for her and the love she has for you — that’s the most important thing. It gives both your lives meaning. And it’s worth fighting for.