by Ryan North
» Complete the jump «
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FINE. You stay a ghost and avoid travelling through time. You make a few other friends who feel the same way you do, and the bunch of you spend the rest of eternity going through time the old-fashioned way: at the steady rate of one second per second, and only ever forward.
You almost convince yourself that it’s enough.
Almost.
But it’s not.
And you start to really regret your decision. But the ghost time travel / body replacement machine is in an advanced state of disrepair, since the ghosts who invented it all went back in time to live in new bodies, the dead cannibalizing the past to live once more, which is kinda monstrous and awful when you think about it, so let’s not!
You spend a large chunk of your afterlife trying to figure out how this ghostly time machine works, and eventually reverse-engineer something that you think will do the trick. And amazingly, you’re pretty sure your time machine will actually work better than the original! Rather than taking over your past self’s body (or someone else’s), this machine SHOULD send you into the past, corporeal, in a body all your own.
Nicely done, Hamlet!
You test out your machine by chucking a handful of dirt (ghost dirt) into it and it seems to work. I mean, the dirt disappears, so either it’s a time machine or a molecular destabilizer, but you’re optimistic. You step into the quantum leap accelerator and vanish.
THE END
P.S. The machine totally worked and you arrived in the past! Yay!
P.P.S. To explore this new timeline you’ve created, re-read this book and try to find an option during a fight to choose from only two swords: the left sword or the right sword. Rather than turning to the pages indicated, add the two page numbers together, divide the sum by three, multiply by 15, take the square root, and add 100 while rounding down to the nearest integer. Turn to that page instead: this will push this other you into the new timeline you’ve just created here.
If this math seems complicated, then let me say this: man, who told you that time travel was easy??
Wait, hold on, here in digital book land this math involving page numbers doesn’t work! I guess the future DID make things a little easier after all. Okay fine, here’s your shortcut to enter this new timeline: bring up your Future Book search interface for this file and seek the phrase that corresponds to Hamlet’s two colours: the colour of royalty, a dash, and the colour of sadness.
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» Restart? «
* * *
“Well, I mean, is there something else that you would like to do inst—” you begin, and just then a huge explosion rocks the hotel. Debris showers into the room, knocking Antonio unconscious. Looks like you’re under attack!
BY TERRORISTS!!
Hah hah, screw this dating thing: you have three terrorists to kill!!
» Run down to the site of the explosion «
* * *
* * *
You go back to the hotel, pushing your way past the crowd of onlookers and local authorities assessing the blaze and damages. Back in your remarkably undamaged hotel room, you quickly pack your bags. On the way out, you stop by the room you were in when the bomb first went off, and leave a single rose on your date’s still-unconscious-but-otherwise-okay-actually-MORE-than-okay body, along with a short handwritten note:
“I had fun. XOXOXO –O”
You want to hop on the next boat to Denmark, but it leaves, like, six weeks from now. Boats, man. Instead of waiting, you journey on an indirect path involving three countries, six connecting cruises, and two week-long layovers. It’s honestly not bad. You’ve had worse times!
When you finally arrive in Denmark, the place is quiet...too quiet. Nobody is there to greet you on the pier. You drop your bags off at your room and head to the royal court, again seeing nobody along the way. The only sound you hear is the echo of your own footsteps. When you open up the doors of the royal court, you find a room full of dead bodies (Hamlet, your family, the king and queen) and some dude is there on the throne.
What the hell?
“What the hell?” you say. “Did you kill these people?”
“No man, they killed each other. Hi, I’m Fortinbras. I’m the new king of Denmark.”
“Horse droppings,” you say. “That’s what they say in England to mean ‘bull droppings,’” you explain.
“No, honest! I showed up and everyone was dead and it turns out that Hamlet’s dying wish was that I should assume the throne,” he says.
“How did you know what Hamlet’s dying wish was if everyone was dead?” you ask.
“Oh, there’s a perfectly logical explanation for that as well,” says Fortinbras. “Hamlet’s friend was here and saw it all and stuck around long enough to tell me. It was a cool story.”
“He’s gone now though,” he finishes.
“Um,” he says.
It’s not the most credible story in the world?
» Accuse him of lying «
» Accept his explanation and go back on vacation; Denmark is CRAZY. «
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Good idea, Ophelia! You return to England for your vacation, which lasts longer and longer until it’s what you might call a “stay-cation,” which is a terrible word, but all I’m trying to say is you live the rest of your days very happily, very far away from Denmark. Here’s something you were chuffed to discover: like Denmark, England is full of lots of very interesting, very attractive people, and you make a lot of friends there who are — I’ll give it to you straight — stone-cold hunks and smokin’-hot babes.
If you don’t want children, then you don’t have any. But if you want children, let’s say you meet someone amazing (like the person from the hotel!) and have children with them. Or you adopt!
Whatever, man! I’m easy!!
THE END
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» Restart? «
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You turn to the appropriate page.
You pour the poison into his ear. Like all sleeping people, your brother doesn’t wake up when cold liquids are poured directly into his ear hole, so this whole thing goes surprisingly well! Also, who knew that the ears really were the best way to introduce poison into the body? You and I did, obviously, so I guess any medical doctors in the audience who are about to say “Excuse me but I studied human bods for six years at the university level” can straight-up go suck a lemon. YOUR BRO IS DEAD. Congratulations!! Poisons really do work that quickly, and you have just ended a life. Perhaps you’d like to assume your brother’s throne now as well?
Behind you, Hamlet whispers to himself, “MAN, THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I SUSPECTED, AND THIS HAS ALLOWED ME TO CONFIRM MY SUSPICIONS PERFECTLY!”
Nice one, Claudius. Hamlet now believes you murdered his father.
It seems you have two choices: you can throw the book down, yell that you hate it, and run out of the room. Or, since an innocent person would not actually react that way, you can just continue playing as if nothing’s wrong, thereby NOT instantly confirming your guilt, and instead allow your choices to be read as simple chance.
☠ Run out of the room ☠
» Continue playing as if nothing’s wrong «
* * *
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You slice your opponent into a million pieces, cutting him over and over and over again!
YES THIS IS ALL YOU WANT OUT OF LIFE.
To attack more skeletons, imagine doing that now!
» To single-handedly stop an invasion of your land, turn to page 55 «
» Wait, now you want to go kill your brother like you could do before; let’s go poison him in the ear «
* * *
* * *
Your homeland was just attacked by a ruthless, cunning skeleton invader, and you alone are our last, best hope for a bloody, vengeful counterattack. You decide that the best counterattack is a preemptive attack, so you journey to Skeleton Homeland and on
the way you start cutting up fools before they can even invade!
Things are going really well until you actually reach Skeleton Homeland, where it’s like 30,000 against one! You die really quick!!
Oh and I didn’t mention earlier, but guess what if you DIE IN THE BOOK, YOU DIE IN REAL LIFE!!!
You blew it and you’re totally dead, THE END!!
THE END
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You return to your family and announce that you have killed an alive skeleton.
“That was my uncle Skellington!” screams your husband or wife, depending on your sexual orientation and life choices. If you are not married, you scream it to yourself while looking in the mirror as you realize what you’ve done.
Anyway, your husband / wife / self is so mad at what you’ve done that in a fit of rage, they choke you to death / stab you in the head / assist you in committing suicide.
Hah! Looks like this reasonable option actually resulted in sudden, unpredictable death! HOW IS READING A BOOK WHERE SOMEONE ELSE DECIDES WHAT HAPPENS TO YOU WORKING OUT, CHAMP??
Anyway, you die in the book and that means you die in real life too.
SURPRISE,
THE END
* * *
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Okay, you put the bagged body parts into the stew, still in the bag. This is a chef thing, isn’t it? You’re — what, braising them or something? Is that what braising is?
Anyway, it’s only a stew pot, it’s not big enough to hold a full human body, much less a human body PLUS bags. Bagged body parts stick out all over. If you were hoping to disguise the body as stew, this isn’t going to cut it.
You have 1 turn(s) remaining.
» Eat stew «
» Remove body parts from stew «
» Act casual «
* * *
* * *
The bags burst as they hit the ground. You hate to admit it, but the splatter of gore they create is pretty much the textbook example of “suspicious.”
You have 1 turn(s) remaining.
» Jump out window to escape «
» Act casual «
» Eat stew «
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You tie off the bags with twine. There! Now anyone who wants to peek inside has to really want it!
Well, it’s still not that hard to peek inside, actually. It’s just twine. You double-knot the twine, but it doesn’t make that much of a difference.
You have 1 turn(s) remaining.
There are tied bags full of body parts here.
» Act casual «
» Jump out window to escape «
» Eat stew «
* * *
* * *
You begin to cannibalistically consume the remains of your ex-girlfriend’s father. The flesh has only been in the stew for a few seconds though, so really all you’re doing is eating raw human flesh with some stew on it.
Hamlet, you used to be a prince. Now you are a murderous cannibal, covered in blood and gore.
Your hunger has been reduced by 10%. The body has been reduced by 5%.
You have 1 turn(s) remaining.
» Continue eating stew «
» Jump out the window to escape «
» Light door on fire «
* * *
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Now the body parts are on the floor, all covered in stew. The pot on the stove still has some stew in it though. There’s enough for one serving. You could probably eat it.
You have 1 turn(s) remaining.
There are stew-covered body parts here.
» Put body parts back into stew and eat the stew «
» Jump out window to escape «
» Eat the stew as-is «
* * *
* * *
You take wood from the fireplace and attempt to light the door on fire. However since this is real life and NOT fantasy land, the door does not burst into flames instantly but instead just singes a little. You exhaust any remaining turn(s) in the attempt, and as soon as it / they are used up, the door opens. This has the effect of knocking the burning wood onto your shirt, and that doesn’t take nearly as long to catch on fire.
The town criers the next day all have the same story: “HAMLET CATCHES ON FIRE AFTER KILLING THIS GUY POLONIUS / MOST EXCITING THING TO HAPPEN IN MONTHS.”
And you know what? It WAS. Thank you for “firing” the imagination of your subjects!
THE END.
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» Restart? «
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You tie up the twine like a tripwire. Now whoever enters the room will trip over it and fall! Hilarious! You wish you could record their pratfall to somehow share it with others, but that would require literally hundreds of years of technological development that hasn’t happened yet.
You have 1 turns(s) remaining.
There is a twine tripwire here.
» Jump out the window to escape «
» Act casual «
* * *
* * *
You take down the torches from the wall and tie a few beneath each bag. The bags are light but sturdy, and quickly fill with hot air from the torches.
You now have a collection of hot air balloons, each capable of carrying some load up, up, and away into the sky. They will continue rising until the torches extinguish themselves, which could take hours. By that time, they could’ve floated anywhere!
You have 1 turn(s) remaining.
There are several hot air balloons here.
» Jump out the window to escape, using hot air balloons to prevent your fall «
» Tie body parts to hot air balloons and push them out the window «
» Wait hold on, I’m suddenly hungry: eat stew «
* * *
* * *
Your giant bolas weighs as much as a human man, and is thus entirely impractical. Actually, it’s less “bolas” and more “a bunch of chunks of human flesh all tied together in the middle of the room.”
You have failed spectacularly at looking less suspicious.
You have 1 turn(s) remaining.
There is a giant human bolas here.
» Jump out the window to escape «
» Light door on fire «
» Tie twine across base of door to trip whoever enters the room «
* * *
* * *
You eat some of the stew. It’s delicious! It doesn’t help your current situation, but your hunger has been reduced by 10%.
You have the distinct feeling you’ve now wasted two turns and are entirely doomed.
You have 1 turn(s) remaining.
» Light door on fire «
» Act casual «
» EAT MORE STEW; I want to go out eating stew «
* * *
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Your first officer forces the ship to fly quickly, moving in ways well beyond its specs.
“We can’t keep this up much longer!” she shouts over the groan of structural bulkheads compressing in ways they weren’t designed to handle.
“We have to!” you order. “Just a little longer, Commander!” A section of her control panel begins blinking alarmingly. She looks at it and then at you.
“Structural collapse in 30 seconds!” she shouts.
And then it turns out that in real life these things are actually really hard to predict down to the second and that big catastrophic shipwide structural collapse you were worried about happens as soon as she finishes that sentence.
THE END
P.S. It kills you, by the way.
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» Restart? «