To Be or Not To Be

by Ryan North

  * * *

  You open your eyes, and the world slowly comes into focus. You’re in your bedroom, back in good ol’ Denmark!

  You sit up in bed as you remember the dream that you just woke from. Wow, that was crazy! To be more specific, what a crazy incredibly detailed and realistic dream in which you had been asked by a ghost to murder a king! And then...you were on a pirate ship, right? And people were getting killed? Including your sweetie?

  You get out of bed and move to the window, still a little shaken by it. “It doesn’t have to be that way,” you say, out loud. “That crazy stuff only happened in my dream. It doesn’t have to happen the same way in reality.”

  You look out at beautiful Denmark, your home since you were born. It’s real, as real as you are. That dream didn’t really mean anything; it was just the random firing of some silly old neurons in your head. Wouldn’t you agree...OPHELIA??

  WHICH IS WHO YOU ACTUALLY ARE AND THAT HAMLET STORY WAS ALL A DREAM YOU HAD AND IT DIDN’T ACTUALLY HAPPEN IN REALITY?!

  Speaking of reality, Hamlet (who I stress again is not you, that was a dream, you’re Ophelia) said he saw a ghost last night! And he’s back here today first thing in the morning and he’s knocking on your door and says he wants to talk about it!

  » Talk to Hamlet about the ghost «

  * * *

  * * *

  You knock on Antonio’s door. He answers, wearing a very snappy suit. Man, he looks great. I will describe his lips as being “enticing,” his eyes as being “reflective pools in which you feel you might drown” and his legs as being “apparently unable to quit.”

  “Hi Antonio,” you say. “It’s me, Ophelia. Are you busy tonight?”

  “Never too busy for a pretty lady,” says Antonio. “Though you should know, generally my nights tend to end up pretty...EROTIC.”

  “Oh,” you say. “Weird.”

  “Yeah, it’s like — a curse or something,” Antonio says. “Just once I’d like to have a regular date without it descending into mind-blowing eroticism.”

  “Huh,” you say.

  » Ask about mind-blowing eroticism «

  » Ask about what he’d like to do instead «

  * * *

  * * *

  Cleo laughs. “I’m sure there’s something that two people like us could get up to,” she says. “What do you feel like?”

  Before you can reply, a huge explosion rocks the hotel! Debris showers into the room, knocking Cleo unconscious. Looks like that takes care of the boredom thing: 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 burst into the lobby, and it looks like a war zone. Injured people are staggering everywhere. But time bombs aren’t really a thing yet, so the terrorist (OR TERRORISTS??) (I mean I guess I already let it slip that there’s three of them, but let’s pretend I didn’t) must be nearby. Spinning around, you look for anyone suspicious. There’s a man very conspicuously trying to look very inconspicuous as he leaves the hotel.

  “Hey you!” you shout, and he breaks into a run. Looks like this is your man! You give chase and slam into him, sending him straight into a wall. He hits his head hard and falls back, dazed. You pick him up by the collar.

  “Who sent you?” you ask.

  “What?” he replies. You slap him across the face, and he laughs, so you close your hand into a fist and shatter his nose. He’s not laughing now. In fact, he’s in a lot of pain!

  “Not gonna ask you twice,” you warn.

  “Okay, okay, geez!” gasps the man. “I was helped by my two terrorist friends, Georges and Margaret. They’re in a coffee shop two blocks away.”

  You mash around his broken nose a little.

  “Okay, okay!! THREE blocks away!” he shouts through the pain.

  You press your fingers against his eyes and he cries out. You wait for him to stop and take a breath. “You killed a lot of people back there,” you say. “I think given our current cultural context and the fact that we’re not operating with the benefit of hundreds of years of ethical development that some hypothetical future people might have, I’m justified in killing you.” His only answer is to whimper.

  “Did you know there’s a name for that judicial framework?”

  He shakes his head, and then you pull out one of his eyes with your fingers.

  “An eye for an eye,” you say.

  As he’s screaming, you decide to actually break his neck and kill him, since that’s what “an eye for an eye” means in its non-literal sense, after all. You then run down towards the coffee shop he indicated, coming in through the back door. Everyone is talking nervously about the explosion except for two people.

  “Hey Georges! Margaret!” you shout, and the two people who weren’t talking both look towards you. Bingo. You pull up a chair to the side of their table and throw your arms around their shoulders.

  “Listen guys, it kinda sucks that you blew up all those people,” you say.

  “Um — what? Hah hah, that’s crazy that you’d think we are the terrorists!” says Georges.

  “Oh, right! Hah hah, what a crazy thing for me to accuse you of!” you say, your arms still around their shoulders. “Let’s talk about this outside,” you say, pulling them up by their collars and dragging them out to the alley behind the coffee shop.

  You let them go, and their demeanours change instantly. “What’d you do with Patrick?” demands Margaret.

  “Who’s Patrick? The dead guy? I killed him,” you say. “He’s dead now.”

  “Horse droppings,” says Margaret. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Oh, no, I can prove it,” you say. You grab Margaret with both hands. “Here, here’s what I did to your friend that made him dead.”

  Seconds later, Margaret’s way-dead body is lying at your feet with a broken nose and a missing eye. You look up at Georges, who’s staring at Margaret’s body in shock.

  “Do YOU believe me, Georges?” you ask. He hesitates, unsure whether “yes” or “no” is the right answer. You decide to help him out.

  “There’s no right answer here, Georges. Sometimes life isn’t fair,” you say, and then you break his neck too.

  “Them’s the breaks,” you say.

  » Go back to the hotel, collect your things, and get out of here! This country is crazy; you wanna go back to Denmark. «

  » Stay here, this country is awesome, let’s track down more terrorists!! «

  * * *

  * * *

  “You’re lying!” you say, thinking maybe it’s time for you to kill a dude. Again.

  “No, wait, I can prove it! Horatio, come back here please!!” he shouts. A few seconds later, Horatio pops his head in the door. “You called for me, my king?”

  “Yeah, um, this woman, I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name —”

  “Ophelia,” you say.

  “This Ophelia doesn’t believe I’m king because everyone else died and then Hamlet wanted me to be king. Tell her that’s what happened.”

  Horatio turns to you and shrugs.

  “Sometimes reality is real stupid,” Horatio says.

  “Perfect!” Fortinbras says, smiling. “Okay, now that we’ve got that ‘establishing that I am the rightful king of Denmark’ thing out of the way: off with her head!”

  “Wait, what?” you say, and it’s actually the last thing you ever say because Horatio slices off your head in one smooth motion and you can’t speak without vocal cords, Ophelia, sheesh! You know this, you’ve dissected enough dead bodies to know what strings do what!

  I mean, you USED to know this, before you died from not having a body attached to your head anymore!

  THE END

  * * *

  » Restart? «

  * * *

  Gonzago II, you pick up your trusty battle axe and stroll into Skele
ton Cove, where you heard all the skeletons hang out.

  You encounter your first skeleton! He bows theatrically and introduces himself as Skellington II of the East Coast Skellingtons.

  “Please, call me Skellington,” he says.

  » Cut him up with your axe, just like your father did before you!! «

  » Tell him you’re pleased to meet him, then enquire if you can AXE him a few questions «

  * * *

  * * *

  You try to slice your opponent into a million pieces, cutting him over and over and over again! But it doesn’t work. Skellington II has a shield!

  Oh damn!

  He’s also got a sword! You battle back and forth for a while, and it’s super dramatic. You may choose, at this point in your adventure, to imagine it. Go all out! It’s nuts!

  Eventually, however, you manage to stab Skellington II in the head and then pull his head off, and then you kick his body into an open grave, and then you say, “Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust,” and you crush his skull into dust and pour that on top of the body, so that’s cool.

  What do you want to do now? There’ll be more Skellingtons to kill if you go to their homeland. On the other hand, you could just go home and return to your family.

  » Your country was attacked! Go to Skeleton Homeland! «

  » Go home to see your family; one skeleton is enough for one day, you think! «

  * * *

  * * *

  You tear out of the room, throwing the book behind you, leaving Hamlet and your beloved Gertrude alone in front of a very confused crowd. Today’s not going very well for you, huh?

  You run into your room in tears and lock the door behind you and throw your face into your pillow and cry.

  Well, Claudius, there’s no two ways about it: you globbed up big back there. I think you’d better be Hamlet for a while, huh?

  ☠ Be Hamlet ☠

  * * *

  * * *

  Okay, now the body parts are on the floor, still in their bags, all covered in stew. You’ve really accomplished a lot here today.

  The door opens and who should enter but Corambis, Polonius’s twin brother! You recognize him from the royal courts.

  “I unlocked the door, so you can leave no—” he begins, but then cuts himself off. “Hey, what’s going on?” Corambis looks around. “You didn’t kill Polonius, cut him up, stuff him into bags, and put the bags into stew briefly only to remove them, did you?”

  “Um,” you say.

  Anyway, long story short, it turns out that’s illegal??

  THE END

  * * *

  » Restart? «

  * * *

  You whistle and sit yourself down on the floor in the middle of the room. That seems a little awkward, so you stretch out on your side, your arm supporting your head and your other arm resting on your hips. There! Nobody could be more casual than you!

  The door opens and who should enter but Corambis, Polonius’s twin brother! You recognize him from the royal courts.

  “I unlocked the door, so you can leave no—” he begins, but then cuts himself off. “Hey, what’s going on?” Corambis looks around. “Why are you acting so casual? How come you stabbed that curtain? Are you making stew?”

  “You can’t make stew with the meat still in the bag,” he says. “What is this, a chef thing?”

  He opens a bag and sees that it’s full of chunks of Polonius. Of COURSE he’d open the head bag first. Of course. He begins to scream and scream and scream, and whether or not you decide to kill him to cover your tracks, a bunch of other people are already on their way here and you’re pooched.

  Not too long later, Claudius puts you to death! Your last words are “Oh geez, if only I’d been better at covering up my murders; had I only the chance to do it again, I would certainly not focus so much on making disgusting human stew; with bags or not, it’s extremely gross.”

  True, Hamlet. True.

  THE END

  * * *

  » Restart? «

  * * *

  You begin to cannibalistically consume the bagged remains of your ex-girlfriend’s father when the door opens. You turn to face whoever is at the door, Polonius’s left arm hanging from your mouth by the fingers, its empty bag lying at your feet.

  It’s hard to look guiltier than this!

  When Claudius hears of this, he agrees. He personally kills you himself! His last words to you are “If you had all that time alone with the body, why didn’t you try to dispose of it in a more reasonable way? Sheesh.”

  He stabs you.

  “Sheesh,” he says again, stabbing you to death.

  THE END

  * * *

  » Restart? «

  * * *

  You whistle and sit yourself down on the floor in the middle of the room. That seems a little awkward, so you stretch out on your side, your arm supporting your head and your other arm resting on your hips. There! Nobody could be more casual than you!

  The door opens and who should enter but Corambis, Polonius’s twin brother! You recognize him from the royal courts.

  “I unlocked the door, so you can leave no—” he begins, but then cuts himself off. “Hey, what’s going on?” Corambis looks around. “Why are you acting so casual? How come you stabbed that curtain? Why are you surrounded by lumpy bags and why is there all this blood everywhere?”

  He opens a bag, pausing only briefly to negotiate his way around the twine you tied. It’s a bag with a human head inside, and Corambis thinks that’s super gross and suspicious! He begins to scream and scream and scream, and whether or not you decide to kill him to cover your tracks, a bunch of other people are already on their way here and you’re pooched.

  Claudius carries out your execution personally. Your last words are “Oh geez, if only I’d been better at covering up my murders; had I only the chance to do it again, I would try to figure out something better than putting a human body into a bunch of bags and tying the bags off with twine; may I just say that in retrospect I’m not even sure what I was thinking.”

  In retrospect, neither am I!

  THE END

  * * *

  » Restart? «

  * * *

  Food helps me think too!

  You spend your last turn eating stew right from the pot. Delicious! I’m not even gonna lie. It is a really delicious stew. It’s among the best stews you’ve ever tasted in your entire life. In fact, here’s the recipe!

  2 pounds (900g) stewing beef

  a sprinkle or two sea salt and freshly ground pepper

  a splash of any vegetable oil

  a few carrots, peeled and roughly chopped

  a few stalks celery, roughly chopped

  a few potatoes, peeled and roughly chopped

  a few parsnips, peeled and roughly chopped

  a few onions, peeled and roughly chopped

  a 28 fluid ounce (796 ml) can of whole tomatoes

  1/2 bottle of hearty red wine

  3 or 4 cups (700–950 mL) beef broth

  a few bay leaves

  a few sprigs of fresh rosemary

  a small jar of pickled baby white onions, drained

  a few handfuls of peas, fresh or frozen

  Preheat a large thick-bottomed pot over medium-high heat. Meanwhile, pat the beef dry with a clean towel and then cut it into large cubes and season it with the salt and pepper.

  Add a splash of oil to the pot — enough to cover the bottom in a thin layer — and toss in enough meat to form a single sizzling layer. Sear the meat on every side until it’s evenly browned.

  Be patient when you’re browning the meat; it takes a little time but it’s worth every minute. The caramelized flavours are the secret to a rich hearty stew. As the meat browns, remove it from the pan, adding meat and more oil as needed.

  Once the meat is done, discard the remaining oil but keep all the browned bits in the pan; they’ll add lots of flavour to the stew.

  Add half of the vege
tables — reserving the other half — and all the browned meat to the pot. Add the tomatoes and enough wine and beef broth to barely cover the works. Add the bay leaves and rosemary, and bring the pot to a simmer.

  Continue cooking until the meat is almost tender, about one hour, then add the remaining vegetables, the baby onions, and the peas. Adding the vegetables in two batches allows the first batch to dissolve into the stew while the second retains its shape, colour, and texture. Continue simmering until the meat and veggies are tender, another 30 minutes or so. When the stew is tender, taste it and season as you like. And enjoy!

  So, back to you: you are discovered when the door opens, and then you’re put to death, because you murdered a guy and hung around to be discovered when the door opened. The stew was really delicious though! And YOU got the recipe!

  You take this recipe to your grave and share it with all the ghosts, translating it from the unfamiliar and bizarre metric and imperial measurements I used here into “ghostric”, which uses the interior volume of a spooky skull as the standard unit of measurement. It makes you really popular! You have some really amazing and fun ghost dinner parties and make a lot of cool new friends who can fly!