Moving away from complex and intricate rules & mechanisms and micro-managing for a bit, I've settled on this series for my next LP, which I've mentioned before (there was a poll between running Blood Sword and this one, which Blood Sword won at the time). A series of very short choose-your-own-adventure style books written by Allen Sharp, these definitely falls under the "lesser-known gamebooks" category.
I've going to quote a few lines from this blog that reviewed the series, since this blogger's words describes my feeling of this series much better than I myself can possibly put into words (there was some comparison to Fighting Fantasy, too):
".....chances are, you’ve never come across one of these books, even if you were a fan of gamebooks in the 80s......They don’t seem to have been marketed at so broad an audience. In fact, they’re so strange that I don’t really know what audience they were marketed at at all (this I consider to be a good thing, in many ways)......they’re far closer to being interactive novels than games or puzzles......The writing style is more mature than in FF, and the fact that the story is told in the first-person rather than the second adds to the ‘real-novel’ feel.......there’s a lot more depth to the story, though the number of reader choices is massively diminished (they are very short books). The reader's decisions mostly influence the plot rather than allowing them exploration of an area....."
(Note: I made one slight edit to what I copied, because while the blog states that the books are in Second-person point of view, I believe he meant first-person, because that's how the series are actually written.....in contrast to most gamebooks which are written in second-person).
In fact, after reading his description of some of the books with more "bizzare" background and plot in the series, I almost wish I'd managed to get my hands on those. Sadly, the only one of those examples that he'd mentioned in his blog that I actually own is "The Dark Awakening". I do own many of the other books in this series, but their premise sound mundane by comparison (except maybe for one involving vampires).
Anyway, I'm going to start with Book 1, which I personally think is a great start to the series and still my personal favourite (and the one that got me hooked, since it's also the first one I read). Let's take a look at the back cover summary:
Yes, it's a classic who-dun-it murder mystery, with a group of victims trapped and cut off from civilization and one of them being a murderer. There've been many films and books written with this structure, I think the most famous is probably Agatha Christie's "And Then There Were None". This one isn't nearly as complex and intricately-woven, but still very well-written despite its shortness.You accept an invitation to a hotel in the Austrian Alps to discover if you are the lucky inheritor of a fortune. But you discover something else - the invitation is to be murdered. Can you find the murderer before the murderer makes you the next victim?
And yes, short, these books generally come in between 35-50 sections, this particularly book only has 37, and 6 endings (only 1 good ending per book) so this probably won't be a very long play. Let's see if you guys can figure out who the murderer is before we reach the end!
There's a "rules" page in the front, but they're mostly identical for every book (basic instructions about not reading the book in page sequence like normal books). However all of them also contain a paragraph that briefly describes the plot:
And that's about it! If you're interested to play, follow me into section 1:Your adventure is set in a ski lodge, high in the Austrian Alps. You are one of a small number of guests, trapped on the mountain and cut off from the rest of the world. One of the guests is a murderer or murderess. You have good reason to find out who it is. If you do not, you are going to be one of the victims!
No, there's no option here to call off the trip!Apart from myself and one smartly dressed middle-aged lady, the lounge of the Grand Hotel was empty. While I had been drinking my coffee, she had been writing some postcards. She wrote with her nose so near to the table that I wondered why she did not wear glasses.
A bell boy came into the lounge, calling my name. The taxi had arrived which was to take me from Innsbruck to the mountain village of Felsdorf.
As I passed through the reception area, an argument was going on at the desk. A fat, red-faced man, speaking in very bad German and with a broad Scots accent, was having trouble in making himself understood. I asked if there anything I could do to help.
'Ay!' he said. 'You could try making one these foreigners understand that I want to get a place called Felsdorf.'
I told him that I could do better than that. I was going to Felsdorf myself and he was more than welcome to share my taxi.
The fat man's name was McNab - Detective Inspector McNab of the Metropolitan Police. I asked if he was on holiday in Austria.
'You could say that,' he replied. 'It may be a policeman's curiosity, or a Scotsman not being able to resist something for free, but what would you do if you got an invitation like this?'
He took an envelope from his pocket and gave it to me. I hardly needed to open it. There was one just like it in my pocket.
Mine had arrived three weeks before, from a firm of solicitors in Zurich. It said that I was one of the people named in the will of the late Stephen Spenser. I was invited to spend the weekend at a ski lodge in the mountains near Felsdorf where the will would be read. There was also a very generous cheque for my expenses. McNab and I were going to the same place.
The funny thing is,' said McNab, 'that I don't know anyone called Stephen Spenser.'
Neither did I!
Turn to page 2
Once privately owned, the ski lodge was now a small hotel. Perched half way up a mountain, overlooking the village of Felsdorf, there was only one way up to it - by cable car. Though the winter was not yet over, a few warm days had brought with them the danger of avalanches and no one was skiing or climbing on the mountain.
We had an hour to wait for the cable car and, when we did get on it, there were only two other passengers. One was the short-sighted lady from the hotel at Innsbruck. The other was a tall, distinguished looking man whose bowler hat and velvet-collared black overcoat would have looked more in place in Bond Street.
McNab pointed to the man in the bowler hat.
'Yon's Mervyn Jackson,' he whispered, 'one of the brightest criminal lawyers in London - he's given me a few rough rides in the witness box.'
Mervyn Jackson showed no signs of remembering McNab.
The hotel was only Yards from the cable car platform and, having registered, McNab and I separated to change before dinner.
McNab was in the dining-room when I went in and he waved me over to his table. Mervyn Jackson and the postcard lady were seated nearby. Two other men were seated together and a seventh guest sat by himself.
The meal was steak and salad, followed by a sticky sweet and coffee. McNab decided that he wanted more coffee and pressed the bell on the wall beside us. No-one came. He tried again. Still no-one came and, after five minutes, McNab left the table and went off to find a waiter.
He was away a long time. When he returned, he was carrying a small parcel which he laid on the table.
'I haven't found a waiter,' he said. 'I haven't found anyone; you'd think the place was deserted. But this was on the reception desk; it's got a list of names on it, ours among them, and Jackson's.'
He turned to the other people in the room.
'There's a parcel here,' he said, 'that seems to be addressed to all of us.'
Okay, this is the only part of the text that actually gives us some background of our character (most other books in the series tend to give a more detailed background to the PC). Apparently, we write books. And we seem to be a somewhat respected authority in matters of crime, since our book apparently "stopped a murder case from being reopened". That's assuming, of course, that the psycho murderer was actually telling facts instead of just blindly attaching blame to anyone who's known to think his father was guilty.Inside the parcel was a small tape recorder. McNab pressed the 'Play' button.
'I am glad that all of you were able to accept my invitation. You have come to hear the reading of the will of the late Stephen Spenser. You are going to be disappointed. There Is no Stephen Spenser. That was my trick to get you here. If I had told you my father's real name, you might not have come. My father was Stephen Lane.'
The voice on the tape was husky and was obviously disguised. It went on.
'In case you still do not remember the name, let me start with you, Judge Hannibal Baines. You were the judge who tried my father for murder.'
I could see that Judge Hannibal Baines was the older of the two men sitting together. The voice went on to mention each of the people seated in the room. Mervyn Jackson had been Prosecuting Counsel at the trial. The postcard lady, Miss Agatha Smith, had been chief witness for the prosecution. George Harper, the man sitting next to the judge, had been foreman of the jury. McNab had been the arresting officer. Then came my name.
'You wrote a book about the case. Your book stopped my father's case from being reopened. My father died in prison. My father was innocent, and you killed him, all of you sitting in this room. You think you are experts on murder. Now you are going to have your chance to prove it. I am going to kill each one of you - unless you can find me before I find you.'
The man sitting by himself jumped to his feet. I realized that his name had not been mentioned.
'My name is Frank Clapper. I don't know what crazy game is gong on here, but I'm not part of it. I came here for a quiet weekend and I'm not spending it with some nut case. I'm getting on that cable car and going back to Felsdorf. If you've got any sense, the rest of you will do the same!
Jackson said it was a good idea. McNab said 'No', that he would stay for 'a wee while'. Should I stay with McNab, or go with Clapper and Jackson, and whomever else might be going?
Anyway....do we want to stay enjoy the hospitality of the murdering nutcase, or pass?