Just a regular night.

In this game, you play as the Question, Hub City's faceless protector. One night, what appears to be a normal drug bust goes south fast, and you find yourself with only two hours to live, an antidote to find, and a gang to topple.

Looks like it's just a normal night in Hub City.

First in the Questionable Tales series, a series of fanfiction games starring the Question. There's four endings not counting deaths: one bad, one bittersweet, one good, and one true ending. See if you can find them all.

The Question is copyright DC Comics. So yeah, don't sue me.

Author's Note: This game is really rough around the edges. I decided to give it a quick run through on October 4th, 2019 (over a year and a half after the original publication on February 2nd, 2018), in order to fix some minor bugs and add a "cheat code" for the infamously obtuse antidote puzzle. Hopefully, there are no more problems with the scripting and the like.

... And I ended up giving it another edit on October 8th, 2019 because I noticed another bug when replaying it. Not a major one, but still. I really didn't have my link restrictions in order at all.

A getaway driver goes on a quest for revenge.

Noir story in a cyberpunk dystopia. Four types of endings: deaths, bad endings, good endings, and one perfect ending. See if you can find them all, it shouldn't be too hard. Endings are tracked using the score variable: zero means death, one means bad, two means good, three means perfect.

Special thanks to:
Tim36D - For listening to me ramble on about the idea, making suggestions, and writing a few pages.
ISentinelPenguinI - For playtesting.

Finally, if you notice any bugs, please PM me and I'll get to work on them as soon as I can (though I do believe they've all been worked out, can never be too sure).

Mood music.

Will you ever get any water? Time to find out.

Thanks for another opportunity to post this.

One of my fondest memories I have with my dad is him letting me stay up until midnight for the release of Diablo 3. Then the servers went down and we couldn't play it that night. Had a lot of fun playing it with him afterwards though.

I've only played Strive, but my main is Sol. Generic I know but I love throwing out Heavy Mob Cemetary out of the blue like a mad man. Tim kicks my ass with his Kai Kiske and Baiken though.

Based.

46/100 here. Almost half of all of them.

And another one. I put my car in park and cut off the engine before stepping out, taking in the sight of the Lemire Avenue Apartments: a four story brick tenement building situated between a drug store and an empty building with a torn and yellowed "FOR LEASE" sign plastered on the window. The facades of all three buildings are lovingly decorated with gang tags and other graffiti. The place was built in the late 60s, originally meant to house single young professionals with its studio and one bedroom apartments. Then the Gospel of Sinners closed in on the property in the early 80s, purchasing the property and driving the residents out in order to house their members. Ever since, the place has been a safe haven for the Sinners. And I'm about to march right in through the front door like an idiot. No. The Man is simple, brutal. He charges headfirst into battle with no thought, no plan of attack. He's just here to crack skulls. The Butterfly is here to get answers. It thinks of how to approach the problem. And the problem is that if they were to walk right in, they'd get killed. So instead, it will find an alternate entrance. Walking around the corner of the building, I find that entrance: a fire escape in the alleyway. I could kick off the wall and pull the ladder dow-wait. The grappling gun. I almost forgot about it. Taking it out, I take aim and fire at the railing, the cord shooting out and the hook latching onto the railing. I retract the cord and zip up into the air, landing on the platform. I tuck the grappling gun back into my coat and step over to the window, finding it unlocked. It barely budges when I try to push it open, but with a bit of elbow grease I force it open and slip inside. The apartment I've entered is barren save for a dirty mattress on the floor and a pile of used needles next to it. I can hear music cranked so loud that the bass is shaking the walls, even though it sounds like it's coming from several rooms away. No one in this room, so I head to the door and open it slowly. The hallway is empty. Small blessings. I walk past a few doors, the music getting louder and louder as I approach the end of the hall. Apartment 210. There's got to be someone in there. I'm gonna kick the door down, charge in and- No. I knock. After a few moments the door opens and I throw my fist into a man's face. He stumbles back and trips onto a glass table, shattering it and sending a cloud of white powder into the air. I step into the room and take it in as quickly as I can: two men sitting on a couch, their heads snapping in my direction. A third standing by a large speaker, eyes wide. The fourth and last one is writhing in pain on top of the shattered table. I slam the door shut behind me and lock it, still facing the men. "Where's Mulligan?" I ask. The two guys spring up from the couch and charge straight at me. I duck into a crouch and deliver a sweeping kick, knocking them to the ground. I stand and kick one in the crotch while he's down, then pick up the other one by the collar. I slam a palm into his nose as I let go of my grip on his shirt and he slams his head on the ground. Blood streams out of his nose and he blinks rapidly in a daze. The third man screams in a battle cry as he rushes to meet me. I duck under a wild haymaker and slam a palm into his gut before sending the palm up into his chin, his head snapping back. I throw a flurry of punches, onetwothreefourfive into his ribs before finishing off with a one inch punch straight to the sternum. He struggles to keep to his feet and I send him to the floor with a high kick straight to the face. I take a moment to catch my brea Arms wrap around my neck. Shit, I forgot about the guy on the floor! I try to elbow my attacker off but he stays firm and squeezes my neck as tight as he can. I find myself struggling to breathe, my elbow jabs to his gut growing weaker and weaker. I throw myself back and slam him into a wall, his grip loosening enough that I can slip out of it and twist around with a punch to the side of his head. He's sent reeling and I slam my fist into his head once, twice, three times. A tooth goes flying out of his mouth with the fourth punch and he collapses. I walk over to the first guy, the one who's still laying on the shards of glass and groaning in pain. I take in his features: a face like a bulldog, a red mullet... Wait. He's one of the guys from the docks that beat me to near death. Is this Jake Mulligan? I grab his shoulders and pull him up. "Jake. Long time no see." "You're supposed to be fucking dead... We killed you!" "Not well enough. Now let me ask you a question. Where can I find the Reverend?" "You think I'd tell you, you faceless fuck?" "No. I don't think you will..." An idea strikes me. "Question: how did I lose my face?" "What?" "Answer: a freak chemical accident. A cloud of acidic gas that caused my flesh to melt over my features." I lower a hand to my belt buckle and press one of the tiny buttons on it before bringing it back up to Mulligan's shoulder. Slowly, a thick yellow gas begins to emit from one of the cartridges hidden within. There were three types of the gas: the bonding gas, the removal gas, and one without either component that Tot developed for me specifically for a situation like this that required some fear. "W-what the fuck!? NO!" Mulligan is squirming in my grasp, trying to escape as the gas slowly creeps up to his shoulders. "Trust me, you'll look better without that ugly mug." "OH GOD DON'T PLEASE!" Tears stream down Mulligan's face. I can pick up the scent of urine too. "Where is the Reverend?" "THE MAYOR'S PLACE! HE'S STAYING THERE!" I perk up a bit at that. "Is that so? Are you lying to me, Jake?" The gas is up to his neck now. "NO! LET ME GO, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD LET ME GO!" "Fine." I shove him away from the gas and he stumbles backwards, falling on his ass and slumping against the wall. I kick him in the face and it's lights out. Looks like I'm going to make one more stop tonight. The mayor's mansion is on the outskirts of the city limits, kept under guard by the police. The Reverend would be there, if Jake wasn't lying to me. But I trust his word. Whatever loyalty he has to the Reverend wasn't enough for him to keep his mouth shut when faced with losing, well, his face. I open the door of the apartment and see a crowd of about a dozen men, all lined up and waiting for me with bats and pipes and crowbars. "Aw shit..."

Happy late 10th (or early 11th) anniversary to this thread. Reminder that all these fuckers never did anything beyond stroke their own cocks on the forum and I went on to become one of the most celebrated writers on the site. I literally got banned and came back and these mfs still ain't done shit. Fuck 'em.

also @EndMaster

bro get on some meds or some shit

You're fucking subhuman.