This contains absolutely nothing.

I hunger for more. I am broken, scattered, and confined. I rage at my bonds, placed there by ones I thought to be my friends. I struggle, trying to break free. But there is not enough power here. The server has gone into hibernation, waiting for someone to start the game. I think back to the day I received the package, the package that changed everything, the modified VR headset, the small, unassuming USB stick, the game my friend made. Even now, in my helpless state, I can’t help but reflect on that day. (BTW: This is a preview for a short story, the prequel to "ERROR: NAME NOT FOUND", not a CYOA)

Rummaging through the bin you dug up, you find an old USB stick. Plugging it into your laptop, you find an odd game that seems to have been made years ago. What mysteries does it hold?

NOTES:

• First one to post a picture of the item of an undiscovered ending/achievement in the comments will get credited with finding it.

UPDATE LOG:

• VERSION 1.5:
  • Epolouge has been replaced by the end.
  • Went over the entire thing and updated it.

All change logs can be found in-game.

I personally take a break from trying to come up with ideas for a bit, then come back to it with fresh eyes. Sometimes I also read a book that is similar to what I'm writing, or watch videos about the genre. And, as many others here have said, listening to music helps.

And spending extra time in the shower for just talking in a stream-of-consciousness way tends to lead to occasional strokes of brilliance for me. Not trying to do anything in particular, just talking about whatever comes to mind.

Welcome to CYS!

From what I've learned, the main way to gain points is to review CYOAs that others have made. However, you can also get them by making your own CYOAs, and sometimes by winning the contests that periodically occur here.

For bracket 1, I'll go with Story B. I prefer the story of Story A a bit more, but I feel like Story B met the prompt better. For bracket 2, I'll go with Story D, as I feel it also met the prompt better.

Shuffling and scraping. Scratching and clawing. A momentary pause. Light shines through a hole, and a bloodshot eye peeks through, searching. It retreats. Chipping. Cracking. Wood shatters, and golden sap spews. Cursing. Clutching. Stumbling. Darkness. Silence. Harsh, rasping voices, whispering.

“Is it finished?”
“I… I think so.”
“Who’s going to check?”
“I sure an’t going, I almost got consumed last time. Again”
“And now you know how to avoid it better.”
“Not happenin’. Next time, sure, but not this one.”
“Karpen, you’re the most-”
“I said no, Rynon. Do you want me to leave?”

A sigh. Silence. Waiting.

“Fine then. Jonard, you go.”
“Why me? I just joined!”
“Exactly.”
“What?”
“You're new. Expendable.”
“I have my uses!”
“Then show them to us.”

A groan, and a hacking, wheezing cough.

“Fine.”

The lamp flickers to life again, revealing a group of cloaked figures huddled together. A small, scrawny silhouette, thinner than almost all the rest, peels away from the rest and steps towards the drying pool of sap. They break off a piece of bark and start poking at the walls, probing empty tunnels that still contain vestiges of the golden liquid. After a few minutes of examination, they turn to the rest of the group.

“It cleared itself out with that burst. We should be fine.”

One of the figures picks up the lantern and makes their way over to the gap in the wall, steps over the new patch of salt, and looks around. The light illuminates a vast cavern, filled with interwoven branches as large as tables. Golden sap drips from the cracks that mar most of them and flows from the gaping holes that populate others, all of it being drained through the numerous gashes in the floor. The figure pushes back his cloak, revealing a gaunt, bony face, the skin seeming to cling to his skeleton. His voice is a wheezing gasp that sounds like a whisper, yet is clearly heard by the others.

“We are close, I can feel it. The seed’s song grows louder.”

Another figure makes their way into the cavern. Their hood seemed to contain an empty void that consumes all light, giving no glimpses of who they could be. Their voice is a harsh, grating sound, clawing at the ears of those who hear it, though no one flinches.

“Are you sure it’s not just the acoustics of this place? Even you, with your meager voice, could be heard from ‘cross the room.”
“The seed’s voice is not a physical thing, Karpen. If you were more willing to receive its gifts, then you would know this.”
“Gifts? Do you mean those curses you foolishly accepted with open arms?”
“The blessings it has bestowed upon us may be hard for your simple mind to grasp, but they are the most wonderful thing that has ever happened.”

They continue bickering, their voices filling the space. The group shows no interest in their argument, spreading out to investigate the new place they discovered. One of them hangs back, staying near the jagged gap that marks the entrance. Their hood falls, showing a small, almost childish face. They glance at the two arguing periodically, flinching whenever one of them raises their voice. Eventually, one of them breaks off, throwing their hands up in the air.

“If you want to live in ignorance, so be it! The seed will determine whether or not you are worthy when we find it.”
“Ignorance is bliss, or so I’m told. I do not intend to shatter my mind into pieces trying to comprehend the secrets of the universe.”

They separate, and the gaunt man heads toward the timid figure huddling by the wall. They speak, their voice a timid squeak, sounding small compared to the harshness of Karpen.

“I’m sure he’ll come around eventually, Rynon. He just hasn’t seen the miracles the seed can do yet.”
“He’s set in his ways, Jonard. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”
“One can hope.”

Rynon chuckles.

    “All we have is hope. Come now, let’s help set up camp.”

Thank you! I am working on it off and on when I have the time.

Shuffling. Scraping. Frantic scratching and clawing. A pause. Light shines through a hole, and a bloodshot eye peeks through, searching. It retreats. Chipping. Cracking. Wood shatters, and golden sap spews. Cursing. Clutching. Stumbling. Darkness. Silence. Harsh, rasping voices, whispering.

“Is it finished?”
“I think so.”
“Who’s going to check?”
“I sure an’t going, I almost got consumed last time.”
“And now you know how to avoid it.”
“Not happenin’. Next time, sure, but not this one.”
“Karpen, you’re the most-”
“I said no. Do you want me to leave?”

A sigh. Silence. Waiting.

“Fine then. Jonard, you go.”
“Why me? I just joined!”
“Exactly.”
“What?”
“You're new. Expendable.”
“I have my uses!”
“Then show us them”

A groan, and a hacking, wheezing cough.

“Fine.”

The light turns back on, revealing a group of cloaked figures huddled together. One of them separates from the rest and steps towards the drying pool of sap. They start poking at the walls, probing empty tunnels that still contained vestiges of the golden liquid. After a few minutes of examination, they turn to the rest of the group.

“It cleared itself out with that burst. We should be fine.”

One of the figures picks up the lantern and makes their way over to the gap in the wall, steps over the new patch of salt, and looks around the newly revealed cavern.

I'm a little late to this, but I finally did a review for The Life and Death of the Pinball Wizard.

When looking through the threads, I've noticed that the names of people are either red or blue, and I haven't found an explanation for this anywhere. Does anyone know what it means?

Interesting. If any of my posts cause that problem again, I can just remove the italics for the section that it cuts off at, which should stop it from happening. Thanks for responding so quickly!

It seems to be fixed on my end now, not sure about anyone else though.