Monster

Monster was a really good story!

This was even better than Warden! And warden was already a really good story!

I thought that the monster would be impersonating her grandpa, so I was surprised that it was actually her grandpa.

I think you integrated the family aspect really well here as well. I like that it was quick and easy, yet scary as hell!

The lore of the "Reborn" company was really interesting. But why did that "Reborn" rep end his sentences with :D, that seemed odd to me lol. I did love that chilling messages he leaves after knowing the grandpa can't respond anymore since he turned into a monster, that was evil as hell!

I liked the different endings available. I think the only criticism is that we didn't get a fully happy ending where we cured the grandpa or took down the company, but then again, this is horror, so just escaping alive or killing the monster is as good as it gets.

Nicely done!

General Recommendation: A short fun horror game built around a simple but interesting mystery.
Preview: Are you really safe in this house with a relative you do not recognize?

=SPOILERS BELOW=

General notes:
Overall: I enjoyed it! It’s a fun game, with the mystery keeping the player invested and curious throughout the game’s duration. It doesn’t overstay its welcome, keeping short and sweet with an appropriate pace.
The mechanics are well-employed to evoke horror. The slow and steady exploring of the house, full of elements that might be revisited, allows the tension to build as the player wonders what the crawlspace and shotgun might be used for. I particularly liked the touch of the red link to Grandpa’s room, appearing almost like a jump scare after the player has explored two rooms. Similarly the backyard shed’s appearance shows that there is something different about this location, and allows it to be missable on a first read through.
The narrator does not have a very distinct personality, which can have both a positive and negative effect in storygames. In this game, weirdly I think it has both. Over-characterizing the narrator would take away from this game’s appeal, namely, its easiness to read. However, as mentioned later, this comes at the cost of a seemingly underdeveloped world.
This story’s greatest weakness is its lack of depth. There is a simple mystery with a simple explanation. None of the characters are very deep or complex, and there is not much to the story beyond its premise. That said, this isn’t exactly a weakness, as the story at no point attempts to be more than it is.
Similarly, the endings do not go into much detail. Either you survive or you don’t, and what happens after that is anyone’s guess. The "woods" ending in particular seems to leave several threads dangling.
It’s tonally similar to Warden in many ways, with the emphasis placed on the scenario rather than the characters, presenting intriguing elements rather than delving deep into their implications. It’s an interesting sub-genre, enjoyable bite-sized horror stories that are easy and fun to get into, without being greatly taxing reads. They remind me a bit of the two-sentence horror sub-genre, but a much more fleshed-out and expansive take on the idea.

Specific notes:
-Great opening paragraph! I’m intrigued.
-Not much happens in the opening sequence other than the narrator reflecting on recent events. Admittedly there’s only so much you can do about that in a short story. Delivering the info through dialogue or more direct connection to occurring events would be nice, but again, options are limited.
-I like the way memories of the family are interspersed with the narrator’s wandering around the house. It’s a good way to deliver the information without seeming abrupt or overly long. It’s interspersed with details about the house, which will surely come in handy later on.
-Love the red link. It conveys the emotion much more clearly than words.
-I like the way more links appear as the house is explored.
-The plot thickens! I don’t trust Grandpa, but I don’t trust Sven either. Best to keep my options open. I don’t like the sound of “they would adore you back at the facility.” It seems a little abrupt that when you choose to leave Sven you’re transported immediately back to the house without a reaction from him.
-Lol. Love the :D face at the end of every response. The chat log section is fun.
-I was toying with the idea that “Grandpa” might be a normal guy and the narrator is the real imposter. But this is an interesting twist too. Poor dude.
-I like the protagonist’s final line.
-Huh! Surprised you survive when you don’t shoot him again.

Grammar:
Good.
Mastery of Language:
Good, a comfortable voice and sentence flow.
A round of red-pen editing could help with the flow. Certainly there’s nothing wrong with the language used, just that there are places where it could have been improved. Overall it’s wordier than it needs to be.

Branching:
There’s tons of endings, but most of them are pretty similar, with you surviving the encounter in one way or another.

Player options/Fair choice:
Good!

PERSONAL EXPERIENCE:
I first reached the “Sole Survivor” ending.

WRITING ADVICE:
Nothing much for this game specifically, since it did what it was trying to do, which is tell a short horror story. I could give advice, but all of it would be on how to make the story longer and more complicated, which you weren’t trying to do, and would probably make it worse.
Other than that: might be worth reading through again and combing for wordiness.

CONCLUSION: 5/8

Sherbet, you got a real thing for messed up families huh?

Well anyway, let's get onto it. I once read your previous work Warden before, and I must say that there are definitely some improvements made! The one thing that is quite striking about this story, is that the storytelling is very efficiently done. You really crammed up lots of stuff in only 10k words. It was the same case with warden, but what makes Monster work better than Warden, is that you kept the focus on only one monster and one overarching feeling of discomfort.

To illustrate how efficient the story telling is: consider the exploration phase where Elizabeth just bumbles around the house she lives in with grandpa. First and foremost, it foreshadows about the nature of Grandpa aka the weird syringes in the garage and the odd stranger who tells you about some monster, then it adds some characterization of Elizabeth's dead dad (and his strained relationship with his own dad), mother and brother while also showing her grief, then at last it showcases the locations and the ways how you as a reader can escape or fight off the monster. One sequence, three purposes.

The monster is cool and tragic and downright creepy. In the beginning I thought that it wasn't really her grandpa but some monster pretending to be one, fun twist that he's her grandpa for real but did some weird experimentations and became a monster.

(The beginning pages plus the rules of Grandpa were also really smart, fun thing when one reads it for a second time "don't look at grandpa", the padlocks and grandpa warning Elizabeth to stay away from his bedroom.)

I also think that the first pages were the best at giving the story real darn tension. I love the creepy descriptions of the grandpa, really gave me the shivers. However, towards the finally the tension kinda dies off a little which is kind of a shame.
I think it's a bit of a lack of description and setting the tone for each ending page. Most of them were really short (300 words or so) which makes it even more difficult to stick a good landing and make the endings distinct from each other. The stealth, runaway and hideaway ending suffer the most of this problem and are incredibly similar with Elizabeth eventually running away from the house.
My favorite ending is probably the monster ending followed by the sole survivor and the mercy ending.

Minor nitpicks that don't have anything to do with the main themes etc.
I don't know what I should feel with the woods ending; it feels kinda strange that this not-so-benevolent dude is willing to help/warn Elizabeth.
Plus: Elizabeth knows the house for quite a long time, why doesn't she know about the shotgun or the hidden passages (if you didn't explore it, then it won't show up in the ending sequence).

Tldr: what I like to see more of: more elaborate ending scenes and a greater diversity of endings (i don't really mind if those three endings were meshed into one). The infodump of all those emails that set off the ending sequence, I wonder if there would add more tension to have some out of context notes strewn over the houses for the reader to collect, I'm not sure.

All in all, good story Sherbet, I enjoyed it. (I played through all seven endings)

Attila the hun with a gun could have totally swooped in and saved Rebecca from her whack-ahh grandpa lmao. He just goes *bang* *bang*, and boom the monster is dead.

[[ I N T R O D U C T I O N ]]


As you requested, I’m here to offer my thoughts.

Monster hooked me in with its mysterious, unsettling beginning, coupled with the suspense of the grandfather's possible inhumanness. The protagonist Elizabeth’s fuzzy memories not only raised more intriguing questions but also introduced a frightening vulnerability. On top of that, the loss of her whole family heightened the tension and her emotions. Isolated with a stranger and surrounded by the woods, Elizabeth faced the unknown and the horrors lurking behind it - alone.

Though mostly linear, the story reflected multiple strengths. First, the exploration felt rewarding and didn’t overstay its welcome. With each area clearly labeled and closed once discovered, navigation felt easy. The rooms often yielded more secrets, so though Elizabeth may have dwelled in this house for years, it felt fresh and exciting.

Second, the story displayed careful attention to detail. Information that may have seemed irrelevant later became lifesaving - each piece had its purpose.

Third, the well-developed characters offered further motivation for exploration. Each unique memory painted clear portraits of Elizabeth’s loved ones, tainted by the grief of loss. It increased a sense of connection, so when Elizabeth discovered the truth of her grandfather, I nearly teared up.

Overall, Monster delivered a unique horror experience, distorting the protagonist’s mind with grief, doubt, and isolation. With her trapped and facing impending doom, the story introduced a concoction of thrilling problems that raised the stakes. Paired with an elegant writing style and gorgeous descriptions, it delivered a haunting, gloomy atmosphere, urging readers to discover the truth - or die trying.

To further strengthen the story, perhaps you could consider some suggestions below. They mainly consist of improving story structure, strengthening the protagonist’s voice, showing more than telling, and condensing sentences. (Note: I will italicize words by putting them between slashes /like this/.)



[[ P A R T O N E // STORY STRUCTURE ]]


|| GIVE GRANDPA MORE FOCUS. ||

Give Grandpa and the memories balanced attention. I felt that the memories overpowered the present horror of the entity. As the antagonist and main focus, perhaps Grandpa could be inserted a little more in each scene to increase his relevancy. What may help is giving the protagonist an even more specific motivation related to him (ex: aim to look for evidence of him while uncovering her memories).

Since the family background information is secondary, perhaps use it as a tool to further uncover clues and gradually raise doubts (ex: searching through her father’s cabinet of pictures to see if Grandpa’s photo appears). This may look like:

(In Bret’s room) . . . when a stack of doodles catches your eye, sticking out the side. Plucking them up, you fan them out on the carpet. Amidst the colorful scenes of race cars and grinning drivers, you pick out sketches of your family. It’s the same, distinct figures in each one, drawn in wobbly, enthusiastic lines.
Mom, Dad, Bret, and you.
No Grandpa.


|| MAINTAIN A CONSISTENT TONE. ||

Further push the horror tone. The story opened with a delightfully eerie tone, but as Elizabeth delved into old memories, nostalgia overwhelmed it. Therefore, when the tone switched back to horror once she entered Grandpa’s room or the shed, it felt inconsistent. Perhaps build tension by interlacing her exploration with a sense of unease. Examples include skittering, the oppressive silence, freezing at every noise as the sound is amplified with no one to fill it, the uncertainty of whether Elizabeth is truly home alone or not, the fear clashing with the anger that Grandpa is an intruder that has no right to dictate how she lives, all diluted by doubt and confusion. It may look like:

Your eyes dart up to the stairs, where the shadows swarm. What if you’re not alone? What if he’s up there, lingering within the darkness? His hardened gaze tracking your every move, slowly counting every sin, hand raised to deliver the punishing blow?

In addition, with no inhabitants, each room may feel colder. For example, the garage once filled with memories and treasure troves may feel claustrophobic, shadows lurking within the piles, forgotten towers looming over her.

In fact, if two weeks have passed with a new being in the home, perhaps changes may have occurred. Maybe consider spreading traces of Grandpa’s presence in the rooms. Maybe focus more on the struggle of remembering what’s real, about intrusion and loss, a dark presence corrupting a house of memories from the inside-out.


|| SET SCENES AND TRANSITIONS MORE CLEARLY. ||

Sometimes, the protagonist’s location felt unclear, and some scene changes lacked a transition. For example, when the protagonist heard a crash from the shed and considered investigating it, she was suddenly near the shed with no transition. Another example is the garage scene in which she was still climbing junk piles when Grandpa appeared. Though the scene never showed her reaching the shotgun, she was suddenly shooting him.



[[ P A R T T W O // SHOWING, NOT TELLING. ]]


|| STRENGTHEN THE PROTAGONIST'S PERSONALITY. ||

Elizabeth’s world received detailed descriptions and characters with distinct personalities. Examples included the shed with a “[spongy] texture . . . caving in downwards” or the house’s “creaky oak flooring”. However, in comparison, Elizabeth felt somewhat incomplete. This could’ve been a purposeful choice as with hazy memories, maybe she herself felt “undeveloped”. But to build balance, interest, and a connection with the protagonist, perhaps consider ways to increase characterization without fully abandoning this concept.

One way is to replace some telling phrases with thoughts, increasing individuality. For example, when Elizabeth checked on Grandpa, she was “left to assume he ignored [her] word.” I changed that to a thought, condensed sentences, changed “serenade” to match the creepier tone (if you want to further increase the tension, perhaps have complete silence with just the bedroom door looming over her), and showed her uncertainty:

"Hello?" Your voice travels up the stairs.
Silence. Nothing but the droning crickets outside.
The hairs stir on the back of your neck. You fold your hands before you, digging your bare toes against the hardwood floor. The seconds drag by, eventually turning into a full minute.
/Is he ignoring me?/
Your stomach tightens. Drawing in a deep breath, you call again. “Are you alright?”

You could also add thoughts in general to increase interactivity/impact. For example:

“'My big sister Elizabeth is the bestest sister in the whole world.'
/I could’ve been better./
You take a deep breath, setting the paper down . . .”


|| STRENGTHEN ELIZABETH'S NARRATIVE VOICE. ||

Another way to intensify Elizabeth’s impact is to strengthen her narrative voice. It heightens a character’s appeal by reflecting their unique perspective. It also reduces dependence upon telling statements to show their reactions. Maybe think of it as a character “talking out loud” to the reader.

Because you know Elizabeth’s voice better than me, I’ll write random voices. For example, for this line (“You still find yourself relatively concerned by the groans of agony.”), a voice may sound like: “The moment Grandpa’s door creaks shut, you scramble up. Yes, he’s strange, but no one deserves to suffer alone. Besides, he’s family.” As for this line (“You have some second thoughts about this check-in.”), it may be: “Is this a good idea?”

What would one sound like upon noticing the lack of breakfast? A blunter, faster-paced personality may sound like:

You peek into the kitchen. Empty stovetop. A tower of dishes in the sink. And no breakfast.
Guess Grandpa’s letting you starve today.
Sighing, you grab a hopefully unexpired cereal bar from the pantry.

Meanwhile, a more empathetic, observant personality may look like:

You peek into the kitchen. The stovetop is empty, and yesterday’s stained dishes sit in the sink. A pack of meat lays on the counter, half-sawed through by a knife.
Poor Grandpa - did he even eat breakfast yet? If only he’d let you make him something . . .

Another example is the awesome scene when Elizabeth found a shotgun in her father’s “SELL” box. How would differing voices respond? (This voice definitely won’t match your story tone or Elizabeth - I’m just illustrating how different it could sound. I did some showing for the argument and to indicate the box belonged to the father. I tried staying close to your 148 words.)

(202 words)
A box catches your eye. Big, brown, with “SELL” scrawled across it in thick, dark marker.
What could be hiding there? You rip it open. Some trading cards slide out and scatter across your feet. A quick kick at them, and you’re back to rummaging through the box, but your hands slow. Fishing hooks. Aged board games. A stack of faded baseball caps. A lump grows in your throat, and you shakily laugh while swiping at your wet eyes.
Yeah. This is - /was/ Dad’s nerd stash.
You’re about to close the lid when on a whim, you shove aside a smaller box and -
/Oh man. This thing’s still around?/
Under some folders, the barrel of a shotgun peeks out. The very one that’d launched your parents in an hours-long, blow-their-voices-out screaming match. Shaking your head, you push the folders back over it. Yeah, Dad, /great/ idea - stash a deadly weapon under the bed, and don’t tell Mom till she finds it while cleaning.
But in the end? Guess the old man won that argument. ‘Cause it’s sure not getting sold now . . .


|| REDUCE FILTER PHRASES. ||

Reduce filter phrases to tighten your pose. Filter phrases include “you see/know/feel/hear/realize/conclude/can tell/it appears/it seems, etc.” Too many create separation because they tell rather than show experiences through the character’s eyes.

For example, for “You're unsure . . .”, try “Who knows where Grandpa has gone?” Or “You look out the window, seeing . . .” could be “You look out the window. Night has fallen.” Anything with “you think”, try showing the thought unfiltered. For example, cut off “It was the only part of this puzzle that had really made you stop and think-” and go straight to the thought. Example:

As you step inside, a fading iron scent hits your nose. Pausing, you deeply inhale. It’s not coming from the carpet or the desk.
It’s the bed.
Peering under it, you spot a pile of bloodied bandages shoved into a corner. Bandages that Grandpa had been wearing on your first day back home, only to disappear the following morning. You stare at the darkened wads.
Maybe, just maybe . . . he /had/ been in the accident too?

FILTERED: When Elizabeth discovered the letters, she was “initially a bit confused” but “[got] the answer as soon as” she picked up the envelope.

UNFILTERED:

You blink. If these letters are for you or Bret, what’re they doing up here?
You pluck up the shredded envelope and open the letter. Two words stand out.
/Dear Martin–/
Wait. That’s Dad’s name.

I saw strong phrases like “A pained and otherworldly screeching cuts through . . . the night”, “Your heartbeat begins to deafen you”, and “the strike brings him to the ground, scrambling backward on all fours”. Great unfiltered ways to tap into the five senses. I’d love seeing more.


|| USE ACTIVE VOICE. ||

Write more often in the active voice. In the active voice, the subject performs the action (ex: The dog tore the sheep’s leg.). Meanwhile, in the passive voice, the subject receives the action (ex: The sheep’s leg was torn by the dog.).

Although passive voice can be useful, active voice increases immersion and gets to the point. For example, the passive voice here (“Your ears are completely filled with the sound of your own heartbeat.”) becomes active with the heartbeat as the subject: “Your heartbeat roars in your ears.” Or the passive voice here (“The house is filled with the sound of him charging directly through a wall.”) becomes active with Grandpa as the subject: “/Crash!/ He slams through a wall, plywood and plaster exploding everywhere.” Or here: “His skin is ripped up, revealing . . .” = “His ripped skin reveals graying flesh underneath, his bones protruding in random places.”


|| REPLACE TELLING WITH MORE SHOWING. ||

Telling is good for quickly relaying information, but showing should receive great focus. It allows readers to experience events through the character’s eyes and pushes the story forward with action, as telling statements can slow it down.

One way to accomplish this involves being specific in your descriptions. For example, for “everything about [Grandpa] is so strange”, what is specifically weird about his mannerisms and routines? (ex: Even on boiling hot days, he huddles within a thick trench coat.) What about him is different each time? (ex: Yesterday, he was no taller than the fridge, but today, he stoops to avoid bashing his head into the doorframe.)

Another example is the thrilling shotgun scene in which Elizabeth rushed through junk piles before Grandpa caught her. To intensify the action, consider replacing telling statements with more vivid depictions and stronger verbs. Specifically, statements like “You don't mind the scrapes and cuts of various different things” and “it’s better than becoming a meal” sound casual and calm considering the horror tone. What would it truly be like to wrestle through a danger zone of sharp metal and broken objects? Maybe to replace “you make your way through”, consider stronger words like “sprint, scramble, claw, wrestle, fight”.

In the example below, I tried showing Elizabeth’s struggle through the claustrophobic garage. I used choppier statements to try matching the quick pace of the action. To accompany your chilling description of Grandpa’s speed, I drew out the chase scene since it didn’t show Elizabeth reaching the shotgun. (PS: If the father knew about gun safety, the shotgun might not be left loaded, but that's up to you.)

. . . the bite of glass, wounds weeping on your skin - you grit your teeth and scramble over a pile of twisted bikes. Something metal catches around your leg. When you yank free, white-hot pain sears through your calf.
You scream.
A roar echoes through the garage. Grandpa. One moment, his hunched figure crouches in the doorway. The next, he’s springing onto a garbage pile, scrambling to you, a blur of teeth and bloodshot eyes.
Your blood runs cold. Clawing through the hoard, you break out into the open and squeeze through the pillars of clutter. Your shoulder jams into one, and broken fans and laptops tumble around your feet. Another tower of metal devices teeters. You dodge forward - just as claws snatch at you from behind.
/Crash!/
A pained howl tears through the air, chilling your bones.

An example of showing her reaching the shotgun:

You gasp for breath, wide eyes darting around. Dad’s box. Where is it? Where, where –
/There!/
It sits in the corner, atop a hill of clothes.
More shrieks pierce your ears, and mountains of junk crash around the room. Something hard smashes against your back. A DVD player slams onto your shoulder. Throwing your arms over your head, you stumble to the box and rip it open. You tear through it until your hand closes around the cold shotgun, the last remnants of your father’s protection.
There’s a rush of air behind you. A snarl.
You spin around and pull the trigger.


|| DON'T SPOIL SURPRISES IN EVENTS. ||

Another way to show rather than tell involves revealing events as Elizabeth experiences them. Sometimes, before she herself encountered a surprise, you announced it or revealed the answer/her feelings on it. For example, after she discovered Grandpa’s chat conversation, you informed readers: “Where Grandpa has been all day is unknown, but a sudden sharp noise fills the air, one that informs you that he's making his return.”

To avoid spoiling the surprise, try removing that and reordering events, so readers enter with less information and only discover it during. Keep the reader as blind as Elizabeth because in that moment, the reader /IS/ Elizabeth. I also rewrote it since Grandpa was “unrecognizable”, so she wouldn’t initially know it was him.

. . . stirs unease deep in your soul (perhaps try showing what makes her uneasy instead of telling? The uncertainty and blindness, not being in the comfort of her room, feeling naked without the chains?)
A pained, otherworldly screech cuts through the woods.
Your heart drops.
From the thicket stumbles a willowy, pale figure. Twitching and convulsing, it drags its long arms behind it in the grass. When its hand catches on a bush, it throws its head back and roars. As it yanks free, tattered remnants of a brown coat dangle from its shoulders.
Your eyes widen.
/Grandpa?/

Another example is when Elizabeth entered Bret’s room, which contained a striking description of his passion for cars. This strengthened the moment she relived his death, killed by what he loved. To intensify her perspective, perhaps reorder the events, so the reader first enters the room with little information about Bret. Elizabeth was reminded of his passion once she saw the posters, so leave the reader as blind as Elizabeth’s fuzzy memories. Then, you won’t need to say he was the biggest fan of cars because the posters show that.

Second, reduce filter phrases like “you’re reminded” or “can vividly remember”. Instead, flesh out what she sees and remembers. Third, perhaps reduce the telling statements and further show Bret’s passion and ignorance. One way you could do this is through a brief flashback, as you already had her experiencing one. It could just be a string of quick descriptions. Ex:

For a second, he’s here - the sharp tang of his mint gum, his high, chirping voice, his sweaty hand shaking your arm before tightening.
“Wait.”
His eyes widen. His nails dig into your flesh.
“Wait, look out! /Look–/”

All this can help accentuate Elizabeth’s trauma, illustrating the clash between her past and present. It may look like:

Your little brother, Bret. Memories of him dangle just out of reach, his face blurred, his muffled voice tickling your ears. As you push open his bedroom door, a blue monster truck flashes through the gap.
Your hand slackens. The door swings out of your grip.
Cars, everywhere. Posters of them crowd every inch of the walls, drawings crudely stapled over them, miniature replicas crammed on the shelves and window sills.



[[ P A R T T H R E E // CONDENSING SENTENCES ]]

Consider ways to condense sentences and eliminate unnecessary or redundant phrases. The grim descriptions contained strong grammar and an elegant, almost formal writing style. To further improve comprehension, perhaps consider reducing extra words for concise sentences. This helps maintain attention while quickly bringing in main points.


|| SIMPLIFY PHRASES. ||

One way to achieve this involves simplifying phrases and replacing them with fewer words (or even one). For example, “The place is in need of a serious remodeling” could be “The place needs a serious remodeling.” Though this edit may seem small, extra phrases add up.

A bigger example is: “It's lucky that, even with all the unfamiliarities surrounding your life, you at least get to sleep in your own home and on your own bed, as opposed to the hospital's uncomfortable one.” This could be edited to: “You’re lucky. At least you can sleep at home instead of in a cramped hospital bed.”

Another example is: “The warmth of sunlight trickles through your blinds . . . you feel . . . oddly happy . . . Once you're a bit more awake, you're able to pinpoint the reason for your good mood- the house is completely and utterly quiet. It seems you have the place to yourself, for the time being, anyway.”

This could be: “Warm sunlight trickles through your blinds . . . you feel . . . oddly happy . . . as the haze of sleep fades, you pinpoint the reason why - the house is silent. You have it all to yourself.

For now.”

The reason why I removed “your good mood” is because it already stated Elizabeth was “oddly happy.”


|| COMBINE SENTENCES. ||

An additional method is to combine sentences where possible. This reduces wordiness while conveying the same meaning. For example, you wrote this paragraph about the attic:

A secret room that's only accessible from a hidden hatch on the second floor, the attic has always been the best spot in the entire house to win a game of hide-and-seek. Dad didn't really like anyone going in here, though, always regarding this place as 'off-limits.' It was a rule even Mom was expected to follow, leading to both you and your brother theorizing that he just didn't want her hoarding to extend to the attic.

If the father regarded the attic as off-limits, it’s already clear he disliked anyone going there, so that phrase could be removed for concision. In the example below, I combined sentences and used “probably” to indicate it’s Elizabeth’s guess/theory.

The attic.
A secret room, only accessible from a hidden hatch on the second floor. It was the best spot for winning hide-and-seek, though Dad regarded it as “off-limits” for everyone, even Mom. Probably so her hoarding wouldn’t spread up there.

Another example is the beautiful, detailed scene when Elizabeth discovered the strongbox. I was especially grossed out (in a good way) by the syrupy liquid.

The box is completely littered with broken shards of glass of varying sizes, most of them labelled with lines and dark letters. That's not all though, as the shards at the very bottom of the box are swimming in a pool of thick-looking gray fluid, giving off the visual of murky water, but tilting the box reveals the consistency to be more akin to syrup.
Many of the glass shards have blood spattered on them, the vile liquid at the bottom of the box having mixed with some of the dark-red.

Here, three gorgeous details are separated into long sentences with repeated phrases of “glass shards”, “liquid/fluid”, and “bottom of the box”. To improve comprehension, combine these sentences.

First, “broken shards of glass of varying sizes” could be “glass shards.” Shards imply they’re broken, and readers would understand they’d have different sizes. Second, extra phrases (ex: completely, very bottom = bottom, that’s not all though) could be removed without changing the meaning. Third, “Judging from the fact that most of it isn't completely dried, this only happened just recently” could just be “Most of the blood is wet”, and the reader can infer this event recently occurred.

Here’s what the changes may look like. I also showed uncertainty and shock:

Slowly, you ease the lid open - and nearly slam it shut.
Glass shards litter the box, most of them labeled with lines and dark letters. They swim in a thick, gray fluid akin to murky water, but the liquid slowly slides like syrup. Blood paints everything in a dark hue, crusted on the glass edges, swirling in that putrid, soupy mass.
Still wet.
Your stomach rolls. Bile scorches your throat, and you slap your hand over your mouth.


|| REDUCE ADVERBS AND QUALIFIERS. ||

A qualifier precedes an adjective or adverb and affects its meaning (https://www.grammarbook.com/blog/adjectives-adverbs/qualifiers-and-intensifiers/). Examples include particularly, rather, entirely, quite, fairly, extremely, very, a bit (ex: It was somewhat expensive/I’m always quiet).

Though useful, too many affect concision, so consider minimizing them. Removing unnecessary ones won’t change the sentence’s meaning (ex: They’re stacked fairly tall. = They’re stacked tall.). You can also use a stronger word (ex: extremely sad = depressed / very tall = towering).

For example, “This house is fairly old, and the number one giveaway would most certainly be this room” could be “This house is old, and the first/biggest giveaway is this room.” Or “He never went into town unless it was absolutely necessary” could be “He never went into town unless necessary.” Another example is an envelope being “sloppily ripped apart”, but “ripped apart” implies the action was sloppy.


|| REDUCE REPETITION IN DETAILS AND AVOID OVEREXPLAINING. ||

Sometimes, you repeated fresh information or wrote sentences with similar meanings. You also sometimes overexplained actions rather than allowing readers to make inferences. For example, Elizabeth noted that her father’s cabinet appeared “much newer” and didn’t “match the rest of the furniture”. When approaching it, she saw it “failed to blend in with the rest of the room” and looked “far too new, compared to the . . . more worn-with-time furniture.”

However, they all conveyed the same meaning - failing to blend. And with wriggling into a gap, the reader can infer it’s inconvenient. Perhaps you could also describe what’s strange about it (ex: Does it have a special carving, a padlock on the handles, etc.?). Changing it may look like:

Deeper in the bedroom, a cabinet catches your eye, initially hidden from view. Compared to the other worn furniture, its clean, cherrywood finish appears too new.
CHOICE: Check the cabinet.
Scooting around the bed, you squeeze into the gap between the mattress and wall, where the cabinet has been pushed to the back.

Another example is the “freezing cold air of the uninsulated [garage], the concrete floor in particular radiating a certain chilliness.” Freezing cold (can just be “freezing”) implies the garage is uninsulated. Maybe it could look something like (here, I also condensed phrases and removed extra adverbs/qualifiers):

You shove your entire body against the garage door, straining against the immense weight on the other side. Through the gap, you glimpse piles of ancient garbage, toys, ice cream makers, hula hoops -
/Dammit, Mom, why couldn’t you throw anything away?/
Sticking your hand through to shove a vacuum cleaner aside, you finally wrestle the door open. Freezing air sears your body. Shivering, you step onto the concrete floor, which radiates a stronger chilliness.

Another example is where Grandpa gave Elizabeth chains and a padlock “to discourage her from wandering at night.” This already communicates he didn’t want her to leave her bedroom at late hours. In my example, I reduced phrases and showed how she might've known Grandpa’s intentions behind the chains.

Earlier this week, you left your bedroom and nearly tripped over a thick coil of chains. A shiny padlock rested on top, along with a note in spiky handwriting that read: “To protect your door.”
That, and to discourage you from wandering at night.
Why?
It doesn’t matter for now. With the steel wrapped around both handles, you can rest with some peace of mind.

As for allowing readers to make inferences, use implications and subtext to avoid overexplaining every action. For example, glass and blood in the strongbox already show “it’d be unwise to touch any of this”. Also, because everything else is covered in dust, readers can infer the box is new or has been used.

Another example when Elizabeth knew her father wouldn’t accomplish his remodeling goals. This could instead be implied like:

Dad always said he was just going to fix the house up himself.
His blueprints and scribbled plans are probably gathering dust by now.
Your chest grows heavy. Before tears fill your eyes, you quickly turn to the other rooms.

Another example is when Elizabeth checked on Grandpa, and her creaking door alerted him. Because the reader knows she’s breaking the rules, you can stop at “A shiver skates down her spine” for greater impact. Example:

You ease open the door. It releases an ear-splitting creak, echoing through the house.
Upstairs, the groaning stops.
You freeze.



[[ C O N C L U S I O N ]]

Overall, I felt that strengthening the connection between the exploration scenes and Grandpa would improve your story, as well as maintaining a consistent tone. Also, giving Elizabeth a stronger voice while showing more than telling would increase immersion and the reader’s bond. In addition, condensing sentences and reducing repetition would increase comprehension and quicken the pace.

Other than that, Monster offered an enjoyable experience, one that I willingly revisited to see Elizabeth’s possible fates. With a greater focus on crafting an unsettling environment than adding gore, the story’s horror elements increased my tension. I expected to see Grandpa around the corner at any moment. In addition, when Elizabeth discovered the heartbreaking truth, it deepened the story’s complexity and increased the horror and pain of fighting him. In the end, Monster's horrifying tale introduced two lonely people crushed by an unfair universe, evoking a bittersweetness within me.

A based game made by a based individual. Had me squealing like a little girl throughout the entirety of the story (in excitement and terror!)

Sherbet did an excellent job on this. The world-building and descriptions were especially well-done. I'm an avid fan of suspense, and this kept me on the edge of my seat the entire time. Sherbet actually had me holding my breath after reading the emails, just like Elizabeth was. To me, the 'Monster' ending was my favorite, as the option to use the syringe on myself was surprising.

This is one of the stories I actually bothered to play through to get all the endings, so I highly recommend it to others.

Congrats, Sherb, what an unpleasant read.

And no, I don't mean that it was bad, but that it read so unsettlingly. The juxtaposition of the desire to protect and care versus the desire for flesh just doesn't sit right with me. The well paced release of information to build up tension doesn't help the case, either, and only augments the "ugh" factor as I read further.

But anyway, I read through every ending. Solid writing overall, and I didn't pick out any glaring spag issues. It was conducive to the suspense coupled with sentimental recollections in the house search. Descriptions of the monster were vivid and gruesome in good sized proportions, no problems there.

Plotwise, it falls a bit short. branching was limited and many endings were decided via one or two choices, while the most other branches were relegated to lore options. It's quite clear that there were more planned but time forced you to publish (should've anticipated the extra extensions that you were going to get, Sherb).

All considered, though, still a good 6/8. There's definitely room for expansion time-wise, a day or two more with grandpa never hurts ;)

Solid story. I liked the B-plot of revealing more about my Dad's relationship with my Grandpa. One thing that I didn't like was how I couldn't go into a room more than once if I wanted to reread a small detail. I also wished there were more direct interactions with Grandpa.

This is a pretty good example of what the horror genre should be. This story succeeds in making itself horrifying and unsettling without using gross descriptions and oodles of gore as a crutch. While descriptions of the ‘monster’ in question are somewhat disgusting, it’s still the nature of the monster that takes center stage in this story.

SPOILERS

Sherbet did a wonderful retelling of the wendigo myth in a more sci fi horror context. The part that really shines in my mind is that the grandfather turning into a monster was due to a motivation that is familiar to all of us. After all, if this were a mad bargain for power, we might blame him, but who can blame someone for wanting their body to function like it used to. He even has an altruistic motive of being useful to his daughter.

Elizabeth was suspicious of the grandpa from the beginning, and because we are too, that adds to the twist. The rules and his ever changing body make us feel that something is wrong with grandpa, but there’s no way of knowing what. There’s certainly no way of suspecting that he’s the unwitting pawn of some kind of shady medical research facility.

The setting of the childhood home, all but abandoned certainly gives rise to an unsettling feeling. Going through the old abandoned rooms also gives an otherwise featureless protagonist the opportunity to show some appropriate emotion, especially at her brother and father’s love for her and the family.

Due probably to the shortness of the game, several large mysteries are left rather unexplained. To me, this is the most unsatisfying part of the experience. Why exactly the grandpa wasn’t in the picture in the first place was sort of hinted at, but never fully explained. The fact that he probably messed up with his son does explain why he uses the odd method of gaslight adopting his granddaughter after the accident. There’s also the facility and what they were trying to achieve with this kind of treatment. It was sort of hinted at in the “Woods” ending, but never actually gone into. One that seemed rather silly was the Dad’s need to keep all his sentimental pictures in a cabinet. That I don’t understand. Was he afraid his family would think he was soft?

In any case, even though I share horror as a genre, Sherbet created a creepy horror story that even I can enjoy. It’s a quick, pleasantly unpleasant read that I would suggest to anyone.

Wow. Just... wow.
This hooked me in - I had to read all the endings.
A brilliant story doesn't have to have a lot of choices or pages. This is one of them.