All this for a map of Paris? Let's play Curses!

Here are the other entries under "Amusing things." They aren't really things to do, but various historical facts and development notes. Still, an interesting read.

About Callimachus and Apollonius
Callimachus (c. 300-240 BC), a former schoolteacher in Alexandria, produced the first library catalogue: a 120-part organised history of literature to date (almost all lost now, like much of its subject matter). He was favoured at court and celebrated for his epigrams (about 60 of which survive in the "Greek Anthology") but denounced by critics for being unable to write epics, which he detested ("big book, big bore"). Apollonius, the head librarian c. 260-247, was a former pupil with exactly opposite views, who brought out a 6000-line epic on the Argonauts, whereupon the quarrel grew so personal and bitter that Apollonius was driven into retirement.

An epigram by Callimachus
Sleep cold at someone's
Door as, shivering,
I lie tonight at
Yours. The neighbours weep
To see me here, but
Who will weep for you,
Crouched on a doorstep
When the grey hairs come?

-- translation by Edward Lucie-Smith

Salmon Wielder
Other anagrams of "Marie Swelldon", found by Michael Kinyon, include...

Demeanor Wills

Domineer Walls

Amino Dwellers

Enrolled Swami

Lemonade Swirl

Mellowed Rains

Dowel Minerals

Seminole Drawl

Allowed Miners

Almoner Wields

Mellows Rained

Mineral Slowed

Moraine Dwells

Mellow Sardine

Sawmill Redone

Soldier Lawmen

Swindle Morale

Swollen Admire

Wistaria or wisteria?
To those who wrote to suggest "wistaria" be spelt "wisteria":
The genus is named after the American anatomist Caspar Wistar (1761-1818), so "wistaria" is correct, but the mistake was introduced by Thomas Nuttall, who originally christened the family. Ironically, American dictionaries side with Nuttall and English ones with Wistar, as far as I can tell.


Great Curses mistakes
The 1970s robot mouse is capable of speech recognition.

Mentioning a bridge game (between Sir Joshua Meldrewe and the Prince of Wales) which took place a century before the invention of bridge. (In this release, they play piquet.)

Locating Alexandria in "Upper Egypt". Actually it's in Lower Egypt - the Nile flows from south to north.

The "brass" key is no longer really brass (examine it!) since brass is unmagnetic.

The lighthouse in the fifth century BC, the period of city states, is named after the Pharos, yet to be built in Alexandria during the Hellenic era. (Quinquiremes are contemporary with the frieze, though.)

Not really a mistake, just the pace of history: the English pub licensing laws which close the village pub in the afternoon have, since June 1993, been repealed.


The ancient languages
There are two ancient languages: a hieroglyphic and a demotic script, the important clue being the Rosetta stone to compare the two.

The hieroglyphics are loosely based on the beautiful system devised by Michael Berlyn and Patricia Fogleman for their excellent game, "Infidel", though I have taken care not to reveal any of their answers.

The demotic script (written right to left) is my own invention, but the numbers are Etruscan. (And are just about the only Etruscan words deciphered - they were found on a gambler's die.)

Next time, the trivia questions from the "Amusing Things" file, and some miscellaneous things we didn't see in the playthrough proper. See you then!

The list of "amusing things" includes some trivia questions about obscure facts in the game, which reveal ways that we could have solved puzzles, as well as some other facts. They are:

1. What are the "good but wrong" guesses?
Giving Aunt Jemima the wrapped parcel;

Or the chocolate biscuit;

Or kissing her;

Attracting Bateau Phlebas by waving the poster (which can be torn down);

Casting the Rod of Fire at the medicine bottle to try and open it (as advised by demon);

Trying the postcard in the slide projector;

Or the Alexandrian sketch when it's still framed;

Feeding Austin the chicken wishbone.

Each of these earns you five points, but I believe that you can only do one of them per game. Due to this, if you wait until the end of the game, you can actually do one of the ones for the attic and hence complete the game with 554 out of 550 points.

2. How many songs does the radio play?
Eighty-one. The inspiration for the radio station came about when the author was driving at midnight through Oxfordshire and the local station played, in succession, the Moonlight Sonata, the Four Seasons, You Take My Breath Away and Gold. So the radio plays the 80 most hackneyed radio tunes the author could think of.

3. In what *** ways *** can the game end?
Not counting everyday death, winning or the various ways of almost but not quite coming to an end...

Well, I already showed this off, but here it is again anyway.

Missing the point entirely

Being spooked

In checkmate

Being transported to Australia

Facing a prison term as a terrorist

Being annihilated by a temporal paradox

Becoming a constellation

Disembodying the entire universe

4. What are the secret ways to detect rods?
If magic, the daisy chain rustles (according to inventories) when you are carrying something which could turn into a rod if waved.

Likewise, the yellow daisy (from Roman Britain) twitches.

The vanity mirror does not reflect rods or things which become rods (unless you're so vain as to polish it, after which it reflects everything).

5. What can you see in the crystal ball?
Apart from the projector beam's effects, looking into the ball shows one of twelve little scenes, corresponding to the twelve main areas of the game.

Specifically:
Inside Meldrew Hall ("a reflection of your face")
The gardens of Meldrew Hall ("a dizzying aerial view of Meldrew Hall gardens")
Northwest of the House ("a vision of English countryside")
The catacombs ("a dark, spooky view of a crypt")
The maze in 1808 ("confused pictures of a tree being planted")
The Premonition ("a flickery view of faces round a camp fire)
Hamburg ("a dark picture of a museum display case")
Alexandria ("a sketch of a great marble palace)
The cliffs of Greece ("an Old Master painting, perhaps a Watteau, of a scene from classical mythology")
The Master Game ("an oddly-angled view of a Roman villa half in ruins")
No idea ("a typist, home from work and wandering about her bedsit room")
No idea ("a dreamy, enclosed view of somewhere half-familiar")

6. Where are Dame Judi Dench and Donald Sutherland?
The angel and the demon bear a surprising resemblance to them.

Sadly, Donald Sutherland died a few days ago (as I write this). I'm slightly sorry now to have typecast him.

7. Explain the handkerchief initials and the graffiti.
Not only the title, but the plan and a good deal of the incidental symbolism of the Unreal City were taken from early poems of T. S. Eliot (which owed a bit to Baudelaire), and I recommend them (apart from the great interest of the poems themselves) to any who think such elucidation worth the trouble.

8. How many tarot cards are there altogether?
59. Nine can be carried, plus another 21 trumps and 29 plainer cards in the pack. I have obviously departed from the exact constitution of the Tarot pack (with which I am not familiar) to suit my own convenience.

The other tarot cards, which can be seen by calling Madame Sosostris before stacking the deck, are:
Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks
Magnus, the Martyr
Marie, the Sledging Girl
Philomel, the Barbarous King
Phlebas, the Phoenician
The Arch-Duke
The Blank Card ("which I am forbidden to see")
The Bradford Millionaire
The Candle-Flames
The Carved Dolphin
The Cicadas in the Pine Trees
The Golden Cupidon
The Hyacinths
The Hypocrit Reader
The Lonely Typist
The One-Eyed Merchant
The Red Rock
The Stony Wastes
The Wheel
The Woman with Long Black Hair
Tiresias, the shape changer
As well as the ace through ten, knave, queen, and king of Staves, Stones, and Cups.

9. How can the medicine bottle be opened?
By dropping it down the empty dumbwaiter shaft;

Putting it at the foot of the shaft, and dropping the dumbwaiter on it;

Running over it in the garden roller;

Dropping it from the top of the beanstalk;

Or from the top of the mast of the Lady Magdalena;

Aunt Jemima can open it...

...and so can the jaws of Dobbin (Doktor Stein's goat).

10. What is the mascot for in the premonition?
Annoyance of the player: it's the biggest red herring in the game. It scores -50, the demon advises you to hang onto it at all times - and it was cursed.

As I mentioned earlier. Now, to show off some other things to do that weren't seen in the playthrough proper. First, the curse of the mascot.

>get mascot
The Druid catches sight of your ghostly hand taking the mascot, and immediately begins her occultations, cursing you and your ill-gotten gains. But she is unable to make contact with you, and turns furiously to the tapestry, hissing "lagach" to the Bear. At once a sudden swirl of wind seems to pull her into the rough cloth, dissolving her to nothing.

>s

The General's Tent

>w
You pass uncomfortably back through the hide wall.

Premonition

>sw

Camp Fire
You can almost smell fear here. A motley platoon of soldiers are sitting about the embers of a fire. None are talking or sleeping, and the false good humour of the evening has died away. At first light, you realise, there will be a battle. It isn't a risk you'd like to run in their place. And there is a strange light already in the east... not yet a dawn, for the soldiers seem unaware of it.

>e

Near Dolmen
A standing stone, perhaps a glacial erratic, stands here and on top of it is a shining blue stone, whose brightness almost blinds you. You feel irresistably drawn to it, and your hand reaches out...

You awaken, shivering with dread.

[Your score has just gone down by fifty points.]

Now, that's bad enough, right? Well, if you hold onto it, after a few turns, the game will display the following messages:

You feel very nervous indeed, for some reason.
You stub your toe painfully, and trip over.
You scratch yourself, unable to get rid of an itching sensation.
Something feels very wrong indeed. Your hand begins to burn.

And then, if you haven't gotten that carrying the thing around is a bad idea...

In an astonishing freak accident, an earthquake demolishes everything in the neighbourhood, swallowing you up into a chasm in the ground. Anyone would think you had a curse on you.


As a nice touch, ending the game with a negative score gets you the rank of "accursed Tourist."

Next, as you may recall, in the Master Game there was a bit of conversation that wasn't translated. It is actually possible to translate it by having the Rod of Language prepared earlier and then attracting the guards by leaving the villa through the south exit, like this:

>wave horn
Light pulses from the daisy behind your ear, leaping out to engulf the summoning horn which melts into the Rod of Language!

[Your score has just gone up by six points.]

>w

Roman Villa

>s

Atrium Cloister

>s

Atrium
The central well of the villa, ringed with columns. On the north side is a cloister and stone-linteled doorways lead east, south and west. The central floor area is commanded by a beautiful Roman mosaic, quartered into individual scenes, around the edges of which are vents from the hypocaust. There is no roof over the courtyard, and the atrium is lit by moonlight.

>e

Guard Quarters
Whatever function this spacious room once had, now it is evidently home to military men, for it is filled with crude armour, spears, rough blankets which are little more than animal hides. Fortunately for you the guards are absent.

You can see a crude bone die and a pair of leather sandals here.

>get sandals
Taken.

>wear sandals
You put on the leather sandals.

>w

Atrium

>w

Triclinium
What was once the villa's triclinium, or kitchen, is now deserted and long since ransacked for metal. (Nobody lives on their own in this century, and this villa wouldn't be easy to defend.) A doorway to the east gives onto the atrium.

In one corner is a hinged wooden cover of some kind, which is shut.

>open well
You open the kitchen well.

>put torch in well
It plummets out of sight, until even the light vanishes in the distance. This must be an extremely deep well.

>e

Atrium

>s

Entrance
A well-flagstoned forecourt at the villa entrance, surrounded by lesser wooden buildings. Some of these are in use as stables, and figures of men slip between them. You hide from sight, not wishing to draw attention to yourself. Up on the hill, where Meldrew Hall will one day be built, men on horseback can be seen circling the access track. For a deserted villa, this is certainly well-guarded.

From up on the hill you hear the blowing of a horn.

[Your score has just gone up by five points.]

>n

Atrium

Horses are approaching the villa, coming down the hill.

>w

Triclinium

The hinged wooden cover is raised, revealing a circular well about a yard in diameter. It is very dark inside.

The sound of horses draws nearer.

>d
Aware of the dangers, you very carefully lower yourself...

Darkness

There is definitely activity outside the villa.

[Your score has just gone up by four points.]

>e

Hypocaust
This very low almost-cellar underneath the atrium is a tiny access space for log fires which are kept going to provide a form of central heating for the villa. They are lit and going away nicely, interestingly. It isn't very warm by twentieth-century standards, but you have to admit it works.

A tiny amount of light filters in from the vents in the roof; just enough to see by. The only way in seems to be the way you came.

>strike rod of language
The rod charges with etherial power, drawn up from the earth through ley lines...

>point it at me
Nothing obvious happens. You curse eloquently in Celtic.

There is sudden activity as the guards make a thorough precautionary search of the villa. Luckily, they don't even think of looking down in here.

>z
Time passes.

You hear men walking across the mosaic just above your head.

>z
Time passes.

A voice, which can just be heard through the vent, says "Welcome, great masters. We are convened in secret conclave to decide the fate of Britain. Lament, for the old ways are passing! There will be a dark age, a collapse into many monarchies, and any man who can hold a town will call himself King and heir to Vortigern."


You don't really learn much from this, but it's there, so...yeah. That's really all I can think of, but I'm not sure if there's anything else I missed. If there is, please let me know so I can show it off.

Hello!
First off, thanks for the LP; it was fab and amazingly painstaking, nice job doing it!

There were a couple of jokes and things that were queried about over the last year and whatnot that I thought I could answer, so I saved them all up for the end of the thread.
-That spelling of Merlyn is vaguely Welsh (there's a lot of Y's in Welsh, take my word for it) but the author probably borrowed it from T. H. White's spelling in "The Once and Future King", one of the most enjoyable, philosophical, and poignant renditions of the King Arthur cycle ever written. So that's a thing.
-A valve radio such as the one described really would take that long to warm up. If the author never owned one himself, he certainly would have had a relative who'd have reminisced on the subject.
-An eighteenth-century gardner called Capability is a reference to this chap. Only this one was genuinely famous and respected for his gardening prowess. And he did make follies.
-Likewise, the Hell-Fire Club was a real place (as was the Dilletanti Society, for that matter), and exactly how much it lived up to its lurid reputation is a matter scholars are still untangling.
-Gildas is, of course, a joke on Geoffrey of Monmouth, whose "History of the Kings of Britain" included a very influential presentation of the King Arthur cycle and Merlin (yeah, in a history text. It's great.).
-I think Ekmek is a kind of bread pudding that they do indeed sell in Cambridge. Turkish originally, from what I could google.
-And if you ask me, the idea of a choral transcription of "Hit Me with Your Rhythm Stick" is funny enough to warrant the price of admission all by itself....

(And a game that has an old striped scarf, a flavour reference to 1963 and time-travel via being ripped apart by sphinxes can really only be a reference to one thing, so extra kudos for that in my book.)

So yeah, thanks for going through this whole huge wonderful game and showing us all its secrets. Really enjoyed the trip!

And his real name was much cooler than Willard.

You're welcome, and thank you for the list of facts. I did not know most of those, so I'm happy to have learned them. Thanks again.

It turns out that there is one little hidden thing I forgot about. So, here it is.

>damn*
Now, that sort of language is an absolute disgrace, and you're going to have to pay the price for it.

Quote:

Remember that you are an Englishman, and have consequently won first prize in the lottery of life. --Cecil Rhodes (1853-1902)

>n
You're going nowhere until you make amends for that nasty bad language.

>sorry
Sorry isn't good enough!


Well, what is, then? If we check our inventory...

>i
You are carrying:
a cake of carbolic soap
a chocolate biscuit
an electric torch (providing light and closed)
a crumpled piece of paper


Well, that soap wasn't there before. And, as you may know, parents used to threaten to wash their childrens' mouths out with soap when they used naughty language, so...

>eat soap
Ugh, it tastes absolutely ghastly. But you feel better for it.


And now you're free to move again.

*- This also works with other swears, but this was the mildest one I could think of.

Thanks for this LP, Kahran! This is a really neat, but convoluted IF, and I'm glad to have the chance to experience it vicariously.

Sorry for suggesting we use the wrench something like seven times!

Ditto, ditto--except I'm not the slightest bit sorry for wanting to use the wrench all the time!

It's all right. And thank you for your support throughout.

I'm just sorry we didn't use the Rod of Fire on more things.

I'm not sure of who's in charge of the archive and queue now, so I just figured that I'd let whoever that is know that this LP is pretty much finished.