The Interactive Underground
Implemented by Nate Cull
Last updated 13 January 1998
The Ether Frame Homepage, in the browser
With a jolt, you come awake and realise you've been staring at someone's
WWW homepage for five minutes straight. It's a fairly amateurish effort,
by the look of it, but hey, you've been surfing since midnight and anything's
starting to look good by now.
And you were pretty sure there were some free games in there somewhere - but apart from a title jpeg and a few pieces of text, there's nothing visible except four links arrayed in a crude menu.
Something about one of the links makes your brain
wince for a moment...
No, whatever it was, it's gone. Must have been a trick of the light,
or the five litres of Coke you've downed in the last hour. Man, that stuff's
starting to play tricks with your head.
>Click on WWW link
Which WWW link do you mean, the Cathode Ray Tears link, the Worldlines
link, the iLegends link, or the Outvectors link?
>iLegends
Click.
As your mouse finger releases, something shimmers and without warning you're suddenly, terrifyingly _elsewhere_...
The walls and floor of this underground chamber are so sharp and angular, it must have been laser-carved out of pure rock. Right now, it seems to be the centre of desperate activity. A makeshift intelligence centre has been constructed out of old vacuum crates and jury-rigged consoles, and the uniformed guards who patrol the side exits are young - barely even teenagers. But their eyes, like their hastily charged plasma carbines, speak shockingly of age, rage, and terror.
A guard steps out from behind a pillar, not at all surprised by your sudden appearance, and says coldly:
"Who are you? What is your identification?"
Several stinging retorts queue behind your tongue, waiting for your brain to choose.
Implementors don't carry ID. Sorry.
Gnusto lleps, lleps frotz, frotz guard, zifmia grue then run. Score.
The guard gives you a strange, searching look, then relaxes and leans his weapon away.
"You're certainly no harm to us. Only a complete outsider could be unaware of our struggle."
And I'd like to stay that way, thankyouverymuch.
Was that a dimensional vortex I just walked through? Does it work
in reverse? How fascinating. Gosh, look at the time, I must fly, and
yes I'll be sure to keep in touch and that isn't really artillery I hear
outside is it? Oh. Dear me. Well, mustn't keep you from the good work then,
bye bye now...
Struggle? What struggle? My word, that sounds exciting!
Tell me more!
Oh, yeah. The text-gamers against the GUIs. Get
a life, man, that war's ancient history.
The guard smiles, and extends you a hearty handshake.
"So it is true. Some of the old Adventurers still roam free. Come on in, fellow traveller, and let me tell you how the war has progressed in your absence."
You know Adventure? Man, I thought I was the only person left who ever played that game!
The guard stares icily back at you, and aims his weapon between your eyes.
"You lie. There are no Implementors. Not now. I say you are a GUI agent and a traitor."
No, you are wrong! The Implementors live! I myself have seen their handiwork!
Raif! WinFrotz! TADS! Curses, by Graham Nelson, I don't need this!
The guard roars with laughter, and speaks some rapid syllables of his own.
The room floods with light. First dull fluorescent factory
light, then bright noon sunlight, and then light.
The light of Creation in the first picoseconds of existence, a light that
swells within every quark and kaon of your being, a light in which all
is seen and all is Good and all, all, all is Joy...
The light fades, revealing a withered husk of something which once may have been black and nastily fanged. The guard laughs, and claps his hand on your back.
"A brave attempt, sorcerer, but you forget. We are no strangers to the old ways. It is with the power of Frotz we fight and for the secrets of Xyzzy that we strive. But come, you have proved yourself adept. Let us drink granola to the future, and talk of how your skills can aid us."
Corridor
An angling alley between stacks
of consoles, leading in a direction you judge is roughly south-east. Icewater
drips from heating tubes buried in the rock overhead.
"Oh, yes," says the guard as he hurries you along the passage, "make no mistake. We fight for our lives, for all we hold dear."
At the corridor's end he stops. You have a glimpse of a larger room, filled with people, beyond.
"Let me tell you the story. I will make it brief, for time is short. Both yours and mine.
"Every five million eons, give or take a day, there is a dimensional gateway between universes. The last time it opened was two hundred of our years ago. Around twenty of yours. Picture yourself on Earth, in the late 1970s, at an educational institute called MIT..."
Even as he speaks, you seem to hear echoed voices, hear the click of line printers and smell the glow of green phosphor.
"A game called Adventure was written by two gentlemen named Crowther and Woods. (No, not both of them, they had one name each - well, you figure it out.) It began as a simple text-based simulation of a local cave system - Colossal Cave - with a few treasures and puzzles added for fun. But it proved to be the pivotal event in our universe.
"Adventure became an underground cult hit. People were talking about its advanced linguistics, its two-word noun-verb parser, its eerily accurate responses like I see no xyzzy here that seemed to read your very mind! Soon every mainframe in America had a copy - or better, two!"
He speaks as if reciting a well-worn anthem that still has power to excite the blood.
"But that was not enough. Dark cosmic forces were at work, and soon a sequel was developed. Bigger, better, more intelligent by far. Known only as Dungeon, it featured a white house, a thief, lots of puzzles, the trace of magic and an underground civilisation named Quendor, or Zork. And it accepted not only nouns and verbs, but adjectives as well! The fabric of space-time trembled. History was at hand.
"And then - in the early 1980s - it happened. Cheap home microcomputers, like the Apple II and the Commodore 64 began to flood the world. And a small startup software company named Infocom had the idea of releasing Dungeon for these micros - and the Zork Trilogy was born. The rest was fate.
"Infocom grew and flourished mightily. Game after game poured from their magical software looms, riveting the ties between our world and yours. Before the portal could be sealed, thousands of rival adventure games were released, some cruder, a few toying with new experiments like sound and music. The way to true Interactive Storytelling had been opened!"
The guard sighs; what he has to say next is hard.
"In 1987, Infocom released their last few games. And then, almost overnight, they vanished. None can say for sure what happened, though a few Implementors - those hardy souls who wrote the universe for us - like Dave Lebling and Steve Meretsky are known to live on. But the fall and the loss of Infocom was hard upon us all. Those were dark years; I will say no more."
His tone brightens at last. There is hope in the young man's eyes, a fierce proud and wild undying hope. He speaks in little more than a whisper, but his voice would carry a multitude.
"But all that has changed now. The power of Implementation has returned - and nothing, no software company, no market forces, no gaming technology advances, can halt it now. Come, and witness your future!"
And with that he strides out of the cold dank corridor, and into the welcoming light.
The guard looks firmly in your eye.
"In an older, more desperate time, infidel, I would kill you where you stand for saying that. But of late, our fortunes have changed, so I will be merciful.
"Never say the G word to me again - the one
that ends with I and has a U in the middle, and sounds like 'ooey'. You
who are of the mouse and not the keyboard, of the pixel and not the word,
you who consume LAN bandwidth, and heap 3D accelerator cards unto yourself
like they are going out of style and cry, 'Come to me, Quake 2 and Starcraft,
so I may frag thee with my quad boomstick!' -- to thee I say ni! And
depart!
"Now. Before I change my mind."
A slight twitch works its way across the guard's impassive face, and you have a very strong feeling that you'd like to
Corridor
An angling alley between stacks
of consoles, leading in a direction you judge is roughly south-east. Icewater
drips from heating tubes buried in the rock overhead.
"Come," says the guard, "I have much to show you. We can talk as we walk. The way is short."
Noting your look of surprise, the young man smiles.
"You are older than I," he says, "and I should assume wiser. But I can read in your face that you know nothing of late events. Let me update your history, for be assured, the fight is not over. It has not yet begun."
You nod. It seems the only thing to say.
"You remember Adventure. The text-game that spawned a genre, back in what your world called the 1970s. In ours - for yes, you are in a different world now, ours - this was the dawn of the Golden Age of Interactive Fiction.
"You may also remember Scott
Adams, Level 9, Magnetic Scrolls - names to conjure with, old one!
"Then do you also remember THE NAME?"
He leans closer to you, the better to observe your reaction.
"Infocom!
"You remember Zork and Deadline? You remember Planetfall, Trinity, A Mind Forever Voyaging? Or are these only names, fragments of forgotten legends to you now?
"Do you remember the Great Fall of Infocom in 1987? How she faded from history, with no more than a scant handful of games to her credit? How we all wept, wrote two-word parsers in GW-BASIC, and wished that the power of Implementation had been granted to mere mortals instead of limited to fallible games companies?
"Do you remember all this? Or did these events pass you by, as did the years?"
The young man - really only a boy - stops at the end of the corridor, eyes blazing.
"Now is the end of history. Now is the time we carry the fight for text-based freedom away from the motion-picture studios and their multi-million-dollar hunt-the-pixel GUIs, and back to the people! Step inside this doorway with me - and witness the true heirs of Adventure!"
The guard looks at you, a smile of common secret knowledge in his eyes.
"Yes indeed. You have been well informed - it is good to see the old resistance network is still alive. Come with me, and I will show you some other things that may be of interest."
The guard shoulders his weapon, turns confidently away and heads down a long, dank and icy corridor. At the end of the hall is a suggestion of light, warmth and casually raised voices.
The guard relaxes slightly, amused at your outburst.
"Perhaps I have misjudged you after all. And you me. The Implementors are so rare nowadays, it is not wise to admit their existence unless one is either a rash fool or a spy. You are certainly no spy. And it may be you are no fool either.
"But be careful - such unguided bravery will be of little use in the battles ahead. Come, and I will lead you to friends - yes, and Implementors - who will welcome your skills. And stretch them to the limit."
The guard lifts his weapon in one hand, and takes yours with the other. He turns between the consoles and into a long, dank, and icy corridor with the merest suggestion of warmth and casually raised voices at its end.
The guard takes an involuntary step back. His professional mask crumbles into abject shock.
"I - I'm terribly sorry, sir. I had no idea. I - "
He gulps, and pulls at his collar as if for air.
"Please, let me assist you to the briefing room. All the other Implementors are there. They'll be expecting you, sir. And once again - yes, sir, I know, sir, it won't happen again sir."
The guard, still shaken but making a credible recovery, points you through the console stacks and down a long, dank and icy corridor. At the far end there is the merest suggestion of light, warmth and casually raised voices.
Corridor
An angling alley between stacks
of consoles, leading in a direction you judge is roughly south-east. Icewater
drips from heating tubes buried in the rock overhead.
The guard returns your conspiratorial grin.
"In a way. In a way, we are all Implementors. Yes, in a way we may say that even the Coconut of Quendor has returned at last. Come, follow me."
He strides on down the corridor.
"Have you heard," says the guard conversationally as you walk, "of the Z-Machine? The device by which the Implementors created Quendor and all the other universes?"
He pauses only long enough to judge your reaction.
"I thought as much. Well, I have only eight words to say. It's back. We found it. Here it is."
He stops at the end of the corridor, beside a lighted doorway through which you glimpse colour and movement and the sense of many people. Magic pools around your fingertips; thousands of unwritten spells whisper at the boundaries of hearing, begging for mindspace.
The guard blanches, but recovers.
"The others. Yes, there are more... ways to build a universe than the Implementors'. I myself am an adept of the TADS school. Though I have heard stories... about the others...."
He stops himself, evidently disturbed.
"But no matter. You are here for a reason; I will not detain you. Do you see this corridor? Go down the end, turn to your right, knock twice on the door and then three times, and you will find people who value your skills immensely."
You turn silently into the corridor. Behind you, the guard salutes.
"And - may the Frotz be with you."
Hey!
This page is interactive.
Don't scroll through it -
use the links.
Gazing around this hidden chamber, your initial impressions of light and warmth are confirmed.
Small knots of friends stand around, wearing a variety of clothes culled from all time periods and fashions, and earnestly discussing the progress.of the War and the mystic lore of Implementation.
As you mingle with your fellow-travellers in the Interactive Underground, you relax and realise that wherever your future adventures may lead you, this place, this moment, will forever be your home.
Bright sunlight streams through a shattered hole in the wall, where something appears to have exploded or escaped outwards with terrific force. An old man stands staring out into the light, giggling to himself as you approach:
"Yesser, lads, that were the 3rd Annual Interactive Fiction Competition, that she were. 1997 might be gone, but ain't she left us a few beauties, oh yes!"
Dozens of keen explorers swarm in and out of the gigantic trapdoor set in the centre of the floor. A dull green light shines from below, and a sign posted beside the pit reads:
"The Mining Company's Interactive Fiction site. One of the best all-round introductions to the world of IF and an easy way to find related resources on the Web. Tours depart immediately, visitors are advised to wear warm clothing and bring spare batteries for their lantern."
Many adventurous-looking rogues are
seated on long benches in one corner of the room, chugging steaming mugs
of brew and loudly swapping tales of their exploits.
A rough banner overhead reads "Rec.Games.Int-Fiction
Discussion Group. Step in here, ye text gamers,
for all the reviews, hints, and up-to-the-minute rumours thy stomach can
handle!"
Several cloaked figures stand in
a close huddle in the centre of the floor, their faces intense with mystic
concentration. You catch glimpses of weird blue fire that seem to paint
cryptic symbols in your mind:
"Rec.Arts.Int-Fiction
Discussion Group. We welcome IF authors,
novice and master both. If you speak or wish to learn TADS, Inform, Hugo,
Alan, JACL, AGT and other languages cunning and precise, then approach."
The glowing metallic doorway floating in midair seems to be attracting quite a crowd, who vanish into midair as they enter, then reappear staggering under a load of packages.
Striped yellow and black warning signs surround the portal: "The Interactive Fiction FTP Archive at ftp.gmd.de. Requires binary mode FTP, check your browser settings before downloading."
A bookish-looking fellow with a Oxford accent walks past you, stops, looks and shakes your hand. "Welcome to the Underground, old chap!" he says. "I am Graham Nelson, designer of Inform. If you would like to know more about using Inform and the Z-Machine to develop Interactive Fiction, do drop in for tea at my homepage."
Five minutes later, an American-looking individual sidles up to you and says, "Yeah, pal, but Inform's not the only game in town. Come to the TADSpage and I'll show you Michael Roberts' Text Adventure Development System, an Interactive Fiction development system that's almost as powerful as Inform and a whole heap easier to program."
But it is the heavy vault door at the end of the room that finally captures your attention. The guard standing beside the steel doorway grins and says:
"I wondered how long it would take you to get here. This is the Trophy Room, where Nate keeps his personal contributions to the Interactive Fiction cause. Want to take a look?"
Hey!
This page is interactive.
Don't scroll through it -
use the links.
"Goodbye,
friend," he says. "I'm sure we'll meet again. But until
then, remember this from me.
Magic cannot die.
As long one spell remains unworded,
or one word unspelled, the fight continues.
As long
as the fight continues, the Underground
will remain.
And as long as the Underground
remains, there will be Hope."
His words swell in your memory as you step
out,
alone, into the night between the worlds.
*** This adventure is now over. ***
Return to the iLegends
page to play again,
or click one of the links below.
Hey!
This page is interactive.
Don't scroll through it -
use the links.
>undo
Life doesn't work like that.
>quit
Suicide is not an option.
>out
The only apparent exit is the dimensional vortex that brought you here.
It shimmers behind you, sadly beckoning.
>enter the vortex
There is a momentary dizziness as you tumble through the vortex, and
then everything distorts. From a great distance, before all bodily senses
fade from your consciousness, you seem to hear the guard's genial laugh.
A long slow fall later, the vortex finally fades -
You wake, back in your room, alive and slumped in front of your browser.
Oh man, not again. Falling asleep when you're online is too freaky.
You get such really weird dreams...
*** This adventure is now over. ***
Return to the iLegends
page to play again,
or click one of the links below.