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Don't Be Late! (Dont_Be_Late.txt)

Script started on Mon Sep 30 12:50:22 1996
purau% arun dbl


 .
------------------------------------------------------------ 
 
Don't Be Late! 
 
an Interactive Snippet 
written for the 2nd Annual Interactive Fiction Competition 
by Greg Ewing (greg@cosc.canterbury.ac.nz) 
using the ALAN Interactive Fiction Authoring System 
------------------------------------------------------------ 

 You've been looking forward to this day ever since you and your friend Harold
volunteered to be judges in this year's Annual Interactive Fiction
Competition. The entries have all been submitted, and it's time to start
judging. 

 Harold said he'd download the entries onto his hard disk today and let you
know when to come over to his place to start playing them. With any luck,
there'll be an email message from him on your computer now... 




<More>




Your Home.
This is the living room of your modest abode, where you pursue the more
intellectual of your hobbies. Your front doorway is to the west. 

 Your computer is on a table here, with a telephone beside it.

> push button
A very nice lady answers and takes down your address. You think of asking her
out to dinner, but there are more pressing matters to attend to. You are
promised that a taxi will be there in 5 minutes.

> w
Outside Your Home.
You're standing on the path outside your home. Your front doorway is to the
east, and your driveway is to the south. A tall hedge blocks your view of the
street to the west.

> s
Driveway.
The sight of your empty driveway reminds you that your car is down at the
garage getting a broken tail light repaired. Looks like you might have to call
a taxi.

> z
You twiddle your thumbs for a minute.

> z
You twiddle your thumbs for a minute.

> z
You twiddle your thumbs for a minute. 

 Suddenly a taxi appears around the corner travelling at a reckless speed and
screeches to a halt right in front of you. 

 It's like no taxi you've seen before. It has the name 'Burning Rubber Taxi
Company' emblazoned along the side in large intimidating letters, the back
wheels are bigger than the front ones, and there are four fat chromed exhaust
pipes emerging from each side of the engine bay. 

 Something tells you this is going to be an interesting ride.

> enter taxi
Inside Taxi.
You're sitting in the back seat of the taxi. The taxi driver is sitting in the
front seat. 

 The driver turns around and asks 'Where to?' You give him Harold's address.
'Right, hold onto yer headgear, here we go...' 

 The taxi launches itself into motion, pressing you into the seat with
considerable force.

> z
You chew your fingernails nervously. 

The taxi broadsides around a corner.

> z
You chew your fingernails nervously. 

The taxi blares its horn at a cyclist, who barely manages to get out of the
way.

> z
You chew your fingernails nervously. 

The taxi broadsides around a corner.

> z
You chew your fingernails nervously. 

The taxi overtakes a Porsche, leaving it in the dust.

> z
You chew your fingernails nervously. 

The taxi takes a left turn on two wheels. 

 The engine begins to splutter, and then dies altogether. 'Dammit,' the driver 
exclaims. 'We're out of juice!' The taxi coasts to a stop (eventually,
although it takes a while), and the driver uses its last remaining momentum to
pull over to the kerb.

> leave
Suburban Street.
You're standing in a suburban street. A path to someone's house is to the west. 
There is a taxi waiting on the street. 

 You hear the driver having a conversation with someone by radio.

> w
Someone's Front Path.
You're on the front path of a suburban house. The front door of the house is
to the west, and the back door of a garage is open to the north.

> n
Suburban Garage.
This is a typical average person's garage, so full of junk that there's hardly
room for a wheelbarrow, let alone a car. The only item that's of any immediate
interest is the fuel can sitting in the corner.

> take fuel
Taken.

> s
Someone's Front Path (again).

> knock on door
You give the door a sharp rap with your knuckles. 

 After a moment, the door is opened by a middle-aged gentleman who gives you a 
friendly smile. 'Good evening,' he says, 'what can I do for you?'

> ask man for fuel
You explain briefly about your plight and ask if you could borrow the fuel. 

 'Certainly,' he replies. 'I know how easy it is to run out - been there
myself. I always carry a spare can now. Don't worry about filling it up again
- just put the can back in the garage when you've finished.' 

 You thank him for his generosity as he waves goodbye and closes the door.

> e
Suburban Street (again).
There is a taxi waiting on the street.

> enter taxi
Inside Taxi (again).
The driver is relaxing while he waits for some fuel to arrive.

> give fuel to driver
'Great work!' he says, taking the can from you. 'You've just saved us a bunch
of time.' He spends a moment on the radio to cancel his earlier distress call,
then gets out to refuel the taxi. 

 You hear fuel gurling into the tank.

> z
You twiddle your thumbs for a minute. 

 The driver gets into the taxi and hands you the empty fuel can. 'You'd better
put this back where it came from. I'll wait for you in the car.'

> leave
Suburban Street.
You're standing in a suburban street. A path to someone's house is to the west. 
There is a taxi waiting on the street.

> drop can
Dropped.

> enter taxi
Inside Taxi.
You're sitting in the back seat of the taxi. The driver is waiting for you. 

 'Okay, we're on our way again!' The driver spurs the engine into life and
accelerates away with even more G's than before.

> z
You chew your fingernails nervously. 

The taxi blares its horn at a cyclist, who barely manages to get out of the
way.

> z
You chew your fingernails nervously. 

You try to brace yourself as the taxi takes a sudden turn.

> z
You chew your fingernails nervously. 

The taxi careens wildly down the street.

> z
You chew your fingernails nervously. 

The taxi takes a right turn on two wheels.

> z
You chew your fingernails nervously. 

The taxi narrowly misses a lamppost.

> z
You chew your fingernails nervously. 

You try to brace yourself as the taxi takes a sudden turn.

> z
You chew your fingernails nervously. 

The taxi narrowly misses a lamppost. 

 Presently you enter Harold's street. The driver doesn't make any attempt to
slow down, and you're about to draw his attention to the fact that you're
almost at your destination, when he suddenly applies the brakes with such
startling effectiveness that you wonder if he's installed retro-rockets.
You're glad you were wearing your seat belt. 

 When the smoke from the burned tyres clears, it's apparent that you've 
stopped exactly outside Harold's house. 

 The driver checks the meter. 'That'll be 20 bucks,' he informs you, and holds 
out his hand expectantly.

> give bill to driver
'Ta very much,' he says. 'Have a nice day.'

> leave
Outside Harold's.
You're standing in the street outside Harold's house. His front door is to the
north. There is a taxi waiting on the street. 

 With a squeal of tyres and quite a lot of exhaust noise, the taxi departs.

> open door
Opened.

> n
Harold's Place.
You're in Harold's living room. Harold's computer is sitting on his desk. 

 Your friend Harold is here. 

 'Hi,' Harold says. 'I'm just about to go out. Make yourself at home.'

> turn on computer
The computer boots up speedily. A couple of windows appear on the screen. 

 'I'm just leaving now,' Harold says. 'You know where everything is. I'll
be
back about midnight. Bye.' With that, he leaves and closes the door.

> play game
You start up the adventure. After some brief disk activity, words begin to
scroll across the screen... 


 .
------------------------------------------------------------ 
 
Don't Be Late! 
 
an Interactive Snippet 
written for the 2nd Annual Interactive Fiction Competition 
by Greg Ewing (greg@cosc.canterbury.ac.nz) 
using the ALAN Interactive Fiction Authoring System 
------------------------------------------------------------ 

 You've been looking forward to this day ever since you and your friend Harold
volunteered to be judges in this year's Annual Interactive Fiction
Competition. The entries have all been submitted, and it's time to start
judging. 

 Harold said he'd download the entries onto his hard disk today and let you
know when to come over to his place to start playing them. With any luck,
there'll be an email message from him on your computer now... 


<More>






Your Home.
This is the living room of your modest abode, where you pursue the more
intellectual of your hobbies. Your front doorway is to the west. 

 Your computer is on a table here, with a telephone beside it.

> quit
The game asks 'Do you want to restart?' and you answer no. The program exits,
and you return your mind to the real world. 



 *** Congratulations, you made it to Harold's on time and started the judging.
That gives you 1 point out of 1 - a perfect score! You can quite now, or carry
on playing if you want.

Harold's Place.
You're in Harold's living room. Harold's computer is sitting on his desk. 

 There is a window on the screen showing a list of folders containing the
various competition entries. One of them has been opened up; it contains a
pair of files called 'dbl.acd' and 'dbl.dat'.

> quit

Do you want to restart (y) ? n

purau% 
script done on Mon Sep 30 12:52:55 1996