mythos

(set:$name to (prompt:" enter your name: ","iono")) welcome, $name <div style="text-align:center;"> <img src="https://mythos-1.neocities.org/gallery/startpicture-mythos.png" alt="Mythos Start Picture" style="max-width:90%; border-radius:6px;"> </div> [[ story selection]] [[ About]]

In the blistering heart of the desert known as Ælfhwīt—Old English for “vast white”—$name is utterly alone. The convoy had been moving steadily across the salt flats when the storm hit: a wall of sand and static fury that swallowed the horizon and shattered visibility. One moment, you were flanked by familiar silhouettes and the hum of comms chatter; the next, silence. your radio crackled with nothing but wind. Signals lost. Tracks erased. The desert, once vast and navigable, had become a blank page of chaos. Now, with no bearings and no voices to guide him, you trudged forward, hoping the storm hadn’t buried more than just their path. The mission had been simple: chart the salt basin’s edges, test comms range, log terrain anomalies. But the storm came early, a roiling wall of sand, your gear, pared down for speed, offered no shelter. Supplies dwindled. Tracks vanished [[ continue]]

(alert:" when your tiredness reaches a 100 or more, you are very tired, when your hunger reaches 0 you are starving, when your cash reaches 0 you are broke") (set:$prep to false) (set: $breakfast to false)(set:$check to false)(set:$bed2 to false) (set:$count=0)(set:$bed3 to false)(set:$friday to false) The office lights had flickered off one by one, motion sensors giving up on me. I was the last to leave—again. The quarterly report had bled into the evening, then into night, until the only sound was the hum of the vending machine and the occasional cough from the janitor down the hall. Outside, the city had changed. The rush was gone, replaced by the hush of sodium streetlamps and the occasional hiss of a passing bus. I walked home with my tie loosened, briefcase in one hand, dinner still a maybe. The streets were familiar but different at this hour—emptier, more honest. I passed shuttered shops, a flickering neon sign, a cat perched on a stoop like a sentinel. My apartment was quiet. The kind of quiet that made me notice the hum of the fridge, the creak of the floorboards, the sigh I didn’t know I’d been holding. I dropped my keys in the bowl by the door, kicked off my shoes, and stood for a moment in the dark. There was a half-eaten sandwich in the fridge. A voicemail from my sister. A sticky note on the mirror that read, “Don’t forget to breathe.” I sat on the edge of the bed, loosened my collar, and stared at the ceiling. Another day survived. Another night to myself. And maybe—just maybe—tomorrow I’d leave before the lights gave up on me. [[ continue 2]]

It started with the silence. Birdsong vanished first. Then the rustle of small things in the underbrush. By the time we noticed the patterns—missing livestock, clawed fences, the way the dogs refused to go out at night—it was already too late. They came in waves. Not just one species, but many. Wolves that didn’t fear fire. Birds that hunted in coordinated spirals. Insects that swarmed with purpose. Something had shifted—ecology rewritten, instincts sharpened, as if the wild had been rebooted with a single directive: consume. It wasn’t a virus. It wasn’t engineered. It was a mutation—silent, ancient, and buried deep in the genome of every carnivore. Within weeks, every carnivorous species began to change. Their bodies grew exponentially—twenty times their original size, with no loss of agility or speed. Their aggression spiked in parallel, as if the mutation unlocked a primal urge to hunt, dominate, consume. Zoos became war zones. Forests emptied. Cities fell under siege. Humanity, no longer apex, scattered into convoys and bunkers, clinging to survival. [[ continue 3]]

This game is where you can choose your character's future, use your imagination and make the impossible possible, it maybe limited now but in the future it will be in it's full form, thank you for playing- creator albino tiger [[ story selection]]

choose a senario [[desert survival]] not available [[ day of a office worker]] available [[ predator surge]] not available

(set: $stamina to 50) (set: $heatResistance to 85) (set: $food to 40) (set: $water to 40) (set: $location to "Ælfhwīt") (set: $bikeStatus to "functional") (set: $comms to "offline") (set: $crewStatus to "missing") :: Status '''Survival Stats for $name''' (text-color: "deepskyblue")[Stamina: $stamina] (text-color: "red")[Heat Resistance: $heatResistance] (text-color: "orange")[Food: $food] (text-color: "blue")[Water: $water] Bike: $bikeStatus Comms: $comms Crew: $crewStatus Location: $location

(set:$health to 100)(set:$hunger to 50)(set:$tiredness to 60)(set:$cash to 4000)(set:$ID to 0)(set:$debtcard to 0)(set:$phone to 0)(set:$umb to 0)(set:$answer to false)(set:$stayhome to false) $name: hunger $hunger | health $health | tiredness $tiredness | cash $$cash (set: $from to "continue 2") Do you want to [[sleep]] [[ prepare for the next day|prep]] [[ listen to the voice message from your sister]] [[shower]]

(if:$tiredness>0)[(set:$tiredness to ($tiredness-10))] (if:$health<100)[(set:$health to ($health+10))] (if:$bed3 is true)[(goto:"friday")] (goto:"next day")

“Hey, it’s me. I know you’re probably still at work, or maybe just got home and collapsed on the couch with your tie half-undone like some tragic sitcom character. Just… call me when you can, okay?, also, Mom keeps asking if you’re eating real food or just vending machine regrets. Anyway. I miss you. Don’t forget to breathe. And maybe leave early next time. Love you.” [[Return -> continue 2]]

It's cold, it's always been cold but its soothing (if:$from is "continue 2")[[[Return -> continue 2]]] (if:$from is "evening sleep")[[[sleep->sleep]] ] (if:$from is "home")[ [[home]]] (else-if: $from is "next day")[[[return->next day]]]

$name: hunger $hunger | health $health | tiredness $tiredness | cash $$cash (set: $from to "next day")(set:$park to false) (if:$bed2 is true)[ you wake up, but your body is still asleep, work or home? [[shower]] [[ make breakfast]] [[get ready for work]] [[stay home]]] (else:)[It's the next morning, you wake up groggy. hair messy and you really don't want to get up [[shower]] [[ make breakfast]] [[get ready for work]] [[stay home]] ]

(if:$friday is true)[(set:$hunger to ($hunger+5)) (alert:"you ate something +5 hunger") You made a simple breakfast, romen noodles... [[get ready for work]] ] (else-if:$friday is false)[ (set: $breafast to true) (set:$hunger to ($hunger+5)) (alert:"you ate something +5 hunger") You made a simple breakfast, romen noodles... [[stay home]] [[get ready for work]]]

You look at your clothes ready to put them on (if:$friday is true)[ [[put on clothes]] ] (else-if:$bed2 is true)[(if:$tiredness>=100)[(alert:" your eyes are very red, you are very tired, maybe stay home?")]] (else-if: $prep is true)[ [[put on clothes]]] (else:)[ [[press them, inspect them, put them on]] ] (set:$from to "get ready for work") [[stay home]]

(set:$prep to true) You prep your clothes, press them, inspect them and hang them on your door, easy to reach and makes your morning go quicker [[Return to bed-> continue 2]]

(if:$friday is true)[(alert:"you got ready slowly")] (if:$count >=3)[(alert:"you got ready slowly")] (if:$from is "get ready for work")[(alert:" beause you prepped last night u are rested and leave out early")] (if:$from is " press them")[(alert:"you never prepped last night, you need to leave by 7am, it's now 6:44 am +10 tiredness")] You put them on, check the mirror, adjusted your hair, smiled and leave [[ go to front door->front door]]

(if:$tiredness<100(set:$tiredness to ($tiredness+10)) (set:$from to " press them") (goto:"put on clothes")

$name: hunger $hunger | health $health | tiredness $tiredness | cash $$cash You look back at your room and see how dirty it is... but you're gonna be late if you stayed any longer [[ lock the door and walk to bus stand|walking]] [[ check if you have everything, then close the door|check]]

(set:$from to "bed") You returned to bed, you choose rest over more work and just hope- bzzzz,bzzzzz,bzzzz your phone [[answer it]] [[leave it and go to sleep|evening sleep]]

(set:$park to true) The air was cool, still holding the hush of dawn. I stepped into the park just as the sun began to stretch across the treetops, casting long shadows and golden light on dew-slick grass. Birds were already awake—chirping, flitting, claiming branches like old friends returning home. A jogger passed me, nodding. A dog barked in the distance, leash trailing behind as its owner laughed and gave chase. I walked slowly. Not for exercise, but for presence. The path curved around a pond where ducks drifted like thoughts I hadn’t sorted yet. I paused at a bench, ran my fingers along the worn wood, and sat. [[ return home->stay home]]

<div style="text-align:center;"> <img src="https://mythos-1.neocities.org/gallery/living room.png" alt="Mythos Start Picture" style="max-width:90%; border-radius:6px;"> </div> I turned on the TV while sipping water the kind that tastes like routine. The channel flickered to life—some local drama rerun, the kind with too-perfect lighting and dialogue that felt like it was trying too hard. But I didn’t change it. I just watched. On screen, a woman stood in a kitchen, holding a letter. Her hands trembled. Her voice cracked. “You knew,” she said to the man across from her. “You knew and you didn’t tell me.” He didn’t answer. Just stared. The silence between them felt familiar. I leaned back. The toast popped in the kitchen. I didn’t get up. The scene shifted—rain outside, a door left open, the woman walking away without her coat. I watched her disappear into the storm, and for a moment, I felt like I was watching myself. Then the credits rolled. I turned off the TV. The room was quiet again. [[go to bed-> bed]]

I started with the kitchen. Dishes scrubbed until they gleamed, counters cleared of every stray packet and crumb. I pulled the fridge out, wiped behind it, found a receipt from last year and a magnet I thought I’d lost. I played music—Zee’s playlist, the one with the weird jazz interludes—and let it loop. The living room came next. I vacuumed under the couch, sorted the books, dusted the shelves. I found a photo tucked behind the lamp—me and Talia, blurry, laughing. I placed it on the windowsill. A quiet altar. The bathroom was war. Grime in corners, forgotten bottles, a towel that smelled like old rain. I scrubbed until the tiles reflected me back, tired but clear-eyed. washed the laundry, then the bedroom. I stripped the sheets, opened the windows, let the breeze carry out whatever lingered. I rearranged the furniture—just slightly—enough to feel new. I lit a candle. Not for scent, but for ceremony. By the time I finished i had picked up the laundry and it was late afternoon. The house didn’t just look different—it felt different. Like it had exhaled. [[ go watch tv]] [[ bed]]

(set: $check to true) you checked to confirm if you have your ID, your phone and debt card (set:$ID to ($ID + 1)) (set:$debtcard to($debtcard + 1)) (set:$phone to($phone+ 1 )) [[walk to bus shed-> bus shed]]

(set:$phone to($phone+ 1 )) Can't believe it's morning, i just closed my eyes 3 mintues ago... [[ bus shed]]

$name: hunger $hunger | health $health | tiredness $tiredness | cash $$cash It's early 7:15am,the bus shed was overflowing—shoulders pressed, tempers fraying [[ take a taxi]] [[take the bus]] [[walk to the train station]]

(if:$cash>150)[ (set:$cash to ($cash-150))(alert:" you gave the driver $150 off your debt card") $name: hunger $hunger | health $health | tiredness $tiredness | cash $$cash you stepped back, pulled out my phone, and called a taxi. The driver arrived in a beat-up Corolla, windows tinted too dark, music low and strange. you hesitated, then got in. He didn’t speak. Just drove. Past my usual turn. Past the blinking gas station. you asked if he was taking the long way. He said nothing. Then he stopped. Middle of nowhere. Turned to me and said, “You dropped this,” holding out my office name tag. you hadn’t noticed it missing. you took it, heart pounding. He smiled—just barely—and drove me the rest of the way in silence. you didn’t ask questions ] (if:$cash<150)[ (set:$tiredness to($tiredness +30))the driver says,"you dont have enough money for the fair!" so you walked to the office] [[ enter office| office entrance]]

(if:$cash>=450)[ (set:$cash to ($cash-450))(alert:" you gave the driver $450 off your debt card")$name: hunger $hunger | health $health | tiredness $tiredness | cash $$cash I managed to wedge myself into the crowd and board the bus. It was humid, the windows fogged from breath and morning rain. you found a seat by the window—miracle—and watched the city blur past. A man beside me was muttering numbers. you glanced over. He was rehearsing a pitch, lips tight, hands trembling slightly. you offered him a mint. He took it like it was a lifeline. “Big meeting?” you asked. “Biggest,” he said. “They’ll either fund me or forget me.” you nodded. “Hope they remember.” He smiled, just barely] (if:$cash<450)[the driver says,"you dont have enough money for the fair!"so you walked to the office(set:$tiredness to($tiredness +30))] [[ enter office| office entrance]]

$name: hunger $hunger | health $health | tiredness $tiredness | cash $$cash I turned away from the crowd and started walking. The train station was fifteen minutes through the market lanes. Morning vendors were setting up, steam rising from pots, voices calling out prices. Then I saw her—standing at the corner with a yellow umbrella, even though the sky was clear. She looked at me, then at the umbrella, then offered it without a word. I hesitated. [[ ask Why]] [[walk away ]]

$name: hunger $hunger | health $health | tiredness $tiredness | cash $$cash (if:$friday is true)[(if:$ID >= 1)[welcome $name, [[enter office|work day 2]]] (if:$ID<=0)[(alert:"access denyed, please go to the front desk")(set:$tiredness to($tiredness+15))you reached for your ID badge and felt only fabric. Empty lanyard. your stomach dropped. The security scanner blinked red. A soft beep of denial. Behind me, the lobby buzzed with the low murmur of early arrivals and the hiss of the espresso machine from the café corner. “Forgot your badge again?” came a voice—dry, amused. you turned. It was Marlene at the front desk, already typing, her nails clacking softly against the keys. She wore her usual navy blazer and a pin that said “Ask Me Anything (Except For a Raise).” [[front desk]]]] (else:)[(if:$ID >= 1)[welcome $name, [[enter office]]] (if:$ID<=0)[(alert:"access denyed, please go to the front desk")(set:$tiredness to($tiredness+15)) you reached for your ID badge and felt only fabric. Empty lanyard. your stomach dropped. The security scanner blinked red. A soft beep of denial. Behind me, the lobby buzzed with the low murmur of early arrivals and the hiss of the espresso machine from the café corner. “Forgot your badge again?” came a voice—dry, amused. you turned. It was Marlene at the front desk, already typing, her nails clacking softly against the keys. She wore her usual navy blazer and a pin that said “Ask Me Anything (Except For a Raise).” [[front desk]]]]

She shrugged. “You looked like you needed something to carry.” [[take it]] [[walk away ]]

(set:$umb to ($umb +1)) (set: $from to "take it") I took it. I opened it once—just to see the light filter through yellow. she turned and walked away I never saw her again [[walk away ]]

(if: $from is "take it")[Walked the rest of the way with it closed in my hand. ] (else:)[You walked away ignoring that strange occurance ] [[enter station]]

(if:$cash>=1550)[(set:$cash to ($cash-1550))(alert:" you gave the machine $1550 off your debt card")(alert:" the train is too crowed so you feel claustrophobic +20 tiredness") (set:$tiredness to ($tiredness + 20)) $name: hunger $hunger | health $health | tiredness $tiredness | cash $$cash The station was already humming when I arrived—commuters in pressed shirts, students with earbuds, vendors hawking coffee in paper cups. The train hadn’t come yet, but the platform felt tense, like everyone was bracing for something more than just the next arrival. I stood near the edge, watching the rails shimmer in the morning light. A man beside me was pacing, muttering into his phone. A woman clutched a folder to her chest like it held her entire future. Somewhere behind me, a child laughed—too loud, too free for this hour. Then the announcement came: delay. Fifteen minutes. Groans rippled through the crowd like static. 15 mintues later...-The train pulled in, screeching like it had something to prove. everyone boarded, bodies swished togther, virturally no space to move, i hate when people intentonally place they're hand in places they aren't supposed to...ugh] (if:$cash<1550)[the machine says,"you dont have enough money for the fair!"so you walked to the office(set:$tiredness to($tiredness +30))] [[ office entrance]]

(set: $answer to true) (set: $from to "answer it") you answered the call, its your supervisor supervisor- $name, she said, voice clipped. “It’s been all day. You’re weren't here. You didn’t call. What’s going on? I opened my mouth. Closed it. The words I’d rehearsed—migraine, family emergency, transit delay—evaporated. “I needed a morning,” I said. supervisor- Silence. Then: “You needed a morning?” I could hear her pacing. I imagined her in the glass office, blinds half-drawn, coffee untouched. “You were on the schedule. People were waiting. I had to cover for you.” “I know,” I said. “I’m sorry.” Another pause. Then, $name, if something’s wrong, you need to tell me. Otherwise, this goes on record. “I’ll be in tomorrow,” I said. she sighed. “Fine. But don’t make me chase you again.” Click. The line went dead. I stared at the phone. [[contiune my nap->evening sleep]]

(set:$from to "evening sleep") (if: $from is "answer it")[ Your evening just got bitter...] (if:$from is "bed")[You didnt answer... well i need rest so whatever, right?] [[sleep]]

(set:$from to' stayhome') (set:$stayhome to true) $name: hunger $hunger | health $health | tiredness $tiredness | cash $$cash You decided to stay home you know what i'm not gonna let work stress me out or ruin my health!. [[ return to bed| bed]] (if:$park is false)[[[go to park->park]]] [[ go watch tv]] [[ clean the house]]

(if:$count>=2)[The elevator doors opened ,You enter the elevator...The office was sleek—modern, minimalist, and the faint scent of burnt coffee drifting from the break room. but not quiet.the place was already alive in that hushed, high-functioning way. Keyboards clicked like distant rain.[[ continue-> return to desk]] ] {(if:$stayhome is true)[The elevator doors opened ,You enter the elevator... The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and the hallway greeted me with its usual hush—carpeted floors, fluorescent lights flickering slightly, and the faint scent of burnt coffee drifting from the break room. It was 8:01 AM. Early, but not quiet. The office was already stirring. Desks lit up one by one as monitors blinked awake. Someone was printing—pages spilling out in rhythmic bursts. you passed the kitchenette where a coworker from accounting was stirring instant oats, humming something off-key. Her mug said “Mondays are for warriors.” It was Thursday. At your desk, the inbox was already bloated. Thirty-two unread emails. A sticky note on your monitor read:" see me- supervisor" Across the room, Malik was troubleshooting a projector for the 8:30 meeting, muttering to himself. Talia walked by with a clipboard, eyes sharp, lips pressed. She didn’t look at you. The air was thick with pre-meeting tension—people rehearsing lines in their heads, adjusting ties, refreshing spreadsheets. The hum of productivity, tinged with caffeine and quiet dread. you sat down. The chair creaked. your screen lit up. you exhaled. The day had begun. [[ supervisor's office]]]} {(else:)[ You enter elevator...The elevator opened onto the 14th floor with a soft ding, revealing a sea of glass partitions and soft gray carpet. The office was sleek—modern, minimalist, and unnervingly quiet. Everything smelled faintly of citrus cleaner and ambition. At 7:55 AM, the place was already alive in that hushed, high-functioning way. Keyboards clicked like distant rain. Someone was already on a video call, nodding silently, lit by the glow of three monitors. A delivery cart rolled past with boxed breakfasts—granola, yogurt, coffee in branded cups. you passed the “Wellness Nook,” where a junior associate was meditating with noise-canceling headphones. The HR wall screen looped a message: “Today’s focus: resilience.” At your desk, the chair was already warm. Someone had borrowed it again. you sat anyway, opened your laptop, and watched the company logo bloom on screen like a flower that never quite opened. then a silent notification pop up, ' meeting at 8:15 [[meeting]]]} (else-if:$bed2 is true)[The office breathes in quiet rhythm. Fingers tap keys, mugs steam gently, and the low murmur of conversation drifts between desks. Sunlight filters through tall windows, casting soft shadows across the teal floor. Outside, the city glints—glass towers, green trees, a blur of movement. At one desk, a figure in a red tie leans forward, scanning a screen filled with unread messages. Across from him, someone sips coffee, eyes narrowed at a spreadsheet, surrounded by a fortress of colorful binders. Another worker types with intensity, posture rigid, gaze locked on a glowing graph. Their coffee sits untouched, cooling beside a stack of papers. Near the wall, two colleagues stand by a potted plant, one gesturing toward a calendar, the other listening with arms crossed. Their conversation is hushed, deliberate. A clipboard flips open. A laptop chirps. Someone mutters about server load while juggling a phone call and a blinking monitor. Another adjusts a bar chart, tapping out a rhythm that syncs with the pulse of the room. Sticky notes cling to the wall like quiet reminders. The clock ticks . Pages turn. Coffee cools. And the day, like the city beyond the glass, begins to unfold. [[ continue-> return to desk]] ]

(if:$friday is true)[“Morning, Mar,” you said sheepishly. She looked up. “You’re lucky I like you, $name. That scanner logs every failed attempt. You’re building a reputation.” you leaned on the counter. “A mysterious one, I hope.” She smirked, then hit Enter. The screen flashed green. Somewhere behind you, the security door gave a soft click. “There,” she said. “You’re officially allowed to suffer another day.” The elevator doors slid open just as you turned. you gave her a mock salute. you stepped into the elevator. The doors closed. The day began. [[enter office|work day 2]] ] (else:)[“Morning, Mar,” you said sheepishly. She didn’t look up. “You’re lucky I like you, $name. That scanner logs every failed attempt. You’re building a reputation.” you leaned on the counter. “A mysterious one, I hope.” She smirked, then hit Enter. The screen flashed green. Somewhere behind you, the security door gave a soft click. “There,” she said. “You’re officially allowed to suffer another day.” The elevator doors slid open just as you turned. you gave her a mock salute. you stepped into the elevator. The doors closed. The day began. [[enter office]] ]

(if:$answer is false)[ Supervisor : $name. Sit down. You: Yes, ma’am. Supervisor: I called you yesterday. No answer. No message. No heads-up. You just didn’t show. You: I’m really sorry. I should’ve reached out. It won’t happen again. Supervisor: I hope not. Because this isn’t just about one missed day. It’s about reliability. The team was short-staffed, and I had to reshuffle everything last minute. That affects everyone. You: I understand. I take full responsibility. Supervisor: I need to know—are you still committed to this role? Because if this is a pattern starting, we’ll have to reevaluate your position here. You: I am committed. I know I messed up, and I’ll prove I can be counted on. Supervisor: Good. Then start by showing up consistently, communicating clearly, and respecting the team’s time. I’m watching closely, $name. Let’s not have this conversation again. You: Understood. Thank you for the chance to make it right.] (else:)[ Supervisor: Thanks for coming in. Sit down. You: Sure. Supervisor: I appreciated you answering my call yesterday. You said you needed the day—I respect that. But I need to talk about what that meant for the rest of us. You: I understand. I wasn’t trying to leave anyone hanging. I just really needed a moment. Supervisor: I hear you. And I’m not here to punish you for needing space. But when you step out without coverage, I have to reshuffle everything. That’s not easy, especially right now. You: I’m sorry. I’ll make sure it’s handled better next time. Supervisor: I want to trust that. But I also need to be honest with you. We’re in a tight season. If I start seeing gaps—unplanned absences, missed responsibilities—I have to consider whether this role is still a fit. You: I hear you. I’m committed. I’ll be proactive from here on. Supervisor: Good. Let’s treat this as a reset. But just know—if I’m forced to choose between stability and uncertainty, I’ll choose stability. That’s not a threat. It’s just the reality. You: Understood. Thank you for being honest. Supervisor: Don’t waste the grace.] [[meeting]]

(set:$hunger to ($hunger-5))(set:$tiredness to ($tiredness+5)) $name: hunger $hunger | health $health | tiredness $tiredness | cash $$cash Scene: Conference Room. The air is cool, fluorescent lights overhead. You enter with your notepad. Supervisor is already seated. Jace, Dani, and Nia are at the table. Supervisor: Alright, let’s get started. We’ve got thirty minutes and a full slate. Dani: Morning. Jace: Ready. Supervisor: First up—client rollout. Dani, where are we? Dani: We’re on track. The final assets are in review, and I’ll push the updates by noon. Supervisor: Good. Let’s keep that momentum. Jace, any blockers on your end? Jace: Just one. The vendor’s API is throwing errors again. I’ve flagged it, but we might need a workaround if it’s not resolved by tomorrow. Supervisor: Noted. $name, I want you to shadow Jace on that. See if there’s a patch or alternate route we can use[[.|secret ending]] You: Got it. Supervisor: Nia, anything from the feedback thread? Nia: A few notes—mostly minor. One about the new login flow feeling clunky. I’ll send the details after this. Supervisor: Perfect. Let’s aim to close those by Friday. Anything else? (Everyone shakes their heads. Supervisor glances around, then nods.) Supervisor: Alright. Let’s move. Stay sharp, stay synced. [[ return to desk]]

Your phone buzzed, you looked and saw a message. " A category 4 hurricane is entering your country's waters, contries that are going to be affected jamaica, cuba, hati and the bahamas. its expected to make landfall on JA, its name is[[ melissa]]" [[continue.]]

(set:$hunger to ($hunger-15))(set:$tiredness to ($tiredness+10)) $name: hunger $hunger | health $health | tiredness $tiredness | cash $$cash (if:$bed2 is true)[ The space is quiet, with only the soft hum of machines and the distant clink of mugs in the break room. You power up your computer, grab a fresh cup of coffee, and scan your calendar to get a sense of the day ahead. By 8:30 AM, you're deep into your inbox, sorting through emails that came in overnight. Some need quick replies, others require more thought. You flag the ones that need follow-up and scribble your top priorities for the morning on a sticky note. At 9:00 AM, you join the team’s daily check-in. Cameras flicker on, and everyone shares updates. You talk through your progress and offer help to a teammate who’s stuck on a report. The meeting wraps up quickly, and you feel aligned with the team’s goals. By 9:30 AM, you’re in deep focus mode. Headphones on, distractions off, you dive into a presentation due next week. The slides come together smoothly, and you feel a rhythm building. You pause only to sip your coffee and adjust a few design elements. At 10:00 AM, a colleague pings you for a quick sync. You hop into a short call to clarify a few project details. It’s efficient, and you both leave with clear next steps. By 10:30 AM, you’re reviewing a document that needs feedback. You add comments, suggest edits, and highlight areas that need clarification. Once done, you send it back with a note of encouragement. At 11:00 AM, you shift gears to handle some admin tasks—approving timesheets, updating trackers, and submitting someone's travel request for next week. It’s routine but necessary, and you knock it out quickly. By 11:30 AM, you’re wrapping up. A final sweep of your inbox, a few quick replies, and you save your work. You glance at the clock and feel satisfied with the morning’s progress as lunch approaches.] (else:)[Scene: Your Desk. 9:03 AM. You sit. The chair creaks faintly beneath you. The meeting is behind you now—its edges still echoing, but fading. You open your laptop. The screen glows. You begin. First: the vendor issue. You trace the error logs, line by line. The problem is subtle—nested too deep for a casual glance. You dig. You patch. You test. It holds. By 10:12, you’ve drafted a clean report and sent it off. No fanfare. Just the quiet satisfaction of something resolved. You refill your coffee. It’s bitter, but warm. Outside, a delivery truck reverses with a long beep. You don’t look up. At 11:06, you catch a rhythm. Emails answered. Notes updated. A small idea for streamlining the login flow takes shape. You sketch it out—just enough to hold the thought. The clock ticks past 12:00. You lean back. Shoulders tight. Eyes dry. But the work is done. For now.] [[ get up and walk to the hallway for lunch|lunch]]

(if:$hunger<=35)[(alert:"you are hungry")] (if:$tiredness>70)[(alert:"you are tired")] $name: hunger $hunger | health $health | tiredness $tiredness | cash $$cash should i buy something... the vending machine? or the store? [[vending machine]] [[store]] (if:$tiredness>=85)[[go to break room to sleep|sleep2]]

(set:$hunger to($hunger+15))(set:$tiredness to($tiredness-20))(set:$cash to($cash-450)) $name: hunger $hunger | health $health | tiredness $tiredness | cash $$cash You walk down the corridor, past the flickering light near the break room. The vending machine hums like it’s thinking. You press your thumb against the glass, scanning rows of foil and plastic. Chips. A sandwich sealed in mystery. You tap in the code, slide in your card. The machine whirs, then drops the package with a dull thud. You sit nearby, unwrap it slowly. It’s dry, but warm. You eat in silence, watching the clock tick forward, it's already time to go back to work. i thought i had 50 minutes left, but i guess sitting down and eating slow while starring into nothing does take time [[rest of day]]

(set:$cash to ($cash-1600))(set: $hunger to ($hunger+30))(set:$tiredness to($tiredness+15)) $name: hunger $hunger | health $health | tiredness $tiredness | cash $$cash You step outside. The sun hits your face like a soft slap. The corner shop is two blocks down, tucked between a shuttered bakery and a phone repair stall. Inside, the air smells like plastic and spice. You grab a drink, a snack, and something you don’t need—a pen with glitter ink. At checkout, the cashier nods without speaking. You walk back slowly, sipping, watching the traffic blur past. The office looms ahead. You pocket the pen. [[walk back to the office|rest of day]]

(set:$tiredness to($tiredness-50))(set:$hunger to($hunger-20)) $name: hunger $hunger | health $health | tiredness $tiredness | cash $$cash You find the quietest corner of the break room—behind the supply shelf, near the unused printer. You fold your arms, lean back, close your eyes. The hum of the building fades into a low lullaby. Your breath slows. For a moment, the tension in your shoulders releases. You dream of nothing. Just stillness. When you wake, it’s 12:58. You stretch, blink, and return to your desk—lighter, but still a little fogged [[time to go back|rest of day]]

$name: hunger $hunger | health $health | tiredness $tiredness | cash $$cash (set:$tiredness to ($tiredness+40))(set:$hunger to($hunger-35))(set:$healyh to($health-20)) (if:$friday is true)[You return from lunch with a quiet sense of anticipation. It’s Friday afternoon, and the thought of your paycheck hitting later adds a subtle rhythm to everything you do. You refill your water bottle, stretch a little, and settle back into your chair, ready to finish strong. You check your task list and prioritize what absolutely needs to be done before the weekend. A few items are already crossed off, and the rest feel manageable. You open the report you started earlier and begin finalizing the last sections. By 1:00 PM, you’re polishing the presentation slides for next week’s meeting. You adjust the layout, refine the wording, and add a few visuals to make it pop. It’s satisfying work, and you feel confident about how it’s shaping up. At 2:00 PM, you join a short wrap-up meeting with your team. Everyone shares what they’ve completed and what’s rolling over to next week. The tone is light, and someone cracks a joke that gets a few laughs. You confirm your deliverables and log off the call with a smile. By 2:30 PM, you take a short break. A walk around the office or a few minutes of fresh air helps reset your focus. You return with a snack and a bit more energy, ready to finish the day. At 3:00 PM, you respond to a few lingering emails and clean up your desktop. You archive old files, organize folders, and make sure everything is saved and backed up. You check your inbox one last time and see the notification you’ve been waiting for—your paycheck has landed. By 3:30 PM, you glance at your banking app and confirm the deposit. A quiet sense of relief washes over you. You make a mental note of what needs to be paid and what you’ll treat yourself to this weekend. At 4:00 PM, you do a final sweep of your workspace. You tidy up, close your tabs, and jot down a few reminders for Monday. The office begins to quiet down, and you log off with a sense of completion. By 5:30 PM, you’re packing up, saying a few goodbyes, and heading out the door. The weekend stretches ahead, and you step into it with a light heart and a full online wallet. [[ leave work | leave work2]]] (else-if:$bed2 is true)[You return from lunch feeling refreshed and ready to tackle the rest of the day. The office hums with a bit more energy now, as more people have returned to their desks. You stretch a little, and settle back in. By 1:00 PM, you're back in focus mode, working on a report that requires data analysis and a bit of creative thinking. You toggle between spreadsheets and slides, pulling insights and shaping them into a compelling narrative. At 2:00 PM, you join a brainstorming session with a few teammates. The conversation is lively, ideas bounce around, and you contribute a few that spark interest. Notes are taken, action items assigned, and the meeting ends with a sense of momentum. By 3:00 PM, you take a short break. A quick walk around the office or a few minutes of fresh air helps clear your head. You return with a snack and a bit more energy(set:$hunger to($hunger+15)). At 3:30 PM, you respond to messages that piled up during the meeting. A few Slack threads need your input, and you reply to a couple of emails that had been sitting in your drafts. By 4:00 PM, you’re wrapping up the last major task of the day. You double-check your work, save everything, and send out a summary to the team. You feel a sense of accomplishment as you close out your tabs. At 5:30 PM, you do a final review of your calendar for tomorrow, jot down a few reminders, and tidy up your workspace. The office begins to quiet down again, and you log off, ready to head out with the satisfaction of a productive day behind you. [[take a taxi|taxi2]] [[take the train|train2]] ] (else:)[Lunch ends. You return to your desk. The light has shifted—less harsh now, more golden. You open your laptop again. The patch you sent earlier has been acknowledged. No reply. Just a green checkmark in the system. You spend the next hour refining the login flow sketch. It’s not urgent, but it’s been bothering you—how clunky it feels, how easily it could be smoother. You test a few ideas. One sticks. By 3:00 PM, the office is quieter. The usual chatter has thinned. You answer emails, update notes, clean up your task board. A small satisfaction builds—nothing dramatic, just the quiet hum of progress. At 5:45 PM, you glance at the clock. You could leave soon. You could pack up, walk out, let the day end. But you don’t. You stay. You spend another hour refining the sketch, writing a short proposal, attaching it to the system. No one asked for it. No one’s watching. But it’s done. Office Lobby. 6:52 PM. You step out. The sky is bruised with dusk. The air smells like warm concrete and distant rain. You walk slowly, not tired—just emptied. [[take a taxi|taxi2]] [[take the train|train2]] ]

Hurricane Melissa is currently a powerful Category 4 storm threatening Jamaica and the Caribbean with catastrophic impacts. Here’s the latest: 🌪️ Storm Status - Category 4 hurricane, rapidly intensifying and expected to reach Category 5 soon. - Wind speeds: Currently around 145 mph, with potential to hit 160 mph. 📍 Areas at Risk - Jamaica: Direct path of the storm. Authorities urge residents to seek shelter immediately. Expect damaging winds, life-threatening flash floods, landslides, and storm surge starting tonight(sunday night) through Tuesday. - Haiti and the Dominican Republic: Facing catastrophic flooding and landslides, especially in southern and southwestern regions. 🌧️ Rainfall Forecast - 15 to 30 inches of rain expected across Jamaica, Haiti, and the Dominican Republic. ⚠️ Impact Summary - Extensive infrastructure damage likely. - Long-term power and communication outages anticipated. - Community isolation due to landslides and flooding. If you're in Spanish Town or anywhere in Jamaica, please stay informed through local emergency channels and prepare for severe conditions. Let me know if you want help finding shelter locations or emergency resources. Sources: . post hurricane melissa, it hit at cat 5 on the west side of jamaica. most of the west os unreconizable, mandeville survived, my house survived with some roof zinc missing, i survived -sun,26 oct [[rest of day]] [[secret ending]]

(if:$cash>150)[ (set:$cash to ($cash-150))(alert:" you gave the driver $150 off your debt card") $name: hunger $hunger | health $health | tiredness $tiredness | cash $$cash you saw it a lone taxi, i hoped in and it drove off, you were alone but what other choice do have,[[ walk home]]?, nope you're tired and stressed so you dont think straight... hope he doesn't hurt you.. [[ride home|home]] .] (if:$cash<150)[ (set:$tiredness to($tiredness +30))the driver says,"you dont have enough money for the fair!" so you walked home [[walk home|home]]]

(if:$cash>=1550)[(set:$cash to ($cash-1550))(alert:" you gave the machine $1550 off your debt card")(alert:" the train is too crowed so you feel claustrophobic +20 tiredness") (set:$tiredness to ($tiredness + 20)) $name: hunger $hunger | health $health | tiredness $tiredness | cash $$cash You step onto the platform and immediately feel it—the crowd. Bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, the air thick with sweat and impatience. The train screeches in, doors sliding open like a dare. You squeeze in. There’s no seat, no space, just a wall of strangers. Someone’s backpack digs into your side. A woman’s elbow grazes your ribs. You grip the overhead rail, knuckles white. The train lurches forward. A man coughs. A child cries. The scent of fried food and perfume clashes in the stale air. You try not to breathe too deeply. Outside, the city blurs—graffiti walls, shuttered shops, a dog trotting along the tracks. Inside, time stretches. You count stops. You count breaths. At one point, someone shifts and you get half a foot of space. It feels like a gift. Scene: Your Stop. 6:49 PM. The doors open. You push through the crowd, step onto the platform. The air outside is cooler, quieter. You walk toward the exit, shoulders sore, head buzzing. You made it. ] (if:$cash<1550)[the machine says,"you dont have enough money for the fair!"so you walked home(set:$tiredness to($tiredness +30))] [[home]]

(set:$from to'home')(set:$count to ($count+1)) $name: hunger $hunger | health $health | tiredness $tiredness | cash $$cash You flick on the lights. The room glows dimly, warm against the fading dusk outside. You toss your bag onto the couch—it lands with a soft thud, half spilling open. You don’t bother to unpack. The TV clicks on. The news anchor’s voice cuts through the quiet: “—another stabbing reported near Half-Way mullings road. Police urge residents not to walk alone after 5 PM. Groups are safer. Stay alert.” You freeze for a moment, one shoe still on. The screen shows grainy footage—flashing lights, caution tape, a blurred figure being loaded into an ambulance. You stand there. Not because you’re tired, but because the weight of the day just shifted. Outside, a siren wails faintly. Inside, the anchor continues: “Authorities are increasing patrols, but advise caution. If you must travel, do so with company.” You reach for the remote, then stop. You let the broadcast play. Not for the details. Just to feel less alone. (if:$count<2)[[[ go to bed|bed2]]] (if:$count is 2)[[[go to bed|bed3]]]

that whole taxi and train idea is just a waste of cash. that lone taxi looks like a trap, the train too crowed even at this hour... you notice someone behind you in the distance, you walk abit faster and so does this person, you start to sweat, its dark and the only lights u have are streetlights, passing cars and your phone. he's speeding up, im not very good at running so should i [[continue walking and hope that person isn't after me|walk]] or [[run]]

He ran up to you and stabbed you on the side of the street, turns out he's a crack head.he went through your belongings saw your debt card and threw it away, then he muttered" thought you had cash..." you were stupid to keep walking, at least run..you died tho [[ day of a office worker]]

You tried, he chased, you tripped, he came in hot, you used you phone to hit him but this made him more aggressive and he stabbed you viscously on the side of the street.turns out he's a crack head.he went through your belongings saw your debt card and threw it away, then he muttered" thought you had cash..." well... you shouldn't have walked, you died. at least one good thing happened tho, when hit him your phone got his blood on it so maybe if the police wants to, they will find him...maybe [[ day of a office worker]]

(set:$from to 'bed2')(set:$bed2 to true) your bed is messy from last night, but its comfortable... you love it! [[sleep]]

(set:$bed3 to true) The sheets are tangled like forgotten thoughts—one corner kicked loose, another twisted into a soft knot near the footboard. Pillows lie askew, one half-buried beneath the blanket, the other slumped sideways with a faint imprint of a cheek still visible. The comforter is a crumpled wave, cresting toward the edge as if trying to escape the mattress entirely. A sock sticks out from under the blanket, like it got left behind. The other one isn’t there. Maybe it’s under the bed, or mixed in with the sheets. No one knows. [[get some rest->sleep]]

$name: hunger $hunger | health $health | tiredness $tiredness | cash $$cash (set:$count to ($count+1))(set:$friday to true) (live:5s)[(alert:"today is friday, pay day, visit the bank later and remember to buy that drink")(stop:)] you woke up... or did you?, heaven doesnt have LED lights so yeah, your alive. your phone rang, it's alerting you... ready to go another day [[get ready for work]] [[ make breakfast]] [[go to work|work day 2]]

You arrive at the office at 8:00 AM with a little extra energy in your step—it’s Friday, and payday is waiting at the end of it. The morning air feels lighter, and the usual hum of the office carries a subtle buzz of weekend anticipation. You settle in, boot up your computer, and sip your coffee while glancing at your calendar. A few meetings, some wrap-up tasks, and then freedom. By 8:30 AM, you’re sorting through your inbox. Most of the emails are routine, but a couple need attention before the weekend. You reply to a few, forward one to a teammate, and flag the rest for later. You jot down your top three goals for the (text-rotate-x:169)[morning], keeping things realistic—no need to overextend on a Friday. At 9:00 AM, you join the team’s final check-in of the week. Everyone’s a bit more relaxed, sharing updates and weekend plans between task summaries. You give a quick rundown of your progress and confirm that your part of the project is on track. The meeting wraps up with a few laughs and a shared sense of relief. By 9:30 AM, you’re in focus mode, working on a report that needs to be finalized before the day ends. You review the data, polish the formatting, and add a few insights. It’s satisfying work, and you feel good about how it’s coming together. At 10:00 AM, a teammate messages you with a last-minute request. You jump on a quick call to sort it out, and within fifteen minutes, the issue is resolved. You send over the updated file and get a thumbs-up in return. By 10:30 AM, you shift to reviewing a presentation that’s scheduled for next week. You add comments, suggest a few visual tweaks, and send it back with a note of encouragement. It’s nice to help someone else finish strong before the weekend. At 11:00 AM, you take care of a few admin tasks—approving timesheets, updating trackers, and submitting a reimbursement form. You check your pay stub just to confirm everything looks right. It does, and that adds a little extra spark to your mood. By 11:30 AM, you’re wrapping up the morning. You clear out your inbox, save your work, and take a deep breath. Lunch is just around the corner, and the weekend is within reach. You feel accomplished, steady, and ready to coast into the afternoon. [[go to lunch|lunch]]

$name: hunger $hunger | health $health | tiredness $tiredness | cash $$cash you step out, The evening air carries a soft hush, like the island itself is exhaling after a long day. There's a hint of salt from the coast, mingling with the scent of jerk smoke drifting from a roadside pan. The breeze brushes your skin with just enough cool to remind you it’s November, but the sun still lingers—golden and generous. time to... [[ go to the bank|bank]] [[ go to the supermarket and use your debit card|supermarket]] [[ go home]] (set:$cash to($cash+85000))

$name: hunger $hunger | health $health | tiredness $tiredness | cash $$cash The sun is dipping low behind the hills of Colonels Ridge, casting long amber streaks across the pavement. The bank’s fluorescent lights flicker on, pale against the warm dusk. You join the line—third from the door—behind a woman in a faded uniform clutching her purse, and ahead of a man with paint on his boots, humming a tune under his breath. The air is thick with the scent of fried dumplings from the vendor across the street, and the occasional waft of diesel from a passing coaster. A baby cries softly in someone’s arms. The security guard leans against the wall, eyes scanning the crowd with practiced calm. Inside, the teller windows glow like portals. You can hear the soft murmur of bills being counted, the beep of machines, the rustle of envelopes. Someone jokes about “e long line every payday,” and a few chuckles ripple through the queue. You shift your weight, feeling the proof of the week’s work, the grind, the vision. A motorbike revs in the distance. A breeze lifts the edge of your shirt. You glance up at the sky—indigo now, with the first stars peeking through. It’s payday. You’re here. The line inches forward. You’re up next. The teller’s glass is smudged with fingerprints and the faint glow of the overhead light. She looks up, gives a nod. Teller: “Evenin’. Collectin’ pay?” You: “Yeah. Direct from work. Regular deposit.” She taps the keyboard, eyes flicking to the screen. Teller: “Name and ID?” You slide it through the slot. She scans, then reaches for the envelope—thick, folded, stamped with the company logo. You catch a glimpse of the amount. It’s not flashy, but it’s yours. Honest work. Teller: “You want it full cash or split?” You: “Cash. Got some errands to run.” She counts it out, bills crisp and warm from the machine. You pocket them, nod your thanks. Teller: “Alright. Stay safe out there.” You step outside. The sky’s gone deep blue. Streetlights flicker on. You hear laughter from the cookshop down the road, smell curry and charcoal. The money’s in your pocket, the night’s yours. [[ go to the supermarket|supermarket]]

$name: hunger $hunger | health $health | tiredness $tiredness | cash $$cash The line snakes past the freezer section, and your basket’s light—mostly instant noodles, crackers, a few tins, and maybe a bag of bun. Payday’s not about splurging, it’s about stretching. You’ve got your eye on the quick meals: chicken-flavored ramen, spicy beef, maybe even a creamy shrimp packet if you’re feeling bold. Someone behind you is debating between Milo and Lasco. Ahead, a woman’s cart is stacked with bulk rice and diapers. You shift your weight, glance at the cashier—still scanning slowly, chatting with the bagger about last night’s football match. You check your basket again. It’s survival mode, but smart: easy prep, low gas, enough variety to keep things from feeling stale. You’ve got a plan—boi. You’re not just shopping, you’re strategizing. The line crawls forward. You’ve got your bills ready. The cashier finally waves you up. Cashier: “Evenin’” You: “i'm good. Just the basics today.” She scans, nods, and you’re out the door with your bag swinging, dusk settling over the plaza. The night’s quiet, and dinner’s already halfway done in your mind. (set:$cash to($cash-5000)) [[ go home]]

$name: hunger $hunger | health $health | tiredness $tiredness | cash $$cash you took a taxi (set:$cash to($cash-150)) and enter your aparment, you hit the lights. the apartment welcomes you, you made dinner(set:$hunger to ($hunger+35)) and prepped to watch a movie until midnight... you forgot your juice [[next]]

you've reach the end of this story, play it again trust me you missed alot of scenarios or play another story your review is alway welcome [[ story selection]]