Noise Lights: A Text Adventure- Sweet and Sour Victory

>You have seen that there exist an infinite number of variations of this shack. Surely one of them must have a loving god in it? Pray to that theoretical loving god in one of the shack variations for salvation.

Loving? Benevolence? Well yeah, there’s one of those. Maybe. But come on, that’s just so weird. It’s completely unnatural. A god that cares about and is nice to his worshipers? Why would anyone do that? You’ve read about some other gods, right, demanding sacrifices by the truckload, getting jiggy with fruit trees and wild animals, making a planet out of dead troll carcasses, monuments built on the broken backs of generations of slave labor, and making asparagus the only legal food. You’ve even heard a few would hold sporting events where the losing team would be sacrificed, and the winning team too just for good measure. That makes sense, that’s how things are supposed to work. Like those Omnihood people, they worship a giant tree that drinks blood. Now there’s a god that’s right on the money. When you’re that big, you’re supposed to tapdance on top of villages while wearing golf cleats and keeping a tally. If a deity says, “Hey, good job down there, have some manna.” and doesn’t make everyone’s intestines bleed out of their eyes just because he can, how the hell would anyone know how to deal with that? If you were a god, and by all accounts you damn well should be, you would make every day a Monday, every holiday “Holy Punch Yourself in the Kidneys Solstice”, decree that all walkways be paved with loose legos, and outlaw shoes.
If a god isn’t demanding that you stuff your nextdoor neighbor in a sack, drag him into the woods, and smear his entrails on a rock, he isn’t doing it right. Not that you would, of course. You’re too cool and fashionable to follow the sheeple, man.
Plus, if the gods really were benevolent, then why haven’t any divine hands opened up the heavens to shower you with all the riches and accolades you rightly deserve? If those moldy old neckbeards get super strength, magic hammers, and anti-water powers, then why haven’t you gotten a hundred times more? You’re millions of magnitudes more amazing than all of them put together, not to mention you’re actually smart enough to still be alive. Where’s the justice in that?

>Weep

It’s just not fair.
You sniff and dry your eyes with your sleeve.
You know you’re amazing. You know you’re unequaled. You know you’re the most important person in the world. You have to be. Out of all the people aimlessly crawling through the misbegotten sewage of their own lives, you are the only one the Noise Lights gave this mission to.
Now, with that being said, since you are so undeniably fantastic, YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE TO PROVE IT!

>Scream so loudly that the entirety of the universe and the multiverse hear it at full volume.

Every obstacle you’ve encountered today, no not just today, your Entire Life has been the result of everyone and everything conspiring against you! They’re all in on it! That office woman you went out with so you could steal a photocopier! Whoever built this shack! That guy who discovered those snakes, even though he died before you were born... Especially because he died before you were born! That really old dude reading the newspaper you see at the bus stop every Thursday morning! Why? Why is he doing that? There’s nothing interesting in the paper! Yeah, the top of a greyhound bus got ripped off and several people got their brainstems eaten by a monster with eleven limbs, two heads, and three faces, so what? That crap happens like five times a day. And your Brother! Oh, don’t you dare forget about your Brother. He’s the worst of them all; always going around with his fancy job, his clothes that aren’t filled with holes, his stupid house, his ugly clean-shaven face, and his truck that you keep taking.
You inelegantly screech at the world in general, brandish your mallet and begin erratically swinging it around. Tears of white hot immaturity stream down your face.
He has everything a person could want, but he shouldn’t want that at all! He should want to be more like you! You’re a lovable rogue, a dashing scoundrel, a cunning ne'er-do-well, the modern day Artful Dodger. Everyone should want to be like you. You have the potential to wrap the entire world around your pinkie finger. No, it’s not potential, it’s beyond potential. It is inevitable that you’ll wrap the entire world around your pinkie finger. It is a guaranteed conclusion that this will happen, so why can’t everyone and everything just step aside and let you do it? You, naturally, could accomplish all of your goals without their cooperation, it’s just that things would be a lot easier and more pleasant for you if everyone just got with the program!
In a fit of pure childish petulance, you begin pummeling the wall with your mallet while imaging the boards are people you hate.

[STATUS CHANGED TO CHILDISH RAGE]

>Smash yourself with the mallet.

Everything is just STUPID-STUPID-STUPID-STUPI- * WHACK *
As you gracelessly thrash your mallet around, you end up smacking the broad side of the hammerhead against your forehead. As your eyes lose focus and your thoughts reorganize by clattering against the inner walls of your skull, a distinct sensation comparable to warm, stingy ooze leaking out your ears and over the rest of your body washes over you. You can’t even remember why you were upset.

[STATUS CHANGED BACK TO TENTATIVELY BRAVE]

[NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED]

Ahold Thyself
Codex: “It has long been accepted that the most efficient way to solve hysteria, conniptions, brain fever, and all other forms of lost emotional and mental control is a swift application of blunt head trauma. Self diagnosis and application is the next logical step in today's world of self-medication. If you use any object that is heavy and hard enough, you may end a current negative Status with a 50/50 chance of either returning to your last Status or changing to the Neutral Status. Warning: Neutral Status my signify brain damage.

[ATTENTION: YOU ALREADY POSSES AN ABILITY THAT ALLOWS YOU TO CHANGE YOUR STATUS. ‘STAT TAT’. WOULD YOU LIKE TO KEEP ‘STAT TAT’ OR REPLACE IT WITH ‘AHOLD THYSELF’? IF YOU DO NOT REMEMBER WHAT ‘STAT TAT’ DOES, ASK AND THE eCODEX WILL DESCRIBE IT FOR YOU.]

>With the speed of the Jaguar, run into the upside down room

You blearily blink the mental fuzziness away and take stock of your situation. You are standing in front of a window. Through that window you see a floor with a trapdoor in it’s center. All the other rooms used to be exact copies of each other. From what you can tell, they still technically are, only now they seem to be shifting and turning around. Obviously this window has the view of a trap door in the ceiling.
You really need to do something constructive. You’ve been having those daydreams where you horrifically die a lot more than usual today. This would break a lesser mind, but thankfully your ironclad psyche is self-conditioned to take anything. Still, it would be devilishly inconvenient if something really did kill you. Not just that, but it would be an unforgivable disservice to all mankind to deprive them of your presence. The world would be just that little bit less magical. A lot more less magical, actually. A really whole lot. You need to finish your quest and get out of here. Infiltrate and exterminate, that’s what’s needed. You need to sneak up on those two freak-beast imposters and heroically put them down before they can retaliate. To do that, you need to think like they do. You need to think like a beast. Think like a stealthy, awesome, unstoppable beast. Like a- like a jaguar!

[STATUS CHANGED TO STUPEFYING OVERCONFIDENCE]

You reach into your inventory and pull out your fake gun with your free hand. Obviously jaguars would wield weapons if they had any, there’s just no argument. With your makeshift weapon and pseudo weapon gripped tightly in each hand, you drop down to all fours and stretch the way you theorize a jaguar might. You sniff the air, you’re on the hunt. There is prey to be had. You may be the wrong species, wrong shape, have no claws, no fangs, you don’t even have electrified spots or a second mouth on the end of your tail, or a tail at all, but you don’t need any of that. As of less than a minute ago, you believe you have the soul of a jaguar. You rear back, and with a mighty almost graceful leap, smash through the window into the next room.

>Listen closely, if you hear any of those things find another hiding place.

You touch down on the trapdoor in the next room as you land on your feet, and hands which are currently functioning as feet. Actually, paws. With the mallet and faux gun still in your clutches, you knuckle around the broken glass while trying to look more like a great cat than an ape. Once you near this room’s version of the exit door, you look up from where you came. You see a trapdoor in the ceiling displaying the view of the window you just leapt through. There are traces of broken glass around the edges.
You put your mind back to the task at hand. You sniff the air again. You smell dusty, rotten wood. You attempt to move your ears around to get a better listen in on your surroundings, you merely manage to comically wiggle them around. You do hear something: “kathunk-kathunk”. You quickly patter over into the corner and try to will yourself into being less visible in the alleged way a jaguar might.

>Failing that, wait for the right moment, and then try to get your hands all up at whatever that one freak has under his shirt.

You wait and listen intently as the “kathunk-kathunk” steadily gets louder. As you wait, you remember how the portal windows and doors changed when Wire-You hit his chest on the floor. You also remember feeling something flat and sturdy when you kicked him in the chest earlier. Whatever it is, it might be connected to the portals, as well as why they don’t work the way you think they should. If not, you’re still going to take it if only so no one else can have it. Within moments, the left window explodes inward as two misshapen forms come tumbling through it. Bizarrely, they don’t seem to be affected by this room’s gravity. Wire-You grabs onto the sides of the window while Car-You holds onto his ankles. They appear to be dangling sideways as if gravity were pulling them down. There is a loud exchange of hissing, shrieking, and hollered car noises. Wire-You begins to furiously kick his feet. Car-you loses his grip on one foot and dangles helplessly from the other until Wire-You brings his heel down on Car-You’s car wreck of a face. Car-You loses his hold on Wire-You and falls across the room where he smashes through the window into the next one. Wire-You struggles for a moment, trying to climb back through the window he is hanging from. He moves his feet to the wall in an attempt to find purchase, but the moment they connect, this room’s gravity seems to take hold. The sudden shift causes Wire-You to lose his grip wherein he unceremoniously hits the floor, flat on his back. He lays there in a daze before he finally struggles to his feet. Specifically, he struggles to his feet while facing away from you.

>Two offerings, first one, then the other.

This is your chance. Your mind’s eye is overcome with images of the jungle as the noble jaguar stalks a gazelle, or whatever. You creep forward on all fours, silently, stealthily. Once you are directly behind him, Wire-You manages to fully stand up and attempts to brush himself off. You quietly stand up and, using the gun’s barrel, you tap Wire-You on the shoulder. He freezes for a moment, then spins around to face you, but it’s too late for him. With all your strength, you swing the mallet and connect it with the side of his head. As he staggers back, you put the false pistol against that tiny spot right above his rib cage and pull the trigger. The tiny “Bang!” flagpole pops out and all the way through. Luminescent fluid splatters against the wall. Wire-You grab’s your hand as you still hold the surprisingly deadly toy gun, but there’s no strength in his grip. You look Wire-You dead in his weird light bulbs that pass for eyes.

You: “It was snakes to meet you.”

Wire-You stares for a moment. His eye-bulbs quickly turn off and on again, as if to blink in consternation. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but only manages in sputtering out some glowing slime. Deciding it just isn’t worth it, he falls on his back again for the final time. The gun goes with him. All the lights on his body flicker and go dark.

>Grab whatever is under the creature’s shirt

YES! A successful hunt! Was there ever any doubt? Of course not!
You drop back down to all fours and prowl towards your prize. While still clutching the mallet, you use your free hand to tug the recently deceased Wire-You’s shirt up. What you find is a small control panel, about the size of a cribbage board, strapped to his chest. Like a belt that goes under the armpits. You stare at the control panel for a few minutes in complete incomprehension until it finally dawns on you that jaguars lack the ability to decipher modern technology. You decide to drop the act. You stash the mallet in your inventory and begin fiddling with the strapped panel.
There are two clamps that keep the control panel attached to the strap, you click them loose and lift the panel free. You glance back at the dangerous toy gun as it protrudes from between Wire-You’s collar bones. The little pole is hopelessly bent, rendering the whole thing useless. It’s not worth it to try wrenching it free, so you elect to leave it where it is.

[1PISTOL REMOVED FROM INVENTORY]
[1 SMALL CONTROL PANEL ADDED TO INVENTORY]

>Make sure you’re safe before you look over the strange item.

You sharply kick the downed Wire-You in the side. No movement, no retaliation. You’re in the clear. You grimace as you notice that you’re standing in a pool of slowly spreading glowing yellow ooze. Whatever that thing had instead of blood. You quickly move away from the pool, broken glass crunches under your shoes as you back towards the far wall.
Alright, how does this stupid thing work...

>bump

You feel a light tap on your shoulder. Before you can react you are grabbed by both shoulders and forcibly spun around. You are staring directly into the flashing headlight eyes of Car-You. His mouth moves with unseen words as his spark plug teeth buzz and fizzle. His eyes flash along with garbled imitations of car noises that come seemingly from nowhere. He lets go of your shoulders and immediately grabs for the control panel in your hands.

>Flail wildly.

The two of you immediately begin a tug o' war over the small panel. You have no idea why this bastard is going for the panel instead of you, but if he wants it, that’s less incentive to let him have it.
Car-You gives a mighty pull which yanks you forward. Your upper half is forced into the other room. You retaliate by pressing your knees against the wall and with the wall as an anchor, you use your entire body to pull back. This catches him off balance and he falls forward, his entire upper half now in your room. He begins pulling back. In the struggle, many of the panel’s buttons are pressed all at once. The scene on the other side of the shattered window suddenly changes, Car-You falls forward and you stumble backwards. You finally trip over the doorknob protruding from the trapdoor and fall on your back in a heap. Car-You hits the ground only a few feet from the window. Well, half of him does, anyway.

[REMINDER: YOU ALREADY POSSES AN ABILITY THAT ALLOWS YOU TO CHANGE YOUR STATUS. ‘STAT TAT’. WOULD YOU LIKE TO KEEP ‘STAT TAT’ OR REPLACE IT WITH ‘AHOLD THYSELF’? IF YOU DO NOT REMEMBER WHAT ‘STAT TAT’ DOES, ASK AND THE eCODEX WILL DESCRIBE IT FOR YOU.]

Player Statistics:

Show Content

SpoilerStatus: STUPEFYING OVERCONFIDENCE

Death Count: 7

Inventory:
1 can of dehydrated cans, add water for more cans
1 book (read) titled Staying Delicious: Keep Your Cool as a Fool
1 electronic codex, have you heard the good news?
1 legalese document
1 extend-o-grab
1 mallet
1 fistful of pennies
1 bunch of coupons
1 keys
1 control panel

Abilities:
[1/2]
A Kall To Keys [X]
Stat Tat/Ahold Thyself [X]
Honeyed Vinegar [ ]
Pseudosmarts [X]

Half the man he used to be. He's gone all to pieces. He split.

Codex:

Show Content

SpoilerThe Omnihood of the Branch is the single largest and most influential of the world’s dominant religions. The Church was officially founded in 1013 by Holy Roman Emperor Otto III, but the religion itself began its growth during the early reign of Otto II.
While quelling a rebellion in 977, news reached Otto II of unrest in the Black Forest region. There were rumors of terrifying noises, sightings of sickly, shriveled creatures, and unnatural winds all coming from the forest’s center. Angered by the news that the local militias were too afraid to look into the matter, Otto II sent a detachment of his own men to investigate and restore the peace. When they finally reached the Black Forest, by each soldier’s personal testimony, their expedition to the forest’s heart bore a shocking discovery. They found a great tree, The First Oak. A massive eight-hundred and ninety-nine foot tall oak tree possessing thirteen gaping mouths with each mouth singing a different song in languages the men did not understand. When several of the men ventured too close, they and their horses were captured and drained of all blood by the tree’s mouths. Afterwards the mouths all began to sing a different song in perfect unison. Each soldier claimed the song took root in their minds and souls, conjuring up visions that were indescribable. Two men were sent back to inform the emperor of what they had found, and the rest stayed behind to raid the nearest village in order to round up sacrifices so they might hear The Oak sing again.
On their journey back to inform Otto II, they spread the word of what they had found among the nobles. Upon reaching Otto II and sharing their discovery, he did not believe their story and had them disciplined for incompetence. He returned his attention fully back to putting down the rebellion. As time moved on, the word of The First Oak had spread far and wide, with many people journeying to the Black Forest to see it for themselves. Some even brought pets, cattle, and unwanted family members to feed to the tree so they might hear it sing for them as well. When the rebellion was finally over and stability was restored in 980 Otto II was shocked to find so many of the good christian folk of the empire had turned away from the faith in order to give their devotions to a dark tree far out in the wilderness. With the Vatican’s blessing, he organized a party with the intention of personally seeing to the tree’s destruction. However, upon reaching The First Oak in the heart of the Black Forest, he heard its song and immediately changed his mind. Otto II returned home and made no efforts to stop the tree cult’s growth, despite the Vatican’s orders and pleas to stop the new organization’s growing influence. In the years that followed, worship of The First Oak found hidden houses of devotion in nearly every corner of The Holy Roman Empire.
On the evening of December 24th 1012, Otto II was found dead. An assassin was caught and questioned and he claimed the he was working under the orders of Henry II, the then current duke of Bavaria, who himself was allegedly under direct orders from Pope Sergius IV. Henry II had later confessed to the murder, but claimed it was over the exile and subsequent death of his father and not because he was told to. Whichever story was true, the intended outcome was for Henry II to take the throne. News of his father’s death reached Otto III, who was away engaged in peace-talks with the Polabian Slavs, on the morning of January 1st 1013. Outraged over the belief that the Vatican had his father killed, Otto III struck a deal with the Polabians that if they assisted him, he would give them imperial backed dominion over the other Slavic tribes, unrestricted access to The First Oak, and all the spoils that war would bring. A deal that was easily made since many of the Polabian Slavs had become enamored with the growing tree cult and it was instrumental in their peace-talks. With Polabian Slavic aid, Otto III reentered the Holy Roman Empire. As he traveled, he gathered support from local militias, soldiers that were loyal, and numerous minutemen. On January 15th 1013, they stormed Henry II’s home, wherein they captured, interrogated, and executed him.
The next day, Otto III declared himself the Emperor despite not being crowned by the pope, and declared war on the Vatican and all their supporters. What followed was a period of chaos and civil war. All over the empire, towns, villages, and cities were divided in two. Fighting broke out in the streets and people were dragged kicking and screaming from their homes. Those who did not convert to the tree cult fled en masse to Northern Italy, which had become a safe haven for fleeing pilgrims, and those who were not able to escape were rounded up and fed to The First Oak. During the chaos, Northern Italy made moves to secede from the Holy Roman Empire, a move that was ultimately successful since the bulk of Otto III’s forces were occupied pushing the  new regime and stomping out resistance which left them unable to mobilize an adequate response.
Believing that his authority as emperor was secured, on December 24th 1015 Otto III renamed the tree cult into The Omnihood of the Branch, citing a vision The First Oak gave him. The rest of his reign was spent stabilizing the empire and solidifying the new church’s place in the people’s lives. His son and successor Otto IV spent his reign expanding the empire’s borders and attempting to bring the Omnihood to the rest of Europe. Despite having no ties to Rome after Northern Italy seceded and the Vatican disowned them, The Holy Roman Empire never changed or gave up its name simply to spite them both.
The First Oak and surrounding monasteries are and continue to be open to the public. All visitors are treated to the following greeting:
“Behold. What is it that you see? What is it that you hear? What stands before you is the great tree, The First Oak. When there was nothing, there was the tree. You see its gnarled branches, from those branches the stars and heavens were born like fruit. You see its great tangled roots, they grew long and wide and our earth grew around them. You see its mouths, we feed them so they might sing. You hear its song, when it sang, we all clawed screaming from the mud. When it sings, we see. What we see we build. It has a song for each of us. Its branches pierce the heavens and know what horrors lie above. Its roots spiral deep into the dark places, they know all the secrets we do not. When the final song comes, we will see the horrors from above. When the final song comes, the roots will split the earth open and we will see what secrets sleep beneath. The heavens will be drawn back into its branches. The earth will be drawn back into its roots, and us with it. There was only the tree, and there will only be the tree again. Please, No flash photography. Postcards are available in the gift shop.”
It is worth noting that since the beginning of the Modern Era, human sacrifices to The First Oak have become extremely rare due to impracticality. The vast majority of sacrifices now come from donations supplied by the world’s leading ranches, slaughterhouses, and meatpacking plants. Tens of thousands of gallons of animal blood is regularly delivered via railroad into the heart of the Black Forest. Human sacrifices are rare with the occasional holiday events making use of volunteered human participants, convicted criminals, and telemarketers.