Your name is Ingrid. Doctor Ingrid Peren, I should say — you insist that people call you Doctor. Today is an ordinary day, which is to say that you are not going to die today. You're never going to die.(set: $blood to false)(set: $elec to false)(set: $bleeding to false)(set: $cane to false)
[[I'm never going to die. ->Lab Description]]You are sitting in your workshop, hunched over a large workbench upon which lies your masterpiece. The room is cluttered, much less tidy than you prefer to keep it, but you've been in such a hurry lately to finish your work. A small window set high in the wall shows a low view of the street behind your house; your workshop is in the basement, and smells of it. The scent of wet stone and moss mingle with sawdust and iron. It is the smell you know best, other than rain.
[[Leave my workshop ->Main House]]
[[Stay in my workshop ->Automaton Desc]]You have things to do today, so you venture upwards. You cough up blood going up the stairs, but manage to catch most of it in a handkerchief. Still, a few specks land on your sleeve. At least it's a black shirt.
The main house is sparse. You've lived here for thirty years, but the most you've personalized the place are the little clockwork animals on your shelves and the books and papers that cover every table and most of the seating. You don't have many guests.
(if: $bleeding is true)[
Your arm is still bleeding. Quite a lot, actually.
]
[[Return downstairs ->Lab Description]]
[[Leave the house ->Knock]]If you go outside you might have to speak to your neighbors. They probably want to offer their condolances, the gossips. Better to stay in.
Your masterpiece lies on the workbench and stares up at the ceiling with empty eye sockets. When standing, it will be over six feet tall. You were six feet tall when you were younger, but years of bending over workbenches like this have hunched your back.
[[Work on my masterpiece]]
[[Leave my workshop ->Main House]] As you approach your front door, you hear a knock from the other side.
[[Hide and wait for them to go away ->Hide]]
[[Open the door ->Neighbors]] (if: $blood is false)[It's almost done, really. You just need to connect it to yourself. In theory, that shouldn't be hard — you just need some of your blood.
A small, empty vial sits on your desk, ready to be filled. Next to it is a syringe.
[[Draw blood]]
[[Just cough into the vial]]
[[I don't handle blood well]]
]
(else:)[There's nothing more to be done but find a power source.
[[Leave ->Main House]]
]The world fades away. There is pain, and then nothing. I'm sorry. You have died.
(if: $blood is false or $elec is false)[
[[No. This isn't how it's supposed to happen.->Start]]
]
(else-if: $blood is true and $elec is true)[
[[No. I'll never die. ->Resurrect]]
]You puncture the vein in your inner elbow but your hands are shaking substantially and you accidentally inflict a much larger wound than you meant to. It hurts. //A lot.//
Your hands are shaking even more now and your arm is bleeding but nevertheless you deposit your drawn blood into the vial and slot it into your creation's chest cavity.
(if: $elec is false)[
Now you just need one more thing: electricity. For that, you'll have to leave the city.]
(else:)[
Now to investigate that sound upstairs.
]
It's not a bad idea to bandage your arm, too, though it's not like you need to. After all, you're never going to die.(set: $blood to true)
(if: $elec is false)[
(link: "Bandage my arm and leave the workshop")[(set: $bleeding to false)(goto: "Main House")]
(link: "Leave the workshop. I'll never die.")[(set: $bleeding to true)(goto: "Main House")]
]
(else:)[
(link: "Bandage my arm and leave the workshop")[(set: $bleeding to false)(goto: "Upstairs")]
(link: "Leave the workshop. I'll never die.")[(set: $bleeding to true)(goto: "Upstairs")]
]Not exactly the proper way of doing things, but it'll hurt less. With a few wet and crackling coughs you regurgitate a sufficient glob of blood, also spraying drops onto the stone floor.
You slot the vial into your creation's chest cavity. Your throat is sore and your mouth tastes of iron.(set: $blood to true)(set: $bleeding to false)
(if: $elec is false)[
Now you only need one more thing: electricity. For that, youll have to leave the city.
[[Wipe my mouth and leave the workshop ->Main House]]
]
(else:)[[[Go upstairs ->Upstairs]]
]Fair enough. You can do it later.(set: $bleeding to false)
(if: $elec is false)[
[[Exactly ->Automaton Desc]]
]
(else:)[
[[Exactly ->Upstairs]]
]What?
Oh.
Your senses return abruptly; or, some of them do. You can feel the hard surface you're lying on but not its texture or the temperature of the room. You don't feel your heart beating and you're not breathing, but you feel fine. For the first time in a long time, you feel healthy.
You try to get up, flop around for a bit before understaing your new motor functions, and stand. You are taller. You are in your workshop. You are... dead? No. No, that can't be right. Like you said, you'll never die.
Alive does not seem like the right word. Alive also does not seem like the right word for your murderer. You climb the stairs of your workshop and take your walking cane from beside the front door. You won't need it for walking anymore, but you can think of a more immediate purpose.
You step over your body — your //old// body — and climb the stairs to find Nora, cane gripped firmly in your wooden hand.
[[The End]](if: $bleeding is true)[You open the door and see three of your neighbors clustered on your doorstep. Their faces quickly turn from polite, carefully crafted concern to something more genuine when they see the rivulet of blood trailing down your arm onto the floor.
"Oh my God, are you alright? Come on, let's get that bandaged up," says the middle neighbor, a middle-aged woman around your age who always insists on exchanging pleasantries when you see her on the street. She gently leads you back inside and sits you down in an armchair. You try to resist— you have places to be, after all— but you're feeling rather weak now and you feel nauseous.
You sit and close your eyes as your neighbors rummage through your cupboards for bandages and wipe the blood up from your floor (though when they try to open the door down to the basement you make such a distressed noise that they decide to leave it). They find some stale bread in your kitchen and make you a sandwhich, which you eat begrudgingly.
You feel much better by the time you leave, but you've lost precious time. They really shouldn't have bothered; it's not like you were going to die.(set: $bleeding to false)
]
(else:)[You open the door and see three of your neighbors clustered on your doorstep. Their faces are molded into expressions of carefully crafted concern mixed with polite smiles.
"Miss Doctor," says the middle neighbor, a middle-aged woman around your age who always insists on exchanging pleasantries when you see her on the street. "We just thought we ought to stop by and offer our sincerest condolances on your, uh, diagnosis."
You don't bother asking how they found out about that. You went to every doctor in the city seeking a second opinion or treatment plan, and word gets around quickly in an insular city like this.
"Yes, thank you," you say, your tone a little stilted. It's been a few days at least since you last spoke to anyone.
"Do let us know if you need any help in the coming days," says the left neighbor, an older man.
"That won't be necessary," you say quickly. "I'm never going to die."
"Oh," says the man.
They stare at you for a second before the rightmost neighbor holds up a fruit basket she's been carrying. "We brought you this."
"Oh," you say. "Okay." You take the basket and set it inside.
"Um. Have a good day, then!" says the middle neighbor, and they turn to go.
]
[[Finally leave ->Prepare to leave]]You scuttle back into the basement and wait for them to leave.
(if: $bleeding is true)[
Blood is still dripping down your arm and is now beginning to pool around your feet. You really don't want your socks to get wet, but you're not feeling so good now, and suddenly you're very tired. The idea of moving feels like a herculean task. Maybe you'll just sit and close your eyes for a while. It's not like you need to worry about the blood loss; you are never going to die.
[[I'll never die... ->Death]]
]
(else:)[A few minutes later, you hear the sound of feet shuffling away from your doorstep. Crisis averted.
[[Leave the house ->Prepare to leave]]
]Hold on a moment! You've got to get your things ready before you leave. You grab your bag, then stop to consider the cane resting by the door. On the one hand, your city has a lot of stairs and the cane would help your knees. On the other hand, you're going out into the storm, and a metal-tipped cane like this one could attract lightning strikes. But there's no need to worry about that. After all, it's not like you'll die.
(link: "Take the cane")[(set: $cane to true)(goto: "City")]
(link: "Leave the cane")[(set: $cane to false)(goto: "City")]Your house is carved intricately of light grey stone like the rest of the city, a square little cottage tucked beneath stairs leading up into the business district. The city was carved into a mountain a thousand years ago as a gift from God to Their people, a show of goodwill. A show of power, too, though no one mentions that part. After all, it's rude to speak ill of the dead.
(if: $cane is false)[
Your knees protest the absence of your cane as you descend the many flights of stairs to the city gate.]
(else:)[
Your knees are grateful for the presence of your cane as you descend the many flights of stairs to the city gate.]
You do not live terribly far from the city gate, but you have to descend three sets of stairs to get there. God, of course, had no notion that mortal knees might someday protest the necessity of stairs, and you suppose that nobody had the heart to tell Them.
[[Leave the city ->Forest outskirts]]The city gate is little more than a hole in the wall encircling the city, but that's all it needs to be. Every other city on the planet was destroyed by the storm years ago, as was all life outside the wall. The gate looks out on a forest of dead trees, branches waving mournfully in the wind. The only threat the wall keeps out is the storm, and that's by virtue not of its stone bricks but the shimmering bubble that springs up from steel rods along its top and envelopes the city. Rain slides down the bubble in sheets, creating a sort of small waterfall just outside the gate.
You step outside the gate and are slapped by wind and water. You are on the edge of the forest.
[[Go deeper ->Forest]](if: $cane is true)[As you slog through the mud of the forest, you notice a peculiar feeling coming over you. There is a metallic taste in your mouth, similar but not the same as the taste of blood. The back of your neck tingles.
Uh oh.
You chuck your cane away from you as fast and as far as you can, but that's not very fast or very far at all. Midair the cane is struck by a blinding light and it splits with a humongous cracking sound. You stumble backwards but to no effect: you were too close. An arc of lightning reaches from the cane towards you like a terrible arm.
Everything is bright and hot and painful.
[[I'll never die... ->Death]]
]
(else:)[You slog through the mud of the forest until you come upon a small, relatively unmuddied clearing, which you walk to the center of. From your bag you take out an iron jug with a lid you have rigged to spring closed on impact, a little like a mousetrap. You place the jug in the center of the clearing and recede to the edge of the clearing.
[[Wait]]
]You don't have to wait long. Soon enough you feel a slight tingle at the back of your neck and you crouch low to the ground in anticipation, covering your ears.
In the next instant a blinding light fills the clearing and thunder bellows from above as the jug is struck. The bottle is thrown across the clearing, leaving the mud sizzling and steaming where it lands.
You approach the jug and use a thick leather glove to pick it up and place it in your bag, noting that the lid has snapped closed as intended, trapping lightning in the bottle. Now that you have your electricity, you have no more reason to stay out in the rain.
[[Return home]]You return home to dry off and finish your work. As you're changing out of your wet clothes you think you hear a bump from upstairs, but it may just have been the sound of your muddied boots as you set them by the door.
[[Go to your workshop ->Workshop]]
[[Investigate upstairs ->Upstairs]]Downstairs you insert the metal jug into your creation, around where its right lung would be.(set: $elec to true)
(if: $blood is false)[
It's almost done now. You just need to connect it to yourself. In theory, that shouldn't be hard — you just need some of your blood.
A small, empty vial sits on your desk, ready to be filled. Next to it is a syringe.
[[Draw blood]]
[[Just cough into the vial]]
[[I don't handle blood well]]
]
(else:)[
Your masterpiece is finished now. Finally. As you frequently do, you find that now all you must do is wait for it serve its purpose.
[[Investigate upstairs ->Upstairs]]
]As you step onto the second floor landing, a woman comes out of your bedroom holding several books and documents hastily bundled into her arms. She wears the mourning vestments of the church.
You know this woman. Her name is Nora and she is the High Priestess. Rather, people still call her that, but you don't really see the need for priests since God is dead.
"What are you doing in my house?" you ask.
(if: $bleeding is true)[
"Are you bleeding?" she replies, looking abnormally concerned about your safety for a woman who's just broken into your home.
"Answer the question," you say.
"Aren't you going to do something about that?" Nora asks.
"No," you say. "Answer the question."
]
"I came to talk some sense into you," she says.
"It looks like you came to steal from me," you say, and she guiltily sets down the papers. "You can forget about getting my help. I'm not bringing Them back for you," you continue.
Nora looks at you with angry eyes and a self-righteous tilt to her chin. "You would forsake your God in this time of crisis? They are the only one who can stop the approaching storm. You are the best artificer I know. If even you can not find a way to resurrect Them—"
[["What did God ever do for me?"]]
Nora blinks at you in astonishment. "You can't really mean tha—"
[["God made me sick."]]Rage floods Nora's expression and she lunges at you, pulling a small knife from her pocket as she advances. You step backward, but she seems to have the swiftness of an avenging angel and before you can escape down the stairs her dagger is in your heart.
You taste iron, a familiar sensation. You can't tell if your heart has stopped or if it's beating out of your chest. There are tears in your eyes which obscure Nora's expression as you stumble back, unable to stay upright. You feel your foot miss the first step of the stairs, and you feel yourself falling, but you do not feel yourself hit the ground.
[[I'll never die... ->Death]] "You think a new body will save you? Save them?" She scoffs at you. "You think too much of your own intelligence. Neither of us can save this world from the storm. Only God had the necessary power, and if your work holds the key to returning them to life, I will find it whether you like it or not."
[[//"God's. Not. Coming. Back."// ->Stabbed]] "//Life// made you sick. It happens. But if you would just bring Them back, perhaps we could find a way to cure you," Nora says.
[["I don't need God. I can handle this on my own."]]Any semblance of warmth leaves Nora's face. You realize she is done trying to convince you; now it's just an argument. "If you think you can take Their place you are truly out of your mind."
[["I can save people. I can save myself."]]Thank you for playing! Artifice was created as an adaptation of a short story I had previously written and was created with the goal of changing the story to make it better fit an interactive medium. My hope was also to express the personality and outlook of the protagonist clearly through the narration. It was important to me that players get a strong sense of who the protagonist is as a character through her actions, with dialogue only when necessary. In order to convey a strong sense of character and because it was adapted from a linear story, choices are sometimes limited.
This is also my first project using Twine, so it served as a way to experiment with the systems and their possibilities. I used variables and if / else statements to determine if the character should die in various scenarios or if certain lines of dialogue should appear, and Twine’s story stylesheet to change the aesthetics of the game.
The theme of the project was deception, which I attempted to convey through the narration’s frequent lies about the protagonist’s mortality. This represents the character’s self deception, convincing herself that she is immortal.
[[Play again ->Start]]