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Diálogo·Missões

High Score 2

dialogues/quests/high_score/high_score_2.dialogue

Personagens

Missões

Missões oferecidas

~ start Azra

se missão aceita
se requisitos cumpridos

Side of the building, keypad by the frame. The old code's on the sheet.

Read it. Key it exactly. Old machines forgive nothing.

fim
senão

You lost it? The sheet that says NEVER WHERE A PLAYER CAN SEE?

Yes, I'm sorrydevolve itens de missão perdidos

He copies it out fresh, block letters, and presses it into your palm. Again.

A record only dies with its last copy. You came closer than you know. Go.

fim
senão

The terminal's amber glare sits over his shoulder: INSERT CARD. Azra is grinning at it like it said something clever.

A membership card. Personalized, mag-striped, printed at the counter in there by somebody who's been dust for decades. Every card that ever walked out of this place walked into the war.

But nobody who actually ran a place like this waited on cards. Shift kids. A service door round the side.

Every system has official rules and real ones. The real ones get written down where the manager can't see.

From a salvage crate: a service binder, swollen with damp, an arcade-strip stamp on the spine. Pressed flat inside the cover, a strip of masking tape.

The old operator's code. Written down by somebody who was told not to write it down.

Everything that survived the war survived because someone made a copy they weren't supposed to. This one's ours now.

Why not key it in yourself?

The grin goes somewhere else.

The last time I went through a door marked DON'T, it cost me everything but my name. I made promises.

The tape goes in your pocket, not mine.

sobre a missão High Score (Part 2)
se missão aceita

quest: accepted

He presses the tape flat into your palm.

The old code. Side door, keypad by the frame.

Read the sheet. Key it exactly. Old machines forgive nothing.

fim
senão

quest: declined

He smooths the tape back into the binder.

It survived the end of the world. It'll survive you thinking it over.

fim
encerra a conversa

~ start 58d4556c…

se missão aceita e requisitos cumpridos

The service door sits in the building's shadow, unmarked. Beside the frame, a keypad: four arrow keys and two letter keys, B and A, all six worn to shadows by gloved thumbs.

Key in the old codeir para door_1
Come back later

The keypad keeps its small amber glow behind you.

fim
senão, se missão aceita

The keypad waits by the service door, patient as furniture. Six worn keys and, without the sheet, no order to press them in.

Azra will have another copy.

fim
senão

A squat pre-war building, windows boarded from the inside. VIRTUAL ARENA in dead channel letters. Through the wall, faint and regular, something holds a note and lets it go.

fim
encerra a conversa

~ door_1

The pad waits. First presses.

Up, up, down, downir para door_2
Down, down, up, upir para door_fail
Left, right, left, rightir para door_fail
Check the crib sheetir para check_sheet

~ door_2

Four green blinks. The pad holds its breath.

Left, right, left, rightir para door_3
Right, left, right, leftir para door_fail
Up, up, down, downir para door_fail
Check the crib sheetir para check_sheet

~ door_3

Eight green blinks. Two keys left: B and A.

Check the crib sheetir para check_sheet

~ door_fail

A red blink. The pad clears itself with a small, patient click.

Whatever you keyed, it wasn't the old code.

~ check_sheet

You unfold the tape. The old code is still there, in that irritated hand.

By the time you look up, the keypad has timed out and cleared itself.

~ inside

The last two keys. A pause long enough to doubt the whole idea. Then the lock throws itself back like it's been waiting decades for the exercise.

Inside: ranks of cabinets under dust tarps, an attendant's counter, a wall of coin lockers. Dead, all of it - except one aisle, lit end to end, leading to a bank of upright pods with glass lids.

The air smells of ozone and carpet that outlived its warranty.

Above the pods, a board. Amber letters, still cycling.

LEAGUE STANDINGS. The top line is lit: three letters, S.E.R., and a score longer than the screen wants to show. Every line below it is dark.

The score ticks up while you watch.

conclui a missão
Look around

The coin lockers along the wall hang open and empty. All but one. On its door, a brass tag, stamped with the same three letters.

oferece a missão High Score (Part 3)
encerra a conversa
Código-fonte do diálogo
~ start c9479f7c-0c2a-4f58-abd1-660cdbcfe25b
if is_quest_accepted
	if are_quest_requirements_met
		Azra: Side of the building, keypad by the frame. The old code's on the sheet. [#end]
			Read it. Key it exactly. Old machines forgive nothing.
	else
		Azra: You lost it? The sheet that says NEVER WHERE A PLAYER CAN SEE?
		- Yes, I'm sorry [#get_lost_quest_items]
			Azra: *He copies it out fresh, block letters, and presses it into your palm. Again.* [#end]
				A record only dies with its last copy. You came closer than you know. Go.
else
	Azra: *The terminal's amber glare sits over his shoulder: INSERT CARD. Azra is grinning at it like it said something clever.*
		A membership card. Personalized, mag-striped, printed at the counter in there by somebody who's been dust for decades. Every card that ever walked out of this place walked into the war.
	Azra: But nobody who actually ran a place like this waited on cards. Shift kids. A service door round the side.
		Every system has official rules and real ones. The real ones get written down where the manager can't see.
	Azra: *From a salvage crate: a service binder, swollen with damp, an arcade-strip stamp on the spine. Pressed flat inside the cover, a strip of masking tape.*
		The old operator's code. Written down by somebody who was told not to write it down.
		Everything that survived the war survived because someone made a copy they weren't supposed to. This one's ours now.
	- Why not key it in yourself?
		Azra: *The grin goes somewhere else.*
			The last time I went through a door marked DON'T, it cost me everything but my name. I made promises.
			The tape goes in your pocket, not mine.
	Azra: [#quest_info=9c332521-0ade-4ff6-8d76-473a5b3e7afe]
	if is_quest_accepted:
		Azra: [quest: accepted] [#end]
			*He presses the tape flat into your palm.*
			The old code. Side door, keypad by the frame.
			Read the sheet. Key it exactly. Old machines forgive nothing.
	else:
		Azra: [quest: declined] [#end]
			*He smooths the tape back into the binder.*
			It survived the end of the world. It'll survive you thinking it over.
=> END

~ start 58d4556c-b6f2-4999-9036-4d9f78487b9e
if is_quest_accepted and are_quest_requirements_met
	Narrator: *The service door sits in the building's shadow, unmarked. Beside the frame, a keypad: four arrow keys and two letter keys, B and A, all six worn to shadows by gloved thumbs.*
	- Key in the old code => door_1
	- Come back later
		Narrator: *The keypad keeps its small amber glow behind you.* [#end]
elif is_quest_accepted
	Narrator: *The keypad waits by the service door, patient as furniture. Six worn keys and, without the sheet, no order to press them in.* [#end]
		*Azra will have another copy.*
else
	Narrator: *A squat pre-war building, windows boarded from the inside. VIRTUAL ARENA in dead channel letters. Through the wall, faint and regular, something holds a note and lets it go.* [#end]
=> END

~ door_1
Narrator: *The pad waits. First presses.*
- Up, up, down, down => door_2
- Down, down, up, up => door_fail
- Left, right, left, right => door_fail
- Check the crib sheet => check_sheet

~ door_2
Narrator: *Four green blinks. The pad holds its breath.*
- Left, right, left, right => door_3
- Right, left, right, left => door_fail
- Up, up, down, down => door_fail
- Check the crib sheet => check_sheet

~ door_3
Narrator: *Eight green blinks. Two keys left: B and A.*
- B, then A => inside
- A, then B => door_fail
- Check the crib sheet => check_sheet

~ door_fail
Narrator: *A red blink. The pad clears itself with a small, patient click.*
	*Whatever you keyed, it wasn't the old code.*
=> door_1

~ check_sheet
Narrator: *You unfold the tape. The old code is still there, in that irritated hand.*
	*By the time you look up, the keypad has timed out and cleared itself.*
=> door_1

~ inside
Narrator: *The last two keys. A pause long enough to doubt the whole idea. Then the lock throws itself back like it's been waiting decades for the exercise.*
Narrator: *Inside: ranks of cabinets under dust tarps, an attendant's counter, a wall of coin lockers. Dead, all of it - except one aisle, lit end to end, leading to a bank of upright pods with glass lids.*
	*The air smells of ozone and carpet that outlived its warranty.*
Narrator: *Above the pods, a board. Amber letters, still cycling.* [#complete_quest]
	*LEAGUE STANDINGS. The top line is lit: three letters, S.E.R., and a score longer than the screen wants to show. Every line below it is dark.*
	*The score ticks up while you watch.*
- Look around
	Narrator: *The coin lockers along the wall hang open and empty. All but one. On its door, a brass tag, stamped with the same three letters.* [#load_quest=f2ad1747-e185-4e7f-9529-464d1765ab07]
=> END