[*> Welcome to Curses, a wonderful adventure created by Graham Nelson.  This
[*> excerpt is designed for beginners, people who have never played a text
[*> adventure before, or who have played them before and never figured out
[*> how they worked.  I recommend that you print this transcript, boot up
[*> the game, and follow along.  All of the adventure game basics can be
[*> found here, but let me give you three rules to live by.  First, EXAMINE
[*> everything.  Secondly, read carefully -- the devil's in the details.
[*> Third, if you can take it with you, DO SO.  You never know what you might
[*> need when you stumble into ancient Alexandria ...

Start of a transcript of
CURSES
An Interactive Diversion
Copyright (c) 1993, 1994, 1995 by Graham Nelson.
Release 16 / Serial number 951024 / Inform v1600 Library 5/12
Interpreter 6 Version B / Library serial number 951024

[*> Anything within these boxes is an editorial entered by me, your guide,
[*> Russ Bryan.  To start a script like this one for your game, just type
[*> SCRIPT.

>restart
Are you sure you want to restart? y

[*> There are five system verbs you should know: 1) RESTART, which will start
[*> the game from scratch.  2) SAVE, which you should do often so that you
[*> don't have to RESTART when you screw up.  3) RESTORE, to return to a
[*> previously saved game.  4) UNDO, which will return you to your last move
[*> and reverse the consequences of that move.  5) QUIT, which is obvious.
[*> I can not stress this enough:  SAVE OFTEN, or you'll have some real
[*> headaches.



                              Welcome to CURSES


			[ Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch
  	  		  Of the ranged empire fall! Here is my space.
			  Kingdoms are clay.
  
			  -- Shakespeare, "Antony and Cleopatra" I:1]


It's become a matter of pride now not to give up. That tourist map of Paris
must be up here somewhere in all this clutter, even if it has been five years
since your last trip. And it's your own fault. It looks as if your
great-grandfather was the last person to tidy up these lofts...

CURSES
An Interactive Diversion
Copyright (c) 1993, 1994, 1995 by Graham Nelson.
Release 16 / Serial number 951024 / Inform v1600 Library 5/12

Attic
The attics, full of low beams and awkward angles, begin here in a relatively
tidy area which extends north, south and east. The wooden floorboards seem
fairly sound, just as well considering how heavy all these teachests are. But
the old wiring went years ago, and there's no electric light.

A hinged trapdoor in the floor stands open, and light streams in from below.

>down

Yes, probably just as well to give up looking, and heaven knows there's
enough packing to do, what with the rest of the family in uproar. Oh well.


    *** You have missed the point entirely ***


In that game you scored 0 out of a possible 550, in 1 turn, giving you the
rank of hapless Tourist.

Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, give the FULL score for that
game or QUIT?

[*> An occasion where UNDO can come in handy.  Obviously, we're not leaving
[*> this attic without a street map of Paris.

> undo

Attic
[Previous turn undone.]

>go south

[*> Most games will accept twelve directions: north, northeast, east,
[*> southeast, south, southwest, west, northwest, up, down, in and out.

Old Furniture
Scruffy old furniture is piled up here: armchairs with springs coming out,
umbrella stands, a badly scratched cupboard, a table with one leg missing...
You try to remember why you keep all this rubbish, and fail. Anyway the attic
continues to the southeast.

>look at the cupboard
In the scratched cupboard are a bird whistle, a gift-wrapped parcel and a
guaranteed-unbreakable medicine bottle with a child-proof lock.

[*> I can't stress this point enough:  LOOK AT everything!  You won't always
[*> be rewarded for the effort (many items are just scenery), but if you do
[*> get stuck it will often be because you didn't take the time to look
[*> around.

>get all from cupboard
bird whistle: Removed.
gift-wrapped parcel: Removed.
guaranteed-unbreakable medicine bottle with a child-proof lock: You're
carrying too many things already.

[*> Items within containers are not affected by the ALL token unless you
[*> specify the container -- get all FROM sack, etc.

>se

Over the East Wing
The air is dusty and warm, almost making you choke in this rather empty area.
The attic turns from northwest to east, and there is also a tight doorway
leading west. A short flight of wooden steps leads down and to the south.

Austin, your incorrigible ginger cat, lounges around here.

Austin ambles away to the annexe.

[*> Directions can be shortened to their barest initials.  GO is not
[*> required.

>e

East Annexe
This tight annexe at the eastern end of the house is piled up with old loft
insulation rolls, left over from the last time the job was done (whenever
that was). A gap between the tiles of the roof (which you really must mend
before winter) lets a little natural light in, but the attics to the west and
south are dark.

Austin, your incorrigible ginger cat, lounges around here.

In the north wall is an intriguing closed cupboard door.

Austin scuffles with the insulation rolls, as if trying to bury something.

>x austin
(Aunt Jemima has two cats, Jane and Austin, but she finds Austin especially
annoying - about the only point you have ever agreed with her about.)

Austin, a ginger with a long tail and an uncompromisingly lazy expression,
is the kind of cat who hates being pushed around.

Austin scuffles with the insulation rolls, as if trying to bury something.

[*> LOOK AT or EXAMINE can be shortened to 'X'.  Since you really should make
[*> a point of examining EVERYTHING, this is a handy shortcut.  We get a lot
[*> of information just by looking at the cat.  We know that the cat is
[*> hiding something in the insulation, so we're going to want to follow up
[*> on that.  There is also the deliberate point that Austin hates to be
[*> pushed around.  This is something we could easily do.  We can also:
[*> PUSH AUSTIN, PET AUSTIN, KISS AUSTIN, GET AUSTIN (Good luck), or ASK
[*> AUSTIN ABOUT INSULATION (He probably ain't talkin').

>search rolls
A rash act. The itchy fibres of the insulation soon deter you.

Austin purrs and licks one of his paws.

[*> How are we going to search those itchy insulation rolls ...

>open cupboard
You open the cupboard door.

>n
You know you only have an old, nearly dead battery in the torch, and are
reluctant to tread on the weaker floorboards inside the cupboard without
safer illumination.

[*> ... and how are we going to fix up that torch?  As long as you're asking
[*> yourself these questions, you're doing everything right.  Fixing the
[*> torch (flashlight, if you hadn't guessed) will be our goal for this
[*> sample game.

>s

Dead End
The winding attic comes to a dead end here, and particularly dirty it is too,
what with soot everywhere from the broken old chimney sweeping gear.

Great Scott!  That old canvas rucksack must be the very one your famous
ancestor, the African explorer Ebenezer Meldrew, brought back from the
Zambezi Expedition of 1882!

>get sack
You're carrying too many things already.

[*> Hence the need for a sack.  Some games allow you to perform the super-
[*> human feat of carrying fifty items in two hands, but many recognize that
[*> life doesn't work that way.  Kinder designers give you a sack object,
[*> like this one, to avoid the juggling act.

>inventory

				[ Four be the things I'd been better without:
				  Love, curiosity, freckles and doubt.
			  
				  -- Dorothy Parker, "Inventory"]
			  
You are carrying:
  a gift-wrapped parcel
  a bird whistle
  a chocolate biscuit
  an electric torch (providing light and closed)
  a crumpled piece of paper

[*> Your INVENTORY lists everything you're carrying.

>drop torch
Dropped.

>get sack
Taken.

>get torch
(putting the crumpled piece of paper into the canvas rucksack to make room)
Taken.

[*> If you want that crumpled piece of paper later in the game you can just
[*> take it from the sack.

>i

You are carrying:
  an electric torch (providing light and closed)
  a canvas rucksack (which is open)
    a crumpled piece of paper
  a gift-wrapped parcel
  a bird whistle
  a chocolate biscuit

[*> INVENTORY can be shortened to 'I'.  Note that the crumpled piece of
[*> paper's description is indented to indicate that it is inside the sack.
[*> If we were to CLOSE THE SACK, we wouldn't see the paper in our inventory
[*> until we opened the sack again.

>n

East Annexe

In the north wall is an intriguing closed cupboard door.

>w

Over the East Wing

[*> Notice that we only get short descriptions of the rooms when we've
[*> returned to them.  To read the long description again, just type LOOK.
[*> If you would prefer to get the longer descriptions every time you enter
[*> a room, VERBOSE will turn that option on.  BRIEF will turn it off again.
[*> If, for some reason, you would prefer never to get a long description
[*> unless you ask for it (with LOOK), SUPERBRIEF can manage that.

>nw

Old Furniture

>n

Attic

A hinged trapdoor in the floor stands open, and light streams in from below.

>n

Old Winery
This small cavity at the north end of the attic once housed all manner of
home-made wine paraphernalia, now lost and unlamented. Steps, provided with a
good strong banister rail, lead down and to the west, and the banister rail
continues along a passage east.

You can see a labelled glass demijohn (which is closed) (in which are a
nasty-looking red battery and a tourist map) here.

As you disturb the still air, the attic key, which was balanced on top of the
demijohn, slips onto the floor and disappears into a crack in the
floorboards. Your spirits sink as it does, rattling down some distance. How
on earth are you going to get it back?

>open demijohn
Your hands slip on the screw-top of the demijohn and can't get a grip.

[*> The puzzles begin to stack up.  How will we open the demijohn?  And as
[*> for that key... well, you know you'll probably need it later, but
[*> getting it again will be a challenge.

>w

Aunt Jemima's Lair
This used to be called the Conservatory, before Aunt Jemima took it over to
potter about with plants, painting and indeed (on occasion) pottery. She has
filled the place with objets trouves and bric-a-brac, and hung up a home-made
calendar of watercolours. Even the old airing cupboard to the south is
cluttered.

An open doorway leads back southwest onto the upstairs landing, and you can
hear the chaotic noise of suitcases being manhandled about - good thing
nobody's seen you. A narrow staircase leads up and to the east into the
attic.

Jemima herself seems to be in the potting room to the west.

>w

Potting Room
This light room is full of pot plants, flowers, seeds, ornamental trowels and
other miscellaneous garden implements.

A pair of yellow rubber gloves hangs from a hook on one wall.

Aunt Jemima, who has for years collected varieties of daisy, is engaged in
her regular annual pastime of deciding which species make the best chains.

>ask jemima about gloves
"Those are my gloves."

>jemima, give me the gloves
"I can't give you those, I'm using them!"

(This is plainly not true, but you know how it is with aunts.)

[*> There are many ways of communicating with the game's NPCs.  You can try
[*> issuing commands, like JEMIMA, GO EAST, or you can SHOW JEMIMA THE
[*> CHOCOLATE BISCUIT.  You won't always get a response, but sometimes you
[*> can get vital information by trying.

>give biscuit to jemima
Jemima grudgingly takes the biscuit and nibbles at it, but she is still
sulking.

A shame to see such a good try unrewarded... oh, go on, have an extra five
points.

[Your score has just gone up by five points.]

[*> Well, don't get too excited.

>get gloves

Aunt Jemima suddenly hears you, spins round to see you filching her gloves
and screeches with irritation, eventually summoning the entire family. You
volunteer to shift some suitcases about just to get away from her.

Under the circumstances, the 5-point bonus is forfeit.

    *** You have missed the point entirely ***

[*> I told you she wasn't that nice a lady.  Note your score, which is 0 of
[*> 550 at the moment.  We've got a lot of game left.


In that game you scored 0 out of a possible 550, in 23 turns, giving you the
rank of hapless Tourist.

Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, give the FULL score for that
game or QUIT?
> undo
Potting Room
[Previous turn undone.]

[*> If you type SCORE, you'll notice that the five bonus points have returned
[*> thanks to our UNDO.  I still wouldn't get too excited about them.

>e

Aunt Jemima's Lair

>s

Airing Cupboard
A space about six feet square. The old drying racks now contain odd ceramic
sculptures almost but not quite unrecognisable as coffee mugs. One corner is
filled with an enormous pile of tie-dyed sheets, from Aunt Jemima's infamous
Sixties Revival period of last October.

>push radio north
You've played this game before.

[*> Jumping the gun, I suppose.  Aunt Jemima is not a sweet old lady, and
[*> we'll have to soften her up if we want the gardener's gloves which are
[*> in her room.

>look at sheets
Not as many sheets as you thought - they were on top of a large black
wireless, now exposed to the light for the first time in months.

Sorry. Thinking about it again, the score only gets in a muddle this way, so
the bonus points had better go after all.

[Your score has just gone down by three points.]

[*> Congratulations!  You've just solved your first puzzle.  Note that
[*> you lost the five bonus points, but gained two points for finding the
[*> wireless radio.  Those bonus points disappear automatically after four
[*> moves no matter what you do -- Graham Nelson (the author) has a somewhat
[*> mischievous sense of humor.

>score
This is the afternoon of June 3rd, 1993, and you are in Meldrew Hall.  You
have so far scored 2 out of a possible 550, in 13 turns, giving you the rank
of gauche Tourist.

[*> If you want to know where you scored what, typing FULL will give you an
[*> itemized list of how your score was determined.

>push radio north
It moves easily on the casters.

Aunt Jemima's Lair

>turn it on
You push the switch on the wireless, but nothing happens.

[*> You'll find your life becomes much easier if you use abbreviations
[*> whenever possible.  The pronoun IT will always reference the last
[*> subject noun you used.  Note that PUT BISCUIT IN SACK will set IT to
[*> the biscuit, not the sack.

>w

Potting Room
This light room is full of pot plants, flowers, seeds, ornamental trowels and
other miscellaneous garden implements.

A pair of yellow rubber gloves hangs from a hook on one wall.

Aunt Jemima, who has for years collected varieties of daisy, is engaged in
her regular annual pastime of deciding which species make the best chains.

>wait

Time passes.

[*> Sometimes, you have to WAIT around to see the fruits of your labors.  

>z

Time passes.

[*> WAIT can be shortened to Z (as in Zzzzzz).

>again

Time passes.

[*> Actions may be repeated without all the typing by using AGAIN.

>g

Time passes.

[*> AGAIN can be shortened to G.

>g

Time passes.

Execrable music drifts in from the conservatory.

[*> With the music to distract her, perhaps we can ...

>get the gloves
(putting the chocolate biscuit into the canvas rucksack to make room)
Taken.

Jemima hums along to a Big Band transcription of the Beatles' "Yellow
Submarine".

[Your score has just gone up by four points.]

[*> If you had been struggling with this puzzle for an hour or so, the
[*> correct response is to shout "YES!" and do a little jig.  Killing a
[*> hundred Imps in DOOM can not compare to the feeling you'll get when you
[*> finally recover the key you knocked off of that demijohn!

>e

Aunt Jemima's Lair

The wireless fills the air with Jemima's favourite station, "Mild-n-Breezy
FM", about which the least said the better.

The radio plays a Welsh coal-miners' Eisteddfod choir version of Duran
Duran's "Is There Something I Should Know?".

>e

Old Winery

You can see a labelled glass demijohn (which is closed) (in which are a
nasty-looking red battery and a tourist map) here.

>s

Attic

A hinged trapdoor in the floor stands open, and light streams in from below.

>s

Old Furniture

>se

Over the East Wing

>e

East Annexe

In the north wall is an intriguing closed cupboard door.

[*> And now to deal with that itchy insulation ...

>wear gloves
You put on the old gardeners' gloves.

>search rolls
You uncover a shiny new battery. It must have been dropped by accident when
the loft insulation was being done.

[Your score has just gone up by three points.]

>open torch
The torch goes out as you open the battery compartment.

>empty it
old smudged battery: Dropped.

>get battery

Which battery do you mean, the old smudged battery or the shiny new battery?

[*> Good question.  We're being rather ambiguous because there are two
[*> batteries in the room.  Since this is the case, we need to provide an
[*> answer to the computer's question.

>new

(putting the gift-wrapped parcel into the canvas rucksack to make room)
Taken.

[*> We could have typed GET NEW at the offset, avoiding the confusion.

>put it in torch
You put the new-looking battery into the electric torch.

>close torch
You close the battery compartment of the torch, and it lights up brightly.

[Your score has just gone up by seven points.]

[*> The puzzle is solved!  Just a couple of things before I set you loose on
[*> your own.

>w.nw.n.n.e.

Over the East Wing


Old Furniture


Attic

A hinged trapdoor in the floor stands open, and light streams in from below.


Old Winery

You can see a labelled glass demijohn (which is closed) (in which are a
nasty-looking red battery and a tourist map) here.


Storage Room
A disused storage room off the winery. In one wall is an opening onto an
ominous dark shaft, and beside it is a big Victorian-steam-engine style wheel
with a handle on.

Inside the dark shaft is the old dumbwaiter.

A steel wrench gathers dust in the corner.

[*> Multiple commands can be strung together with periods, allowing you to
[*> move around more rapidly when you know where you're going, or wait for
[*> long periods (Z.Z.Z.Z.Z), or repeat commands many times (G.G.G.G.G).

>turn wheel
It won't turn. Perhaps it's broken, or perhaps only rusty.

>x wheel
There is a concealed safety catch (poorly) hidden on the wheel.
The wheel is currently switched on.

[*> We'll have to turn the safety off to let the wheel turn.

>flip safety
That's already on.

[*> There are occasions where you'll have to try a couple of different
[*> sentences to get the result you're looking for.

>flip safety off
I only understood you as far as wanting to flip the [object].

>turn safety off
You switch the [object] off.

[*> No game will know every English sentence you try to offer it.  If you've
[*> got a good feeling that you're on the right track, try wording it
[*> differently.  Most commands will be in the form of VERB SUBJECT or
[*> VERB SUBJECT PREPOSITION OBJECT, such as GET THE DEATH'S HEAD MOTH or PUT
[*> THE LOTION IN THE BASKET ('the' or 'a' or other articles are, as I'm sure
[*> you've guessed, optional).

>turn wheel
It spins round smoothly, and the dumbwaiter is hoisted away out of sight.

>g
It spins round smoothly, and the dumbwaiter is hoisted into view. 

>full
This is the afternoon of June 3rd, 1993, and you are in Meldrew Hall.  You
have so far scored 16 out of a possible 550, in 62 turns, giving you the rank
of casual Tourist.

The score is made up as follows:

     7 recharging torch
     2 exposing radio
     3 uncovering battery
     4 finding sundry items

    16 total (out of 550)

>save

[*> Who knows what dangers lie below?  Saving your game often will ensure
[*> that you don't stumble into subtle losing situations.  If you DRINK THE
[*> POISON and die instantly, you always have UNDO to fall back on.  But
[*> what if you POUR POISON ON GROUND at the beginning of the game, only to
[*> discover fifty moves later that you needed that poison somewhere else?
[*> It's easier to RESTORE than RESTART.

[*> I don't want to ruin any more of the game than I have, but I will let you
[*> know that you're just getting started.  You won't be stuck in this stuffy
[*> old attic for long -- after all, you've still got 536 points to go.  I
[*> recommend typing HELP to gain more information on how to best enjoy the
[*> game.  My only other suggestion would be not to give up.  If you're
[*> stuck on a puzzle, take a walk or get a bite to eat, but believe in the
[*> fact that the answer WILL come to you eventually.  There have been many 
[*> times when I have awakened in the middle of the night with the words
[*> "That's it!" on my lips.  I'll leave you with the author's own statement
[*> of what you might find as you discover the secrets behind CURSES:

Welcome to the world of CURSES, an Advanced interactive Adventure game...

The scene is set initially in the present day, at Meldrew Hall, an old family
seat in the shires of England. You play the part of the current heir to the
house. (This doesn't make your family rich aristocrats - just people who 
suffer very badly from inheritance tax.)

Remember, your only aim is to find that map of Paris so you can go on
holiday - try not to get diverted by any enormous quests. Still, it would be
interesting to find out:

  Just how realistic are the Tarot cards?
  What do sixth century politics have to do with you?
  Surely Greek myths can't come into this?
  What on earth is wrong with your entire family?
  Do the National Trust have sinister motives?
  Why is it so hard to go to church these days?
  What are daisies for?  Or goats, for that matter?
  Can modernist poetry really be bad for you?
  Should you rescue someone who doesn't want you to?

To finally understand the secret, you will need to reach the Master Game, a
concluding game-within-a-game buried deep in the past. Good luck!
