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choiceofgames · 2 years

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New game! Pon Para and the Unconquerable Scorpion

New game! Pon Para and the Unconquerable Scorpion by Kyle Marquis is now available on Steam, iOS and Android. It's 40% off until Dec 23. Please reshare this with friends! The more downloads we get in the first week, the higher we'll rank in the App Store.

https://www.choiceofgames.com/pon-para-2/

Chosen by the gods, betrayed by your king, you must stop the Scorpion!

Pon Para and the Unconquerable Scorpion is a 742,000-word interactive fantasy novel by Kyle Marquis, and the sequel to Pon Para and the Great Southern Labyrinth. Your choices control the story. It's entirely text-based—without graphics or sound effects, and fueled by the vast, unstoppable power of your imagination.

The philosopher witch Teijia has unleashed a new weapon: a scorpion-god whose venom poisons the very foundations of reality! As the edges of the world disintegrate, the nomadic Stormraiders make one final, desperate push to defeat the Three Nations and carve out their own kingdom.

This time you'll need more than the sign of your god and a few friends: to end the war and save the world from destruction, you'll need an army! Establish yourself as a warlord, crime boss, or divine leader and cross oceans and deserts to find a weapon that can stop the Unconquerable Scorpion!

Old Friends and Enemies Return. Once again find friendship, enmity, or romance with Melaxu the nymph philosopher and Tamur the Desert Empire spy. But beware: the Stormraiders Galimar and Gisla are back too. And what will your own rulers, King Hyras and the Desert Empress, demand of you this time? New Heroes, New Threats. Recruit Col the satyr general and his young ward Clannath, a crow-woman cursed by the God of Rage. Claim territory across two nations and scheme to protect your followers. But beware the ambitions of the dark priests…and of the priests of Heaven, who still consider you a heretic and enemy of the gods!

The End of Philosophy? Even as King Hyras and Lord Vankred square off to end the Stormraider War, the witch Teijia unleashes her ultimate weapon: the Emissary Beast Magdala, the Unconquerable Scorpion, whose venom can destroy the engines that maintain the World That Remains. What can stop a creature forged by the gods to be unstoppable?

Return to the World That Remains. Make yourself at home!

• Play as male, female, or nonbinary; gay, straight, bi, or ace • Defeat enemies with sword and spell, or make allies with diplomacy, deception, and the miracles of your god • Unleash new companions and train them in alchemy, infiltration, diplomacy, or the arts of war • Explore ancient cities, savage wastelands, and the glittering, deadly palace of the Desert Empress • Find friendship, romance, or rivalry with nymphs and satyrs, thieves and monarchs, dark warriors or holy sages • Bring peace to warring nations—or drive them to destruction for your own ends • Forge an army strong enough to stop Magdala, the Unconquerable Scorpion

#choiceofgames choice of games interactivefiction interactive fiction

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clumsyprophet · 2 years

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Pon Para Says

So, since Pon Para and The Unconquerable Scorpion came out I’ve been replaying basically non-stop both games, and I think that

I’m in love with them both

Melaxu and Tamur are a gem

it’s a shame there’s relatively few people talking about them

Go play them they’re amazing I could write an essay about them

So, here’s a selection of a few moments from The Great Southern Labyrinth that had me in stitches just because I can...

As is customary, you wear a blue-gray scarf whenever you are outside. A lady should never be without a length of cloth, for protection against the elements or if she needs to strangle a bandit.

---------------------

"'So far, so good,' said the tortoise after being dropped by the eagle," Tamur says as you pole toward the warehouse.

---------------------

"By Mirak, I fear that's Shirban, the high priest himself! He served Hareetha and worshipped the loins of the Behemoth!"

"Ew," Melaxu says.

---------------------

Tamur twists his grapnel back and forth, then shoves it all the way between the door and the stone frame. The reaction is immediate; whatever was holding the door shut shifts out of the way, and the circular doorway opens wide…to reveal another closed stone door.

"Well," Melaxu says, "you can die knowing you did an excellent job."

---------------------

"I don't trust him," Melaxu states flatly.

"People who are about to be murdered by thirty troll archers can't be choosers," Tamur says. "That is an old saying."

---------------------

"I have so few bad ideas," Melaxu says. "But this was one."

---------------------

You hear more screams and stones fall from the ceiling as the walls grind against themselves. A human Stormraider appears, then the archway collapses and smashes him flat.

"Glad we didn't go that way," Melaxu says as the grinding grows louder.

---------------------

Galimar's big sword cannot reach you before you glide into the water. Your plan is perfect, except that the moment you move, a wave of nausea rips through you so intense that all you can do is fall backward into the mud.

"You look unwell, Pon Para," the Stormraider says.

---------------------

"Don't drink anything in those barrels," she says.

"Why would I drink the slimy black gunk from a bunch of barrels underneath a stained pipe?"

---------------------

"Does anyone have any wine?" Tamur says. "I am tired of being sober in this evil place."

---------------------

"Ah, thank you. To begin with, I'd like to thank you all for coming. Now, you may have noticed the Father of Oracles." Gisla gestures emphatically, as if hoping you'll look away from her. "As you can see–you may notice some things about him."

"We're not going to look," Melaxu says.

"Ah, well, then let me be brief."

And she throws her supper at Melaxu's head.

---------------------

"Be discreet," Tamur says.

"The Sons of Rylon are always discreet!" the Peithians shout in unison, banging their axes on their shields.

---------------------

"Long ago–" Melaxu begins.

"Boring," Tamur says. "Get to the important part."

---------------------

"So," Galimar says, shifting the weight of his sword. "It's just you and me, Pon Para."

Ten trolls charge onto the platform to stand behind Galimar.

"And ten trolls."

#Pon Para #Pon Para and the Great Southern Labyrinth #choice of games #cog #ChoiceScript

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posetabuvijeu · 2 years

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izumiranje rukopisa

18/10 ponedeljak Lavinji

Na samom početku dnevnika La Possession (avgust-novembar 1963) Marsel Žuando piše kako je jedna prijateljica, očekujući njegovu posetu, prebrisala gelender u celoj zgradi od šest spratova, da se njegove ruke ne bi uprljale. I dodaje: — Oduvek sam živeo za takvu vrstu pažnje. Već više ne mogu da ga čitam. Gle! Njemu ne samo da prija, nego takve gestove očekuje, živi za njih? Smesta sam osetio prezir plebejca prema velmoži i pomislio kako takva književnost, u kojoj sebi reč daje takva, buržujska udobnost, više nije moguća. A onda pogledam oko sebe, vidim da sam u zamku, setim se da iz WC-a vidim Ženevsko jezero, da mi sobarica sređuje sobu ponedeljkom — i shvatim da sam malopre, nakon čišćenja, osetio upravo patricijski strah: da mi je možda bacila neki važan papirić! Pomišljam kako kod Buvijea volim odsustvo takvih klasnih ispada u susretu s Turcima i Persijancima... Ali (prokletstvo) opet mi kroz glavu prolazi jedna scena koja ovaj elegantan utisak demantuje. Dok je boravio u Tabrizu, jedan boy mu je prilikom čišćenja bacio rukopis koji mu je, iako je ležao na podu, bio važan. Buvije se uhvatio za glavu, prevrnuo smeće po celoj kući. Kad je shvatio da je smetlarska služba već dolazila, usledila je trka, zajedno sa Tijerijem Verneom, pravo na deponiju, gde su se nadmetali sa galebovima. Deponija ga je spasila od snobizma, proglašavam, otvaram mejl, kad tamo me čekaju pitanja Jana Ditoe za veče u Bernu koje ću imati dvadeset prvog. I prvo je šah-mat!

Vi ste od početka meseca stipendista u Lavinjiju u jednom zamku, gde prevodite Analphabete Agote Krištof. U toj skici za autobiografiju Krištof piše o svom teškom životu u internatu u Mađarskoj i o tome kako je radila u fabrici u Švajcarskoj šezdesetih godina. Kako ste doživjeli taj kontrast? Vi fizički u zamku a tekst govori o siromaštvu?

Regina priča kako je Karmen Mola, poznata kao „španska Elena Ferante“, jer nikada nije otkrila identitet, dobila najvažnije državno priznanje za roman godine. Tom prilikom se ispostavilo da iza nje stoje tri muškarca srednje generacije. Situacija odslikava pre svega tržišnu bitku između izdavača: nagradu dodeljuje Planeta, španski Galimar. Interesantno je da je nagrađena knjiga objavljena kod suparničkog izdavača (što, kaže Regina, samo potvrđuje da Planeta nagrađuje „preletače“). Ali niko nije očekivao da iza Karmen trojica vire! Sada se u Španiji, kad se ide na sastanak sa tri muškarca, kaže: „treba da se nađem s Karmen Mola“.

„Kad govorim persijski, bole me leđa“ (turska poslovica)

Još nešto čemu se divim u Buvijeovoj Upotrebi sveta. Ta knjiga, iako je suma dugogodišnjeg iskustva, u sebi uopšte ne nosi rasparčanost, rašivenost i nemar beležnice. Krasi je jednodelnost, skoro organska celishodnost, sigurno mukotrpno postignuta. Umesto da bude prelaki skup beležaka i krokija s lica mesta, ona je u potpunosti — nemam bolju reč — napisana.

19/10 utorak Lozana

Rad ne oslobađa. U najbolju ruku teši, dobrim umorom.

Crkve u bolničkim dvorištima! Novi fetiš!

„Tu n'es pas parfait-e? Parfait!“ (Nisi savršen/a? Savršeno!) Natpis na busu po izlasku iz kolekcije Art brut. Blago onim jezicima tipa nemačkog koji nemaju rodno osetljive prideve. Mada, ko zna, budu prinuđeni da ih razgibaju i... senzibilizuju.

Sa čovekom koji malo priča, kao Asgar, težim da postanem brbljiv, govorim sporo i sa dosta pauza, kao da nesvesno želim da što je moguće potpunije iskoristim ćutljivca kao slušaoca. Džabe: pošto se na moju repliku ništa ne nadovezuje, osećam kao da govorim u prazno, kao da izvodim kerefeke pred kamerom koja snima dolumentarac o meni (i ni o čemu drugom).

Reč nevisande, koja na persijskom znači „pisac“, u turskom (u Tabrizu) koristi se za kontrolora broja putnika u autobusu. Asgar je jednom tako čekao da se ukrca nevisande da bi krenuli, i sve vreme se pitao ko bi taj pisac mogao da bude...

Posle putovanja, u Iranu se kaže „Nemoj biti umoran!“ Upravo to mi treba, da se ne ponašam kao da treba da se odmaram. U polumraku, u povratku iz Lozane, umesto pocrnele banane u tanjiru jasno vidim pečenu kobasicu.

(Alen Arneodo: 8. Ponosan kao neko ko je osvojio beskorisnost... Kolekcija Art Brut, Lozana)

Iz kolekcije Art Brut u Lozani, koja se uglavnom zasniva na zbirci Žana Dibifea, izašao sam u isti mah uzbuđen i potišten. Od samog ulaska pokušao sam da koncept „prepoznate umetnosti“ dovedem u vezu sa „svojim“ sveskama. Uzbuđivalo me je upravo to što je za ova dela pravilo da budu nađena posle smrti autora. Međutim, u „art brut“ postoji jedna psihijatrijska komponenta, koja se ne uklapa u moju poetiku nađenog predmeta. Bliža je fenomenu naturščika. Većina autora u zbirci koju je Dibife godinama skupljao prošli su kroz psihijatrijske ustanove i stvaranje im je pre svega bilo terapija. Zbog toga postoji i odeljak „Anonimni“. Tu su prisutna dela autora čiji identitet, zbog insistiranja porodice, ili zbog „lekarske tajne“, nije mogao biti naveden (dela siročići, kako navodi muzejski komentar). Ali upravo me je zabolelo prelepljeno prezime iznad rada „Monsieur Oui“. Bilo mi je jasno zašto se Dibife posvađao sa psihijatrima, zalažući se za to da umetnost i umetnik pripadaju svima. On u njima uopšte nije hteo da vidi bolesnike. Štaviše, prezirao je sve koji su govorili da je to „umetnost pacijenata“.

(Remon R., Monsieur Oui, Kolekcija Art Brut, Lozana)

Ipak, ta medicinska karakteristika, bez obzira na Dibifeov otklon, danas je za ovu umetnost najvažnija. Mentalno iskustvo umetnika presudan je element koncepta art brut, po merilima današnjeg sveta koji je opsednut zdravljem. Čak je i važnije od vizuelnog elementa, pa i meni. Ono što me u radovima privlači i duboko uznemiruje jeste upravo bolest, perturbacija, poremećaj misli; a naročito posvećenost detalju koja je zajednički jezik čitave kolekcije. Gledam ih i zamišljam manične pokrete ruku, tikove kojima je, sa četkicom u ruci, privremeno data spoljna svrha.

Ali nije li se prema umetnicima iz svoje zbirke — Velfliju, Aloizi, Remonu „gospodinu Da-Da“, Palanu, Alenu Arneodu — Dibife poneo pomalo kao kolonizator prema netaknutim (crnačkim) rudnicima? To se najbolje vidi u generaciji autora art brut koji su bili Dibifeovi savremenici. Osetivši da su prepoznati umetnici za života, počeli su, pred svojim „proceniteljem“, da glume sebe, a na likovnom planu da podražavaju njegov stil. Samim tim se izvorna značajka art brut – nesvesno, gotovo fiziološko stvaranje – nepovratno izgubila. Prešla je u stadijum samoprepoznavanja.

„A da ne govorimo o...“ – Onda i ne govori!

Kada se otvore vrata sobe, samo iznutra, čuje se bubanj s početka Midlife crisis Faith no more. Kad se otvore vrata WC-a, samo spolja, čuje se violina kao u Alo Požega Ramba Amadeusa. Nijednu od ovih pesama nisam čuo decenijama.

Vidimo još bolje kad pokažemo drugom, kad podelimo ono što gledamo. (Jean Luc Sarré, Ainsi les jours)

20/10 sreda Lavinji, Obona

Često, kad razmišljam o svojoj profesiji, u glavi mi sam od sebe krene refren „Grip“ od Stranglers: „But the money’s not good, you get a grip on yourself“ („Pare su loše, uzdaj se u se.“) Uzdaj se u sebe, jer si para, i to zla!

Kao što je Fuko proučavao nastanak institucije za mentalne bolesnike ili proces pretvaranja osuđenika na smrt u zatvorenika, neko bi danas trebalo da istraži kako je radnik pretvoren u roba. Pošto sam nisam dorastao realizaciji te ideje — jer sam živim temu — evo, dopustiću sebi da predložim naslov studije: mogao bi da bude: KAKO JE RAD POSTAO KAZNA. Švajcarska bi bila savršen teren za takvo istraživanje. (I to baš ovaj zamak!)

Uz fotografiju skinute reklame: pitam se gde ćemo odložiti sve one bilborde sa tržnih centara kad ih gladan narod bude demolirao. Neće biti mesta u samim centrima jer će postati stambeni blokovi. A nećemo smeti da ih zakopamo jer neće biti mesta ni za groblja. Hoće li od njih ostati bar materijala za dečje igračke? Ili buduća pokoljenja neće mnogo mariti za blistavo i šareno?

Preveo sam Remarques Natali Kentan. Planski sam je poneo iz Beograda, posle nekoliko godina oduševljen kad sam je iskopao na polici. Pa ipak bi mi njena zapažanja, izneta u obliku prostodušnih zakona („Koliko god daleko bacila jabuku, pašće.“) bolje legla da su mi isporučena u pakovanju priče, a ne u formi fragmenata. Akcenti čiste očiglednosti opet su mi draži kod Bova („Kad se probudim, usta su mi otvorena“). Ali ne zbog toga što je to Sv. Bov, već zato što su deo priče, što mi je dozvoljeno da ih sam iščeprkam iz nje. U knjizi probranih fragmenata izgledaju kao savršeno iseckani rezanci koji se, kako dan odmiče, jebi ga, suše. (Fragmenti kao književnost za razmućivanje)

Prošlo je dobrih deset dana otkako sam u Ženevi naručio lokalni sertifikat o vakcinaciji i danas mi stiže mejl da je moj zahtev odbijen. Bez obrazloženja. Nije im bilo dovoljno što sam im poslao svu dokumentaciju, o tri primljene doze, čak i pozivno pismo i odluku o boravku. Izgleda da sam nedobrodošao, iako sam tu. Obaveštenje sam obrisao čim sam ga otvorio, kao da je nepoželjna pošta. Posle večernje šetnje do Obone uđem u Cafe du Commerce. I nakon već standardnog neočitavanja, nepoznata konobarica se naglas zapita: „Zbog čega vaš kod ne može da se očita?“ Ja: „Koju aplikaciju koristite?“ Ona: „Švajcarsku.“ Ja: „Eto razloga“. Prva osoba iz švajcarskog ugostiteljstva koja je priznala da je greška u sistemu proveravanja. Iz zahvalnosti sam naručio veliko pivo. Hvala košta 6,5 CHF.

Nikad neću prestati da se čudim tome što konobarice ne žive u kafani, što posle završene smene moraju da odu u nepoznatom pravcu. Čuđenje traje nekoliko sekundi, uglavnom ga se stidim (to su, bre, čuđenja!)

Dokaz da se menjam: prekidam svoje pisanje u svesci da bih ovo pribeležio na telefonu. Na svojoj koži vidim: počinje izumiranje rukopisa.

#marcel jouhandeau #carmen mola #alain arneodo #art brut #jean dubuffet #lausanne #monsieur oui oui #nathalie quintane #emmanuel bove #aubonne #certificat #izumiranje #jean luc sarre

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jnfsavellon · 4 years

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An Open Letter To 16-Year-Old Self: Basketball

(A selfie in your team headquarters during the opening day of Intramurals - the old retreat house, now a PE classroom)

December 25, 2016

Dear 16-year-old James,

After graduating high school, you’ll have decided to quit varsity. After only getting one win out of eight tries in CESAFI 2012, you’ll say “this is the final straw.” After the coach has snubbed you once again, you’ll say “good riddance.”

Investing half your life in basketball and not getting recognized had to be one of the most disappointing moments of your life. Pursuing a playing career in basketball may not be for you.

Another disappointing part was not getting the athletic scholarship you deserved. You expected to have full scholarship. But the school, which you’ve been loyal to ever since kindergarten, didn’t grant that for whatever reason. Loyalty didn’t guarantee you to have those benefits.

You still love basketball, but basketball doesn’t care about you anymore.

September 2013: Your first Intramurals

But that hellhole will stop there. In college, you’ll get a shot at your journalism career. You’ll be enthusiastic as ever. Basketball will just be a pastime more than a passion. Sportswriting will be an interest and your future career as you will eventually take be a B.A. Communication undergraduate. Take note of that, because everything I say is a testament of who you will be.

Before your journalism career continues, you’ll play for the College of Arts and Sciences basketball team for four consecutive years with Sean Anthony Espiritu. Both of you would be team captains on your last stint. You’ll have 29 different teammates, play in 24 games, getting 14 wins and losing 10 times – two of which were the most heartbreaking. You’ll pour out a bucketful of sweat, laughter and tears.

Expect a bittersweet experience. You’ll get your cramps during your first practice where you’ll be mocked as a rookie. Your first and last field goals are three pointers. Live by the three, die by the three.

5am practices. Countless team dinners. Canceled commitments due to basketball. Have no regrets, because this will just rarely. After that, you’ll be entering to the real world.

Your leadership will be tested on a depleted CAS team that was full of potential to win it all. You’ll scratch off two players from the roster, because you don’t see their heartfelt commitment anymore. Life goes on.

You’ll see impatient teammates who eat their own words and whine about not getting enough playing time. You’ll also be with a few who blame others for the team’s mistakes.

Please be composed, because you’ll just be ordinary students after Intramurals. No personal attachments please. However, you’ll lose your cool and punch a teammate because you don’t tolerate nonsense during serious time. Still be sorry about it and move on.

But you’ll also be with great teammates and mentors along the way. Be grateful that you have them; because they’re the sincerest people you’ll ever meet. Don’t hesitate to ask help from them. Needing help doesn’t mean you’re weak; it would signify that you’re brave enough to tell that you can’t do it on your own.

You’re a flat-footed, overweight player whose cream of the crap is spot-up jump shooting. Do adjust and accept the fact that you’re just a role player. Be the team manager – schedule practices; remind teammates of their things-to-do. You’re good at that, because you’re the vocal leader you’ll always be. Teammates respect you for that.

In four years, you deserve to get a silver and bronze medal. On the part of your low profile hoops career, lie down in bed and say “no regrets” – all for what’s left of your career in basketball.

September 2016: Your last playing stint under the College of Arts and Sciences hoops team. Bro’s with you. Signature wristbands and medium fold Strideline socks.

Be thankful of the people around you like the names of James Brian Savellon, Galimar Largo, Kokoy Cenabre, Stanley Dipay and Atty. Marvin Miralles – for letting your basketball life significant.

You won’t regret what you’ll experience a couple years from now. Be as optimistic as you are, because it will payoffs big time.

Sincerely,

The 20-year-old James

#open letter to 16 year old self #basketball #college #frustration #james nicole franz savellon #heart and soul basketball

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