[Let's Play] Forbidden Gateway: Where the Shadows Stalk

[Beroli]

Why am I starting another Let's Play while still running one? Well, this one should have a lot less searching relatively featureless zones. And potentially a lot more horror. The Forbidden Gateway series is Lovecraftian; you have both a Stamina stat which represents "if this hits zero, you die" and an Endurance stat which represents "if this hits zero, you go helplessly, hopelessly mad." And if you had max possible stats it would still give you a 25% chance of failure in any given activity.

' ... most people never quite know how much or how little they believe of matters ab-human or ab-normal, and generally they never have an opportunity to learn.'
The Thing Invisible, William Hope Hodgson

Deep underground in the abandoned tunnels of the disused crumbling mine, lurk the alien horrors you must face. As a famous psychic investigator, you have been summoned to this remote Welsh valley which is afflicted by strange and evil hauntings. You have both scientific knowledge and arcane lore, but will that be enough to protect you from the hideous monsters and ghastly mutations you encounter in the abandoned mine? Will you be able to unravel the mystery of Quarry Valley and destroy the unearthly forces which threaten it, without losing your life or your sanity?

Generate Strength, Mentality, and Dexterity by rolling 1d6+3 for each.

Strength: 4
Mentality: 6
Dexterity: 7

Your Stamina is double your Strength. Your Endurance is double your Mentality.

Stamina: 8
Endurance: 12

Combat consists of rolling on the Conflict Table.

Screenshot 2026-06-14 115624.jpg (62.31 KiB) Viewed 8923 times

You will see from this that if your character, with a Strength of 4, was fighting an enemy with a Strength of 10 in Strength-based combat, they would miss every time and their opponent would hit every time. Fortunately, no human could possibly have a Strength of 10, so you're safe.

If you die, I'll rewind you to where you still had a chance, and also add one point to one of your stats as long as your stats total less than 22.

Vote on name and sex for your character. On the one hand, Let's Plays on this forum have used overwhelmingly male characters; on the other hand, I have to acknowledge that a female psychic investigator in the nineteenth century would likely encounter some social difficulties which the gamebook doesn't present you with, in addition to the difficulties it does present you with. But the book never explicitly states an assumption about your character one way or the other.

[deaddmwalking]

This should be fun. With such a low starting stat, I'm guessing that we don't have a 25% chance of success this first time through. Since we're going to die, we should play a wealth scion of a once noble house - Monk Falmouth. I stole a first name and a last name from different Poldark characters.

[JourneymanN00b]

I will second Monk Falmouth.

[Beroli]

My dear friend,

I hardly know where to begin, for I am nearly at my wit's end. But I must be calm and put down the facts for you to consider.

It began with an earthquake. Yes , an earthquake here in Wales! A subtle rumbling and settling in the earth, as if some monstrous creature stirred. There followed a week in which several disturbing, but apparently unconnected, events occurred. An old man, noted hereabouts for his eccentric ways, was found wandering the hills above Bryn Coedwig, suffering from severe burns. On his deathbed he rambled about unnamable things inhabiting the disused mines. Several people have succumbed to a strange disease: their bodies seem to be eaten up by fungus! Now a strange unnatural mist has come to cling to the hilltops about Bryn Coedwig. The wind seems to have no effect on it and this morning the postman told me it now threatens to cut off the road to Corris.

The villagers are mumbling that we are cursed, but I believe the earthquake has released dark forces. Now no-one walks abroad after dark. Even I write to you from behind shuttered windows, for I sense some nameless horror which lurks out there in the shadows.

Please come to us at once! Help me solve the mystery which haunts these valleys.

I am ever your friend,

Charles Petrie-Smith.

Petrie-Smith is a famous scholar and explorer, not a character who scares easily. The urgency of his letter and the shaky signature at its foot disturbs you. Hastily, you pack a bag and, as you leave the house, grab a stout knobkerrie from the umbrella stand.

A steam express train takes you as far as the town of Corris in North Waies. Here you alight and cadge a lift in a farmer's cart. Your destination is Bryn Coedwig, an isolated hamlet almost untouched by the twentieth century.

(My mistake, it is apparently the early twentieth century when this starts, not the late nineteenth.)

The road climbs out of Corris up the valley side. Below, to your right, the valley is already beginning to fill with shadows. You glance at your watch and note the time: half-past five. A short while later, the cart sways to a halt at a crossroads.

The farmer turns to you and says, 'I must leave you here, for my way lies straight ahead. That is the road to Bryn Coedwig.' He points to a narrow track which leads over a hill ridge.

You thank the farmer for bringing you this far, wave goodbye then tramp up the ridge. The track leads you up into a world of windswept rock and coarse grass. You walk over the ridge and come to a sudden halt. An immense fog bank stretches across the valley below, from hilltop to hill-top, its upper reaches stained red by the sunset. Here the way to Bryn Coedwig hugs a narrow ledge and, to your right, the valley side falls precipitously into the darkness. Boldly, you advance into the fog.

There is something curiously unsettling about this fog. It drags at your clothes and your every movement seems to excite weird pink and blue lights which flicker about your body. Your progress is painfully slow. Visibility is no more than an arm's length in any direction; you are obliged to feel for the crunch of gravel that lies in the middle of the road to avoid falling over the precipice.

Your feet feel like lead weights and you begin to sweat. Within a few minutes you find yourself gasping for breath, as if you are drowning. A strange pulse begins to quiver in the fog. It swells around you and fills your skull with an incessant churning beat. You cover your ears, but the mad noise only grows in magnitude. Desperately, you try to run, but your feet seem to lose their purchase and you begin to stagger to your right-- towards the unseen precipice!

You battle to regain control over your body, but your mind is dominated by' the hellish beat. You must make a Mentality roll to overcome this phenomenon, or risk falling into the abyss.

Your result is 7, failure.

As you plunge over the- precipice, the pounding stops. Desperately, you grab for some roots that hang over the cliff edge to check your fall. Roll against your Strength.

Your result is 6, failure.

With a sickening tearing sound, your slender hold on life breaks. Still clutching the useless root, you fall with a strangled scream. This is the end of the adventure for you.

Never let it be said this gamebook wastes time getting to the action.

Rewinding, and adding one point to your Mentality...

[Beroli]

My dear friend,

I hardly know where to begin, for I am nearly at my wit's end. But I must be calm and put down the facts for you to consider.

It began with an earthquake. Yes , an earthquake here in Wales! A subtle rumbling and settling in the earth, as if some monstrous creature stirred. There followed a week in which several disturbing, but apparently unconnected, events occurred. An old man, noted hereabouts for his eccentric ways, was found wandering the hills above Bryn Coedwig, suffering from severe burns. On his deathbed he rambled about unnamable things inhabiting the disused mines. Several people have succumbed to a strange disease: their bodies seem to be eaten up by fungus! Now a strange unnatural mist has come to cling to the hilltops about Bryn Coedwig. The wind seems to have no effect on it and this morning the postman told me it now threatens to cut off the road to Corris.

The villagers are mumbling that we are cursed, but I believe the earthquake has released dark forces. Now no-one walks abroad after dark. Even I write to you from behind shuttered windows, for I sense some nameless horror which lurks out there in the shadows.

Please come to us at once! Help me solve the mystery which haunts these valleys.

I am ever your friend,

Charles Petrie-Smith.

Petrie-Smith is a famous scholar and explorer, not a character who scares easily. The urgency of his letter and the shaky signature at its foot disturbs you. Hastily, you pack a bag and, as you leave the house, grab a stout knobkerrie from the umbrella stand.

A steam express train takes you as far as the town of Corris in North Waies. Here you alight and cadge a lift in a farmer's cart. Your destination is Bryn Coedwig, an isolated hamlet almost untouched by the twentieth century.

The road climbs out of Corris up the valley side. Below, to your right, the valley is already beginning to fill with shadows. You glance at your watch and note the time: half-past five. A short while later, the cart sways to a halt at a crossroads.

The farmer turns to you and says, 'I must leave you here, for my way lies straight ahead. That is the road to Bryn Coedwig.' He points to a narrow track which leads over a hill ridge.

You thank the farmer for bringing you this far, wave goodbye then tramp up the ridge. The track leads you up into a world of windswept rock and coarse grass. You walk over the ridge and come to a sudden halt. An immense fog bank stretches across the valley below, from hilltop to hill-top, its upper reaches stained red by the sunset. Here the way to Bryn Coedwig hugs a narrow ledge and, to your right, the valley side falls precipitously into the darkness. Boldly, you advance into the fog.

There is something curiously unsettling about this fog. It drags at your clothes and your every movement seems to excite weird pink and blue lights which flicker about your body. Your progress is painfully slow. Visibility is no more than an arm's length in any direction; you are obliged to feel for the crunch of gravel that lies in the middle of the road to avoid falling over the precipice.

Your feet feel like lead weights and you begin to sweat. Within a few minutes you find yourself gasping for breath, as if you are drowning. A strange pulse begins to quiver in the fog. It swells around you and fills your skull with an incessant churning beat. You cover your ears, but the mad noise only grows in magnitude. Desperately, you try to run, but your feet seem to lose their purchase and you begin to stagger to your right-- towards the unseen precipice!

You battle to regain control over your body, but your mind is dominated by' the hellish beat. You must make a Mentality roll to overcome this phenomenon, or risk falling into the abyss.

Your result is 7, success.

You are lying close to the edge of the cliff, bathed in sweat. The pounding is receding; now you realise it was only your own heartbeat, magnified a hundredfold.

Struggling to your feet, you stumble on and suddenly emerge from the fog. Ahead, the road winds down into a peaceful valley between tall hedgerows; behind you looms the unnatural fog bank, totally undisturbed by the breeze which fills the valley. The only light comes from a full moon riding high in the sky. Then you realise the moon should not be that high - after all you entered the fog when the sun was still setting. Pulling out your fob-watch, you find it has stopped at ten minutes past six and, no matter how hard you try, it will not restart.

Confused, you walk on through the dappled shadows that lie between the hedgerows, surrounded by the murmur and rustle of leaves. Soon your mind begins to play strange tricks. You imagine someone or something is keeping pace with you behind the hedgerow on your left. A twig snaps and you stop to listen, but only the wind in the leaves disturbs the silence.

Investigate the hedgerow?
Hurry along the road?

Name: Monk Falmouth
Strength: 4
Stamina: 8
Mentality: 7
Endurance: 14
Dexterity: 7

Weapons:
Fists, 2 Stamina damage
Knobkerrie, 3 Stamina damage

Deaths: Fell over cliff approaching Bryn Coedwig
Notable items:
None

[deaddmwalking]

With Cthulu inspired stories, the more you know the worse things get. But I like knowing things. Vote for investigating the hedgerow.

[JourneymanN00b]

Well, this story doesn't screw around when it comes to difficulty. I think this might set the forum's record for the fastest death in a gamebook.

I vote to investigate the hedgerow.

[Beroli]

Taking a firm grip of your knobkerrie, you stride up to the hedge and call out, 'Who's there?' You rake the knobkerrie through the foliage and are rewarded by a sudden commotion as a man bursts from the undergrowth!

Before you stands not a man, but some ghastly vegetable parody. The thing's face is contrived from tangled roots and shoots which, even as you watch, mould themselves into a grisly mirror of your own features. Its hair is a thatch of dry grass, its ears crumpled leaves, and black beans swivel in its eyesockets. Tendrils swarm across the body, filling out a woody musculature. A woody jaw drops to reveal a row of thorn teeth and a rank compost breath plays upon your face.

Screenshot 2026-06-14 150934.jpg (119.26 KiB) Viewed 8904 times

'I am you,' the creature hisses, then crouches and prepares to spring.

With a hoarse cry, the creature jumps at you, flinging its vicious talons round your neck! You have met not a man, but a changeling - and you must fight it for your life. Roll against your Mentality.

The result is 7, success.

To break the creature's stranglehold, pit your Strength against the creature's Strength (which is exactly the same as your own) on the Conflict Table.

The result is 6, success.

With a wrench, you break the creature's stranglehold. Now roll against your Dexterity.

The result is 6, success.

You may choose to fight the creature with your knobkerrie, or flee. If you fight it, it has exactly the same Strength, Stamina, and Dexterity as you, but since its talons do 2 damage, you have an advantage. This will be a fight to the death.

Fight?
Flee?

Name: Monk Falmouth
Strength: 4
Stamina: 8
Mentality: 7
Endurance: 14
Dexterity: 7

Weapons:
Fists, 2 Stamina damage
Knobkerrie, 3 Stamina damage

Deaths: Fell over cliff approaching Bryn Coedwig
Notable items:
None

[deaddmwalking]

Half vote for fight.

[JourneymanN00b]

I will vote to fight, and hope that the reward will be worth it.

[Beroli]

You could choose to use Strength against Strength or Dexterity against Dexterity for this fight, but it doesn't matter as either way, you hit on a 7 or lower and the changeling hits on a 7 or lower.

Round One: Monk Falmouth rolls an 8 and misses. The changeling rolls a 6 and hits. Monk Falmouth's Stamina is 6.
Round Two: Monk Falmouth rolls an 11 and misses. The changeling rolls a 6 and hits. Monk Falmouth's Stamina is 4.
Round Three: Monk Falmouth rolls a 6 and hits. The changeling rolls a 7 and hits. The changeling's stamina is 5. Monk Falmouth's Stamina is 2.
Round Four: Monk Falmouth rolls a 4 and hits. The changeling rolls a 7 and hits.

The creature crouches over your lifeless body; an evil grin spreads across its face. It opens your bag and dresses in your clothes, retrieves your knobkerrie and stalks off in the direction of Bryn Coedwig. Your brief adventure ends here.

Adding 1 to Strength and rewinding...

[Beroli]

You may choose to fight the creature with your knobkerrie, or flee. If you fight it, it has exactly the same Strength, Stamina, and Dexterity as you, but since its talons do 2 damage, you have a slight advantage (you win the fight if you win four rounds, the changeling wins the fight if it wins five rounds first, and it rolls after you). This will be a fight to the death.

You decide to flee.

Thrusting the creature backwards, you deliver it a crushing blow across its wooden skull. Then you turn and run towards Bryn Coedwig. Once you glance over your shoulder, but there is no sign of the weird apparition. You reach your destination, tired and dishevelled. You have lost 3 points of Stamina.

As you trudge into Bryn Coedwig, the long shadows of dusk envelop the valley. Your destination is Petrie-Smith's sprawling cottage, known locally as the manor. You knock at the door. Almost immediately, it is opened by your friend, Lucy.

She gives you a tremendous hug, then leads you into a crowded parlour and invites you to take a seat by the fire. Lucy apologises for her father's absence, he is incapacitated with an ague, she says, and has been forced to retire early. She gives you a cup of steaming tea and a bowl of broth (you may recover 1 point of Stamina), then enquires after your health and journey.

Lucy listens intently to your story but, to your surprise, shows no sign of being disturbed by any of the strange events that have befallen you. Nervously you remark upon her composure and, with a grim smile, she explains that the village has been plagued by a whole series of inexplicable events since the mist descended. Machinery has persistently failed, freak storms and earth tremors have battered the village, and a number of strange hauntings have been reported to her father.

When you have finished your supper, Lucy suggests that you might care to retire and leads you into her father's study where a camp-bed has been set up for your use.

Go to sleep?
Explore Petrie-Smith's study?

Name: Monk Falmouth
Strength: 5
Stamina: 8
Mentality: 7
Endurance: 14
Dexterity: 7

Weapons:
Fists, 2 Stamina damage
Knobkerrie, 3 Stamina damage

Deaths: Fell over cliff approaching Bryn Coedwig, killed and replaced by a changeling
Notable items:
None

[JourneymanN00b]

I vote to explore the study.

[deaddmwalking]

Yes, poke and prod at strange things.

[Beroli]

By the flickering light of your candle, you survey the room. Petrie-Smith is a well-known explorer and antiquarian. His study is lined with books on mythology, folk-tales and arcane magic. The room is dominated by a large desk, on top of which lies a battered journal.

Read his journal?
That's too far, go to bed?

Name: Monk Falmouth
Strength: 5
Stamina: 8
Mentality: 7
Endurance: 14
Dexterity: 7

Weapons:
Fists, 2 Stamina damage
Knobkerrie, 3 Stamina damage

Deaths: Fell over cliff approaching Bryn Coedwig, killed and replaced by a changeling
Notable items:
None

[Thaluikhain]

Read the journal, after all we have been replaced by an evil changeling.

[deaddmwalking]

Read.

[JourneymanN00b]

I vote to read his journal.

[Beroli]

Carefully, you turn the journal's brittle pages. The book records the everyday observations of someone called George Hindlett, engineer to the Bryn Coedwig quarry and mine during the 1880s. The last few entries in the journal particularly catch your attention; they exhibit a peculiar deterioration in Hindlett's handwriting, from neat copperplate to a distracted scrawl. Here is what you read.

March 23rd 1884
. . . The house is severely damaged, one corner is completely collapsed and a portion of the roof also. Every dwelling at Bryn Coedwig has suffered more or less from the tremors. Of course, the superstitious amongst the villagers attribute our discomfort to an ancient curse. It is, however, clear to any educated person that we have been the victims of an earthquake ...

March 25th 1884
... For the first time since the disaster I have inspected the mine. Incredibly, it is completely untouched (and the natural caverns also, so far as I could tell). Yet I did not, could not, explore the new lode, for some creeping terror came upon me. It was as if something watched me from beyond the radiance of my lamp ...

March 26th 1884
... An air of oppression has fallen over the village. Mechanical things have ceased to function (although my watch began again this morning). Those people who have tried to leave Bryn Coedwig have returned hours later confused and shaken, quite unable to explain what has befallen them . . .

March 27th 1884
. . . I have seen them: abominable tentacled things, undreamed of by mortal man. Somehow they and their menagerie of creatures that slither and crawl have been let loose amongst us. The miners and quarrymen are in their power and would have torn me limb from limb today had I not fought like a tiger and escaped to the village ...

March 29th 1884
. . . It is a week since the earthquake, yet no help has reached us from the outside world. Villagers have disappeared up Quarry Valley, the farmer of Ratgoed has been losing sheep to 'monstrous creatures, and I myself have suffered nocturnal visitations by snuffling things ...

March 31st 1884
... Tonight I am resolved to act. I intend to enter the mine and seal the new lode, for that is where the creatures lurk. To that end, I have gathered together some equipment which I think may be effective in dealing with the terror: bags of common salt, several bottles of lamp oil, a container of sulphuric acid and my service revolver. I have also acquired several sticks of dynamite ...


You note that there are no further entries after March 31st.

You are reading the journal before retiring.

As you sleep, you dream. You are standing alone upon a patch of grass, surrounded by a sea of white mist. Something brushes across your shoulder and you turn to face the cowled figure of an old man who bears a great spear. A foreign mind penetrates your own, sifting through your memories, suppressing your thoughts, until only one idea remains - to follow the stranger!

Involuntarily, you step forward and follow him into the depths of the mist.

You are led into a ruined village, to halt beneath a gnarled and ancient oak tree.

Turning to you, the old man says, 'For centuries I, Myriddin, have slept beneath the Welsh hills, waiting for a time of need. That time has now come and I have chosen you as my champion. A great evil stalks the valley of Bryn Coedwig, threatening the world of men. We stand in the borderlands between the living and the dead, between waking and sleep. Here, I will summon the wild hunt, spirits of warriors long dead. You must face them alone. If you triumph, I will bind them to you so they may serve you in your hour of need. If you fail, your very soul will be their booty. Wait for the hunt beneath the oak, for it is a symbol of protection.'

Myriddin hands you his great spear and turns to leave you.

Risk shattering the dream by asking a question?
Simply accept your fantastic task?

Name: Monk Falmouth
Strength: 5
Stamina: 8
Mentality: 7
Endurance: 14
Dexterity: 7

Weapons:
Fists, 2 Stamina damage
Knobkerrie, 3 Stamina damage

Deaths: Fell over cliff approaching Bryn Coedwig, killed and replaced by a changeling
Notable items:
None

[deaddmwalking]

I think the instructions are clear. Half vote for accepting our task.

[JourneymanN00b]

I vote to risk asking a question, since knowledge is power.

[Thaluikhain]

Half vote for asking.

[Beroli]

Several questions come to mind, but Myriddin seems to sense this.

Raising his hand, he says, 'The hunt is close. You have time to ask one question, only.'

Ask what is the fog which surrounds the valley of Bryn Coedwig?
Ask what is the great evil which stalks the valley?
Ask what was the changeling which ambushed you on the road to Petrie-Smith's house?

Name: Monk Falmouth
Strength: 5
Stamina: 8
Mentality: 7
Endurance: 14
Dexterity: 7

Weapons:
Fists, 2 Stamina damage
Knobkerrie, 3 Stamina damage

Deaths: Fell over cliff approaching Bryn Coedwig, killed and replaced by a changeling
Notable items:
Myriddin's spear

[JourneymanN00b]

I vote to ask about the fog.

[deaddmwalking]

Given the choices, I like asking about the great evil. The fog will be dealt with if the great evil is dealt with, and the creature on the road is the past - that and we already have a decent understanding of it.