Looking to get back into running LP gamebook threads! It's been a while since I last run one of those, so I want to start with something simple with the least micro-managing. Those of you who played in the LP of the first book that I run for this series will know that this series is exactly that: simple with no additional rules beyond your standard CYOA while being significantly shorter than the actual CYOA books. What makes the series stand out was the relatively higher quality of the writing and more consistent plot and story-telling compared to the average CYOA title. Each book has only between 30+ to 50+ sections and 3-7 endings (only 1 good ending each), but each section is usually longer than the average CYOA book section.
Anyway, I'm wanted to include all the books I have for this series in the poll (except Books 3 & 4, which I know Darth Rabbit already has), but apparently, that's too many for a poll on this board, so I took out a few of my least favourites. I also wrote some short synopsis of the individual books' premise (although I didn't cover all of them) in the last post of my previous LP of book 1, so you may want to take a look at those for reference if you haven't done before:
http://tgdmb.com/viewtopic.php?t=56447&start=25
To summarize, the basic premise and objective for each book in the poll:
Book 5 (Action/Adventure) - Rescue a Marquis from execution during the French Revolution and get him out of France.
Book 6 (Sword & Sorcery fantasy) - Find 7 pieces of magic stones in order to use them to drive away the ice demons in your home valley
Book 8 (Mystery/Suspense) - Try to avoid a mysterious "deadly trap" that a clairvoyant tells you is in your future.
Book 9 (Mystery/Action) - Find out why the construction work of a railway is continuously being sabotaged
Book 12 (Gothic horror) - Destroy a vampire lord in Romania
Book 15 (Mystery/suspense) - Find out some forgotten story in your childhood that's been the cause of a recurring nightmare.
Book 19 (Mystery/Adventure) - Find out what really happened in the final encounter between Sherlock Holmes and his greatest nemesis Professor Moriarty (no, it's not the version given by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle).
Book 21 (Suspense/Horror) - Save a man from being killed by walking dead
Book 22 (Action/thriller) - Plot to take down the right-hand lieutenant of a Chicago mob-boss.
Book 25 (Mystery) - Uncover the mystery behind successive mysterious deaths on a ship during the Napoleonic Wars and try to prevent the death of the next victim
[Let's Play] Storytrails #12 Return of the Undead
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[Let's Play] Storytrails #12 Return of the Undead
Last edited by SGamerz on Sat Jun 15, 2019 6:50 am, edited 1 time in total.
Cover:
Back cover blurb:
For this book, this is the additional background info:
As mentioned in the LP of the previous book of this series, the "rule" pages are quite standard every book, since these are simple CYOA with n additional rules. However, those pages usually contain a paragraph or 2 that gives some background to the story (for some books, like those with historical settings there were even a page or 2 giving you brief summary of the historical background....and there're sometimes graphs and charts).Do you believe in vampires?
The people in the village where you shelter from a violent storm certainly do...and with good reason. If your nerve strong enough to face the terrors of the night?
See if you can win where others have failed...can you destroy the Vampire of Valdah?
For this book, this is the additional background info:
And we begin....You are on a walking holiday with two friends in Romania. One evening, as you make for the town of Sabrov, you find that you have lost your way. A storm drives you to take shelter in a strange house. As your adventure unfolds you find that you are in a place where the people still believe the legend of the vampires; the 'undead' humans. But is it only a legend? What terrors would you face to save a friend from death at the hands of a demon that thirsts only for blood? To find out, you have only to follow the simple instructions printed opposite.
...
To be completely successful on your adventure, you must destroy the 'Vampire of Valdah', but without being destroyed yourself! If you fail the first time, you can always try again.
Now turn to page 1.
It just begs the question why PC and Martha would still trust Eric to be their navigator after he's gotten them lost multiple times in the past....The sun had still not set but the sky had been dark for the last two hours. The air was warm and clammy. Far to the south, beyond the peaks of the Carpathian Mountains, there was an almost continuous flicker of sheet lightning.
Our last few days had been dogged by heavy thunderstorms and it looked as if yet another was on its way. We had been due to reach the town of Sabrov early that evening, but there was only empty road and dark forest ahead of us.
Eric stopped and took out the map. He spread it out on the grass verge and Martha and I knelt on either side of him. There was just enough light to read it.
"There is Sabrov," Eric said, "and there's the road that we should be on."
"More to the point," said Martha, impatiently, "which road are we on, and exactly where are we?"
Eric wasn't sure. It was a situation I should have been getting used to. I had spend the last two summers walking with Eric and his sister, Martha Hoffman. Eric had already proved his ability to get us lost just about anywhere in Europe from the Black Forest to the middle of Paris! This time, it was somewhere in Romania!
I looked at the map myself. I thought I could see where we had made the wrong turning. If I was right, we were walking away from Sabrov and the nearest bit of civilization was a small village called Valdah. It was five kilometres off and on the other side of the forest.
Now it had started to rain. As Eric hurried to fold up the map, a brilliant fork of lightning lit up the whole landscape. I saw that Martha wsa pointing, though her words were downed by a roll of thunder almost overhead. She tried again.
"There's a house," she shouted. "At least, it's a building of some sort. I saw the windows in the lightning flash. I can't see it now, but it's just up the hillside through the trees."
We struck off in the direction Martha had pointed. A hundred metres brought us onto a rough driveway. It looked as though it had not been used for a long time. The house would probably be the same!
Turn to page 2.
The house was not the same. It was worse! It might once have been big enough to be called a "castle", but almost half of it had been burned down and the part that remained was in a sorry state. Still, it could mean shelter of sorts.
We crossed a weed-filled courtyard. The centre of the house and one wing were still standing. Eric suggested that we split up and try to find an open window. Martha was a little way ahead.
"No need," she called back to us, 'the door is open."
Once through the door, we were looking into almost total darkness. Eric struck a match which instantly blew out in the draught. He was trying again when the whole scene was suddenly lit by a whole series of flashes. It was still too quick to take everything in, but one thing was certain. The house may have been derelict, but it was still furnished! I had caught a glimpse of a candlestick, filled with half-burned candles on a table by the door. I waited for the next flash and grabbed it. I shouted to Martha to close the door and to Eric to strike another match. The candles were lit and I held them high so that we might inspect the room.
Cobwebs hung from the lofty ceiling and from the walls but, when I looked down at my feet, I saw that the floor was free of dust. It had been swept! Eric had moved further into the room.
"The big table in the centre,' he said, 'has been dusted - and the logs in the hearth look freshly laid."
"I don't like it,' Martha said. "someone must be living here. I think we should go."
"Nonsense!" replied Eric. "If someone is living here, then so much the better. All we've got is some chocolate and biscuits. I wouldn't mind a proper meal."
He found more candles, and now with his own light walked to the foot of what had been a grand staircase leading to the upper parts of the house.
"Hallo!" he shouted. "Is anyone at home?"
Only his own voice came echoing back and a muffled scrabbling from behind the wood panelling. It looked like our only company was rats!
Even though it says we're flipping a coin, the choice is actually up to the reader. Do we want to explore the ground floor, or head upstairs?"That's it!" Martha exclaimed. "I don't like the feel of the place. I don't like the idea of staying here uninvited. And I'm not staying in a place with rats! I'd rather get wet!"
With that, she opened the door behind her.
The flashes. of lightning now lit a flooded courtyard. Rain lashed through the open doorway and a violent gust of wind almost swept her off her feet. I helped her to shut the door again. All the candles had blown out except the one that Eric was still holding.
Martha's voice, less confident now, came from the darkness.
"On second thoughts, I m staying!"
Eric relit the candles and started a fire in the huge hearth. The flames made the place look almost cheerful.
We ate what food we had and sat in front of the fire. Eric had been staring around the huge room.
"What do you know about art?" he asked me.
"A little," I answered. "I've seen most of the great galleries of Europe and you know that I have an uncle who deals in works-of fine art. Why?"
"Take a walk across the room and look at those pictures on the wall opposite."
I did as Eric asked. There was a Turner and a Goya. They certainly looked like originals and, if they were, must have been worth a fortune.
"They are originals?" Eric asked.
"Yes," I replied. 'I think so - or very good fakes."
"Look at the candlestick you're holding. It's solid silver and looks very old. I think the place must be a treasure house, yet there's no-one here and the door was open."
Eric was right. The more one saw of the house the stranger it seemed.
"l suggest we explore." Eric said.
"I'm not leaving this room," Martha insisted.
"All right," Eric answered and looked at me. "You toss a coin. If it's heads, you take downstairs. If it's tails you take upstairs. Agreed?"
I agreed and took out a coin.
Upstairs seems more dangerous, but I'm divided on whether that means we should explore downstairs, or explore upstairs just so our idiot friend doesn't get vampirised and cause us more problems.
I guess downstairs, so we can keep an eye on our other friend?
I guess downstairs, so we can keep an eye on our other friend?
Last edited by SlyJohnny on Sat Jun 15, 2019 4:50 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Should we go upstairs after all?Eric took some candles and made his way up the staircase. There were several doors leading off the room we were in. The first two that I tried seemed to have been nailed up and I guessed that they led to the part of the house that had been destroyed by fire.
The next opened into a library. Its shelves were still filled with books though, unlike the room I had come from, the whole place was covered in dust and cobwebs. I pulled some of the cobwebs away to read the book titles. It was obviously a fine, if curious collection; some rare early works on magic, many hand written vellum, works on science and philosophy, some very old. Though I could only glance briefly at a tiny sample, the library also seemed to house all the great works of literature from Homer to Dickens.
I was still pondering on who could have owned such a collection when I found my way to the kitchens. Brown, furry bodies scattered into the darkness as the light of my candles spread over the stone floor.
There was a sudden crash of breaking crockery. I stood still, straining my ears against the constant rumble of the storm outside. There was a light click and then the creak of boards. Then there was nothing. I raised the candles.
In front of me was a table with the remains of a meal on it - cheese and black bread. The bread felt moist and the cheese still soft. Something crunched under my foot. I looked down. A pool of milk was spreading out from the broken pieces of an earthenware pitcher. The place smelt of rotting food. I need explore no more to tell Eric that we would not be eating breakfast in the kitchens! There was no doubt that someone used the house, though surely not the person who had collected the art treasures or the fine library.
I was turning back when the light of the candles fell on another door. I opened it to find a narrow, wooden staircase beyond. I remembered the click, perhaps of a latch, and the creak of boards. Was someone else in the house? I would sleep happier if I knew. Should I go up the stairs, or return to Martha, who was alone and probably getting nervous?
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Yes, silly of me to ask. How can we possibly pick any option than may let Batman or Superman down?
Do we want to take the first watch?I was almost surprised to find Martha sleeping quietly by the fire. Eric was coming down the stairs and joined me.
"Martha's asleep,'I said. 'I would have thought she'd be too nervous to sleep."
Eric shrugged his shoulders.
"That heavy cold she had when we started the holiday - I don't think she's really got over it. She puts on a brave face, but I've seen her looking tired a few times."
Martha stirred, opened her eyes, and looked at us.
"I'm sorry," she said. 'I must have dozed off."
"There's a bed upstatrs, Eric told her' "It's spotlessly clean - and when you see the bedroom, I don't think you'd want to miss the chance of sleeping in it. It has a very thick oak door and if you're nervous, you can lock yourself in."
I expected Martha to argue. She didn't. All she said was, "What about you two?"
Before I could answer, Eric had assured her that we had somewhere to sleep. He turned to me.
'I'll take her up,' he said' 'and join you back here in a moment''
I was left alone by the fire while Eric took Martha upstairs. Shortly, he returned.
"I'm sorry," he said, "if you felt that I was taking things over, but I'm sure there's someone else in the house."
I said that I agreed with him.
"Martha can get nervous of her own shadow. Locked away upstairs is the safest place for her to be. I know that you don't frighten too easily."
I was grateful for Eric's compliment. I wasn't sure that he was right! I asked him what he had in mind.
"If we arrange some chairs by the fire, one of us can try to get some sleep while the other keeps watch. It's nearly midnight. Say eight hours - two hours on watch, two off - 'till morning."
It sounded a sensible suggestion.
"I seem to have been making all the decisions. You choose who takes first watch, you, or me."
Last edited by SGamerz on Tue Jun 18, 2019 12:07 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Which friend do we check first?I had chosen first watch because, though I was tired, I didn't see myself sleeping through the noise of the storm. Eric seemed quite happy to try, stretched himself out across three chairs and, very soon, looked as if he had fallen asleep.
I sat for a while by the fire, only to find myself nodding off. I got up and walked part of the way upstairs. From the half landing, with its large arched window, I could see a broken terrace leading down towhat must once have been grand lawns and flower beds. At times, the landscape was lit so brightly, I could see as far as the edge of the forest. I had never seen a storm of quite such fury. The sky was almost continuously broken by jagged flares of light. Sparks of every colour splattered across the ground and cascaded dow alike. Somewhere on the edge of the forest, a ball of white light turned to orange, then red as a tree blazed up, only to be quenched by the deluge of rain.
It was as the glow of red was fading that I heard what I thought was someone calling Martha's name. I looked down the stairs at Eric. The flames of the fire still burned brightly and Eric was surely asleep.
"Martha!"
The voice was clear in my head, yet seemed to come from some great distance. I took the candles and ran to Martha's room. The door was locked. I tapped on it lightly, but there was no sound from within. I went back to the strairs and waited. The call was not repeated. I told myself it was only the effect of the wind and my overworked imagination. I returned to the fire where Eric still slept and, for a long time, sat listening.
I must have fallen asleep for, when I woke, the sun was streaming in through the open door. Eric had gone. I called out, but he didn't reply. I looked at my watch. It was almost seven in the morning!
Should I check that Martha was still safely locked in her room, or look for Eric who, from the open door, might well have taken a walk outside?
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We couldn't even stay awake for two hours? At first I thought it was just our friends who sucked, but our entire group deserves to be eaten by a vampire. Although maybe Martha agreed to barricade herself into an upstairs room because she knows what a pair of useless idiots we are, and figured she'd be better off lone wolfing it.
Check Martha first.
Check Martha first.
This doesn't make it any better butSlyJohnny wrote:We couldn't even stay awake for two hours?
if Eric took the first watch, he does the exact same thing.
I think it's implied (but never directly stated) that the vampire was possibly working some magic to put whomever that was on watch to sleep.
I think it's implied (but never directly stated) that the vampire was possibly working some magic to put whomever that was on watch to sleep.
Do we want to use the vampire's cart? Or leave our friends in the vampire's house?Martha's door was still locked. I saw no reason to wake her and returned downstairs, intending to find Eric.
I did not have far to look. Eric was standing in the open doorway. I was feeling a little ashamed of falling asleep on my watch and told him so.
"There is no need for apology," he said. "I slept right through the night. I woke only a little while ago, checked that Martha was still in her room and went outside to take a look around in the daylight."
As he moved into the room from the doorway, I saw that he was limping. He saw me looking.
"It's nothing," he said. "I've twisted my ankle on one of the broken stones on the courtyard. The pain will go off."
Ten minutes later, it had not 'gone off' and Eric was sitting down massaging his ankle when Martha appeared. I thought she looked, somehow, different. For a start, she was wearing a dress, which she never did for walking. It was always jeans. Her dark hair looked untidy and her face was unusually pale.
"You're wearing a dress," Eric said.
"Because my jeans are wet!" Martha snapped back.
"But they were dry when you went to bed," Eric retorted.
"They are wet now. When I got up, they were wet, together with all the other clothes I had on last night. And don't ask me how. I don't know. I'm not feeling too good in health or temper. This place may be full of treasures, but there's not a single mirror in the house."
I could see the beginning of a brother and sister quarrel. I changed the subject by asking Eric what he'd found on his walk outside.
"Nothing much," was the reply. "There's a coach house with a coach and carriage in it - and an old hand cart which must have been here when the house was burned - it's very charred."
I could see that he was more interested in his ankle which had begun to swell. He wasn't going to be able to walk far on it. It looked as if I was going to have to walk to Valdah for help leaving Eric and Martha behind. But we might all be able to leave together if we used the old hand cart Eric had seen in the coach house.
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I actually don't quite understand the PC's urgency of not wanting Martha to see a set of footprints that look like her own. Doesn't really mean much by itself.....When I went for the hand cart, it had vanished. I went back to the house to tell Eric and Martha. Martha looked a little better and had actually bandaged Eric's foot and ankle tightly enough for him to be able to hobble on it. Cart or no cart, Eric was now determined to leave.
Near the driveway was a second, narrower path which looked as if it might be a short cut to the road. With thought of saving Eric's ankle, we took it.
Not far down the path, we smelled burning and could see smoke drifting across the path. Curiosity aroused, Eric pushed his way through the trees towards it.
We followed him, entering a small clearing with a wide stream at the bottom of it. Beside the stream, stood the cart. Beyond the stream was an old graveyard, overgrown with thorn and ivy and looking as though it had been undisturbed for centuries.
The smoke came from what remained of an ancient oak tree in the graveyard - a victim of the night's storm. The gnarled trunk was split apart and still smouldered at its centre. Beside it was a mound of fresh earth, as if the bolt of lightning which had struck the tree had also scooped a great hole from the ground.
Eric went up to the cart and then walked a little way both up and down the stream.
"That's odd," he said. "The graveyard's an island. I can see the stream running down both sides of it. Why is there no bridge? But no matter. We wanted the cart. We've found it."
"We can't take it now," said Martha. "Obviously someone is using it."
"Well, there's no one here - and it is only an old wreck," Eric insisted. "After just that walk from the house, I can tell you I'll not get to Valdah unless I can ride some of the way. I'll bring it back, it that'll make you happier."
Martha wasn't happy and the argument went on. I was looking at the opposite bank of the stream. In the mud were footprints, one tiny, the other with a distinctive pattern, identical with a walking shoe owned by Martha! I didn't want her to see it. I had to get them away quickly - by siding with Eric, or Martha.
And if Eric thinks his injury is that bad and still decided to take a detour just to check out something burning, I'd say he deserves to hobble/crawl the rest of the way!
Are we still sure we want the cart now?
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Follow the cart, or the priest?The cart had two wheels, a flat top and a long handle which could be pushed or pulled. I began to push it out of the clearing.
"I will need a hand to get it through the trees and onto the pathway," l said. 'l expect you, Eric, to walk for as long as you can. The cart is heavy. With you on it, it will be even heavier."
The path did meet the main road and Eric lasted the better part of three of the five kilometres before his ankle gave out. With Eric on the cart and Martha and me pushing, we covered another kilometre. Suddenly, I felt a strain on the handle. Martha was no longer pushing. She was lying on the road in a dead faint!
Eric got down. Together, we got Martha onto the cart. If I could push, Eric thought he could hobble the rest of the way. It could not be far.
Valdah was the picture-book village, its decorated timber buildings looking as if they had remained unchanged for centuries. We must have looked a little strange as we entered the main street since people seemed to be moving quickly away from us. I heard a woman shout, 'It's the fiend's cart!' as she shut herself in her house. A group of men stood staring at us.
"We need help,' I said. 'Can't you see we need help! The girl is ill. My friend is injured."
The men did not move.
"They have come from the house,' one of them said. 'Now do you believe that I saw lights last night?"
"It is the fiend's cart," said another "- but the other one - he can't have returned. We destroyed him ten years ago. I was there. I saw it!"
I was beginning to feel desperate when a gentle touch on mv shoulder made me stop. The man beside me wore the long coat and hat of a priest.
"I am Father Sebastian, he said. "This is my house beside the church. I will help you get the cart into the courtyard."
As we were taking Martha into the priest's house. I turned to see the cart vanishing through a side door in the courtyard wall. Even though Martha was now in good hands, I wanted to stay to help her. I also knew it was the cart, not us that the villagers feared - I wanted to know who
had spirited it away so quickly, and why.