The Let's Play Archive

15 Days

by SelenicMartian

Part 10: Ten Feet Under

: Our museum adventure continues. In this remote area of the building we can examine the butt of the marble youth.

: Sexy.

: well as rock-hard. Now, what about the frieze?

: A really nice antique bustle.

: Back to the side room we go.

: Well they're not exactly short on cameras here. And you see those little holes down there near the floor? They look like laser ports to me.

: And? You know what to do with them?

: Well, we have a LaserDial thing on Mike's desktop.

: Not at all.

: Oh...

: Then you're going to have to get learning.

: Sure looks that way.

: Mike strides off, we explore the art to the right.

: Somehow I really love these huge old paintings.

: What about the smaller stuff on the left?

: There are a few old masters here.

: Are laser ports art?

: Hmm... This is where the laser beams shine.

: Why the hell does a generic third-rate portrait get a Mona Lisa treatment? Anyway, stopwatch.

: Voilà!

: Don't get fancy, Cathryn. We still have three cameras to observe in the main hallway.

: Hmm.

: Hmm...

: OK.

: So, that's all of them.

: We can't completely leave yet for an unknown reason.

: The statue is examinable, but not the cute animated ducks.

: Not my cup of tea.

: Right, let's go back in.

: Suddenly, back in this room a script activates and forces Cathryn to walk further in.

: He's gone out now. I think.

: Excuse me?

: The guard slides over to Cathryn.

: I've always got time for a pretty young woman.

: Well, I've not been here for ages...

: And it's all changed so much. When was it all done?

: Ah, this particular part was obviously written as a single cutscene, but some moron decided to add a dialogue "option" pausing us in the middle of the sentence.

: Oh, I presume you mean the exhibition space here? It was completed in 1989. You were probably just about born at that time Mademoiselle.

: So, he can do more than just grumpy.

: Duval. But you can call me Cedric, if you like.

: Cedric, huh... OK, 15 Days, you asked for it... I can't guarantee that the following transcripts of this guy's speech will precisely follow the game's script.

: I must have been seven or eight when my father brought me here. He was always very... interested in art and always out and about too. He often used to take me along and drag me into every museum with him.

: Yes, probably. But like I said. It looked quite different here at that time. Much...

: ... better? I know, I know. You're correct. Sadly the POISONOUS refurbishment is awful. Those Philistines made our museum look like a POISONOUS subway station.

: No, it's really not all that bad. It's just er, modern.

: It's a gloomy bunker. You know what all the POISONOUS Parisians call the new vaults? The 'POISONOUS Socialists' Burial Chamber'. The pig-headed Mitterrand built himself a mausoleum here.

: Oh, I can see you're a real fan.

: I've worked here for 30 years. And for ten of them I've had to endure the POISONOUS sound of pneumatic drills. When they were excavating the foundations, POISONOUS water came flooding in from the Seine side. And then a digger fell in when they broke into an unknown section of the catacombs. It was a disaster, simple as that...

: I thought that the catacombs were on the other side of the Siene.

: That's what the POISONOUS engineers thought too. But the network of passages is amazing. Nobody in Paris really knows exactly where there's a POISONOUS tunnel and where not.

: Interesting.

: For sure. Mike? You back in the van?

: Yep. I heard.

: This special exhibition...

: Aw, this POISONOUS American rubbish? Forget the thing. It doesn't belong over here.

: No? Why not then?

: A museum is a place for art, not for politics.

: The exhibition is supposed to enhance POISONOUS Franco-American friendship. You know that? Right on our anniversary.

: So how long's the exhibition going to be here for?

: None of the American characters in the game give a shit about it.

: An it's staying here until 14th July, our national day of POISONOUS celebration.

: Oh damn. WATCH OUT! I have to get back to the security room. Time flies when you're chatting with a pretty girl...

: ... who didn't get in a single sentence either.

: Mike, don't poke holes in your own game's writing.

: Right then, enjoy yourself little POISONOUS lady.

: Thank you, I have already. It was very er, enlightening.

: Guys? I'm coming to the van now.

: And this is the point when I stopped playing this game last September. Let's continue with fresh footage.

: So, now we know, huh?

: I've changed my mind. I do like it here after all. Let's live here. And ask that old geezer if he wants to join us.

: That was a French nationalist Mike.

: No, that was the usual Mike.

: Arrh rubbish. You shouldn't be so bitter. I'll go in and ask him.

: Could you do a bit of research for us first?

: About what?

: Weren't you listening just now?

: Yea, sure. And?

: (keeps quiet)

: (keeps quiet)

: What?

: We're waiting.

: Damn. I picked a break point right before a searching section...

: Any hints, guys?

OK, it's not Paris...

Not July, not celebration...

Not Bastille, not fireworks...

Bingo! I mean, Catacombs!

: Catacombs, Mike. Not Battleship.

: Whoa, that was difficult.

: So?

: Rue Antoinette! That's the main entrance. Guided tours daily, on the hour. And? What we you say?

: Oh great, the subs fuck up basic grammar now.

: Let's drive.

: We say: "Thank you Mike."

: We say: "Shut your gob, Mike."

: Looks pretty much like a tourist trap. How are we going to do this?

: I'll go in first and take a look around.

: Don't get yourself lost.

: Are you on the radio?

: Always.

: OK. See you in a minute.

: Not much to see apart from the 25 Euro price tag on the chalk board, the water, and the ticket booth.

: Ridiculous. These prices.

: Pah. Looks wonderful... but stinks to high heaven.

: One adult.

: You're 15 Euros short, Madame. The evening tariff is 40 Euros. Merci bien.

: I casually looked at the map and discovered that at this point all of Paris is Loft, even the locations. Bugger.

: We've got the ticket and the tourist map, but only the map is interactive.

: Let's see if I can work out how to use it.

: Cathryn goes in.

: Everything's perfectly finished here. I hope the connection holds up...

: If you ever get out of there at all...

: It's either go deeper or look at this.

: They buried the plague victims here, because the cemeteries were all full.

: Further in there's dem bones. I can't hear anything in this location because there's shitty guitar music and a constant hum like an 18-lane motorway runs right above the place.

: A wall of skulls. Grisly.

: No, they're human.

: We're here.

: I'm now in the passages. It's really creepy down here...

: There are some barriers here. It's totally dark beyond them.

: Can you get through? Can you go on?

: You don't know what it looks like here, Bernard.

: You can lose yourself completely down here.

: On Ryzoom it said that the network of passages was 300 km long. Mmm... Could take a bit longer.

: What can you see in the passages?

: I already said: totally black. Hold on...

: It's light enough.

: Fine, I'll do it on this screen.

The game pauses for a second (and might crash) every time you turn on the torch.

: The square-shaped light spot follows the cursor, and then we see a graffiti.

: OK, with the torch it's just about alright. Endless galleries and passages. We need a map...

: Cathryn turns the torch off.

: Yeah. The freaks aren't bothered about a couple of barriers. Just you.

: I have no desire to get myself lost down here. Without a map you can't do anything.

: So what kind of graffiti is it? Can you read anything?

: Hmm... Hang on...

: Cathryn automatically reaches for the torch again.

: 'Club Electronique', I think...

: Hmm... Sounds like a disco, or something.

: Disco? A club is completely different from a disco.

: You know: black and white TV, telex machines, your heyday...

: Guys..? I don't want to disturb you, but...

: Bernard doesn't know what a club is. We'll have to dump him Cathryn.

: And immediately the cutscene walk ends, and Cathryn stops, letting me click the stairs and go up. Gameplay!

: We have to get a map from somewhere. The fold-out tourist thing isn't much use. Mike. That's your job.

: Sure.

: Maybe we ought to check out this disco?

: I know. Come on then. Let's go.

: The guys obviously organise illegal parties in the catacombs. The police have wanted to bust them a few times.

: But?

: They could never find them in all the passages... The cops here are no brighter than in England.

: Or these boys know their way around here damned well.

: Which is exactly what we need to be able to do. So where is this place?

: In the quartier St. Martin.

: How far is that?

: OK, then let's go there.

: What? We can't go in a club NOW?!

: How come?

: I think they open at nine.

: Yeah. I know. But it's uncool to go in there at nine.

: We've got you with us Mikey. We're cool an any time of the day.

: Cathryn. You tell him we can't go now.

: We're going.

: You're so uncool. I don't believe it. I can never be seen in Paris again. Best for you to drop me at the corner and I'll turn myself in.

: Don't joke about stuff like that... The cops are the last thing we need right now.

: Ah. It's Jack. Go away, Jack. OK, look at the statue and then go.

: I'm more of a US Cavalry man myself.

: Jack. Immaculate timing - it's the middle of the night.

: Actually, midnight in DC is early morning in Paris.

: I didn't invent the time difference, Chief.

: Funny. The writer of 15 Days certainly did.

: OK, OK. How's it going then? Have you got him?

: Yeah, well. I'm in Paris.

: And? Where are your suspects?

: Five hours ago the guy was standing directly in front on the Musée de Paris, in the car park. And that's exactly when I am now. But he's gone. You'll have to give me his coordinates.

: Hmhm... Just a minute. OK. I've got them. I'll send them to you manually - tell me if you get them.

: OK.


: There you go.

: Hmm... that's in the St, Martin quarter... OK. Thanks Chief. I've gotta go. I'll be in touch.

: Jack, wait...

: Ah Jordan! Do I have a date?


: In a way, yes. But you won't want it anymore.

: Don't underestimate my interest in dates.


: Amy Connelly is in jail.

: Who the fuck is Amy Connelly?

: Perfect. Where?

: In Washington, Jack. And she has been since last year. She was arrested in the riots during the G8 summit.

: Hmm. I could've seen that from my office window.

: Well. Not a bad alibi. But if you still want your date...

: Hmm, I'd rather not... Damn...

: Hey, there was no transition blur clip!

: Still doesn't seem to be a lot going on.

: Not a lot? ABSOLUTELY nothing going on. Look at the time.

: There's just one guy standing at the door. And he doesn't look like a visitor.

: More like a murderer.

: That's the doorman, isn't it?

: Yeah, he's got to be. It's a freaking CLUB, Bernie. A CLUB. They don't let just anybody in.

: They'll let us in.

: Me perhaps, cos I'm cool.

: Should I come with you?

: I think you ought to stay here for now. The guy looks like trouble.

: Better stay here. Mike and I'll go in.

: You're way too uncool Bernie. Just look at your clothes. You look like a school teacher.

: Now pay attention, Mike. I'm not going to tell you twice. This is big boys' business. And you're still in short trousers playing with an Action Man. Now get your act together. OK?

: Has anyone here changed their clothes for the past week?

: (silent)

: Good, let's get on with it!

: I'll stay on the phone.

: They walk right up to the dude, but the game gives me control in case I want to re-examine the van.

: Hi.

: Hi.

: I told you.

: Ah, a school teacher eh? You might want to go in for a snoop about, yes?

: It's going great.

: It's already open?

: Sure is.

: Good. Come on then Mike.

: Er, why not?

: Francois doesn't like snoopers. Me neither. You get it?

: Wow, this icon is more on fire that the entire game so far. Sadly it's not animated, the 3D scene just rotates a little. House of Tales start to get lazy.

: We're tourists.

: Come on Mike. Let's go get a drink.

: Hey, you're a bit slow on the uptake, aren't you? You're staying out here. And baby-face here too.

: Is this place yours?

: Have you got a police ID?

: I'm telling you, we're not cops.

: Oh dear, oh dear....

: I'm in control again. Why? I have to continue the conversation.

: OK boss, how much is it to get in?

: This here is a CLUB, my friend. You need a membership card and you don't have one.

: Is 50 Euros OK?

: Excuse me. What did you say?

: Each?

: I still don't understand what you're on about.

: Each, per hour.

: Aaah. Now I get it.

: (sighs)

: I want something to drink. Don't you guys here need any dosh, or what?

: 100 Euros? I can earn that in five minutes. And now you can sod off. I've got some customers coming.

: Come on Bernard. Let's go back to Cathryn.

: We can talk to Cathryn now.

: 'A job for the big boys.' You're so uncool. My GRANDMA wouldn't even let you in her club.

: Wait. You see that.

: What?

: What he's doing there. He's selling drugs on the street.

: Yeah, that guy next to the bouncer spawns in a one-second fade-out the moment you click on Cathryn.

: Yeah, and?

: So what would the cops say about that?

: What? What's that supposed to mean? ... Are you serious..? You want to... of your own free will... just... Just say it. You're having a laugh?

: Cathryn. You do it. OK? We go back over there and when we're close by at the entrance...

: Oh no, come on. You can't be serious.

: Cathryn?

: That guy is conveniently leaving.

: No, the next street down is close enough.

: Right, lets go then.

: No! You're no doing it, Bernie. You just can't...

: Now come on, don't get your knickers in a twist. Nothing's going to happen to anyone.

: This game's story in a nutshell.

: I'm not doing it.

: OK, I'll just go on my own then.

: No! Wait! Bernie. OK, I'm coming.

: Bernard's head remains locked onto Cathryn, but that's hard to capture. Better look carefully at the shadows and the lights in the scene. I think that lamppost behind Cathryn went M. C. Escher.

: Hey boss... How's business then?

: Oi Baby-face: Your mate here... ...he fancies a bit of trouble does he?


: Great, now with both the music and this I really can't hear anything.

: Sometimes the cops turn up in time. Sometimes they don't.

: Crap. You called the cops or what?

: You got problems with them?

: (sighs)

: So they're on their way here!

: Yes, but they'll go away again.

: They're getting closer. Dammit!

: The bouncer dashes into the doorway. We fade out to no police sirens.

: It's not exactly sophisticated, is it.

: He could have just let us in. Let's go.

: And cut. What horrors await us in the club, apart from the sound engineering?

P.S.: Scaring off the bouncer, the video.