The Let's Play Archive


by Grimwit

Part 68: Last Night- Page 66

Let's back up to the Bridge before we start messing with our inventory and Lamps.

Whateley Bridge

A flurry of dead leaves goes skittering along the ground, swirling past you in the wind.

It's been a while since I looked, but what does Miranda's inventory look like now that we're at the end of the game.

You are wearing your trenchcoat, a silver locket, your clothes and your wedding ring; in addition, you have in your hands a crusty needle, the real mirror and a hooded robe.

The pockets of your trenchcoat contain a pair of handcuffs, your umbrella, an amulet, a keyring, on which are eight keys (a long steel key, a tarnished bronze key, a small steel key, an old-fashioned brass key, a small copper key, an old-fashioned iron key, a key to the house and a key to the cellar), a meat hook, a cell key, a name tag, a lantern, a torn square of canvas, an old tin (which is closed), three mirrors (the mirror labeled #4, the mirror labeled #2 and the mirror labeled #1), a blueprint rolled into a loose tube, a towel, a hastily written letter, a flask (which is closed), a tattered drawing, Michael's faculty card, a letter opener, a newspaper, a strange metal flute, a jewelry box (which is closed), the Cryptical Haermoniacon, an animal's skull, The Compleat Manual of Wardes and Seales, a puzzle box (which is open but empty), a styrofoam cup, a family album, a torn journal, a flashlight, a bundle of soggy pages and a typewritten notice.

A gust of wind blows your hair into your face.

If this is what it looks like after three days, imagine what Miranda's coat was like before she moved to Anchorhead.

Let's do some clean up.

>put needle in coat
You slip the crusty needle into the pocket of your trenchcoat.

>put mirror in coat
(the real mirror in the trenchcoat)
You slip the real mirror into the pocket of your trenchcoat.

>wear amulet
(first taking the amulet)
You slip the amulet around your neck and drop it inside your shirt.

>look at lamp
It's an old-fashioned hurricane lamp, with a tall glass chimney to protect it from the wind.

In the distance, you can hear the lonesome keening of a train whistle drifting on the wind.

A sizzling bolt of lightning cuts through the night sky, illuminating your surroundings in a sudden sheet of blinding white radiance that leaves eerie, green afterimages scarred onto your retinas.

The rain slackens off momentarily to a weak drizzle, then returns afresh in a brief, freezing downpour.

Tasteful Dickpic posted:

Does the lantern work? If so, light it and walk back into the darkness. If it's empty, pour some fish oil into the tank.

>lite lamp
That's not a verb I recognise.

Crap, this again.

>turn on lamp
That's not something you can switch.

*** ka-WHAM!!! ***

A monstrous clap of thunder rolls across the sky, shaking the whole town to its foundations.

It occurs to me that Miranda sort of needs Matches to use the lamp.
Okay, let's ignore the lamp for now and try something else.


Town Square

Michael -- or rather, the thing that has possessed Michael's body -- is standing here.

The poor old man's mutilated corpse hangs from the top of the obelisk.

Michael looks at you and smiles. It is not a particularly pleasant smile. He walks over to the obelisk and places his hand against the bloodstained stone, then mutters something guttural under his breath. The twisted hieroglyphs begin to shine with an eerie phosphorescence which quickly brightens and envelopes Michael. His form wavers, then becomes transparent, and when the light fades he has disappeared.

The obelisk is still glowing.

Seyser Koze posted:

Clearly now is finally when you're supposed to say xyzzy. Or Hello Sailor.

That's not a verb I recognise.

>Hello Sailor
You can't see any such thing.


Faraday Cage posted:

Following Michael couldn't possible cause us to come to harm, right? touch the obelisk and try to say Ialdabaoloth

Maybe it's the password to the chamber below.
Sharp readers might remember the alter room is at the base of the obelisk.

The blasphemous syllables crawl loathsomely from your lips. The word lingers in the air like a cyst -- just hearing the sound of it makes you nauseous. Nature itself seems to draw back from the sound, as though horrified by your very voice.

The obelisk is still glowing.

Oh, right. We have to touch the thing first.

>touch obelisk
As your fingers touch the gore-streaked stone, the green light grows brighter, fanning out to envelope you. The odor of rotting fruit briefly assails your nostrils; your vision streaks, then blurs; there is the sound of rushing air, and when your eyes clear, you are somewhere else...

Burial Mound
The cave is lined, floor to ceiling, with mummified human corpses. Shrunken and desiccated, they lie in jumbled heaps inside irregularly carved niches. Carvings cover the rock walls in between the niches -- grotesque, leering faces too horrible even to look upon, their features twitching and smirking in the wavering light that sifts down from above.

Michael -- or rather, the thing that has possessed Michael's body -- is standing here.

The obelisk base stands before you, vast and shadowy in the green, murky light.

At the narrower, northern end of the vaguely egg-shaped cavern sits a massive stone altar, flanked on either side by a pair of strange, vibrating columns.

Suddenly Michael lunges forward and grabs your arms. He shakes you, causing your head to whip back and forth and your teeth to click painfully together.

"Bitch -- " he hisses, " -- rotten, filthy bitch -- you never give up, do you? You've foiled me for the last time! There's no way to fix what you've undone tonight, but by all the unholy spawn of darkness I will put you in a stone cold place for it!!" And his hands lock tightly around your throat and begin to squeeze.

Cripes! Spousal Abuse!

>Mike, stop!
You can't speak; you can't force any air past your strangled throat.

Grimly, Michael continues to strangle you...

the charm...
that old man gave us...

>show mike Amulet
You can't; not while he's strangling you to death.

His iron grip has closed your throat completely; you cannot even draw in enough breath to cry for mercy. As inky black flowers bloom in your vision, you desperately search Michael's eyes for some sign, some glint of the person he once was, the husband you knew and loved. Sadly, you find nothing. As drool from his crazed rictus grin spatters down on your face and the world goes black, the last sight you see is the madness burning in Michael's red-rimmed eyes.

*** You have died ***

In that game you scored 72 out of a possible 100 points; this is your darkest hour.

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


This one's tough, but you guys can figure it out.