Part 8

Time for the carnival!

What a fucking gyp! Lord, this game sucks.

Okay, the reason I've been talking to every character in this game is because the carnival won't open until you do. Let's head to the left.

Hmmm. Let's knock on the door.

Mike: I was just admiring your house.
Mrs. Ramirez: It is lovely, isn't it? It's over a century old. At one time it was the only building around here for miles.
Mike: So, your family's been here a long time?
Mrs. Ramirez: My late husband's family, actually. But they're all dead and gone. It's just me now.

Whoa! Maybe Mike looks like a porn star by design!


Mrs. Ramirez: Nonsense! I have my church, my books, and I have my money.
Mike: It must cost a lot to insure a place like this - my dad used to be in the insurance business.
Mrs. Ramirez: I'm sorry to hear that. Those insurance people are godless swine, worshipping nothing but the almighty dollar. Why, they even tried to cheat me out of my husband's life insurance! I finally had to take them to court, but I won!
Mike: I couldn't help but notice all the religious icons you have.
Mrs. Ramirez: Yes, they ward off the evil that is running amok here in Crowley. This town used to be a God-fearing community, but now I don't dare to leave my house except to go to Church.
Mike: Why do you think the town is corrupted by evil?
Mrs. Ramirez: Why, just stroll along the street and you will find vice and decadence behind every door. The church is our only hope for salvation! You do attend church, don't you?
Mike: I go to church whenever I get the chance, I guess.
Mrs. Ramirez: You should go every Sunday, at least, and more often than that when possible. There are dark forces at work here, and your soul must be fortified to resist temptation!
Mike: Thank you, Mrs. Ramirez. I appreciate your time.
Mrs. Ramirez: God be with you, young man.


Alright, that's off the checklist. Let's head to the right of the carnival.

Dun dun dun! Unfortunately, this isn't Gabriel Knight so there's no clues at the crime scene. Unless someone is hiding in those bushes...

No, guess not. Oh well. That's another thing off our conversational scavenger hunt. Let's go to the sheriff's and the morgue so we can get that over with.