mobile_objects.txt

This file is to define objects that can be moved to different locations. This
includes objects that adventurers can add to their inventory as well as mobile
units like robots or creatures that will change location throughout the game.

If you want the mobile object to have changeable states (i.e., a lantern could
be on or off), be sure to include the state tags. Indicate what actions change
what states by using S followed by the state number (i.e., S1). If the action
changes the state of another object, add the corresponding object ID (i.e., 
F25 S2) (fixed object 25, state 2). Active is always the default.

These objects can either have an initial location or start at a random location
(yet to be implemented). If you want the random option, type "r" or "random"
(lowercase) for the Room ID. 

<object ID = 1 Room ID = 1>
<name>glass cylinder</name>
<long_name>a small glass cylinder</long_name>
<desc>This is a small, solid glass cylinder just a bit smaller than your thumb. On one end are three teeth of varying lengths and contours, and a nub as if to hold it in place somewhere. The word "CALLIOPE" is etched neatly along its length.</desc>
<actions>EXAMINE, TAKE, DROP, USE F6 S1</actions>
</object>

<object ID = 2 Room ID = 3>
<name>e-book</name>
<long_name>a personal e-book</long_name>
<desc>It's a personal e-book, probably used for taking notes or as a diary. A single button turns it on and off. A message etched on the front reads, "KNOW THYSELF."</desc>
<actions>EXAMINE, READ R1, TAKE, DROP, USE S1</actions>
<report 1>You'll have to turn it on first.</report>
<state 1>
<active>The e-book is turned off.</active>
<inactive>The e-book is on. If the unit's calendar is correct, the last and only message was made yesterday by someone whose initials are G.T.: "I've killed thousands of them--some with my bare hands! But they keep coming and coming! No matter. I'll be ready for them when they do. It's just too bad I wasn't able to save the rest of the crew. They're all dead now. The aliens got to them, killed them...Murdered them! Got to them before I was able to save them! But they'll think twice about coming back now. They didn't reckon on meeting me. They were no match for me. My bravery. Obviously, I can't go to any of the other decks now. The poisonous gas there will kill me instantly. It will be there forever, circulating. Have to stay here on this deck. Must STAY HERE ON THIS DECK, a prisoner. It's okay. It's of no matter. I am a hero. A HERO. I will always have that--no one can take it away, no, no one, ever. But that's their plan. They've flooded this deck with some type of...memory gas. Eating at my brain. I can't remember..." Charming, isn't it?</inactive>
</state 1>
</object>

<object ID = 3 Room ID = 1>
<name>silver key</name>
<long_name>a shiny silver key</long_name>
<desc>This is a slender silver key with many fine teeth and grooves. It has an attractive shape and feel, and you enjoy holding it in your cold little hand. What the key unlocks you do not know, but through that door you now may go. </desc>
<actions>EXAMINE, TAKE, DROP, USE F29 S1</actions>
</object>

<object ID = 4 Room ID = 1>
<name>syringe</name>
<long_name>an empty glass syringe</long_name>
<desc>You take a long look at the syringe, trying to remember where you've seen it before. A bit of bright purple residue remains in the tube, and there's a bit of crusted blood on the tip of the micro-thin needle. The word "LOTUS" is etched with precision along its length. You shiver, uncontrollably and involuntarily.</desc>
<actions>EXAMINE, TAKE R2, DROP, USE R1</actions>
<report 1>The syringe has already served its purpose.</report>
<report 2>You reach out your hand to take the syringe, but some primordial fear jerks you back, as though recoiling from a spider or a snake. Leave it there.</report>
</object>

<object ID = 5 Room ID = 2H>
<name>remote control</name>
<long_name>a shiny white remote control</long_name>
<desc>This white remote control is roughly the size of your thumb. It has a single toggle button on its front.</desc>
<actions>EXAMINE, TAKE, DROP, USE F3 S1</actions>
</object>

<object ID = 6 Room ID = 11H>
<name>card</name>
<long_name>a well-worn access card</long_name>
<desc>It appears to be an access card for entering locked doors and procuring victuals from vending machines.
</desc>
<actions>EXAMINE, TAKE X S1, DROP, USE F8 S1 R1</actions>
<report 1>You insert the card into the slot on the door, which chirps eerily in the silence. A light on the door panel switches from red to green. You retrieve your card.</report>
<state 1>
<active>The card is tightly wedged into the slot on the food dispenser.
</active>
<inactive>According to the information printed on the card, it belongs to "Gill Terry, Minor." An LED in the lower corner indicates the card is out of credits.</inactive>
</state>
</object>

<object ID = 7 Room ID = 10H>
<name>tweezers</name>
<long_name>a pair of silver tweezers</long_name>
<desc>It's probably best not to think too hard about what vile amibitions these tweezers have furthered. Suffice it to say that they are still capable of further action, provided  your sanity is as precarious as your sanitation.</desc>
<actions>EXAMINE, TAKE, DROP, USE M6 S1 R1</actions>
<report 1>You carefully insert the tweezers in the slot and extricate the card, which falls to the floor.</report>
</object>

<object ID = 8 Room ID = 7>
<name>note</name>
<long_name>a neatly-written note</long_name>
<desc>The handwriting on the note is clear and legible, with plenty of frantic underlining for emphasis: "You're not supposed to be here. How did you get here? I knew it. Somehow, I would make it here. GO BACK. You will be very sorry if you continue. There is nothing for you anywhere else on this ship. Indeed, there is poisonous gas on the other levels which will kill you the moment you inhale it. Flee, or let death punish your stupidity!" I suggest you take the advice.</desc>
<actions>EXAMINE, TAKE, DROP</actions>
</object>

<object ID = 9 Room ID = 22>
<name>scalpel</name>
<long_name>a razor-sharp scalpel</long_name>
<desc>Even though looks a little worse for wear, you've no doubt it could easily slit your wrists or your throat quite effectively should you choose to do so. You casually flick your thumb across its blade, pondering what delightful purposes it could be put. Alas, your cowardice will likely prevent most of them.</desc>
<actions>EXAMINE, TAKE, DROP, USE F36 S1 R1; F34 S1</actions>
<report 1>You neatly snip the wires with the scalpel, getting brutally shocked a few times...Ah, but a life spent fleeing from friendly pain into the cold arms of numbness leaves one with small reward.</report>

</object>

<object ID = 10 Room ID = 14>
<name>log</name>
<long_name>a frayed log</long_name>
<desc>This old and yellowed security log has been treated roughly, and portions are illegible. Some parts appear to have been deliberately destroyed. The last entry was made nearly 20 years ago. It reads as follows: "Have increased security to maximum levels. Crew and passenger morale at all-time low. Several assaults and one fatality, male colonist, 21, resulting from battery. Two suicides in the past month, one male crewman, 42, one female colonist, 15. Brig is full, using cargo bay. Captain Acklos still hesitant to establish martial law. Crew becoming mutinous. Still no contact from Earth. Tension escalating. Situation is critical.</desc>
<actions>EXAMINE, TAKE, DROP</actions>
</object>

<object ID = 11 Room ID = 14>
<name>club</name>
<long_name>a heavy spiked club</long_name>
<desc>You've found a fearsome club that was once a humble wooden baseball bat, probably a collectible. Someone has forced razor blades and sharp screws through the heavy end, making it into a formidable and ruthless bludgeon. The tips of the blades and screws are stained with blood, and the wood is dented and chipped as though it had seen very heavy use. You wince as images of yourself falling on the weapon flash through your brain.</desc>
<actions>EXAMINE, TAKE, DROP, USE F35 S1 R1</actions>
<report 1>You savagely swing the club into the panel, piercing the thin metal and allowing you to pry it off.</report>
</object>

<object ID = 12 Room ID = 16>
<name>journal</name>
<long_name>science officer's audio journal</long_name>
<desc>It's a slim electronic journal designed to record one's ramblings about life and replay them as time and self-obsession permit. A built-in identifying device ensures that no one else is permitted to tamper with entries once they are recorded in the journal.</desc>
<actions>EXAMINE, READ R1, TAKE, DROP, USE R2</actions>
<report 1>You'll have to turn it on.</report>
<report 2>You turn on the device and listen as what sounds like a cheerful and optimistic young woman introduces herself and begins a short, simple log of her daily activities as the ranking science officer on the ship. The first entry was recorded some twenty-two years ago. Most of the early entries are concerned with spectral analyses of distant planets and her elation about becoming pregnant, though she doesn't bother to identify the father. 

Eventually, though, the entries become less chirpy and more anxious. The last entry hangs in your memory long afterwards. "At first it was just the passengers. It couldn't be kept secret for long. No word or contact from Earth at all. None for months. Nothing. Most of them wanted to return immediately. Others, and the more vocal ones, insisted that they'd come too far to go back. And besides, what if there was nothing to go back to? There have been violent incidents, and a fifteen year old girl was killed in a riot. Now the crew is losing it, too, and taking sides. The tension onboard leeches our morale like a tumor. The captain doesn't seem to care. Or at least he doesn't get involved. He stays aloof and postpones command decisions until a crisis. His first officer, Leroy Lane, asked me which side I'd be on if it came right down to it. I told him I didn't know, and he went ballistic, said my career was over. Yeah, right. As if any of us have a career now. God, if there were any way to escape, I would. I wish like hell I'd never signed on this mission. What a stupid way to die. We deserve better. Gill deserves better, damnit. Gill? Come here, Gill. Mama loves you..."

According to the statistics displayed on the device, this audio log has been listened to over 9,999 times.
</report>
</object>

<object ID = 13 Room ID = 33H>
<name>diary</name>
<long_name>a frayed, well-worn diary</long_name>
<desc>It's a hand-written diary by Gill Terry. You scan through it, skipping over long, cumbersome and even embarrassing poems and highly detailed accounts of what a nobler generation called "self abuse." You may want to read it.</desc>
<actions>EXAMINE, TAKE, READ R1, DROP</actions>
<report 1>You read through the diary and try to piece together the story. I will read you the relevant passages: "Hide. Hide. Yes, I hid in this bloody room. I hid and kept so quiet, so still, as I saw angry legs thundering along just in front of the grate. That one with the club--Leroy--yes, he is berserk. Leroy and his gang. He was shrieking and yelling, killing anyone who stood against him. Wanted to turn the ship around. Go back to Earth. I think some passenger cut off his you-know-what with a sharp piece of cut pipe. He's crazy, out for blood. Others are fighting him, some are with him. I heard some woman screaming and screaming, and then moaning, and finally she went quiet."

"Everything seems so quiet now. I haven't heard anything for so long. No one has walked past. I will have to leave here and see what's left. But I'm so scared. I'm so terrified. I don't know what I'm going to do."

"Everybody is dead. Corpses everywhere. Men with jagged, hate and fear on their wide-open eyes. Women with their uniforms ripped open, their throats slit and their private parts all bloody. They're all ugly now. Kids with their skulls bashed open, big bruises with chunks of skull and globs of brain sticking out. And the smell. The smell is overpowering. Shit and vomit and death. I can barely breathe."

"I have taken all of them to the airlock and released them into space. I thought they would blow away, but they just floated up to the aft of the ship. I can see them there, glaring at me from the viewports. They know! They know I was hiding the whole time, peeing on myself and too scared to breathe. They all died fighting, but I survived. Me! I am the only one to survive out of all those people. I didn't deserve it. But I can't die. Too afraid."

"I can't die. I can't die. Too much death. What if they are waiting for me to do it? They will get their hands on me the minute I...Kill myself. They'll tear me apart. They'll do to me what they did to each other. I hear them in my dreams. They want me to go outside. To drift out to them. To get close enough. Then they'll come alive! Then they'll eat me. I want to go...Too afraid. God...Make me brave enough. Why can't I be brave enough?"

That's the end of it. 
</report>
</object>

<object ID = 14 Room ID = 19>
<name>screwdriver</name>
<long_name>a bloody screwdriver</long_name>
<desc>Well, it looks like you've found a simple, multi-purpose tool, suitable for loosening or tightening screws--and piercing people's skulls. The blood has rusted it a bit, but it still seems functional.</desc>
<actions>EXAMINE, TAKE, DROP, USE F30 S1</actions>
</object>

<object ID = 15 Room ID = 33>
<name>thumb</name>
<long_name>a severed thumb</long_name>
<desc>Now this is a find. It's a black and blue thumb jaggedly sliced from the base of a hand. You can't help but shudder at the thought of cutting off your own thumb like this.</desc>
<actions>EXAMINE, TAKE, DROP, USE F24 S1; F23 S1</actions>
</object>

<object ID = 16 Room ID = 9>
<name>odyssey</name>
<long_name>a worn copy of the Odyssey</long_name>
<desc>It appears to be a well-read printed copy of Homer's classic work. There's a little inscription on the inside cover: "To Gill from Mom." Someone has written below it, "Penelope."</desc>
<actions>EXAMINE, READ R1, TAKE, DROP</actions>
<report 1>If you had any desire to read the Odyssey, you wouldn't be here.</report>
</object>