Slips through your hands.Slips through your hands.Slips through your hands.You can only take objects.You can't take things from that!You can't open that.You can't open that.You can't open anything with that.You can only close objects.You can't close that.You can't close anything with that.You can't lock that.You can't lock that.You can't lock anything with that.You can't lock that.You can't lock that.You can't lock anything with that.You can't eat that!You can't drink that!You can only throw objects.You can only throw objects.You can't throw anything at that.You can't be serious.You can't throw anything to that.Don't be silly.You can't throw anything in that.You can't break that.You can't push that.You can't push that.You can use only objects to push things with.You can't hug that.You can't touch that.You can't touch that.You can use only objects to touch with.You can't examine that!You can't examine that!You can't look inside that.You can't search that!You can't read that.You can't put that anywhere.You can't put that anywhere.You can't put anything in that.You can't put that anywhere.You can't put anything near that.You can't put that anywhere.You can't put anything behind that.You can't put that anywhere.You can't put anything on that.You can't put that anywhere.You can't put anything under that.You can only give away objects.You can't give things to that!You can't say that.You can't say that.You can't talk to that.You can't ask about that.You can't talk to that.You can't ask about that.You can't talk to that.You can't ask about that.You can't talk to that.You can't talk to that.You can't attack that.You can't attack that.You can't attack anything with that!You can't shoot at that.You can't shoot at that.You can't shoot that.You can't shoot at that.You can't shoot that.You can't shoot at that.You can't kiss that!You can't turn that.You can't turn that on.You can't turn that on.You can't switch that on.You can't switch that on.You can't turn that off.You can't turn that off.You can't switch that off.You can't switch that off.You can't listen to that!You can't smell that!You can't knock on that!You can't jump on that!You're having trouble doing this.You're having trouble climbing this.You're finding it difficult to sit in this.You're finding it difficult to sit on this.You can't wear that.You can't wear that.You can't wear that.You can't remove that.You can't remove that.You can't remove that.Manage to grasp.Too heavy, too slippery, too--You've already got that - you're wearing that.You've already got that.That is too heavy to lift.Dropped like a dart made of lead.You aren't carrying that.You can't take things from yourself!You takethe $1$$.The $2won't let you takethe $1$$.You already havethe $1$$.is now open.The $o is now open.You can't open that!It's already open.You can't openthe $1withthe $2$$.You don't havethe $2$$.is now closed.The $o is now closed.You can't close that.It is already closed.You can't closewiththe $1 withthe $2$$.You don't havethe $2$$.is now locked.The $o is now locked.You can't lock that!It's already locked.is now locked.The $o is now locked.You can't lock that!It's already locked.You don't havethe $2$$.is now unlocked.The $o is now unlocked.You can't unlock that!It's already unlocked.is now unlocked.The $o is now unlocked.You can't unlock that!It's already unlocked.You don't havethe $2$$.You eatthe $o$$.You can't eat that!You drinkthe $o$$.That is not drinkable.You can't throw very far, completely unskilled in the acts of hurling;ends up on the ground.the $1 ends up on the ground.You haven't got that!arcs in the air like a misguided angel! The $1 arcs in the air like a misguised angel!lands nowhere near $2.The $1 lands nowhere near the intended target.You haven't got that!You are carryingthe $2$$!Done.You haven't got that!Now, that would be a good trick!You breakthe $1$$.It would be improper for you to break that. You don't know how you'd repair it again.You pushthe $1$$.You can't push that.Usingyou pushthe $2 you pushthe $1$$.You can't push that.You touchthe $1$$.You can't touch that.You hugthe $1$$.Custom dictates that you do not embrace this person.You touchwiththe $1 withthe $2$$.You can't touch that.It doesn't make sense to touch something with itself.There is nothing special aboutthe $o$$.You can't examinethe $o$$.You can't look insidethe $o$$.You find nothing of interest.You can't searchthe $o$$!You readthe $1$$.There is nothing written onthe $1$$.Dropped.You haven't got that.Done.You haven't gotthe $1$$!You can't put something into itself!Naaah. I'd rather just putthemitdown here.You haven't gotthe $1$$!You already havethe $o$$!You givetothe $1 tothe $2$$.You don't havethe $1$$.No one's listening.You shout at air.You shout and shout until nothing's left.Your vocal cords quiver; no one's running through the landscape to bring you cool water.Echoes echo into you. Words (not words you SAID) resound back into you. Your voice falls back into the air like birds unwittingly falling from the sky.No comment.$o? You're not sure that saying such a word aloud makes the air any different.doesn't seem interested.The $2 doesn't seem interested.You can't talk to that.says "I don't know anything aboutThe $1 says "I don't know anything aboutthem!"that!"You can't talk to that."I don't think I need to know aboutthe $2," saysthe $1$$.You can't talk to that.looks at you, seemingly wondering if you have anything specific to talk about.The $1 looks at you, seemingly wondering if you have anything specific to talk about.You can't talk to that.Like attacking a cloud.Violence is not the answer.You don't have that object to attack with.No point attacking anything with that!You need to specify what to shoot at.You need to specify what you want to shootwith.the $o with.You need to specify what you want to shootwith.the $o with.Violence is not the answer.You don't have that.You can't shoot anything with that.Violence is not the answer.You don't have that.You can't shoot anything with that.Well, if you must!You kissthe $1$$.avoids your advances.The $o avoids your advances.You turn on$$.the $o.You can't turn that on.It's already on.You turn offthe $o$$.You can't turn that off.It's already off.You listen tothe $1$$.You hear nothing unusual.You smell nothing unusual.You knock onthe $1$$.You need to specify what you want to knock on.You jump onthe $1$$.You rest for a few seconds and get back up.You jump up and down.You enter the place.What are you doing?You climb.You're having trouble climbing this.You sit down.You can't sit down here.You sit down.You can't sit down here.(You pickup.)$nthe $o up.)$nYou put onthe $o$$.You can't wearthe $o$$.You are already wearingthe $o$$.You can't pickup.the $o up.You take offthe $o$$.You are not wearingthe $o$$.You remove all the items you were wearing.You're not wearing anything you can remove.Interactive fiction can be tricky to get the hang of at first. But essentially, at the computer prompt (the 'greater than' sign), you type in commands that indicate how your character moves through, and interacts with, the landscape provided. Once you get the hang of the syntax, it makes much more sense. For example, MOVE BACK THROUGH GATE is incomprehensible to the parser, while a simple 'north' (abbreviated as N) makes perfect sense. All of the eight major compass directions, as well as up or down, may be utilized.$pSome other 'meta' commands include SAVE, RESTORE (to bring back a saved game), SCORE (to see how you've progressed), and QUIT.$pYou can see what you're holding by typing INVENTORY (or simply I).$pAbove all, be sure to experiment, try new things with the objects and setting. There is no final solution to this game, no condition of 'winning' or 'losing.' You can't die. So go ahead and try silly, intuitive, or ridiculous things! Just like real life (whatever that is), most things have many properties, both physical and metaphysical. Good luck!You are hintless in the hinterlands.This is my first endeavour into interactive fiction; I caught the bug relatively recently, and it wasn't too long until I wanted to try it out on my own. After writing poetry, short fiction, and (as yet unpublished!) novels for awhile now, writing IF is/was one of the most challenging, mind-bending processes I've ever come across, simply because of the nonlinearity of the authorship.$pIn case it's unclear on this point, the story of the Isolato Incident is nearly puzzleless; I wanted to put a structure for landscape and voice (yes, the first person plural) in this game. I hope I've pulled it off for a realtively neophyte effort.$pIf you are interested in any of my other writing, feel free to visit my website at: http://www.taverners-koans.com/ratbastards/alan.html. And drop me a line at: alandeniro@aol.com. Certainly, I'm going to keep going with writing these, and they will hopefully grow more nuanced and vivider in scope and cognition. Consider this a first salvo.$pThe Isolato Incident wouldn't be possible without the help of several people who have encouraged me, beta tested the Isolato Incident, or listened to me while away the hours talking about interactive fiction: Kristin Livdahl, Jim Munroe, Chris Barzak, Barth Anderson, Steven Griffiths, Thomas Nilsson for creating ALAN, and those in the ALAN--and the greater IF--community that I haven't mentioned. If you're interested in ALAN, a superb introductory IF-authoring system, check out http://www.welcome.to/alan-if.Language will flower.You've been briefed.Please write the full 'quit' command to exit from the game. $p(You can't undo a quit instruction. So to avoid accidentally exiting the game by typing 'q' when you meant to do something else, you must write the 'quit' command in full.)Unfortunately, you are not able to undo commands in ALAN. Speaking on behalf of Alan (in all of its/his incarnations), you apologize.Done.Done.$nYou are jade.You are an opal cup.Stories swim around you. Although you are on the verge of capsizing, you aren't sure whether this should be frightening or weirdly cathartic.You are not ahistorical. This is progress. Trust you, you do not bear these burdens lightly.You are a nadir.No comment.You're pretty sure time passes.You wait like a mule.Stillness and quiet is easy for you, in your state.Your neck flushes with ponder.Your soul hunkers down and pauses, and your body follows. Still, for a moment, and then it is not still.No comment.Not again.This is an extrapolation I think of a lot in Minneapolis. I think the roaches living in my heater are diverting the heat. But, I read in Popular Science once that they're developing some kind of hermetic drug for astronauts, for long space journeys to Mars. Some kind of enzyme--as yet not understood, or misunderstood--that allows bears to sleep away the whole winter. Just think of what we could do with that here, in Ultima Thule land!$pOf course, here, it's more of a narrative 'device,' signalling some kind of disorientation. It's all devices. I'm sick of them. Sick of them.$pAnd anyway it would be much cooler to use Interactive Fiction to travel long distances, even between star systems. $pOr, um, you can just type *interstellar*. But this is supposed to be INTERACTIVE, for chrissakes! I'm shooting the silver foot in my mouth, or putting the spoon...oh, nevermind. I'm one verbose motherfucker.More on this later.You can't carry anything more. You have to drop something first.You can't carry anything more. You have to drop something first.inventoryYou are carryingYou are empty-handed.You can't wear anything more. You have to remove something first.You can't wear anything more. You have to remove something first.wornYou are wearingYour burden is too heavy.You are carrying:You are empty-handed.windowIt's for emergencies, holistic as vengeance. But you don't have a window.Above you is an open skylight, about the width of your body.skylightThe sky is colored like salt and pepper. The sun is a cold halo. Small rays fall.There is no reflection from the sky. The sun is a white coin from a long extinguished empire. The light is meager. You think you can see a face, but it is only a frail cloud.No passage.Built into the building's flat roof is a small pyramid, about the size of a pup tent.pyramidSquat and dull, red at the edges, it hurts your eyes to look at it for too long. You have to turn away.$pA pack of more than a dozen mottled hounds, all mutts.dogsTheir eyes don't settle on yours. In fact they barely notice your existence. Otherwise you would likely have been very afraid. They look beyond you, scratching at the ground, ears perked, and then start bounding away from you, around a corner of a tent.There is a black door blocking the north.doorThe door is locked.There is writing of some sort on the door. Or maybe it's animal scratchings, fingernail sized grooves with slight permutations and wobbles. A crook here, a squiggle there. It looks like someone burned these characters into the surface.You wish it made sense.A muffled conversation in a language you don't understand, full of glottal stops. After five seconds, the conversation stops, and doesn't resume.$pThe music makes you itch to cry, but you're not sure why.musicIt's a graceful jumble. There's a melody in there somewhere. The drums, horns, and flutes blend in a way you can't pin down. The rhythm is like a child skipping with one leg tied.A legion of headless obsidian statues are scattered here on the green. Many are frozen in various stages of dance.statuesanamuletanamuletanamuletanamuletanamuletanamuletanamuletanamuletanamuletanamuletanamuletanamuletanamuletanamuletanamuletanamuletanamuletanamuletanamuletNowhere        xx $p$p$pThe small room is a study in musk. Once you're through the opening your feet feels old. $pEverything is made out of gold here: the penumbra ceiling, the walls pressing in on you. The toy cars. There is no window on the floor.$p$p$p$p$p$p :mDog panting sounds from the clean walls. A jackal's slobber.You are in the Red Room, the helot's entrance into the city of Panoptika. You have just cleared customs; the final custom was to blindfold and aetherize you, leaving you here. The hibernation has just left your blood. You want to start looking for your deed. The room is bare, a transit. The open door is north.You pass through the door. There are slithers that pass over your skin, like a cat of nine tails.A shuffling of padded feet. Who might be around the corner.. The 'buildings' arrayed around you are tents and canopies, looking ready to blow away at any gust. The tack and canvas are various shades of alabaster, pearl, basalt. The street is inlaid with rough-hewn white marble. Above you is a small white sun, with a larger cobalt star squatting on the western horizon.$pIn the air, birds dive and rise with little red bugs in their beaks. People wearing black sacks watch. They must know you are a stranger here.$pThe street stretches to the west and east. There is music from the latter, the sound of chopping wood from the former. A tiny alley wending between two large tents--each painted with a golden eye, making that path look like a narrow mouth--juts to the northeast across the street.You gingerly step onto the street, eyeing pedestrians or vehicles.People talk. But the words don't graft to your ears. It's a hushed tide of voices from odd angles, from behind silks and damasks. You expect to hear that laughter at any second, but that doesn't happen here..  This alley is not a brick road but rather a path of loose white quartz. Your footfall is a straight line between two tents, with taut outer walls. There are faint candle glows from the other sides, and faint whiffs of perfumes and balms. Myrrh, you recognize. And preacher's slippers. The large golden eyes painted on the tents seem to stare at you. This paranoia isn't unexpected in Panoptika. (People here, like the flowers and trees, tend to disappear at odd hours of the day.) The alley angles further north, to what seems like a dead end, and southwest back to the street.Like a woman's dress on a line.         . .    ^    The alley ends. A square building looms in front of you, and envelops on both sides. It looks like smoke solidified. You can go back to the south.There is a humming noise coming from that pyramid..   Pallid and nondescript. You wish it wasn't. You wish your deed was about to slide out of one of those tents, and jump into your arms. The street heads east and southwest.You think of the bonecutter's hack and you shudder. You need to evacuate here with your deed.Splints splinter--.     The street widens, the white cobblestones become smoother. The shadows are longer. You can go back to the city's heart to the northeast. To the west is an arboretum. You haven't see a single tree in Panoptika. Everything is so clean here. Your guidebooks have all said that when a dog dies, it's best to eat it right away, as it is good for eyesight. Such are the city's quirks.The beating of wings, like a bird flying sideways.   .                       ./A glade of stone trees. You feel like grace's lake has drained. You can return to the east.$p$pThe axe ran away and married a rather tall woman.Crackling of air..    Motes and silicas kick up on this street, a sentiment that enters your mouth and eyes. To the east there is a patch of green, with sounds of elliptical whispers coming from it. The crime of the scene. The street continues to the west as well.The music is still distant, threading through your ears..      It's not exactly green here. It is more the color of limestone strewn with ashes. Still, your eyes are hungry for color. You hear smoky music, seemingly coming from the earth. A narrower road snakes between tents to the north.It's quiet, ethereal. There's a melody in there somewhere. The drums, horns, and flutes blend in a way you can't pin down. The rhythm is like a child skipping with both legs tied.      .               .      Small permutations and embedded shards make this uneasy going. Tents unfurl on both sides, but a set of wooden stairs juts between some tents to a platform to the northeast. You can also return south to the green. In other directions, the streets tapir and darken even more. You have no inclination for tapiring or darkening. The briny wind whips you like the tail of a giant mouse.There is silence. No music at all, as if someone had turned off the sieve.  .      | |          .    An arcing walkway, passing above a tatterdemalion of tents, which from the ground level seemed a solid wall of tack. The walkway's steeper than you thought. The wooden steps sag under your feet. To the east, the walkway passes over a sudden fen, towards the vortex of a giant eye. The city dissipates in a dank mist.$p$p$p$p$p$p$p$p$p$p$p$p$p$p$p$p$p$p$p$p$p$p$p$p$p$p$p$p$p$p$p$p$p$p$p$pThe eye sickens, the dirge of mosquitoes.HeroYou are Satan.You look weary and seeping. Your skin is pallid with the galavanting.You are Ln Dnr, Model 50a, recently released from the Cybernetic Tarot Factory. Your skin is very shiny. You are bald. You are [put in some other details here, maybe something about how he/it looks Russian, or maybe Baltic]. You enjoy the music of Buffy St. Marie. Not a physical trait, but important nonetheless? Touche!A dauschund in a city of giraffes. Or the other way around.No comment.OgreHis eyes are closed. Skin like a rusted penny. Crooked nose. Shock of long black hair. Wearing nothing. Skin like armor.$p(He is still except for his thick fingers trembling once lived in the same house with,)$pThe ogre opens his eyes and the irises are the darkest caves you've ever seen$pYou hear from the southwest a wrenching and hacking of what must be wood; tough pieces for an axe.$pMercy floats by.You pass through the jumble of statues here. You're desperate for word or sight of your deed. Deeds feel ungraspable here...What you need isn't here. As in hear here.Huh?What's happening?Nothing is 'all'.Don't know 'it'.Don't know 'them.'You can't refer to multiple objects with '$v'.Can't fathom what you want to $v.A noun must be.Have another object after 'but'.You can only use 'but' after 'all'.That doesn't leave much to $v!Which $1 do you mean?No such $1 here.Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry.Can't.Can't $v the $1. Can't.There is nothing here that you can $v.$pHovering quite near is$$, and close at hand.waits and waits and waits for you.Thecontains, and $$.Theis empty.You have scoredpoints out ofYes.;oHe always stuttered too.Enter file name to save inThat file already exists, overwrite (RETURN confirms) ? Sorry, save failed.Sorry, could not open that save file.Sorry, the save file was created by a different version.Sorry, the save file did not contain a save for this adventure.Enter file name to restore fromAre you sure (RETURN confirms) ? Go now, doppleganger, before this story is lost or stolen or eaten.aPersona is your personal stirrup.