The Temple of Abocachu

Following on from the previous abortive attempt at making some kind of dungeon-crawling text game on SEN, I'm creating one of my own.

The Rules:

1. Only one action may be taken per post. The first post after the narrator's post will be used to continue the story unless it is unacceptable for whatever reason.

2. Any action which the narrator deems to be unreasonable will be disregarded or penalised in-game (though not seriously, it is a game after all ).

3. You were on various sports teams at university and had a reputation for triumphing in almost impossible situations. Your agility and reflexes are excellent and this allows you to escape situations that might kill another person. In-game, this is represented by 6 Luck Points. Taking an incorrect action in a dangerous situation may lead to the loss of one or more Luck Points. Once all your Luck Points are depleted and you take an unwise action then it will be Game Over.

4. Your archaeology degree and your experience working with your professor, combined with a certain amount of intuition, allow you to see details in the environment that others would overlook, and see solutions to difficult problems. This is represented in-game by a recharging ability called "Focus". It can be used once every 8 actions and will provide you with information on your situation and how best to proceed.

5. I am the narrator unless I retire or enter into some kind of partnership with another writer on here. However, for the time being I think it would be less confusing to have a single narrator.

Other information:

This game is going to be quite informal. Do not expect me to reply instantly to every action - it takes time to think out the next part of the story and commit it to writing (especially if players take unexpected actions), and of course I have things I need to do outside of SEN and I also live in the UK so there may be timezone issues. I will also adjust the difficulty level based on how well you're all doing - this is one of the benefits of not starting with a fixed map and story.

If people are interested then I will let our as yet-unnamed hero loose on the dusty streets of San Fernando!

Steals a little girl's pink tricycle.

DON"T READ ABOVE
Edit : Makes pink tricycle into scrap metal so can't be caught

Find my luggage bag, BUT ALSO FIND A GUN IN THERE THAT I DIDN'T HAVE IN THE FIRST PLACE OMFG.

Roll a joint, light it, and while smoking take a couple steps forward.

I predict the character will die to due to evil trolls and flame traps.

Just a note: We haven't actually started yet.

tl:dr for the first post: "Would people be interested in playing this game?"

If people seem interested then I will actually start the game.

I think everyone that posted would like to play. I thought we all assumed the game would just be starting.

I will play, and not act like a cock.

Ok, sorry gentlemen. The game will begin tomorrow when I am no longer socialising with mis amigos.

My quotation in the first post was just setting the scene for the game. You know my narration isn't that poor.

Ill play, act like a cock, but one with full intention of winning. :trollface:

Damnit, I'll miss it because I fly back home tomorrow. D:

Will, I won't take this seriously unless someone gets eaten by a grue in act one.

If you do it in comic form, I will love you.

http://forums.explosm.net/showthread.php?t=5296

Ok, let's get this started.
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You touch down at San Fernando International at 1pm, local time. The airport is a ramshackle affair, with a single runway in a poor state of repair; in fact you had to change planes in a neighbouring country to a creaking propeller-driven aircraft because the airport doesn't cater for jets. The first thing that strikes you as you exit the cabin and descend the metal steps is the heat. The air ripples and boils over every surface; the handrail burns your hand. An early afternoon sun beats down from high in the sky and not even a gentle breeze stirs as you enter the terminal.

You wait at the baggage reclaim for half an hour. The small number of passengers from your flight collect their luggage and leave. Worrying that your suitcase has been lost, you ask the one remaining passenger if he is also waiting for his luggage. You find that his name is Steve and he comes from California, and he is indeed waiting for his baggage. Luckily for you, Steve speaks Spanish; unluckily for you, he learns from a member of staff that your luggage has somehow ended up in Colombia. Well, you're probably not getting that back.

Realising that you're in Ebianova with only the clothes you're wearing and your hand luggage, you resolve to get yourself out of your present predicament. However, you're not quite sure how to go about doing it. The airport is almost deserted and you can't see anyone who looks like a representative of your volunteer group. Finding the airport reception desk empty, you decide to look around outside. The heat is becoming oppressive now - a fan on the ceiling blows waves of stiflingly warm air down into the reception area, and outside there seems to be little shelter from the sun.

You exit the airport through a broken pair of automatic doors to find yourself in a kind of plaza. Shanties with corrugated iron roofs stretch out for what looks like miles - a mass of chaotic humanity punctuated by the occasional church or other building which doesn't look like it's held together with string. It is difficult to distinguish where the road ends and the pavement begins, but a number of old American cars in varying states of decay are arranged in rough lines along the edges of the plaza. A brownish-orange dust coats the ground beneath your feet. To the South a single road leads towards what you presume to be the centre of town, as you can see a cluster of large buildings off in that direction through the heat haze. To the West you can see the beginnings of a narrow alleyway - the buildings there seem to provide some shelter from the sun and you catch sight of a number of figures sitting against the uneven walls in a state of enervation. Steve, wearing a Panama hat, a rather loud orange shirt and cream linen trousers, stands a few metres away from you, smoking a cigarette. A solitary yellow taxi is parked across three bays at a taxi rank just to your East; the driver appears to be reading a newspaper.

Luck: 6
Focus: 1/8
Inventory: Sunglasses; Letter; Camera; $200

Walk east, talk to a taxi driver.

You walk towards the taxi and attempt to hail the driver. He lowers his newspaper and looks at you with a surly expression for a moment, then ignores you and goes on reading. Either customer service is not high on this man's list of priorities, or he doesn't speak English.

Focus: 2/8

Wave money at him to get his attention and see if he recognizes the word embassy?

You open your wallet and wave a wad of $20 notes around outside the taxi. A flicker of interest registers in the cabbie's eyes and his moustachioed face turns to look at you. He says something and you don't understand a word, but from the rising intonation of his voice you gather that he has asked you a question. He leans across and throws open the passenger door, gesturing that you should take a seat beside him. You try asking him, in the time-honoured slow and loud manner beloved by English speakers, if he can take you to the American embassy. However he simply shrugs his shoulders and again indicates that you should get into the cab.