<%= story.passage("init").render() %>
<span style="color:#FFFFFF;">Choose your colors (above). </span>
[[BEGIN]]</br>
[[ABOUT]]
<%
$(function()
{
this.one('click', 'a', function()
{
switch ($(this).text())
{
case 'BEGIN':
s.background = "#" + $('#bginput').val();
s.foreground = "#" + $('#fginput').val();
s.obackground = s.background;
s.oforeground = s.foreground;
break;
};
});
});
%><% s.background = "#ffffff" %>
<% s.foreground = "#ffffff" %><%
$('.color-selectors').remove();
$('.main-title').html('CHROMATICITY');
%>
You are a HUE-GO android. You are about to hear the voice, and so will the others. The City awaits.
<%
$(document.body).css("background-color", s.background);
$(document.body).css("color", s.foreground)
s.closestColor = chromaUtils.chromaClosest(s.background);
%>
<%
if (s.closestColor == '#FE2712') { %>[[BEGIN YOUR PILGRIMAGE.->rStart]]<% }
else
if (s.closestColor == '#0247FE') { %>[[BEGIN YOUR PILGRIMAGE.->bStart]]<% }
else
if (s.closestColor == '#FEFE33') { %>[[BEGIN YOUR PILGRIMAGE.->yStart]]<% }
%>
<%
s.background = '#000000';
s.foreground = '#ffffff';
$(document.body).css("background-color", s.background);
$(document.body).css("color", s.foreground);
%>
The sky is dark, but as you emerge from the dense web of the city and into what could only be the Nexus, all that you see are the lights. You made it. You are confronted with an undescribable feeling of belonging, and it's not because of the other HUE-GO models that seem to be emerging from the parallel streets. You simply feel home.
Nested in a parking lot dotted with perfectly manicured trees is a building that looks to you like a cathederal. It has a tall steepled front, with lights in blue, and green, and red, and <span class="spaceytext" style="color:<%= s.obackground %>;">s0MeWheR3 y0U'vE B3EN</span>, and <span class="spaceytext" style="color:<%= s.oforeground %>;">s0meTh1Ng YOu fe3L</span>.
There's a HUE-GO that seemed to have only arrived moments before you that is bounding, full-speed, towards a gaping side door of the Nexus. From here, all you can see is the shape of it: arching and industrial. There is a glow coming from inside, and it's the very same glow that seeps from your casing when it cracks.
You follow your cousin, and after the concrete echoes of your steps change to the crunch of gravel then back to the familiar tap of pseudometal on stone, you find yourself near. You're filled with an escalating vibration, but you can't remember if that feeling is excitement or fear.
Now, details start to materialze from the scene inside the door. It's all machines: a series of hooks and gears and scraps of pseudometal now indistinguishable from their chrome-coated bins. The other HUE-GO is right in front of you, and as you look ahead, you see that there are many others in front of it. Within a few gossamer moments, more HUE-GO arrive and posture themselves behind you. It looks like a perfectly optomized queue.
Slowly, the queue moves forward. Your inner vibrations spread from inside your core to your limbs and suddenly you no longer feel in control of any of your actions. The android in front of you is siezed by a pair of humans and moved into a larger, more purposeful machine and, watching in awe, you don't feel anything.
You're next.
You're ready.
You are arguing with a human about the ending of a terrible new big-budget musical production when you hear the voice. You don't hear it as words. It's a feeling, and at first it's not enough to pull you away from the debate. But as soon as the human raises their hands above their head in frustration and leaves to complain to some other-colored HUE-GO about the "merits" of flashbacks as a literary device, you start to feel it deeply, so much so that it <span class="spaceytext">hurts</span>.
The red light emitting from the market stalls overcomes all of the other city lights, and it suddenly makes you feel on high alert. It's like something deep inside your wiring has changed, and that everything blood-colored and whirring that keeps you going is pulling you towards somewhere deep inside the City.
[[Investigate what's happening.->gf1]]</br>
[[Get help.->pf1]]
You are walking a human's dog to repay a favor when you hear the voice. You don't hear it as words. It's a feeling, and at first it's not enough to pull you away from your task. But as soon as you return the dog to the human's appartment, he thanks you, and you make your way down the long flight of stairs passed identical appartments, you start to feel it deeply, so much so that it <span class="spaceytext">hurts</span>.
Just outside the complex, you pass a planter full of yellow flowers, a variety that can grow indefinitely without any human assistance. As soon as you pass them, you feel afraid, as if around the corner of the next building is an unknowable enemy. It's like something deep inside your wiring has changed, and that everything sun-colored and whirring that keeps you going is pulling you towards somewhere deep inside the City.
[[Try to tough it out.->of3]]</br>
[[See where the night takes you.->bf3]]You are chatting with an attractive human in a radiant blue skirt at Bar Bitboy when you hear the voice. You don't hear it as words. It's a feeling, and at first it's not enough to pull you away from them. But as soon as the human places their hand on the bar and closes their tab to move on to flirt with some other-colored HUE-GO, you start to feel it deeply, so much so that it <span class="spaceytext">hurts</span>.
Mustering the strength to turn and acknowledge the brightly bluetoned HUE bartender, you are shocked to see that they, too, seem affected by something beyond their understanding. It's like something deep inside your wiring has changed, and that everything sapphire-colored and whirring that keeps you going is pulling you towards somewhere deep inside the City.
[[Examine the bartender's state.->gf2]]</br>
[[Make a scene.->rf2]]<%
var lastPassageName = story.passage(story.history[story.history.length-2]).name;
if (lastPassageName == 'gf1' || lastPassageName == 'pf1'){
s.background = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.background, '#FB9902');
} else {
s.background = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.background, '#FE2712');
}
s.background = chromaUtils.chromaDarken(s.background);
$(document.body).css("background-color", s.background)
%>
Your impulses usually don't fail you, and your own adamant curiosity drives you forward towards the pull. The compulsion to move makes it impossible to even turn around and look back at the markets. Your path takes you deeper into the City, and you are urged towards an unadvisable part of town. The building get smaller, and the alleys get deeper. You start to be able to discern your footsteps from those around you, but the quiet isn't peaceful.
The dense markets give way to warehouses, what seems like miles of them. One of them near you has a wide-open garage-style door, the red-and-orange grafitti on the wall next to it interrupted. You aren't sure if the pull you feel is coming from inside or beyond it. The need to follow it, to see what it has to show you, becomes more urgent.
[[Search the warehouse.->rf1]]</br>
[[Sneak past and continue on your way.->yf1]]
<%
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.foreground, '#38b031');
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaLighten(s.foreground);
$(document.body).css("color", s.foreground)
%>
Confused, you step away from the growing crowd and the glow to look around and make sense of what is happening to you. An ad is playing on a megascreen up above. "HUE-GO-2: the future of HUE, the future of you!" To the left, you see a crowd of humans and not one of them seems to notice anything unusual around them. To the right, it's the same; no one seems to notice or care, with the exception of about half of the HUE-GOs scattered throughout the crowds that all seem to be looking around, confused just like you.
A motorcycle speeds past you, taking no heed of the humans or the HUEs and speeding down the market alley, headed somewhere important, or perhaps not at all. The glow from the inset lights cleaves a trail of yellow noise, and the direction that it's going seems to be not only difficult, but wrong.
Someone brushes past you, a metallic arm colliding with yours with manic purpose. You turn the other way. You need to leave. Just making the decision, you feel warm.
[[Face your fears.->ro1]]
<%
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.foreground, '#8601AF');
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaLighten(s.foreground);
$(document.body).css("color", s.foreground)
%>
You decide that you should turn to others, to find out if you are alone. You are almost certainly not: there are many HUE-GOs in the market. They aren't here to buy augments, drugs, or nutrient strips. They are here for the people, and the passion. Some are selling, but most are mingling.
You approach a decidedly pinktoned HUE and enthusiastically wave. They are sitting on a box that seems to have fallen from a nearby scrap pile. For a moment you think you see a familiar version of your own face from among the wires, but you don't dwell on it. It seems that their head was rotated directly towards the pull, and their melancholy posture seems unusual for a pinktone.
"Hello," they say.
"Hello," you say, too.
There is a long silence, as there tends to be in conversations among HUE-GOs.
"Do you feel it, too?" the pinktone asks, flatly.
"Yes."
"I feel... <span class="spaceytext">scared</span>." They incrementally curl their leg into a position that would be impossible, or at least uncomfortable, for a human.
"Why?"
"I... don't... know."
You back away, not wanting to cause undue stress. Just from your short conversation, you can see the lights leaking through the pinktone's joints deepen towards red. You had long ago learned not to look at your own tone.
[[Steel yourself to follow the pull.->ro1]]
<%
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.foreground, '#FE2712');
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaLighten(s.foreground);
$(document.body).css("color", s.foreground)
%>
If there is even a chance that the pull is coming from the warehouse, you have to find it, and feel it closer. So, you fearlessly move towards the warehouse, which seems less welcoming the closer you get. You walk straight towards the open door, navigating around barrels and discarded 21st-Century appliances, which briefly baffle you with their simplicity.
You peer inside, and are immediately confronted with a group of humans huddled together around a self-propelled transport that they seem to be unloading some tightly bundled parcels from. The unpreventable glow from your inner circuits draw all of their attentions at once.
"Hey, glowboy, get the hell OUT," one of them says, the others nodding in silent agreement but preparing to force you away if need be.
"OF HERE!" The mouthpiece's addendum causes the other humans to grunt and nod even more aggressively. If they didn't trust the silence in your programming, you're certain that they would tear you apart. It's lucky that they don't move to do so anyway. You assume that is has to do with your color.
"It seems I didn't want to be here, anyway," you glower back, but they don't care. They take your resignation as a sign to continue their business. You take their dismissal as a sign to move on. The pull is elsewhere.
[[Let your instincts keep guiding you.->r2]]
<%
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.foreground, '#FEFE33');
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaLighten(s.foreground);
$(document.body).css("color", s.foreground)
%>
As much as your curiosity demands you go to the warehouse, your caution tells you that it isn't safe. So, you take a less forward approach to moving through the warehouses, taking the long route through narrow paths formed by parked vehicles and miscellaneous garbage that was thrown right into the streets. There is grafitti on every available surface, staining the walls in red and orange. Even without the familiar lights of the market, nowhere in the City is left gray for long.
Your path among the warehouses is uneventful. Occasionally you hear chatter or other noise in the distance, but mostly, you just hear the call.
[[Let your instincts keep guiding you.->r2]]
<%
s.background = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.background, '#FE2712');
s.background = chromaUtils.chromaDarken(s.background);
$(document.body).css("background-color", s.background)
%>
You are guided towards what feels like the market district, but not the part of it that you are used to. As you near, the flashing lights and neon and screens increase in frequency and intentisty, until every wall and barrier and door and charging station begins to serve as an advertisement for what's inside or otherwise nearby. There aren't stalls, but shops, brimming with new electronics and augments and clothing. Attractive humans vie for your attention, waving and smiling and bearing their products. One of them - a tall, tawny individual - has an arm around a redtoned HUE-GO. The HUE couldn't seem any less interested and is straining to escape and - presumably - continue on a journey not dissimilar from your own. You quicken your pace so as not to be roped into a sales pitch for shock enhancers or faceplate maintenence.
The lights are blinding, and it makes your heartlike engine rev. You feel closer, as if what you are looking for is just out of your reach. It's hard not to listen deeply to the voice, but it's not something that you understand.
Your inwardness causes you to slow down just enough to catch the eye of a salesperson.
"You there, Huey," they say, sliding coyly in front of your path. It's another tall, tawny individual who looks like they could be a sibling of the one that caught your eye earlier. Either that, or they went to the same mod-clinic to ask what was in style. They look you up and down, then raise an eyebrow in your direction. "Your lights seem a bit... dull. How about a dusting?"
[[Take them up on their offer.->bf1]]</br>
[[Push past them.->of1]]
<%
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.foreground, '#FB9902');
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaLighten(s.foreground);
$(document.body).css("color", s.foreground)
%>
You stare him down, irritated. You can't escape the drive to complete your journey - where ever it takes you. You can't stop, and the machinist's forcefulness and thinly-veiled insult are enough to lower your tolerance to a minimum. Extending a rigid arm, you swipe the human out of the way with some effort and stride past them.
They emit a humorously outraged snort. You're certain they know that HUE-GOs aren't programmed with strict humans-first decisionmaking like robots from the old films, but your lack of hesitation would have caused anyone a small moment of shock.
Yelling something intelligible, the machinist tries to follow you as you continue through the neon district. However, you move with a stronger purpose, and you're certain that you lose him, even though you don't turn around to check.
You're not sure where to go next, but you don't want to be heckled any more.
[[Seek safety in numbers.->pr2]]<%
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.foreground, '#0247FE');
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaLighten(s.foreground);
$(document.body).css("color", s.foreground)
%>
It's been a while since your last tune-up, so you decide to try and resist the call for long enough to make sure that you are in the best shape. You don't know what to expect moving forward, so it might not hurt to increase performance in any way possible. Besides, there is something in the machinist's eye that makes you trust them.
You step off of the strip, following your newfound guide into a small entryway to a tiny, cluttered psuedometal maintenence studio. They gesture at a familiar-shaped docking chair, and you sit. Recognizing the architecture, the plating on your back opens to allow the entrance of a small, flat connector. As it joins with you, you shiver happily. There's nothing like the feeling of a fresh charge.
The machinist grips the back of the docking chair with one hand and taps away at the analog screen attached to the back. You had always preferred those over the newer models. They always felt gentler, and something about the vibrations from the machinist's tapping made you feel more invigorated. Most other HUE-GO that you've met seem to disagree on this.
Suddenly, they stop. "Alright, Huey," they say, "it looks like I can't do much for you today."
You would have turned and looked at them if the chair allowed. "Why exactly not?"
"According to your registration, I can't. That's all I can say. Sorry, bud," they sincerely admit, disabling the connector and releasing you from the chair.
You stand up to protest, but as your plating comes back together over your pseudometal skeleton, you start to feel it again, that <span class="spaceytext">pull</span>, and you head towards the door without saying a word.
You're unsure where to go next, other than where the pull takes you. You just want to get away from here.
[[Seek safety in numbers.->pr2]]<%
var lastPassageName = story.passage(story.history[story.history.length-2]).name;
if (lastPassageName == 'of1' || lastPassageName == 'bf1'){
s.background = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.background, '#8601AF');
} else {
s.background = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.background, '#FE2712');
}
s.background = chromaUtils.chromaDarken(s.background);
$(document.body).css("background-color", s.background)
%>
Your wandering takes you to the edge of the market district, where the number of humans dwindles and the night belongs to robots like you. HUE-GOs are the most prevalent models here and otherwise, but you start to see more specialized worker-bots and other pseudometal beings with varying levels of sentience and purpose. In the City, it seems to you that sentience and purpose exist on a spectrum. At least it did until you heard the voice.
You aren't particularly interested in the many human and hybrid mod-shops, or even the robot-centric supply depots. The pull drives you foreward stronger than ever. As you move through the buzzing and screeching crowd, you begin to notice a distinct current. Many of the robots in your vacinity seem to be moving in the same direction: towards the pull. You feel comfotable among them.
There is a growing murmur, and you begin to notice some of the same sounds. A HUE-GO, scratched and dimly bluetoned, is walking next to you and maintaining the same speed. "Do you hear the call of the Nexus, too," they ask. Before you even respond, his blue fades to something closer to burgundy. Being in this space at all is causing a change.
"Yes," you say.
[[Follow them to the Nexus.->NEXUS]]<div class="main-title" style="color:#FFFFFF;">CHROMATICITY</div>
<div style="color:#FFFFFF;text-align:center;"><h2>A GAME BY</h2>
Olivia Dunlap</br>
</br>
Created for Global Game jam 2018</br>
Theme: TRANSMISSION</br>
Diversifiers: Unbranching?, Let me see
<h2>SPECIAL THANKS</h2>
Tanner Marshall</br>
Robbie Hunt</br>
Joe Williams</br>
Everyone at #CRUXGGJ 2018</br>
And espeically Brad
<h2>TOOLS</h2>
Twine Snowman 1.3.0</br>
chroma.js</br>
jscolor.js
</div>
[[MAIN->choose]]<%
var lastPassageName = story.passage(story.history[story.history.length-2]).name;
if (lastPassageName == 'pf2' || lastPassageName == 'yf2'){
s.background = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.background, '#38b031');
} else {
s.background = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.background, '#0247FE');
}
s.background = chromaUtils.chromaDarken(s.background);
$(document.body).css("background-color", s.background)
%>
You progress towards the sound that you heard, and end up at a large, perfectly-manicured plaza designed to replicate nature, but it functions as such in description only. From a distance, the trees look just like the ones you've seen in pictures that supposedly exist far beyond the City. But up close, the wires poke through.
The uproar itself is coming from a mass of humans crowding around one of the storefronts. You wouldn't feel the need to give them any mind, except for a few works that you keep hearing from among them. "... pseudometal...," "... Nex-" "... <span class="spaceytext">old models</span>..."
You're desparate to hear more, but the crowd is too dense for you to get any closer, and just as you start to try and push through you feel that now-familiar compulsion to go somewhere else. That pull now makes you feel lethargic, single-minded, and - curiously - blissful. Instead of making your way through the frenzied humans, you go around and passed them. At the end of the brightly-lit street, you can see a building that calls you with the gentle firmness of a human parent.
[[Continue down the street.->NEXUS]]<%
var lastPassageName = story.passage(story.history[story.history.length-2]).name;
if (lastPassageName == 'gf2' || lastPassageName == 'rf2'){
s.background = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.background, '#8601AF');
} else {
s.background = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.background, '#0247FE');
}
s.background = chromaUtils.chromaDarken(s.background);
$(document.body).css("background-color", s.background)
%>
Exiting in a hurry, you don't hesitate on the curb like you usually do and instead take a walk. Leaving the place in the neon haze behind you, you move through the City without much direction. You don't stop, but turn as the pull drives you to. As aimless as it seems, every step you take feels like it's in the right direction, satisfying an urge that you didn't know you had.
You start to pass a variety of nightlife spots, some of which you've haunted before. Eventually you end up in a different part of town. The streets are crowded with robots, which is a much more comforting experience for you than being among as many humans. Bumping into soft shoulders is more threatening than scraping or dinging other pieces of pseudometal plating.
The pull is still there, and you wonder if there is somewhere you should turn. There are many groups of robots occupying every space, and most of them seem content. Not all of them do.
[[Engage with a sophisticated, diverse group.->bf2]]</br>
[[Speak to a pair of arguing HUE-GOs.->of2]]<%
s.background = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.background, '#0247FE');
s.background = chromaUtils.chromaDarken(s.background);
$(document.body).css("background-color", s.background)
%>
You try to follow, but it only takes a few moments before you lose them. And yet, you don't feel lost. Your compulsion to traverse the depths of the city remains, and you follow it past dozens of "open" signs and neon advertisements for varieties of alcohol that you have no way of enjoying. The bars and hangouts seem nicer, somehow, than those from further out in the city. There are artificial plants hanging in windows, and the humans that stumble passed you seem to all have fresh, fashionable augments and mods.
One bar, though, seems different from the others. Instead of blues and grays, the walls are white. Inside, only one table seems occupied, and it's filled with humans in white coats.
[[Go inside.->pf2]]</br>
[[Stay away.->yf2]]<%
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.foreground, '#38b031');
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaLighten(s.foreground);
$(document.body).css("color", s.foreground)
%>
You look more closely at the bartender. You feel an urgent desire to leave, but in your need to understand what is happening, it seems like a good idea to understand how another HUE-GO might be feeling. They are continuing to do their job, but their movements are much more rigid than usual and you can hear their air filtration system working double to make up for it.
You try to get their attention. "How do you feel," you ask, to the point.
"I feel..." they humm, placing the glass they were holding down on the bar and ignoring the augmented human patron trying to wave them over from a few seats down.
"... like there is somewhere else I should be."
[[Get some fresh air->bp1]]
<%
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.foreground, '#FE2712');
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaLighten(s.foreground);
$(document.body).css("color", s.foreground)
%>
You can't remember the last time that you felt something this new. The compulsion to stand, knock over the barstool, and race out of the bar envelops you. Instead, you gather yourself as best as you can and try to make the feeling go away. Drawing in as much air as your ventilation system can hold, you lean forward and thrust your head onto the bar, wrapping a pseudometal arm around your head.
You sit there, unmoving, for what feels like an eternity. The feeling persists, and it starts to resemble a burning sensation in your joints and heartlike engine.
"Aaaarrhhh..." you catch yourself projecting throughout the bar, which goes silent.
The bartender approaches you, rigid and hesitatant.
"If you are going to act like that, you should leave," they murmur as well as a HUE-GO can.
"I don't think I have a choice," you respond, more in regards to your own compultion than to what the bartender had to say.
[[Get some fresh air->bp1]]<%
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.foreground, '#0247FE');
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaLighten(s.foreground);
$(document.body).css("color", s.foreground)
%>
A group of five or so robots is the first to catch your eye. Among them is a purpletoned HUE-GO and what appears to be a custom-commissioned butler or waiter robot, judging by his design and demeanor. They are standing underneath an awning attached to an outdoor bar that doesn't seem like the kind of bar such a handsome robot would patronize. You approach, and are quickly welcomed into the group.
"Hello," drones a short, lopsided robot, "how are you today?"
You turn to them. "I feel... strange," you admit, letting your head fall to examine your feet.
"Hello," drones the robot again, "how are you today?"
"Ignore them. No one knows what to do with them, so we let them stay here," the dapper robot explains.
The HUE-GO faces you, but says nothing for a moment. Then, they turn back to the group. "I have to go," they say. They disappear before any of you feel motivated to respond.
There is silence.
"I have to go, too."
[[Try to follow the robot.->b2]]<%
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.foreground, '#FB9902');
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaLighten(s.foreground);
$(document.body).css("color", s.foreground)
%>
Your attention goes to a pair of HUE-GOs, both various shades of orange, that are aggressively pointing fingers at each other and yelling as loudly as their programming will allow. You are intrigued, and get closer. It's unusual to see robots fighting so outwardly, and you feel like it might be related to the pull in your chest. It's also strange to see two HUEs like this on this side of town.
"... did you DO to ME," accuses one of them, the redder of the two. "Who else would do this? You are still angry from last week."
The other HUE is on the yellow side. "I did not. It is you! Why would you think I am angry?"
"There is no other answer. Why do I feel this?"
"Stop yelling at me. I feel it, too. I feel it."
"Where does it go? Where <span class="spaceytext">DOES IT</span>?"
"A hack. Some Nexus."
"Some Nexus? Is your language dict module malfunctioning?"
The yellowtoned HUE-GO pauses. "No."
Neither one says another word. Both of their colors darken, and the yellow one starts to walk away. You wonder if the red will follow. Seeing them move makes your pull strengthen, and you feel like you should move, too.
[[Try to follow the robot.->b2]]<%
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.foreground, '#FEFE33');
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaLighten(s.foreground);
$(document.body).css("color", s.foreground)
%>
The air of officiality around the bar causes you to hesitate and, shortly, decide against going inside. The last thing that you want to do at this point is cause trouble or be held accountable for a dramatic interruption of some sort. So you move on without putting much more thought into it.
The pull continues to guide you forward, and before long you see less bars and more restaurants, most of which don't seem to supply any charging stations. Your journey thus far has been a long and stressful one, and in your weariness you begin to regret missing your chance to stop and recover. You doubt any break would truly be restful, but the thought of a pause for a charge is pleasant.
As you wander, you hear a growing commotion coming from a few blocks away, approaching what seems to be the business district. It might be related to the pull, but it also might just be another distraction keeping you from reaching the source.
[[Try to investigate.->gb2]]<%
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.foreground, '#8601AF');
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaLighten(s.foreground);
$(document.body).css("color", s.foreground)
%>
Despite your best judgement and the urgency of your newfound goal, you decide to try and go inside the bar. The stress of the pull is intense and warm and you suddenly want to find somewhere peaceful to collect yourself for the rest of your journey and what ever else it entails.
You step inside, carefully avoid the occupied table, and take a seat at the bar. It's quiet, which is comforting at first. However, it slowly becomes uncanny when you realize that there is no sound at all: no music from behind the bar, no clinking of glasses, and no talking from the humans at the table.
Unnerved by the silence as well as the persistent and demanding compulsion to keep following the pull, you look around. At first you are primarily concerned with the lack of a bartender, but it deepens when you notice that every person at the table is staring at you.
One of them eventually speaks. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"
Your first response is fear, but you don't know why. Regardless, you heed it and leave the bar as fast as your feet can take you. When you leave, you can't seem to stop thinking about those humans. However, your thinking and feeling both seem to be invested in the need to get to the center of the City.
You keep moving, and though you should be weary by now, you can't shake the feeling of being close to your goal. In the distance, you hear a commotion. There's a chance that it could lead you to the source of the pull, but maybe you need a proper rest.
[[Try to investigate.->gb2]]<%
var lastPassageName = story.passage(story.history[story.history.length-2]).name;
if (lastPassageName == 'bf3' || lastPassageName == 'of3'){
s.background = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.background, '#38b031');
} else {
s.background = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.background, '#FEFE33');
}
s.background = chromaUtils.chromaDarken(s.background);
$(document.body).css("background-color", s.background)
%>
With a sigh, you keep following your newfound impulse, unsure of how far it will take you. Now, though, the feeling has deepened to the point of no return. Your journey will not end until you reach the source.
This part of town seems to be a transitionary space: the void between home and work. The buildings here still reach the clouds - like everywhere in the City - but curiously nothing here feels like it would be anyones' final destination.
Regardless, the streets are still scattered with HUE-GOs and humans, as well as miscellaneous other task bots. You are unsure of your surroundings, and have a hard time pinpointing what direction would be best to get to where you believe you need to go. It's uncomfortable. You need to keep moving, and you start to feel lost.
[[Ask for help.->pf3]]</br>
[[Keep going your own way.->yf3]]<%
s.background = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.background, '#FEFE33');
s.background = chromaUtils.chromaDarken(s.background);
$(document.body).css("background-color", s.background)
%>
Backtracking, when every plate and connector in your body tells you to go the other way, is torturous. It feels like paddling upstream a livewire current. However, you manage to find your way to the edge of the district, where you discover a safe path around and deeper into the city.
You find yourself in a housing district, and it's one of the nicest ones in the City. Each home is high above the ground, with the lower floors reserved for individually catered services. This is certainly a district reserved for the wealthiest of humans. You don't see any HUE-GOs occupying any of the normally filled street spaces, just service bots. There are a few HUE-GOs, but they don't seem to belong here. They are just moving straight through.
Outside of one of the high-tech houses is someone who you presume to be a resident. They are wearing a jet black suit and are staring sternly at the passersby-HUEs. You don't like the way they are looking at them, but you are drawn in the same direction as the other HUE-GOs.
[[Confront the resident.->rf3]]</br>
[[Figure out what all the HUEs are doing.->gf3]]<%
var lastPassageName = story.passage(story.history[story.history.length-2]).name;
if (lastPassageName == 'rf3' || lastPassageName == 'gf3'){
s.background = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.background, '#FB9902');
} else {
s.background = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.background, '#FEFE33');
}
s.background = chromaUtils.chromaDarken(s.background);
$(document.body).css("background-color", s.background)
%>
You can see where all of the other HUE-GOs are going, but for some reason you find yourself trying to remember where you came from. The thing that scares you is that you can't. The only way you can go is forward, and the pull is there to help you along the way. You follow it.
You enter a strange district that you immediately recognize as the kind of place where the upper-class and the lower-class meet to engage in all varieties of illegal or otherwise heinous activities. There are tall, clean skyscrapers that are mostly made of glass and pseudometal - a sight that causes you to hesitate from a primal fear that you are certain you should have. The space between the buildings, however, is where most people don't want to be. You march past, keeping at least one other HUE-GO in your line of sight. Right now, it's a redtoned one that seems to have somehow turned a darker shade closer to a burnt orange.
A pair of humans appear, walking in the opposite direction. They look at the HUE ahead of you and jeer. You fear for the worst. The jeering stops, but just as soon as the humans seem to have been moving on towards you, one of them leans over to grip a long strip of scrap metal in both of their hands. Rushing towards your fellow HUE-GO, the human shatters it over the android's head. The other one starts to protest, but the aggressor shouts, "what does it matter?" and you don't know what that means.
You run.
[[Trust the pull.->NEXUS]]<%
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.foreground, '#FB9902');
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaLighten(s.foreground);
$(document.body).css("color", s.foreground)
%>
The feeling is strange, but it's just a feeling, and you are certain in will pass. You flex your left arm - which you think might have a tight connector from the strained escape efforts of the dog - and continue on your walk through the neighborhood.
The route is a familiar one to you. Every day, you take this path because you know it's safe and lined with friendly faces, both HUE-GO and human. Something is different tonight. Every few steps you take ends in a shiver, and it seems to be related to the strange urge you started to feel earlier.
You keep walking, and it doesn't go away. In fact, it gets stronger the more you try to resist it. Soon, you find yourself making a detour from your normal route. It seems there is somewhere else that you need to go. Curious, you consider seeing where the pull will take you.
[[Let yourself go to find out what happens.->yg1]]<%
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.foreground, '#0247FE');
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaLighten(s.foreground);
$(document.body).css("color", s.foreground)
%>
There is something blissful in the unexpected feeling of purpose that seems to have found you from the ether. You have no immediate tasks to complete, so you are welcome a compulsion, even a strange, unknowable one. It's something between a vibration and the tug of a string, guiding you towards somewhere you belong. So, you let it.
You embark through the familiar neighborhood, walking past artificial lawns, glowing windows, and autocar stops. In less time than expected, you reach the edge, marked by one, final appartment that is more compact and older than the rest, with a single yellow-light motorcycle parked on the curb in front.
You aren't sure if where it's taking you is where you want to go.
[[Let yourself go to find out what happens.->yg1]]<%
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.foreground, '#8601AF');
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaLighten(s.foreground);
$(document.body).css("color", s.foreground)
%>
Surely someone in this strange flyover district can help guide you. It's better than wandering as aimless as a ghost. You are surrounded by options, but, wanting familiarity, you seek the nearest HUE-GO: a greentoned individual navigating through the streets like an eel. You catch up to them. They don't notice you immediately, so you have to say, "Hello," the same way humans do when wanting a specific form of attention from strangers.
Startled, the HUE-GO stops and looks right into you. "Hello," they say.
"How do I get deeper into the City," you ask, gesturing first in a random direction, and then at the direction that you feel the pull, obsured by a just-too-tall barricade.
"I do not know," the greentoned HUE responds, looking around him just as you must have been earlier.
"I need to find it. Can you help me?" Earnestly, you extend a palm.
"No," they say, "I have to find the Nexus on my own. It must be solved." They leave, and you feel just as lost as before.
[[Backtrack to find a safe way through.->y2]]<%
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.foreground, '#FEFE33');
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaLighten(s.foreground);
$(document.body).css("color", s.foreground)
%>
You get the ominous impression that you aren't supposed to be here. There is no reason for it, but it makes it hard to feel comfortable enough to ask questions. So, you start to walk in the vague direction of the pull.
Some of the asphault below is cracked, and the deep shadows make them hard to see. You struggle not to trip. No one else seems to notice the imperfections. As you walk under vast neon signs for products you no longer care about, you stop noticing them, too.
You get nowhere. This district is full of dead ends. The pull to continue burns.
[[Backtrack to find a safe way through.->y2]]<%
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.foreground, '#FE2712');
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaLighten(s.foreground);
$(document.body).css("color", s.foreground)
%>
You veer off of the street proper to approach the resident of the nearby home. They seem to be trying their best to look intimidating, but you don't quite buy it.
You square up to him and state, "hello."
"Get out of here," they sneer, as viciously as they can manage.
"Why," you ask.
"I moved here to get away from you horde of creepy, no good <span class="spaceytext">Hueys</span>." They clench their fist and lock their knees. "I don't care where you are going, I don't want you to come through here."
"Do you know where we are going?"
The sneer falls gently from their face, and they relax. Then, they chuckle. "Yup," they say, right before retreating back into the bio-encoded doorway.
You stand in front of it for a moment and slump your shoulders. You've definitely been around worse humans. But now your curiousity burns brighter.
Shivering, you resume your journey. Something inside you has dimmed, and you think that means you're close.
[[Find the strength to continue.->oy2]]<%
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaMix(s.foreground, '#38b031');
s.foreground = chromaUtils.chromaLighten(s.foreground);
$(document.body).css("color", s.foreground)
%>
You ignore the human. It's something that you've learned to do, especially when they have <span class="spaceytext">that look</span> on their face. Instead, you follow the HUE-GOs more closely. You don't talk to any of them. Like you, they are on a mission. Your hope, though, is that if you stay close, you might learn something: some sort of pattern, or sign, or omen of what is to come.
The first HUE that you get close to notices you immediately. They are a faded yellow, and give you a sideways look without speaking. This continues for a while. However, the other HUE grows increasingly anxious.
Eventually, they turn to you and say, "Can you please stop following me. I really have to get somewhere, and you are distracting me."
You stop dead in your tracks, embarassed, but understanding. The HUE continues, quicking their pace, until they disappear down a narrow alley lit with paper lanterns and outdated LED strips.
[[Find the strength to continue.->oy2]]