bp46

BOATPIG Page 46

You burst into the largest tent and discover, to your shock, that Pope Urban is not leading the expedition but has instead entrusted it to his loyal henchman - The Man from Del Monte. The Man is, understandably, not impressed at this interruption and immediately engages you in combat.

While the fight starts well for you, by dislodging his Panama you severely weaken The Man, things take a turn for the worse when The Man manages to extinguish the lights. Thanks to his decades of heavy fruit juice intake he has developed quite outstanding night vision and soon manages to gain the upper hand, knocking you down and summoning his minions to take you to his ‘special’ juicing machine.

You beg for mercy and look up at your vanquisher, but The Man from Del Monte he says ‘No’. - GAME OVER

Your Ending

You are dragged to a holding cell and told you will be juiced the following morning at dawn. Some weeks later you are still waiting, wondering if the perpetual delays are just part of the torture. Your jailers explain that by the Urbanite calendar it wont be ‘tomorrow’ for quite some time.

Your Achievements or Otherwise

• You did not get a role in the Stav Bureau = -10pts
• You failed to warn the Bureau of the return of Pope Urban = -100pts
• You are trapped in a Mayan prison cell awaiting being juiced at dawn by The Man from Del Monte = -6pts
• Bet you didn’t expect that as a possible outcome when you started. = +1pts
• However you are still on death row = -1pts
• Emotional State; fear, shame and fear. = -42pts

Ranking

• Grand Total = -158pts
• Rating = Your attempt to defeat Pope Urban single handedly was foolish, but your failure to warn the Bureau, the world’s experts on besting Pope Urban and his evil calendar reforms, was inexcusable. Your low score reflects this miserable failure.
• Future Life = Years pass as you await ‘tomorrow’ to come, once the guards work out you’ve no idea how the Urbanite calendar works they take great delight in taunting you with a flip board opposite your cell with the number of ‘Gregorian’ days to go. As the numbers flip up and down randomly, or occasionally stay stuck on the same number for weeks on end, you devote your life to figuring out the calendar. Years later you believe you finally understand, the Urbanite ‘tomorrow’ will arrive… about now.

As the guards drag you out to the giant juicer you console yourself that you got at least one thing right. It doesn’t help.

Would you care to try again?