Renga in Blue   Interactive fiction and the All the Adventures project

(Continued from my previous posts.)

Via eBay.

First off, to share from the comments–

Morpheus Kitami:

The colored letters have different kinds of colors. Maybe instead of one word per page, it’s one sentence from all the differently colored letters. All the purple, blue, green, etc. This could be for each key, maybe this connects to the words on-screen?

…

There are some pictures in real world locations, perhaps this is intended to be a clue? Is there a building that looks like the two pillar building in Syracuse?

Morpheus is referring specifically to this one:

From ern2150:

33 letters? 3 keys, is that enough to spell city/state abbreviations?

From Alastair:

Up north / Lines meet / Down south / Fates greet.

Is there a northern US state (or state or town) where lines of some sort (roads, railway lines, whatever) meet, and for a southern state where “fates greet” makes sense?

I think a good approach is to think of “small” mysteries, individual questions that might be answered or theorized about even if we don’t have a good approach to finding keys yet.

a.) What are the green letters KFGCEAK from the third image used for?

Most of the pages easily anagram. This one doesn’t, and another page you’ll see today doesn’t.

b.) What does 1 THRU 3 / OF EIGHT refer to?

I would guess the “standard” Venn diagram with red, green, and yellow circles overlapping. (Especially given the packaging says “each represents a primary color” in regard to the keys.) This makes seven colors, eight if you include black. The list (red, blue, yellow, green, magenta, orange, white, black) does seem to represent the full color spectrum of the game.

From Wikimedia.

Perhaps something that’s colored in green (like the mystery-anagram) refers to blue and yellow keys specifically, but not red?

c) What does ONE OF TWO / TWO OF ONE / COLORS RED / WHITE AND BLUE refer to specifically?

Maybe the magenta part of the Venn diagram?

I want to do some big-picture analysis in my next post, so rather than waiting I’m giving the entire rest of the story. Get ready:

Yolvsa, Plane of Darkness. A hot, silent wind blew over the desolate landscape, and colors more hideous than the boy had ever imagined painted the cruel specter.

Rising from the bleak surroundings, Hubert discerned a reptilian tangle resembling nothing in his experience except a grotesquely upturned tree. Waving above its misshapen body, he beheld a vision of wildly twisting purple tentacles… monstrously flashing green teeth… yellow tongues flapping wordlessly in an impossible world of terror.

YOLSVA.

Now, Hubert’s only contact with his familiar, secure world was the PRISM he had so hastily thrust into his pocket. Sensing more than feeling the heat now emanating from it, he pulled it out and held it in his hand. From the mysterious crystal now came a pale, pulsating light.

Instinctively, Hubert knew that he was nearing his goal, and that the PRISM was guiding him inexorably toward it. Determined now to meet with success or accept his fate, the lad prepared to follow the all-compelling crystal wherever it led.

At that instant, the parched torrid wind arose with a roar, sweeping before it every pebble, jot of earth, and the hapless Hubert. Desperate, with no other shelter visible, he reached out to grasp a limb lashing in the tempest. He had found concealment behind the torturously twisted limbs of a mutant tree where he made himself as small as possible and inwardly quaked as he waited.

TRET? This is the other one that fails to anagram. The side text also doesn’t match the story or picture at all, suggesting a stand-alone riddle.

Huberts efforts were to no avail. A creature of unfathomable deformity, grotesque in feature and limb, materialized at his side and cast him to the ground. Grane, prince of Yolvsa, keeper of the thousand names of horror, gazed redly at the small, prone human.

With a malignant sound that the boy could only compare to laughter, the creature stared down at Hubert and, at last, spoke. ‘The Protectors send a mere child to do their bidding. O, powerless being, we of the darkness will teach you to confront the forces of Yolvsa. Away to my stronghold, where you will meet your inescapable destiny.’

The entrance to the stronghold of evil; a seething, snarling mass of unspeakable forms crying out for a share of the treat. Hubert could not mistake the fact that he was to form the basis of a savage ceremony. How they howled in the throes of unwholesome ecstacy!

(Note: “Huberts”, “gazed redly”, and “ecstacy” are transcribed correctly. Gazing redly could of course be a clue.)

GRANE, the name of the prince. Again the side text is more irregular than normal.

With monstrous majesty, Grane led the boy through a labyrinth of chambers and corridors into a vast, cold space. In it stood a twisted throne of immense magnitude upon which Grane seated himself. His red eyes stared down from his sinister face.

‘Resign yourself, whelp. Although you are an insignificant figure, you may yet furnish an interesting tidbit for my extremely large fangkat. Come, my lovely. . .

From the recesses of the darkest corner of the chamber slinked an indescribable apparition, a being of incredible hideousness and all too apparent appetite. Brave as Hubert was determined to appear, he quavered under the malicious stare of the creature.

With little hope of escape, Hubert’s glance darted wildly about the throne room, alert to any means of salvation. Transfixed with terror, he was still aware of the PRISM, now burning in his pocket. Its ancient purpose aroused at the nearness of the keys. Like a thing alive, it demanded to be set free! Hubert drew it forth, and like an extension of himself, flourished it in the faces of the Yolvsa horde.

XXXVI, that is, the number 36. (Or 34!)

As if with a will of its own, the PRISM whirred above their heads in the hands of the intrepid lad. The Keys were near, and Hubert would have them whatever! As swiftly as the thought had come, a glint of bright metal struck his eye.

‘A mere talisman — that trinket — will avail you not,’ raged Grane, ‘and we taunt you as you stand before us. Behold! The Keys are here in my hand — your first and last sight of them.’ He raised the keys in his twisted hand, daring the boy to marshall his last spark of courage and make a futile attempt to defend himself.

Hubert knew not what he did, but the PRISM guided his hand in a flashing arc. As he brandished it in Grane’s face, it glowed with a white-hot force which seemed to be drawn from the Keys the monster held. Enraged in the face of the burning crystal, Grane gave a mighty roar. . . and an eruption of color — the brilliance of the spectrum — burst upon the assemblage. Half blinded by the intensity, Hubert nonetheless heard the clatter of metal tinkling at his feet as Grane swayed on his throne of terror.

Hubert, his hands sprawled along the floor, felt desperately around him for the keys, trying to retain the direction of their ringing in his ears. After what seemed an eternity, his groping fingers felt a small metal object and, suddenly, Hubert had the magic keys of color grasped firmly in his trembling hands.

I still find interesting the notable lack of yellow.

Driven only by instinct, the boy crawled around the chamber, seeking the great iron doors which meant a passage to freedom. The PRISM, its colors shining with brutal intensity, masked his intent as he made his hurried way through the anarchy of Grane’s throne room.

Hubert reached the doors shakily, drawing great gulps of the fetid air into his aching chest. Quickly realizing he needed his sight, he pocketed the PRISM, extinguishing its blinding brilliance. As his eyes adjusted to the relative darkness, he hastily scanned the maze of corridors confronting him, struggling to recall Grane’s course when they entered. The awful sound of naked claws scraping and clattering on stone, spurred him to action.

He ran! He ran with a speed as great as his terror. First left, then right, then right again and miraculously, the great doors of the stronghold loomed up before him.

Out the door he flew, eyes wild and lungs burning from the noxious air. From within the loathsome building came the sound of a mighty bell, sounding the alarm to the minions of Yolvsa. Hubert jumped from the path and skittered down the embankment just as the pursuing creatures burst through the gates howling their terrible curses.

RUNNERS?

His forward motion carrying him, Hubert lunged–but in the same instant was pulled back sharply. Around his ankle wound a hot, purple tentacle dragging him relentlessly, remorselessly, back into the Plane of Darkness!

LIFE.

With his overtired mind and body reaching their utter limits, Hubert made the most important decision of his young life: If he could not survive, he would, at least, cheat Grane and his malignant forces of their victory.

Drawing back his arm, he hurled the Keys and the PRISM together, with all his might, through the rapidly narrowing space. The world he, himself, would never again behold would yet have its beauty restored.

Even as he swooned, a mightily sinewed arm reached through the prortal and pulled the boy across the threshold. A rush of cool, sweet air, and the darkness closed about him…

(Note: “prortal” correct.)

In the quiet of his own room, in his parent’s humble home, Hubert awoke as from a dream. There were no Keys, no sign of the glowing PRISM. Was it, then, a dream, or had he really seen and done the fantastic deeds he remembered now? And yet, as he roused himself wearily from his bed and silently pulled on his shoes — a single blade of grass, colored in a loathsome shade of purple, dropped from a shoelace. Hubert acknowledged his playful puppy’s kisses and, his face set in a mask of determination, finished dressing and headed out the door, Uanna barking and following close behind.

In a sequestered cavern, beyond mortal reckoning of time and space, a PRISM still glows quietly in the semi-dark.

Color of an uncertain brightness has returned to the world, but the rich tints and intense hues of a bygone time are only the stuff of legends, living in the memories of the very old.

Is the quest unfinished? Does the PRISM still burn to be reunited with the Keys of the spectrum, lost by Hubert’s heroic throw? You and I know, that somewhere on this terrestrial plane, the answer lies hidden. Will you follow the fearless Hubert and complete the task? To the Protectors of the PRISM falls the duty and honor of reuniting the keys with the PRISM and reaping their colorful reward.

With a little animating on the letters.

Hopefully there’s enough to chew on now! If nothing else the pages with “non-sequitur” phrases could really use some speculation. I’ll get into wild-analysis mode next time and try to sort things; one big question is “are the three keys all hidden by the same code, or are they clued in three entirely different ways?”

(OK, if you combine the two “unanagrams” you get KFGCEAKTRET which can make “keg fact trek” or “tack fret keg”. I don’t think either of those are intended.)