(set: $name to 0, $finger to 0, $hands to 0, $feet to 0, $face to 0, $chest to 0, $neck to 0, $company to 0, $regular to 0, $rope to 0, $pearls to 0, $frequent to 0, $close to 0, $last to 0, $cosmonaut to 0) your name is [[TITS MAGEE.]]
you are a private spy. assassin? detective. all of the above. depending on what pays. capitalism's a prison, but it's a prison that has kept you destitute enough to avoid paying the bail to get on out of it. or something. a bit of a weird metaphor, you think, sipping a [[hard soda]]. you'll come up with a better one later.
right now you're in your office, sitting, [[leaned]] back in a chair with your feet up on your desk. bad for the desk, you know, but hey, it looks cool. blinds are slitted just so, so you get that choice lighting. you don't smoke, especially not while drinking a hard soda, but you're burning some incense. gotta set the mood. never know when a [[dame]] is gonna walk in.
[[the incense smells of strawberry though, which isn't super helpful.|THE DAME]]what, you don't think assassins/spies/detectives drink hard soda? we can't all drink whiskey. sometimes you want your alcohol to taste like carbonated grapes. wait that could also be wine. champagne? //i know nothing about alcohol.// you think, taking another sip. //maybe they got classes on that.//
[[back|START]]your real name. the jury's out on whether it's your birth name, but birth names don't mean shit. all you got is self-determination, babe. you pick your own damn name, as long as that name is tits magee.
[[back|START]]you've had a lot of run ins with dames. you gotta in your line of work. dame-based economy. also, dames? pretty as hell. had a girl stab you in the leg once and take all your money. sent you a text the next morning thanking you for a good time. you've never been so in love.
[[back|START]]she walks in the room like she owns it. no knock, no nothing. you wonder if she would make a point of looking so [[sultry]] if she did own this room and wasn't coming to enlist the services of a detective/spy/assassin, but hey, maybe she's got resting sultry face. you don't judge.
you tilt your head up a little. not too much. gotta look distinerested. she's playing the same game. your eyes catch her legs on the way up though, which isn't hard, because she's got legs for days. weeks. years. an eternity of legs. when the planet decides [[nothing here is worth it]] and drags itself screaming to hell, her legs are still gonna be there.
[[good for her.|THE DAME 2]]granted, nobody knows when this will be. your ~~friend~~ associate jaundice jones says tomorrow, but they say that every day, and they say they're never wrong because tomorrow isn't real. like, on monday tomorrow is tuesday, but then you wake up on tuesday and tuesday is today and tomorrow isn't here yet. //makes perfect sense// says jaundice. talking to them gives you a headache but they always tip your server well and that's what you look for in a ~~friend~~ associate.
[[back|THE DAME]] your eyes leave her legs, take a quick pitstop at the [[necklace]] glinting on top of her silk shirt, and land at her face, but your hat is tilted down so the mysterious vibe is alive and well. "miss magee," she says, smiling. "or is it detective?"
[["it's whatever you need, miss..."|NAME]]
[[stay silent & cool.|SILENCE]]she's pretty, but not in the way you're used to. in a way where pretty feels demeaning, but not inaccurate. you've gone on dates with a lot of women who have glittering eyes/smooth skin/delicate hands. her eyes are sharp, her skin is patched with scars, and her hands look they've seen more than a day's honest work. when she smiles-- and she does, for a second, like she's got a joke she's desperate to share-- there's a pronounced gap between her two front teeth and a distinct sharpness to her canines. her lips are full and chapstickked in a "found chapstick in her purse she forgot about" way.
she's not gonna be on magazine covers but she's already in the magazine cover of your heart. the "girls who might break my heart but maybe i'm into that, who're you to judge?" issue.
[[back|THE DAME]] (set: $name to 1) (set: $opulence = $opulence + 1) "opulence green," she responds. "and right now i need a detective."
opulence regards your office with a sort of disinterest that can only be a cover for nerves. you know that disinterest well. you're doing it constantly.
she finally looks at you. "my brother's been murdered, detective magee."
"oh shit," you say, but you say it softly in your [[detective voice]] so it still sounds gritty and mysterious.
[["are you okay?"]]
[["how did he die?"]](set: $name to 0) she seems to think your silence is funny. "miss magee then."
she pauses and regards your office with a sort of disinterest that can only be a cover for nerves. you know that disinterest well. you're doing it constantly.
she finally looks at you. "my brother's been murdered, miss magee."
"oh shit," you say, but you say it softly in your [[detective voice|dv2]] so it still sounds gritty and mysterious.
[["are you okay?"]]
[["how did he die?"]]silver chain, red gem. maybe fake. you're not a gem gal, so you have no way of telling. if it's not fake, it's probably a ruby. if it is fake, it's probably a fake ruby.
it's pretty though.
[[back|THE DAME 2]] leaned? leant? leanned? just roll with it [[tits]], just roll with it.
[[back|START]]damn when you call yourself tits it sounds kinda objectifying huh. can women objectify themselves? they can't, right? you think you [[read that somewhere.]]
[[okay, but like... let's get back on topic.|START]]you took one class in college about gender studies and it was like, helpful but it was mostly for a gen ed. you kinda wish you'd taken more. god, if only you'd been something useful like a gender studies major. instead you got a useless triple degree in being a spy/assassin/detective. all you did was sit in the back and think noiry thoughts and you were top of your class. you didn't even turn in any of the homework.
[[TITS. GET BACK ON TOPIC YOU'RE LOSING THE STORY!!!|START]](set: $opulence = $opulence + 1) she looks surprised by your question, but she seems to appreciate it. "i'm doing alright," she replies softly. soft voice for a hard woman, you appreciate that. "mourning period is over. it's time for action."
you can't argue with that. for one, if you argued with that, you wouldn't get paid.
[["how did he die?"]]"that's a personal question," she responds immediately. but then she seems to remember that //she's// the one who walked into //your// office.
"i need to know that you'll take the job before i tell you." her face is deadly serious. you consider. you understand the look of a gal who needs something bad, but you also don't usually take cases with so little do go off of.
(well, you do, pretty often, actually, but they never end well.)
[[take the case]]
[[nah.]]you practice this voice every morning. it's hard to give your voice that rasp that works so well when you're always hydrating yourself with hard sodas, but if they aren't paying you to put on a good show, what on earth are your clients paying for?
[[back|NAME]] you practice this voice every morning. it's hard to give your voice that rasp that works so well when you're always hydrating yourself with hard sodas, but if they aren't paying you to put on a good show, what on earth are your clients paying for?
[[back|SILENCE]] she lets loose a sigh of what's probably relief. "thank you."
"he was strangled." she says. "with a rope of some sort, we think. no imprints of any kind of hand. the body is at the morgue, i can let them know you're coming."
interesting. you jot that down.
"where was the body found?" you ask.
"the docks." she grimaces. "you might want to tell his fiancee too. i'm not sure anyone's broken the news to her yet."
she gives you the location of the docks and his fiancee's address, and then dials the morgue. three leads. where do you go, tits?
[[the docks]]
[[the fiancee]]
[[the morgue]]
(set: $morgue to 1)
(set: $fiancee to 1)
(set: $docks to 1)she looks disappointed but not surprised by your rejection.
"okay." she says. "that's fine. thank you for your time."
and she leaves. walks out on those eternal legs just like she walked in. the rain continues outside, glimmering and glowing in the soft light of this city. your city. a city with no name, no love, and no--
another dame walks in.
she shoots you point blank before you can even decide if you wanted to be mysterious or not.
[[you're dead, tits magee.]](set: $dead to $dead + 1) GAME OVER
thanks for playing!
[[RESTART?|START]]
[[CREDITS]]this game was written by (link-reveal: "kayleigh van overen")[(open-url: "https://www.kayleighvanoveren.com/")]. the rodeo clown option was suggested by syd martin. tits' name is inspired by a (link-reveal: "kate beaton comic")[(open-url: "http://www.harkavagrant.com/index.php?id=238")].
created using twine.
[[okay thanks for telling me, i wanna play again|START]]
cool, thanks! bye! (just exit out of this tab)(set: $docks to 0) you arrive at the docks late at night, so it's not bustling. you've heard tell of people fishing here, but the [[people you hang out with]] don't tend to fish that often. the other sort of people who are here sometimes own boats, but they don't tend to linger.
the docks are neither occupied by fisherpeople or boat owners. instead there is just a woman there, drawing something in a book.
"we're not renting out boats at this hour," she says.
[[you didn't know they rented out boats at all.|questioning]](set: $fiancee to 0) the mansion of [[cosmonaut delacour]] is intimidating as hell. big and old and heavily decorated in a way that borders on tacky, but, in your humble opinion, stays in the realm of nice. you're not a designer or a home expert or whatever, but you have had "time to buy a house" on in the background while you ~~microwave pizza bites for the third time this week~~ cook, so you know what you're talking about.
you stroll on up, already feeling underdressed. you hate feeling underdressed, but never enough to expand your wardrobe beyond trenchcoats. maybe it's time to get that luxury trenchcoat you've been eyeing instead of your [[shitty old trenchcoat that sucks.]] you ring the doorbell.
a butler opens the door.
[[detective voice time.]](if: $name is 1) [ opulence green filled you in on her name. the name cosmonaut is both incredibly cool and incredibly pretentious. you suppose it'll take meeting the gal to figure out which wins out. ]
(if: $name is 0) [ the dame filled you in on her name. the name cosmonaut is both incredibly cool and incredibly pretentious. you suppose it'll take meeting the gal to figure out which wins out. ]
[[back|the fiancee]]"evening, sir," you say. you tip your hat for good measure. "is the lady of the house home?"
the butler sniffs. he's a tall man, which is good for looking down his nose at you. his nose is small and pointed up though, so you suppose his gaze ought to do a little leap off it and hit above your head, but by determination alone it lands right at your eyes. eye contact. you appreciate that in a man.
"who, may i ask, would like to know?"
[["tits magee." they don't need to know why you're here just yet.]]
[["detective tits magee." a little authority goes a long way.]]you even smile when you say your name. for all he knows you're an old friend or a concerned neighbor.
"what is your business here?" he doesn't seem moved.
[[old friend.]]
[[concerned neighbor.]]
[[rodeo clown.]]the butler's firm face slides to surprise for the briefest of seconds before he regains his composure. how impressive.
"may i ask what business you're on?" he responds cautiously. you make a mental note of all the stories that end with "the butler did it" and smile.
"private business," you respond. "may i come in?"
[[you're grateful he doesn't think to ask for a warrant before he lets you in.|the parlour]]the butler looks suspicious, but you can tell he doesn't know ms. delacour's old friends well enough to say you aren't one.
"of course," he says. "come in."
[[you smile appreciatively and take the invite.|the parlour]]the butler looks over your clothes and you remember that this is a fancy ass neighborhood and you're wearing your shitty old trenchcoat that sucks. there's no way you pass as a concerned neighbor.
"she's busy. come back later," the butler says with his words. his tone, however, says "you're trash. never come back." the door is closed in your face, and you are at least a little grateful he doesn't slam it.
what now, tits?
(if: $docks >= 1) [[[let's try out the docks.|the docks]]]
(if: $morgue >= 1) [[[maybe the morgue has something?|the morgue]]]
(if: $fiancee is not 1 and $docks is not 1) [[[this case is ready to be solved.|solution]]]"thought ms. delacour could use some cheering up," you say. "times are hard, everyone could use some cheering up nowadays."
when the butler just stares at you, you smile brightly and say, "the economy!" surely a working man such as himself understands the economy.
he slams the door in your face, which is uncalled for.
(if: $docks >= 1)[[[fuck it. how're those docks looking? |the docks]]]
(if: $morgue >= 1) [[[the morgue sounds pretty good right now.|the morgue]]]
(if: $fiancee is not 1 and $docks is not 1) [[[let's try solving this murder.|solution]]](set: $morgue to 0) jaundice jones is a part time mortician, and you've never gotten around to asking what it is they do the other part of the time, other than go out with you for drinks. it's just your luck that they're working today.
"hey tits," they say brightly. they're chewing gum, which cannot be sanitary or within regulation. "miss green called and said you'd be over, so i went ahead and got the body ready for you."
(if: $name is 0)["miss green?" you say.
jaundice waggles their eyebrows. "yeah, //miss//." the implication being that oooh she's single.
that wasn't your question, but okay.
]
[["how's the body looking?"|the body]]okay, you're gonna be real, you actually do like this trenchcoat, and calling it the "shitty old trenchcoat that sucks" is with only the sincerest of affection. this trenchcoat has done you good, and you love it, even though it does suck.
[[back|the fiancee]](set: $body = 4) (set: $time to 1) jaundice blows a bubble, which has to be even less sanitary than just chewing. "i've done some preliminary stuff. time of death is 4:20 AM." when you give them a look, they pop another bubble. "that's not a joke. sometimes people die at 4:20."
that's true. people die all the time.
what're you gonna investigate?
[[hands]]
[[face]]
[[neck]]
[[chest]]
[[feet]](set: $cosmonaut to 1) you sit down in the nicest room you've ever been in. you feel a little bad for being in it, like looking at things are going to make them dirty. you're already here, so you don't really bother to ask if you should remove your shoes. the butler's looking at you like he's going to deep clean the whole building after you leave anyways. the room is well-decorated, almost gaudy like the outside of the house, but you maintain that it's tasteful. lots of pictures. she's a sentimental gal, it seems, even if she doesn't know how to crop an image.
cosmonaut is very pretty. she's wearing a lovely blue dress, the kind that most people reserve for high society events. apparently cosmonaut reserves it for hanging around her house on her off days. her hair is long and pulled up into some intricate bun, the kind you couldn't even attempt to work out. (if: $company is 1)[she looks an awful lot like the description kite gave of the woman kissing the vic last night, except for the long hair. but hair pulled up can look a lot like short hair when it's dark and you're doing your best to not see two strangers swap spit on a dock. something to investigate.] (if: $hands is 1)[you notice her nails have been painted the same shade of blue as her late fiancee's. it would've been sweet if not for the situation. maybe it still is sweet.]
the butler has already made himself scarce, which you don't blame him for. miss delacour seems like the kind of woman who values her privacy. the woman herself smiles welcomingly at you.
"hello," she says. "what can i do for you?"
[["it's about your fiancee."|investigation]](set: $body = $body - 1)(set: $hands = 1)his hands are soft, the kind of hands that don't do much work. the nails well-manicured and painted a baby blue; subtle, but nice. he had a fiancee, you remember,(if: $cosmonaut is 1)[(how could you forget when you just visited?)] so you check his ring finger, which has been ripped off. yikes.
"yeah, that was gone when he got here," says jaundice, answering a question you weren't planning on asking. "definitely happened post-mortem."
so someone ripped his ring finger off after he died. interesting. (if: $body <= 1) [
[["hey." says jaundice.|jaundice leaves]]]
(else:) [what next?
(if: $face <= 0)[[[the face.|face]]]
(if: $feet <= 0)[[[the feet.|feet]]]
(if: $chest <= 0)[[[the chest.|chest]]]
(if: $neck <= 0)[[[the neck.|neck]]]](set: $body = $body - 1)(set: $face = 1) you decide you might as well get a good look at this guy's face. he's handsome, definitely. soft features. an attempt at a beard. definitely exfoliates (or well, used to). (if: $close is 1)[even if cosmonaut didn't seem thrilled about the guy, at least he wasn't hard to look at. god, what a horrible compromise to make.]
hey, hold up.
"does he strike you as the kind of guy who wears lipstick?" you ask jaundice.
"if he was, i think he'd apply it better," they reply.
there's bright blue lipstick smeared all over his face. someone was making out with him, and doing it pretty messily. interesting. (if: $company is 1)[a rendevous? or a diversion to get kite to stop watching them?] (if: $body <= 1) [
[["hey." says jaundice.|jaundice leaves]]]
(else:) [what next?
(if: $neck <= 0)[[[the neck.|neck]]]
(if: $feet <= 0)[[[the feet.|feet]]]
(if: $chest <= 0)[[[the chest.|chest]]]
(if: $hands <= 0)[[[the hands.|hands]]]](set: $body = $body - 1)(set: $neck = 1)the neck's probably worth checking out if the cause of death was strangulation. the dame was right; there are marks on his throat, but they're definitely not from hands. small imprints of circles, which doesn't really look like any rope you've seen. (if: $rope is 1)[and definitely not any of the ropes you saw at the docks, which already looked untouched.] maybe a necklace? a set of pearls, perhaps.
well, there's a murder weapon. now you just gotta find out where they ended up. (if: $body <= 1) [
[["hey." says jaundice.|jaundice leaves]]]
(else:) [what next?
(if: $face <= 0)[[[the face.|face]]]
(if: $feet <= 0)[[[the feet.|feet]]]
(if: $chest <= 0)[[[the chest.|chest]]]
(if: $hands <= 0)[[[the hands.|hands]]]](set: $body = $body - 1)(set: $chest = 1) you check the victim's chest. his entire outfit makes you suddenly understand was "business casual" means, which you tuck away for future social event invites. his body is unmarred, no stab wounds or gunshots or anything. not even a paper cut. he's got a bit of a gut, which he makes work (or would be if he wasn't a corpse).
"he was drinking last night. pretty heavily, it seems." jaundice supplies helpfully. "from the state of his organs it kinda seems like this was a regular occurance. bit of a party boy. definitely vaped. cotton candy flavor, from my estimate."
"you could tell all that from an autopsy?" you ask.
jaundice just shrugs. they're the best in the biz for a reason. (if: $company is 1)[and besides, kite said he'd looked drunk. it makes sense.] (if: $body <= 1) [
[["hey." says jaundice.|jaundice leaves]]]
(else:) [what next?
(if: $face <= 0)[[[the face.|face]]]
(if: $feet <= 0)[[[the feet.|feet]]]
(if: $neck <= 0)[[[the neck.|neck]]]
(if: $hands <= 0)[[[the hands.|hands]]]](set: $feet = 1)(set: $body = $body - 1)you gently pull off the corpse's shoes. always gotta check the feet in this line of business. he's wearing some funky patterned socks, which you can appreciate, but you gotta pull those off too. his feet are delicate. guy doesn't do a lot of walking, it seems. well manicured but unpainted. unremarkable feet for a wealthy guy. nothing of note, it seems.
jaundice is looking at you kinda weird, which makes you think maybe you've spent too much time on the feet. (if: $body <= 1) [
[["hey." says jaundice.|jaundice leaves]]]
(else:) [what next?
(if: $face <= 0)[[[the face.|face]]]
(if: $neck <= 0)[[[the neck.|neck]]]
(if: $chest <= 0)[[[the chest.|chest]]]
(if: $hands <= 0)[[[the hands.|hands]]]]"my shift's ending soon, and i got my next job right after," they say. they pop their gum again. "think you could wrap up?"
ideally you'd go more in depth, but you know jaundice takes their work seriously and they wouldn't ask you to go if it wasn't important.
"yeah, no problem," you say. you've probably got enough to go on anyways.
where to? (if: $fiancee is not 1 and $docks is not 1) [
[[time to crack this case.|solution]]]
(if: $docks >= 1) [[[let's check out the docks.|the docks]]]
(if: $fiancee >= 1) [[[go visit the fiancee. |the fiancee]]]alright tits. all the pieces are together. time to put that detective brain to work and figure out who did the murder.
[[it was cosmonaut delacour.|cosmonaut]]
[[it was the butler.|butler]]
[[it was kite.|kite]] (if: $name is 1)[
[[it was opulence green.|opulence]]](if: $name is 0)[
[[it was the dame who gave you this case.|the dame]]](if: $frequent is 1)[
[[it was cosmonaut delacour's twin sister.|the twin]]]by people you hang out with you mean jaundice jones. you're not a social gal. you suppose you've also spent some time with a dame now and then, but fishing doesn't tend to come up much.
[[maybe next time you'll ask.|the docks]](set: $questions = 4) "i'm not here to rent a boat," you say. "i'm doing an investigation."
"oh," she says, looking up at you. she snaps her book closed. "about the murder, i assume. of mr. green."
"how do you know about the murder?"
"i was there. i had a late shift." she tucks her pencil behind her ear. "kite mcclean. what do you need to know?"
[["was he with anyone?"|company]]
[["did you know him well?"|regular]]
[["can i look at the rope here?"|rope]]
(if: $hands is 1)[[["you see a missing finger here?|finger]]](set: $questions to $questions - 1) (set: $company to 1) kite taps her fingers on her book, looks thoughtful. "yeah," she says. "a woman. bit younger than him, but definitely not his like, daughter? like he kissed her. she kissed him. mutual kissing. messy kissing." kite makes a face.
(if: $face is 1)[
"blue lipstick?" you ask.
kite looks a little surprised, but nods. "yeah. bright blue. if it didn't feel invasive after all the... y'know, kissing and stuff, i would've asked where she got it."
]
"what did she look like?" you ask. gotta get this girl off the topic of messy makeouts and on the topic of maybe murderers.
"she was like, pretty short? dressed nice. she was carrying a pair of heels, i remember that, because i remember thinking that was a good thing cuz folks get their heels stuck in the like, slats of the dock. all the time. i've gotten real good at removing heels from the docks." she seems to suddenly remember you're a detective and this is a murder investigation because she gets a little flustered at the off-topic detour.
"um, her hair was a really dark. black, probably. she had it cut really short. pale skin." kite shrugs. "not else was really like, remarkable. she was pretty." (if: $cosmonaut is 1)[
the description sounds a little bit like cosmonaut delacour. well, a lot, actually. it would make sense for her to be making out with her fiancee late at night, but him turning up dead later doesn't bode too well.]
"did you hear what they were talking about?"
kite shakes her head. "they flirted a lot. he was drunk, definitely. she was... pretty sober, i think? the kissing grossed me out so i tried to be somewhere else. i didn't see much otherwise."
that's okay. you've done more with less.
(if: $hands is 1 and $finger is < 1)[[["you see a missing finger here?"|finger]]]
(if: $regular < 1)[[["did you know him well?"|regular]]]
(if: $rope < 1)[[["can i look at the rope here?"|rope]]]
(else:) [[[you hear something move behind you.|attack]]](set: $questions to $questions - 1) (set: $regular to 1) "he came here a lot," kite says. "owned a boat, i think. but he hung around more than the boat owners usually do."
"what was he like?"
"he was..." she takes a long pause. "hm. he was like. like a guy who, if you saw him at a party, you'd be fine and maybe pour him a shot or two, but you wouldn't want to get stuck together. like i couldn't hold a conversation with him for too long but the small talk wasn't bad."
"did you ever meet his sister?"
she looks surprised.
"he said he was an only child?"
interesting.
(if: $hands is 1 and $finger is < 1)[[["you see a missing finger here?"|finger]]]
(if: $company < 1)[[["was he with anyone?"|company]]]
(if: $rope < 1)[[["can i look at the rope here?"|rope]]]
(else:) [[[you hear something move behind you.|attack]]](set: $questions to $questions - 1)(set: $rope = 1) "sure," she says. kite leads you over to a collection of ropes. you kneel down and look at them. they got a good variety. well funded dock, you figure, or one that just cares a lot about rope options.
none of them seem out of place. if someone did use this to strangle the vic, they were very good at putting it back. (if: $neck is 1)[
that just confirms it. definitely a string of pearls. only question is where those pearls got off to.]
(if: $hands is 1 and $finger is < 1)[[["you see a missing finger here?"|finger]]]
(if: $company < 1)[[["was he with anyone?"|company]]]
(if: $regular < 1)[[["did you know him well?"|regular]]]
(else:) [[[you hear something move behind you.|attack]]]you spin around and try to find the source of the noise. there's a person there. or at least, probably a person. their features are hard to make out. their vibes are very easy to make out though, which are: bad.
[["what do you want?"|conversation]]
[[jump with kite into the water.|water]]you don't know what they want but you've never known vibes to be wrong. you immediately grab kite.
"deep breath and hold it," you say quick and quiet, and you don't have time to confirm she heard.
you jump into the water, dragging her down with you. you go as deep as you can, and resurface under the dock. kite's being good and staying as quiet as she can. you both hold your breath until the person on the docks decides they don't want to kill you that bad and you hear footsteps walking away.
you hold a finger up to your lips and swim over to check the docks. all clear. you climb up and then, when it looks clear, you help kite up.
"sorry about that," you say.
kite shrugs. "part of the job."
you don't wanna ask how many docks she's been shoved off of.
where to? (if: $fiancee is not 1 and $morgue is not 1) [
[[time to crack this case.|solution]]]
(if: $morgue >= 1) [[[let's see how the morgue is doing.|the morgue]]]
(if: $fiancee >= 1) [[[go visit the fiancee. |the fiancee]]]okay. no biggie. vibes mean nothing. you're tits magee, you can talk your way out of this.
"hello," you say, detective voice on, tone modulated. "what brings y--"
you've been shot before you can finish your sentence.
[[you're dead, tits magee.]]cosmonaut delacour looks... not surprised. tired. as if she expected someone to come and tell her something happened to her fiancee. "what has he done this time?" she asks.
"have you seen him recently?"
she frowns. "well, no. we don't live together, not yet. we're not //improper.//"
you've been plenty improper before, but you'll let it slide. this doesn't need to be a debate.
"i suppose i was wondering when he'd call next... it has been about twenty-six hours." you wonder if she counts the hours. "has something happened? how much is the bail?"
sounds like this isn't an uncommon occurance. you hate to be the one to tell her she'll never have to post bail again, but...
"he's been murdered, miss delacour."
she's already pale, but she goes white as a sheet.
"oh."
that's the only noise she makes for a long time. then, very small,
"you're a detective then, i suppose. or the police."
"detective," you say. you're definitely not police. "would you mind answering a few questions?"
she shakes her head. "i wouldn't mind at all."
so.
[["how close were you and your fiancee?"|close]]
[["when was the last time you saw your fiancee?"|last]]
(if: $neck is 1 or $finger is 1)[[["may i see your jewelery collection?"|pearls]]]
(if: $company is 1)[[["how often do you frequent the docks?"|frequent]]](set: $close to 1) cosmonaut looks taken aback by the question. "he was my //fiancee//," she says, like that explains it. you've seen plenty of fiancees who wish each other dead, and even more that couldn't tell you the other's middle name. you feel like if you explain this to her, she may just get more indignant though, so you keep quiet. she absorbs your silence, then looks down.
"i do love him." her voice is soft. "i love him very much. even if the marriage wasn't... well, i didn't know him before."
ah.
"he's very sweet," she nearly pleads. you can't tell if she's trying to convince herself or you. "he just... gets in trouble more often than i'd like. but when he's sober he's sweet-- even when he's drunk he's sweet. he's always kind to me." her voice quivers. "always."
you don't have the heart to tell her a marriage needs more than kindness. probably best to move on.
(if: $frequent < 1 and $company is 1) [[["how often do you frequent the docks?"|frequent]]]
(if: $last < 1)[[["when was the last time you saw your fiancee?"|last]]]
(if: $neck is 1 or $finger is 1 and $pearls is < 1)[[["may i see your jewelery collection?"|pearls]]]
(else:)[[[you don't have anything else to ask.|leaving the mansion]]](set: $last to 1) "we spent most of yesterday together," cosmonaut delacour says. "he left after dinner."
"do you have a time estimate?"
she thinks about it. "seven," she says. "he left around seven."
"early dinner." she doesn't need to know you usually eat around ten.
she nods. "he was going out with some... friends of his. said they had a meeting."
"what kind of meeting?"
she frowns and looks off. "i don't know," she mumbles. "he doesn't work."
you choose not to comment on the bitter edge. poor girl, even if she is a suspect.
(if: $close < 1)[[["how close were you and your fiancee?"|close]]]
(if: $neck is 1 or $finger is 1 and $pearls is < 1)[[["may i see your jewelery collection?"|pearls]]]
(if: $company is 1 and $frequent is < 1)[[["how often do you frequent the docks?"|frequent]]]
(else:)[[[you don't have anything else to ask.|leaving the mansion]]](set: $frequent to 1) cosmonaut frowns. "not... often. we have a boat we would often take out-- we being my sister and i, that is-- but i didn't visit unless we went on the boat."
"you have a sister?" you ask.
"yes," she says. "a twin."
hold up.
you're not the best detective/spy/assassin in the world. you make no claim to be. but sometimes things click.
"your twin," you say, "identical?"
she nods. "she's always cut her hair short, though. she doesn't like being mistaken for me. it used to happen often before she did."
well.
well well well.
(if: $close < 1) [[["how close were you and your fiancee?"|close]]]
(if: $last < 1)[[["when was the last time you saw your fiancee?"|last]]]
(if: $neck is 1 or $finger is 1 and $pearls is < 1)[[["may i see your jewelery collection?"|pearls]]]
(else:)[[[you don't have anything else to ask.|leaving the mansion]]](set: $pearls to 1) cosmonaut looks you over. "you are... a detective, right?" she asks, clearly trying to parse if she's just been duped into discussing her fiancee's murder with a jewel thief. you give her your most professional yet charming smile.
"some evidence relates to your jewelery box, i promise. you can even watch me go through it." this seems to calm her down, at least enough for her to come back with an antique looking jewelery box.
you take the box from her gently and open it, making sure all your actions are easily readable. you handle each jewelery piece with care. they're all lovely. you're not a jewelery gal, but if you were, you'd be jealous.
(if: $neck is 1)[after you've looked at every piece, cosmonaut furrows her brow. "wait," she says. "is that all of them?"
you check the box. looks empty to you. "looks empty to me," you say. you're a gal who speaks her mind, after all.
"i had... i had a set of pearls," she says, like she's trying to parse this out while she's saying it. "are you sure they're not in there?"
sure as can be, they're not.
"might want to get that looked into," you say. cosmonaut nods.]
(if: $finger is 1)["can i see your ring?" you ask. she looks surprised, then offers her hand. you take it. you don't normally take the hands of girls this high class, so it's a fun and new experience. if only you weren't investigating a murder.
the ring is nice. probably costs more than your office. hell, probably costs more than you, if someone were to put a price on you. thankfully nobody has yet.
"your fiancee had one like this?" you ask. she nods.
"the same. we had identical rings. they were a gift from my grandparents. why?"
"we couldn't find the ring on the body or at the crime scene," you say.
"a robbery, then?" she seems scandalized at the prospect. you shrug.
"something like that."]
(if: $close < 1) [[["how close were you and your fiancee?"|close]]]
(if: $last < 1) [[["when was the last time you saw your fiancee?"|last]]]
(if: $frequent < 1 and $company is 1)[[["how often do you frequent the docks?"|frequent]]]
(else:)[[[you don't have anything else to ask.|leaving the mansion]]](set: $questions to $questions - 1) (set: $finger to 1) "a what," says kite.
yeah thats fair.
"if you don't know, that's fine," you say quickly. to her credit, kite takes a moment to look thoughtful.
"i did, now that you mention it." her nonchalance does not fit the situation, but you'll take it. she holds up a sandwich bag with a finger in it. "while i was eating my lunch-- well, dinner, i guess. i was going to ask my manager about it."
here's something interesting: no ring.
"you kept the finger," you observe. that's all it is. an observation.
"yeah, my manager would want to see it. what was i gonna do, throw it off the dock?" she seems a little defensive. you weren't asking her to get defensive. also, do docks even have managers? that doesn't sound accurate but you don't know enough about dock work to dispute it.
(if: $regular is < 1)[[["did you know him well?"|regular]]]
(if: $company < 1)[[["was he with anyone?"|company]]]
(if: $rope < 1)[[["can i look at the rope here?"|rope]]]
(else:) [[[you hear something move behind you.|attack]]]you stand up and tip your hat. "that's all the questions i got for you, miss delacour," you say, very respectful. she's a lady after all.
cosmonaut nods. she doesn't seem comfortable with the prospect of her fiancee's death still, but hey, who would be? "please let me know if you find anything." you promise.
the butler gives you a nasty look on the way out. or maybe his face is just like that.
where to?
(if: $docks is not 1 and $morgue is not 1) [
[[time to crack this case.|solution]]]
(if: $morgue >= 1) [[[let's see how the morgue is doing.|the morgue]]]
(if: $docks >= 1) [[[probably about time we checked out those docks.|the docks]]](if: $cosmonaut is 0)[okay, so you never got to speak to the lady, but cases like this, it's always the fiancee. especially if she's rich. //especially// if her butler is rude. (if: $face is 1)[and the lipstick smeared on the face? that screams guilty.]] (if: $cosmonaut is 1)[she seemed plenty broken up about the death, sure, but that doesn't absolve her of crime. (if: $close is 1)[she outright admitted that she didn't know him super well, and her constant assertions that he's nice and she loves him seem more like she's convincing herself than anything. ](if: $pearls is 1)[the missing pearls seem like a dead giveaway; who else has jewelery that expensive and can throw it away on murder? ](if: $company is 1)[kite said that there was a woman at the docks the night the vic died, and the description there sounded a lot like miss delacour.] as nice as she appeared, she also seemed incredibly suspicious. and being the fiancee of a murder victim doesn't look as good as some folks might think.]
you wanna commit to cosmonaut as the perp?
[[yes.|cosmonaut end]]
[[no, let me think about the other suspects.|solution]]things you know about the butler:
1. kind of a rude asshole to you
2. seemed shady
3. c'mon, "the butler did it" is so classic it's basically a punchline
seems solid. ready to lock in on this accusation?
[[yes.|butler end]]
[[no, let me think about the other suspects.|solution]]kite was at the scene of the crime the whole night. she knew the murder happened when you got there. she was //way// too casual about the whole investigation. (if: $finger is 1)[and she just had that finger in a plastic back for what? to show to a "manager" that may or may not exist?]
you wanna commit to kite as the killer?
[[yes.|kite end]]
[[no, let me think about the other suspects.|solution]]opulence seemed like a kind enough gal, but you never trust kind enough, and you've had enough run ins with dames to know that half the time they bring a murder for you to solve, they're the ones who did it. (if: $regular is 1)[plus, kite confirmed either she was lying about her identity or her brother was, and either one of those is plenty suspicious.]
you ready to accuse opulence green of the murder she wanted you to solve?
[[yes.|opulence end]]
[[no, let me think about the other suspects.|solution]]you never caught her name, but she seemed on edge enough to be suspicious. and you've had enough run ins with dames to know that half the time they bring a murder for you to solve, they're the ones who did it. (if: $regular is 1)[plus, kite confirmed either she was lying about her identity or her brother was, and either one of those is plenty suspicious.]
so, you wanna go ahead and accuse this damn dame?
[[yes.|dame end]]
[[no, let me think about the other suspects.|solution]]it all connects. the woman at the docks looked like cosmonaut, but with short hair. cosmonaut said she had a twin who always kept her hair short. the vic was drunk enough to mistake his fiancee for her twin (or maybe he's cheating on her, who knows). you do some more investigating. her twin's name is nautilus autin, formerly delacour. she'd been kicked out of the family a few years back, but it seems she and cosmonaut kept in touch. she wasn't too happy about her dearest twin getting into an arranged marriage, and any pursuading on cosmonaut's part didn't do anything to dissuade her.
so, one drunk fiancee and a too tight string of pearls later, and we have a dame coming in your office about her dead brother and no more arranged marriage.
you bring this to the authorities, and justice is served. nautilis goes behind bars. she doesn't stay there long; her sister gets her moved to somewhere nicer. good for her, but still. rich people.
here's something: you never see (if: $name is 1)[opulence green](if:$name is 0)[that dame who walked into your office] again.
your name is tits magee, and you've reached a ''good end.''
[[RESTART GAME?|START]]
[[CREDITS]]
(color: #006133)[(if: $name is 1 and $dead >= 2 and $opulence is 6)[[["hey tits."|opulence green]]]]you accuse the butler of murder. seems easy. the butler's always done it. you don't even need a name, you just say "cosmonaut delacour's butler" and the authorities know who you're talking about. turns out his name is john smith. //what an unfortunate name,// you think. //i'd hate to have a name like that.//
turns out mr. smith isn't guilty of murdering mr. green, which sucks, because that's what you're trying to solve. //however,// mr. smith //is// an international art thief, serial arsonist, and a wanted criminal in seven countries. your country is one of them, and he's arrested in record time. the authorities are beyond grateful. you're not sure how to react, because this isn't even what you meant to do. so the killer is still at large, but at least this dangerous criminal is behind bars?
your name is tits magee, and you've reached a ''...good? end.''
[[RESTART GAME?|START]]
[[CREDITS]]cosmonaut seems like a sweet gal, but sweet gals kill their fiancees all the time. the accusation is a scandal. it goes to court. evidence is stacked and discussed and analyzed. it's a whole affair. the evidence is inconclusive. in the end, cosmonaut doesn't serve any time, and the accusations just kind of... disappear.
well of course they do. she's rich.
business continues as normal. public opinion is divided on whether cosmonaut actually did it or not, so your reputation doesn't suffer too much. gigs are steady. but that case still sits in the back of your mind. did cosmonaut do it, and get off scott free because of her wealth? or did you get it wrong?
maybe you'll never know.
your name is tits magee, and you've reached an ''ambiguous end.''
[[RESTART GAME?|START]]
[[CREDITS]]you're told when the authorities come to kite mcclean's door, she's beyond shocked. she really didn't think you'd even considered her a suspect, much less would accuse her of murder. but that just goes to show you can't trust anyone.
the investigation lasts a week, and ends with the assertion that kite did not murder mr. green. but the impact lasts far longer than that. you hear she was fired from her job at the docks. you hear she's living with a friend now while she tries to get back on her feet. you can't help but feel guilty.
your name is tits magee, and you've reached a ''bad end.''
[[RESTART GAME?|START]]
[[CREDITS]]it's gotta be opulence green. there's no way it isn't. but when you tip off the authorities, nobody can find her. you meet other people who know the name, but she's barely got any records. enough to confirm that she did, at one point at least, exist, but nothing to tell you where she might be existing now. she's a ghost, it seems.
opulence green becomes an urban legend. people claim to see her here, there, everywhere. blurry photos surface. women keep going on talk shows claiming to be opulence green, and it always turns out they're frauds. some people believe them anyways.
and you?
you sit in your office and sip hard sodas and take cases. business is good. cases are plentiful. but your mind is plagued by one question.
who the fuck is opulence green?
your name is tits magee, and you've reached a ''mysterious end.''
[[RESTART GAME?|START]]
[[CREDITS]]you go to the authorities. you try your damndest, you really do. get real descriptive. maybe too descriptive, from the look one of them gives you. but it turns out there are a million dames out there that look like her, and everything you say doesn't mean shit without a name. honestly, they seem kind of amused by the fact that you never asked. you're too embarassed to explain that that's how being mysterious works, dammit.
the murder of mr. green goes unsolved. your business doesn't take too big of a hit, but it's enough. clients don't take you as seriously. people start telling you their names loudly, like it's a joke. they still want you to solve a murder or spy on a lover, but you can tell they're laughing at you in their heads. your whole thing is getting into peoples' heads and they're laughing at you in there. it's enough to make you grind your teeth more than you already do.
your name is tits magee, and you've reached a ''frustrating end.''
[[RESTART GAME?|START]]
[[CREDITS]]you wake up in your office. you don't make a habit of falling asleep in your office, so this is a peculiar thing. too many hard sodas? no, you never go too hard. or, you usually don't. only on special occasions. your hat is on the table, instead of your head, where it belongs. you're about to put it back there when you look up.
there she is. the dame that started it all. she smiles at you. it reminds you of that first smile. the one that looked like she had a joke she was desperate to share.
[[you wonder if you're the joke.|opulence green 2]]"thanks," says opulence. you don't know what she's thanking you for. you guess you'll take it. "you died for this."
if you'd been drinking you would've spit it out. nah. not died. you didn't die. you're tits magee, you don't die. you got lungs and a heart and everything.
your chest aches where you were shot.
twice. you've been shot twice. at least twice. maybe more.
god damn.
opulence just regards you.
"you brought me back," you accuse. you don't mean to accuse, but you do it anyways.
opulence smiles.
[["nah."|opulence green 3]]//angel of death says 'nah',// you think. "then why didn't i stay dead?" you ask.
"because you had a case to finish," opulence says. you feel like you've been holding your breath for a hundred years. "and you don't die if your questions are unanswered. i like that about you."
maybe the kindest thing a dame has said to you.
"so," you pause. "so i don't die as long as something needs solving. and you make sure of that."
"i'll bring you cases," opulence comes to sit at the edge of your desk. "and you'll never die."
your name is tits magee, and sometimes pretty dames offer you immortality so you'll solve cases for them.
you take a deep breath.
[["sure."|true end]]''TRUE END!''
you, like tits magee, will never die. congrats! check out the credits [[here|CREDITS]] or if you want to do a hard reset of the game, click (link: "here.")[(reload:)]
thanks for playing!