After the break is our progress in the game so far.

Let me take this opportunity to note that I haven’t planned out every single node of the game, so there may be times (one example of which is the “portcullis” situation below) where I go back and change things. We’re building this together, so deal.

Myst: Interactive Fiction Edition
All things Myst and D’ni Copyright ©1993–2009 Cyan Worlds, Inc.

RESTART, RESTORE or QUIT?

> restart

You have just stumbled upon a very thick, very out-of-place book.  The beige cover — was it once green? — is heavily cracked and faded with age and wear.  Barely legible among the crackled patches of color is the word “MYST” in black serif type.

> take book

You slowly take the book in your hands. It is quite heavy. A thick layer of dust and dirt envelops it.

> shake book

A cloud of dust is created and stirred around you and the book.

> Open Book

As you turn the first page, your curiosity turns to shock; where there should be writing, there is a jagged-edged, rectangular picture — a moving picture — covering half the page.

The image depicts a very curious place, perhaps an island or a peninsula. The viewpoint revolves constantly, again and again, around the end of a wooden dock. In the water beside the dock are the masts of a sunken ship; past the far end of the dock is a huge gear protruding from a tall platform; the long side of the dock abuts a shallow wall with a portcullis; and next to the end of the dock at the center of your revolving view is a small wood.

You stare transfixed at this repeating motion for a few seconds, hoping that it will hypnotize you before you have to face the discovery you’ve just made.  Swallowing hard as you realize it won’t, you start gathering yourself to determine your next move.

> look at other side of page

Careful not to touch the image — you’re not quite sure why — you turn the page. The new lefthand page is blank, giving no hint of the magic taking place on its opposite side; the righthand page bears writing in a strange, flowing script.  It’s vaguely reminiscent of some eastern languages you’re familiar with, but both your fuzzy memory and the current bizarre situation tell you that it’s not a language you’ve ever seen before. It’s no use to try to decipher it; you turn back to the moving picture, eager to continue in your bewilderment.

> Flip through book

The rest of the pages all bear the same strange script; you impatiently turn back to the first page.

> talk to someone

There is no one to talk to. Or there might as well not be — right now, the book dominates the entirety of your attention.

> remove panel

As the page with the image is ripped from the book’s spine, the image fills with noise and becomes more discolored and distorted until, when the page is fully detached, it fades into a pitch black rectangle.

> put page back in book

The edge of the page seems magnetically attracted to the book’s gutter, and with no effort at all the image comes back to life, though it’s still noisy and discolored. As you press your finger down the crease, a trail of light follows your finger, a dull roar sounds, and the image is restored to full clarity.

> tap panel

You tentatively reach out to touch the image. The moment your fingers brush against it, your hand tingles slightly, as though a faint electrical current were passing through it.  Like a magnet, the full of your palm is drawn to the image, flattening against the page.  The tingling intensifies, traveling up your arm and spreading through the rest of your body.  For the briefest of moments you observe yourself in trepidation, followed by awed horror as you glimpse your right hand emitting shimmering, golden light that follows the tingling up your arm.

As this happens, the world changes.  You feel the book rushing toward you, growing, enveloping you, all while seeing the strange island revolve around you.  A deep, nasal sort of roar crescendos in your ears.  Your vision blurs, and for a few sickening seconds, you feel your body painlessly dissolving.  The roar grows in pitch and intensity, the shimmering light entirely confiscates your sense of vision, your panic turns hopelessly into resignation — and then it all stops.  The tingling is sucked out of your body via the fingertips, your vision clears, the roar becomes a distant echo, a cool salty breeze licks your face, and you find yourself on

MYST:  The Dock (west)

Your senses have returned so abruptly as to disarm themselves; head throbbing, you lurch forward, unsure whether this display is truly involuntary.  In any case, your body is now quite sure that it stands on terra firma, and you straighten.

You stand on a wooden dock, about fifteen yards long. The dock runs east toward the tall ledge with the gear — you can now see a second gear there lying on its side.  To the west is the small pine wood.  To the north, at eye level, is solid ground; the earth here acts as a shallow north wall to the dock, and into this wall is set a solid iron portcullis door with no visible handle.  Immediately south, the masts and crow’s nest of a sunken wood ship protrude from the water, a vast ocean extending to the horizon.

> peer through portcullis door

The solid rusted iron door is closed. (Yeah.)

> pry open door

Just before your fingers touch the door, it slides into the wall with a startling whoosh, revealing a long, dark corridor beyond.

> bound down the corridor until you hit something