You can't buy that.You can only sell objects.You can't sell things to that!You can't ask about that.You can't talk to that.You can't look under that.That can't autograph anything.That can't be autographed.How could I play that?You should not attack defenseless objects.You can't attack that.You can't attack anything with that!You can't shoot at that.You can't shoot that.You can't shoot at that.You can't shoot that.You can't shoot at that.You can't take that with you!You can't take that with you!You can't take that with you!You can only take objects.You can't take things from that!You can't examine that!You can't examine that!You can't search that!You can't open that.You can't open that.You can't open anything with that.You can't close people.You can't close that.You can't close anything with that.You can't put that anywhere.You can't put that.You can't put anything in the $2.You can't put that.You can't put anything near the $2.You can't put that.You can't put anything behind the $2.You can't put that.You can't put anything on the $2.You can't put that.You can't put anything under the $2.You can only give away objects.You can't give things to that!You can't read that.That won't autograph anything.You seem confused!Please talk about something interesting, like people or things.You seem confused!Please talk to (act) about something interesting, like people or things.You can't say that.You can't say that.You can't talk to that.You can't talk to that!You can't ask about that.You can't talk to that.You can't ask about that.You can't talk to that.You can't eat that!You can't drink that!You can't.The very idea seems unnatural.That won't get you a beer.You can't ask for that.It doesn't wave back.It doesn't wave back.It doesn't wave back.You can't feed that to anything.Else you can't feed that.Not likely.The very idea gives you chills.Not likely.The very idea gives you chills.Not likely.The very idea gives you chills.Not likely.The very idea gives you chills.The very idea gives you chills.You shudder at the thought.You can't.In interactive fiction, you make things happen by typing in a simple command at the prompt > and pressing . For example if you want to go north, then type 'north' or 'n' and press . $pYou can: $n'take' things. For instance >'take ball' $n'examine' things more closely. >'examine ball' (or just use 'x') $n'drop' things $n'open' or 'read' or even 'buy' things if necessary $pYou can perform quite a few common actions. Experiment and see what works. $pYou can also interact with characters - talk to them, ask questions, give them things. But they are a bit simple minded (too much loud music!) so keep it simple. For instance: $p $n'talk to' a character. > 'talk to whoever' $ngive something to a character. >'give (whatever) to (whoever)' $nask a character about something in the game. >'ask (whoever) about (whatever)' $pThere are also special commands: $n'inventory' or 'i' will show you what you are carrying $n 'look' or 'l' will give you the same look at your location you were given when you first arrived. $n'save' and 'restore' allow you to save a game and restore it later. $n 'Quit' or 'q' lets you quit. $pA special note. Pay attention to the descriptions and to the words the characters use because these will give you clues to what actions and words might be effective. $pUsually the characters or the examination of an object will pretty much tell you what to do. Remember, this game is by an IF player who can wander around for an hour in a typical game without scoring a point -- and doesn't enjoy that! $pAnother note. The author disabled the 'take all' function. That, and some other simplifications reflect the author's somewhat limited IF-writing skills rather than any ALAN limitations.THE HeBGB HORROR is copyright 1999 by Eric Mayer. $pThis game was written using the ALAN Adventure Language (version 2.8). ALAN is an interative fiction authoring system by Thomas Nilsson $nemail address: thoni@softlab.lejonet.se $pFurther information about the ALAN system can be obtained from the World Wide Web Internet site $ihttp://www.pp.softlab.se/thomas.nilsson/alan $pThe author cautions that this particular game, does not represent the real capabilities of the Alan Language but does demonstrate Alan's amazing ability to allow someone who has never done an iota of computer programming of any kind to produce SOMETHING within a few weeks! Lots of fun too.No point in looking under that.Who are you asking for an autograph?You don't want his autograph even if he did play with the Ramones once.Flattery won't get you anywhere with this guy.You don't need their autographs.He's too busy playing to give you an autograph.Mick was never much for giving autographs.The monster might be flattered but it is hard to tell. He just keeps waving his tentacles.She just laughs. An autograph isn't what you need out of her.What value would that be?You don't want his autograph even if he did play with the Ramones once.Flattery won't get you anywhere with this guy.You don't need their autographs.He's too busy playing to give you an autograph.Mick was never much for giving autographs.The monster might be flattered but it is hard to tell. He just keeps waving his tentacles.She just laughs. An autograph isn't what you need out of her.What value would that be?Why don't you try moving an audience instead. If you ever get one.$p$t"That's right!" Blitz is obviously touched by your detailed knowledge of his career. He reaches into his leather jacket and pulls out a ticket. "This is for our show," he says and turns as if to leave, then stops. "Oh, one other thing..." He glances around and drops his voice to a whisper. $t"Listen carefully, dude. Yngvie's Last Chord...we taped it. The tape is still... in there...at HeBGB...someplace..." $p$tHe strides away, leaving you with an autographed single by the Laughing Kats and a deep curiosity about what this 'last chord' could possibly be.Blitz looks disappointed. "No way, dude, but I'll have to ask Keith if I look like a drummer, next time I see him. Guess you'd better read up on your rock history."Blitz looks disappointed. "Guess you're not the fan I thought you were, dude. Always did want to be a guitar hero, though. But that was Yngvie's line.Guess you'd better read up on your rock history."Blitz looks disappointed. "Do I look like the Phantom of the Opera? Guess you'd better read up on your rock history."Blitz looks disappointed. "Heh Dude, if I'm startin' to look like Kenny G it's time I headed back. Guess you'd better read up on your rock history."Blitz looks disappointed. "You must be mistaking me for SIR Paul, dude. Guess you'd better read up on your rock history."Blitz looks disappointed. "What d'ya think I'm Alvin from the Chipmunks? Guess you'd better read up on your rock history."Blitz looks disappointed. "What, do I look like the Piano Man to you, dude? Guess you'd better read up on your rock history."Blitz looks disappointed. "Yeah, sure - do I look like a piano man? Guess you'd better read up on your rock history."Blitz looks disappointed. "Yeah, sure. Do I look like David Long? Guess you'd better read up on your rock history."What are you muttering about?Verbose mode is now on.Brief mode is now on. Location descriptions will only be shown the first time you visit.Violence is not the answer.Violence is not the answer.You don't have that object to attack with.No point attacking anything with that!You need to specify what to shoot at.You need to say what you want to shootwith.Violence is not the answer.You don't have thatYou can't shoot anything with that.Violence is not the answer.You don't have thatYou can't shoot anything with that.Taken.You can't take that!You've already got that.Dropped.You haven't got that.You can't take things from yourself!You take the$$.won't let you take the$$.You already have the $1.There is nothing special about the $o.You can't examine that!The $o is now open.You can't open that!It's already open.You can't open the $1 with the $2.You don't have the $2.The $o is now closed.You can't close that.It is not open.You can't close the $1 with the $2.You don't have the $2.Dropped.You haven't got that.Done.You haven't got the $1!Now, that would be a good trick!Naaah. I'd rather just put it down here.You haven't got the $1!You are carrying the $2!O.K.You haven't got the $1!You are carrying the $2!No need to put anything under that.You haven't got the $1!Done.Done.$nYou want to be a rock star but you haven't even bought a guitar.So you can play a chord. Keep practicing!They still haven't heard about you outside Arkham.You're playing at the high school gym.You got a gig at Joe's Bar.You cut a demo. Good luck!Hey, dude, your record's bubbling under THE TOP 200.You've hit the charts, dude!Your record's number fifteen with a bullet!YOUR MANAGER CALLS YOU ON THE PHONE AND SAYS "CONGRATULTIONS, YOUR RECORD'S GOT TO NUMBER ONE!!!"Time crawls past like some slithering monstrosity...Press the F3 key to repeat your last command.Unfortunately you cannot 'undo' commands in this game.You already have the $o!You give thetoYou don't have the $1.You read the $1.There is nothing written on $1.You make a lot of noise.$o? That's a nice word!doesn't seem interested.The $1 says '$2? I don't know anything about that!'"I don't think I need to know about $1." Says a puzzled$$."I don't think I need to know about $2." Says a puzzled$$.You eat the $o.You can't eat that!You drink the $o.That is not drinkable.Here the jagged beat from the loudspeakers in the front of the shop is slightly muffled. Here the jagged beat from the loudspeakers in the front of the shop is slightly muffled. Loudspeakers hidden in the shelves blare out frantic, ragged chords by some band you don't recognize.Loudspeakers hidden in the shelves blare out frantic, ragged chords by some band you don't recognize.The music booming from the record shop's open doorway is nearly drowned out by the noise from the traffic and the whine of distant sirens.You hear the whine of distant sirens.A truck rattles by out on the street.What feels like silence is really the hiss of traffic.Dueling horns blare.A car alarm wails for attention.A subway rumbles by somewhere underground.You hear nothing.You hear nothing.The roar of the greasepaint.Some band you don't recognize is crashing its way through "Neat, Neat, Neat" by the Dammned.Now it is a Stiff Little Fingers' number."Stranded on my own....stranded so far from home...." It's the old Saints' song."How many dead or alive?...." Wow, that's from Wire's 'Pink Flag' album.A lame version of "London Calling" by the Clash."Beat on the brat, beat on the brat, beat on the brat with a baseball bat, oh yeah..." Those Ramones sure had a way with lyrics."Twenty, twenty, twenty four hours a day, I wanna be sedated." Yeah, more Ramones.Whoa, it's that X-Ray Specs ditty, "Oh bondage, up Yours."Hey, that band is an actual blast from the past. Guess the Student Teachers have't done much better than you.Now some inept group is shooting Patti Smith's "Horses".Wow. The Dead Boys "Sonic Reducer." Most musical part is the feedback."I belong to the Blank Generation..."Yeah, Richard Hell and you both.X Offender. So Blondie weren't really punks, but you'll forgive them for Debby Harry's sake.The old Sid Vicious standard, "My Way." He wasn't Old Blue Eyes and neither is the bunch up on stage now.You've never been able to figure out exactly why the angels wanted to wear Elvis Costello's shoes. Although you wouldn't mind walking in them for just one gig."I'm living on a Chinese Rock..." But not for long Johnny Thunders. You guess you'll stick to Fox Head."We're so pretty, oh so pretty, vacant...." Who else but the Sex Pistols."I think we're alone now, there doesn't seem to be anyone around...." OK, so when Tommy James did it, it stunk, but Lene Lovich dressed in black!The Ian Drury and the Blockheads' anthem, "Sex and Drugs and Rock and Roll."The Adverts, or some band imitating them, are looking through Gary Gilmore's eyes again.Back in this alley there is a weird silence.The noise from the band out in front is muffled back here.The music from the stage is just a dull booming through the floor.The music from the stage is just a dull booming through the ceiling.No sounds reach down into this place.There is nothing much to hear.It is obvious that Billy sneaks back here for a nostalgic joint now and then. The shop smells of dust and aging record jackets.The shop smells of dust and aging record jackets.The smell of ripe garbage mixes with exhaust fumes. Eau de New York.You smell smoke and stale beer and sweat.The smell of dust.An earthy odor, wet rock, mold and mildew.There is a distinctly awful stench here.It smells like Cthullu crawled in here and isn't only sleeping.You smell nothing.You smell nothing.The smell of the crowd.There is thankfully little to smell.The broken edge of the single is sharp as a serrated knife."Hey, man, chill out," yells Billy, jumping away."Whoa, dude. Keep your hands to yourself!"Better keep your hands to yourself if you know what's good for you.You really don't want to touch that.Hard and rough like the city and unlike yourself.You have better things to do than touch yourself.The monster pulls away slightly, as if it is both repulsed and attracted by you.The crazed attacker isn't about to let you touch him.Feels like an old hippie.You try to touch her but she seems to shifte away because your hand encounters nothing.They feel threadbare and a bit greasy.Your fingers encounter tears and holes. Very fashionable.Your cheek is tender where the pin has penetrated the flesh.You have better things to do than feel yourself.You'd prefer not to touch it if you don't have to.You really don't want to touch them.You get dust on your fingers.It is just wood.You get dust on your fingers.That's funny. It doesn't feel like a tentacle.The zine feels old and crinkly.You can touch the fissure but your hand won't fit into it.Ouch! Now are you happy?Hmmmm. Feels like cardboard.It seems like you can actually feel Washington's nose. Creepy.Feels like Billy had a bag of fries sitting here.You really don't want to touch a New York public phone unless you have to.Feels like plastic.The cup is sticky from the bum's power wine.The metal studs are sharp and cold.The rat turns and bites.Doesn't feel any different than you expected.That's not here.The yuppies look at you and your paper cup and pen nervously. "Here," says one, handing you a ten. "We don't need any pens right now. But go buy yourself a cappuccino or something."They ignore you. Guess they won't get fooled again.No one pays attention. Apparently you don't have the proper technique.You can't panhandle here!Wow. You're standing around and nothing's happening. Pretty much like your music career.No time to sit. This may be your last night in New York City.No time to sit down. This may be your last night in New York City.You need to unlock the door with a key.You need to unlock the door with a key.You can't unlock that.You need to lock the door with a key.You need to lock the door with a key.You can't lock that.You need to lock the door with a key.You to lock the door with a key.You can't lock that.I hear you knockin' but you can't come in.I hear you knockin' but you can't come in.You can't knock on that.You kick the door, but unlike on television, it doesn't fly open.You kick the door, but unlike on television, it doesn't fly open.You shouldn't kick people.You shouldn't kick that.You have to put the chair down before you can stand on it.The chair wobbles but holds your weight.You don't want to stand on that.No human hand can play the chord progression for CTHULLU ROCKS!You manage to get the bartender's attention. The bartender is too busy to notice.Your gesture goes unnoticed.You buckle the thick studded collar around your thin neck and feel it biting into your adam's apple.You shudder at the thought.You buckle the thick studded collar around your thin neck and feel it biting into your adam's apple.You shudder at the thought.You buckle the thick studded collar around your thin neck and feel it biting into your adam's apple.You shudder at the thought.Here the jagged beat from the loudspeakers in the front of the shop is slightly muffled. Here the jagged beat from the loudspeakers in the front of the shop is slightly muffled. Loudspeakers hidden in the shelves blare out frantic, ragged chords by some band you don't recognize.Loudspeakers hidden in the shelves blare out frantic, ragged chords by some band you don't recognize.The music booming from the record shop's open doorway is nearly drowned out by the noise from the traffic and the whine of distant sirens.You hear the whine of distant sirens.A truck rattles by out on the street.What feels like silence is really the hiss of traffic.Dueling horns blare.A car alarm wails for attention.A subway rumbles by somewhere underground.You hear nothing.You hear nothing.The roar of the greasepaint.Some band you don't recognize is crashing its way through "Neat, Neat, Neat" by the Dammned.Now it is a Stiff Little Fingers' number."Stranded on my own....stranded so far from home...." It's the old Saints' song."How many dead or alive?...." Wow, that's from Wire's 'Pink Flag' album.A lame version of "London Calling" by the Clash."Beat on the brat, beat on the brat, beat on the brat with a baseball bat, oh yeah..." Those Ramones sure had a way with lyrics."Twenty, twenty, twenty four hours a day, I wanna be sedated." Yeah, more Ramones.Whoa, it's that X-Ray Specs ditty, "Oh bondage, up Yours."Hey, that band is an actual blast from the past. Guess the Student Teachers have't done much better than you.Now some inept group is shooting Patti Smith's "Horses".Wow. The Dead Boys "Sonic Reducer." Most musical part is the feedback."I belong to the Blank Generation..."Yeah, Richard Hell and you both.X Offender. So Blondie weren't really punks, but you'll forgive them for Debby Harry's sake.The old Sid Vicious standard, "My Way." He wasn't Old Blue Eyes and neither is the bunch up on stage now.You've never been able to figure out exactly why the angels wanted to wear Elvis Costello's shoes. Although you wouldn't mind walking in them for just one gig."I'm living on a Chinese Rock..." But not for long Johnny Thunders. You guess you'll stick to Fox Head."We're so pretty, oh so pretty, vacant...." Who else but the Sex Pistols."I think we're alone now, there doesn't seem to be anyone around...." OK, so when Tommy James did it, it stunk, but Lene Lovich dressed in black!The Ian Drury and the Blockheads' anthem, "Sex and Drugs and Rock and Roll."The Adverts, or some band imitating them, are looking through Gary Gilmore's eyes again.Back in this alley there is a weird silence.The noise from the band out in front is muffled back here.The music from the stage is just a dull booming through the floor.The music from the stage is just a dull booming through the ceiling.No sounds reach down into this place.There is nothing much to hear.It is obvious that Billy sneaks back here for a nostalgic joint now and then. The shop smells of dust and aging record jackets.The shop smells of dust and aging record jackets.The smell of ripe garbage mixes with exhaust fumes. Eau de New York.You smell smoke and stale beer and sweat.The smell of dust.An earthy odor, wet rock, mold and mildew.There is a distinctly awful stench here.It smells like Cthullu crawled in here and isn't only sleeping.You smell nothing.You smell nothing.The smell of the crowd.There is thankfully little to smell.The broken edge of the single is sharp as a serrated knife."Hey, man, chill out," yells Billy, jumping away."Whoa, dude. Keep your hands to yourself!"Better keep your hands to yourself if you know what's good for you.You really don't want to touch that.Hard and rough like the city and unlike yourself.You have better things to do than touch yourself.The monster pulls away slightly, as if it is both repulsed and attracted by you.The crazed attacker isn't about to let you touch him.Feels like an old hippie.You try to touch her but she seems to shifte away because your hand encounters nothing.They feel threadbare and a bit greasy.Your fingers encounter tears and holes. Very fashionable.Your cheek is tender where the pin has penetrated the flesh.You have better things to do than feel yourself.You'd prefer not to touch it if you don't have to.You really don't want to touch them.You get dust on your fingers.It is just wood.You get dust on your fingers.That's funny. It doesn't feel like a tentacle.The zine feels old and crinkly.You can touch the fissure but your hand won't fit into it.Ouch! Now are you happy?Hmmmm. Feels like cardboard.It seems like you can actually feel Washington's nose. Creepy.Feels like Billy had a bag of fries sitting here.You really don't want to touch a New York public phone unless you have to.Feels like plastic.The cup is sticky from the bum's power wine.The metal studs are sharp and cold.The rat turns and bites.Doesn't feel any different than you expected.That's not here.I wonder who that guy is lurking outside Billy's? $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p So what about that flyer? $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p Have you read the magazine enough? $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p Have you examined the stacks in the back room? $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p Have you looked all around the table? $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p Have you checked out the pay phone? $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p Has anyone tried to use that defective pay phone recently? $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p I wouldn't want to advise you to do anything dishonest. $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p When you talk to them people usually like to be addressed by their names. $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p Even semi-famous people will autograph things if asked. $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p There's more than one way to make a mark.If you can't just wait in line there might be another way around. $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p Is that concrete wall just like all the rest? $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p Those yuppies gave the panhandler a ten didn't they? $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p Hey, even panhandling has its own technique. $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p If you weren't paying attention, the guys who post notices know how to panhandle. $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p Wonder where the bum might have discarded his cup? $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p Wasn't the bum headed down Bowery? $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p Even crazed guitarists like to be addressed by name when you talk to them. $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p Have you studied the poster by the alley? $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p What is it about all those punks the guard is letting in the sidedoor? $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p So what does a punk do with a dog collar? $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p To some its a safety pin, to others its jewelry. $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p What can one stick a safety pin through, anyway?These clubs usually require you to buy a drink and beer is cheaper than wine. $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p The bartender has to pause sometime, right? $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p Or maybe you can get his attention if you're impatient. Yoo hoo, Mr. bartender! $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p They usually keep refilling the munchies bowl you know. $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p Drinking beer never killed anyone! $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p So don't be shy, talk to the punkette. $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p What, you didn't get enough hints from the punkette?Did you examine the commode? $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p The commode doesn't seem very securely fastened. $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p What is it about you that's attracting this creature? Charisma? $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p Down here in the dark, with that dangling, tentacle-like cord, well you look a little scary. $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p Where's the rat going anyway? Wasn't he carrying something around earlier? $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p Rats move slower when they've eaten. $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p So maybe the rat needs more to eat. $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p So what do you have that's long and flexible - that you'd be willing to reach into a rat's nest with? $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p There must be something that cord will fit inside.Guess you need something to stand on. $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p Where did you see a key earlier? $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p You must have something sharp or jagged to fight back with. $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p Is it a weapon? Check the label. It even gives directions. $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p Have you examined Billy? $p $p $p $p $p $p $p $p It's on one of those tapes.You can't carry anything more. You have to drop something first.inventoryYou are carryingYou are empty-handed.On the counter you seeSitting in the box isOn the table you seeThere is nothing on the slanted table. Maybe everything slid off.You don't want to do that.At the bottom of the trash basket you seeHalf hidden in the rat's nest in the drawer, you seeOn top of the phone someone has leftOn the chair isYou can't put anything in a dog collar.windowYou can hardly see in the window for all the posters.postersJust assorted rock posters.A flyer is hereflyerPicking up the flyer, you see it says: $pBowery Billy's Great Land of 10,000 Disks. $nEverything for the Collector. $nBilly Pays Big Bucks for Autographed Records. $nBilly specializes in autographed punk-era singles.Picking up the flyer, you see it says: $pBowery Billy's Great Land of 10,000 Disks. $nEverything for the Collector. $nBilly Pays Big Bucks for Autographed Records. $nBilly specializes in autographed punk-era singles.recordsThose are too expensive to even think about buying.Any one of them would make a nice souvenir, but you can't afford even one of them.in front of shop$p$tIt is a typical small record shop. The window is full of posters advertising obscure bands. Most are faded but the poster the stranger just put up appears to be newer.There's a street sign by the corner.street signThe sign indicates you are on the corner of Bowery which runs north and Houston Street. Your stay in New York hasn't been long enough for you to even learn your way around.The sign indicates you are on the corner of Bowery which runs north and Houston Street. Your stay in New York wasn't even long enough for you to learn your way around.large posterThe poster says: $pTONIGHT ONLY $nat HeBGB $non 666 Bowery $nThe Laughing Kats $nPerforming their new single $nSTAB! STAB! STAB! STAB! $pYou know about The Laughing Kats from a few scratched old singles. You've never even seen a picture of the band. What a great opportunity!The poster says: $p TONIGHT ONLY $n at HeBGB $n on 666 Bowery $n The Laughing Kats $n Performing their new single $n STAB! STAB! STAB! STAB! $pYou know about The Laughing Kats from a few scratched old singles. You've never even seen a picture of the band. What a great opportunity! shop$p$tThe Shop of 10,000 Disks across Houston Strret is still open.$p$tOddly, the shop on the other side of Houston appears to be closed.used furniture store$p$tA heavy security grate has been pulled across the storefront. From the rust, it looks like the store been locked up for years. Through the grate you can see your own reflection in the dark glass of the window - a thin, straggly haired young man who couldn't quite cut it in New York. The pathetic creature stares out at you from behind the bars of the security grate.security grate$p$tThe grate is firmly closed and locked. You'd have a better chance breaking into the New York rock scene than breaking into the furniture store.There is a ragged old magazine here.ragged old magazine$p$tIt appears to be an impossibly ancient punk rock zine called Gabba Gabba. The torn cover features a monstrous pointy headed creature in a leather jacket. The creature has a safety pin stuck through one cheek.You shouldn't hide a collector's item under anything.You put the zine on the slanted table.You slap the zine down on the counter.You set the zine on a shelf.You don't want to put a collector's item there.$p$tYou leaf through the crinkly old zine, stopping at a random pageand see a grainy photograph of a rundown bar which you recognize only because the awning over the entrance says 'HeBGB.' You start to read the story: $p$tRock entreprenaur SAM MOON aims to combine the energy of punk with the sensibilities of an earlier era at his new club on Bowery. HeBGB stands for HeadBanGers and Blackface. "We'll have the hottest new punk and minstral acts in New York," says SAM. Kicking it off - The LAUGHING KATS, the new band fronted by punk guitarist supreme YNGVIE and featuring the terrible, maddening piping of the flute of -- $p$tYou can't read any more because the page is torn. You guess Sam's idea didn't quite work out since you can't recall many hard rocking minstral acts recently. Or any featuring flutes. But the club is still there. $p$tSomeone seems to have been studying this zine because some of the words are underlined in red pen: SAM and HEBGB and FLUTE.and see a photograph of a looming, cadaverous guy about seven feet tall, dressed completely in black, his head shaved, looking just like one of Doctor Frankenstien's failed experiments. The caption says BLITZ KREIGER of the Laughing Kats. You don't remember seeing a picture of anyone in the group. The cover of their album only had pictures of sharp objects on it. From the look of him you figure BLITZ must have joined the rock choir invisible a long time ago. Probably before the photograph was developed.$p$t Someone has underlined, in red pen, the name BLITZ KREIGER.paraphernaliaWhat are you, a hippie or something?A counter runs along the back wall.counterIt's just an ordinary glass fronted counter which Billy has filled with old head shop paraphernalia.Sitting on the floor is a battered old cardboard box full of records.cardboard boxThe cardboard box is filled with ancient vinyl records.The box is filled with ancient vinyl records.You can't lift the box. That ancient vinyl stuff is heavy as rock.You wedge the single back into the tightly packed box.You can't put anything else in there, it's completely stuffed with old records.ring of keysYou can't examine the keys closely from where you are."What do you think you're doing?" shouts Billy. "Get your hands off my keys."There is an old Laughing Kats single here.anold autographed Laughing Kats singleold Laughing Kats singleUnfortunately the Laughing Kats single 'Stab! Stab! Stab! Stab!' has been broken jaggedly in half, perhaps in a fit of rage. You can make out Blitz' scratched autograph which looks like the sign of Zorro.Unfortunately the Laughing Kats single 'Stab! Stab! Stab! Stab!' has been broken jaggedly in half, perhaps in a fit of rage. It has no price marked on it. If you want to know the price you'll have to ask Billy.Billy carefully counts your change and shakes his head. "Sorry. You're a quarter short. It's ten bucks. And cheap at the price."Billy counts your change and smiles."Enjoy the record. It's a classic! I wish I still had that autographed copy. Be worth a small fortune today."How can you buy the single here?You can't buy anything without enough money.You drop the single. Practically before it hits the sidewalk a ragged street dweller leaps onto it, snatches it up in filthy hands,and races off. You hope you don't need the single after all.OKYou take the old Laughing Kats single.laughing katschordThere is some loose change here.change (nine dollars and seventy-five cents)change (ten dollars)"Don't clutter up my counter with loose change, unless you've got enough to buy something," says Billy, pushing the change back to you.You place the change on the counter.OK.You take the loose change.somepocket lintLooks like pocket lint.Better hold on to the pocket lint, you don't have much else.postersThe posters are the usual mixture ranging from psychedelic to punk.music wallAs you gaze at the layers of haphazardly arranged record jackets you become giddy, sensing some sinister pattern lurking just beyond the reach of human senses. But then, you were always a sensitive child.recordsRecords, records everywhere but not a cent to buy one.windowThrough the posters taped to the inside of the window you read: SKSID 000,01 FO DNAL. It looks like the tall stranger is still lurking out there.Shelves sagging with old record albums line the side walls.shelvesThere's nothing much of interest, just thousands of records -- The Radiators, The Damned, X-Ray Specs, Destroy All Monsters -- you can't can't afford any of them.Records are piled all around in precarious stacks, blocking your view.stacksJust more old record albums -- The Sex Pistols, Johnny Thunders, Wayne County and the Electric Chairs. However, there seems to be a gap, wide enough to squeeze through, between two piles near the wall to the south. Strange. As many times as you've been in the shop, you never noticed that before.recordsJust more old record albums -- The Sex Pistols, Johnny Thunders, Wayne County and the Electric Chairs. However, there seems to be a gap between two piles near the wall to the south. Strange. As many times as you've been in the shop, you never noticed that before.gapPeering through the gap, you see an open door to the south.A dusty card table squats at a weird angle over the only empty floorspace.card tableOne of the table's rusty legs has buckled, accounting for the disturbing slant of the tabletop.You see a felt tip pen on the floor. It must have rolled off the crooked table.There's nothing under the table but dust.There is a felt tip pen here.penIts just an old red felt tip pen which looks like it is about dried out.You shouldn't hide the pen under anything.OKOKOKYou don't want to put the pen there.You take the felt tip pen.floorIn this room you can only see the floor by looking under the table.A large safety pin is here.safety pinIt is a large safety pin of the type fashionable punks used to stick through their cheeks. You could use it in case the last button on your ratty old jeans falls off.You take the safety pin.You shouldn't hide the safety pin under anything.OKOKOKYou don't want to put the safety pin there.Even touching the pin sends pain shooting through your face. Getting the pin out of your cheek might be a job for the doctor.You discard the safety pin.Even touching the pin sends pain shooting through your face. Getting the pin out of your cheek might be a job for the doctor.You discard the safety pin.By the side of the street is a pay phone covered by advertising stickers and graffiti.pay phoneIt won't do you any good to put anything in the phone. It's broken.The phone has been spray painted with weird hieroglyphs from top to coin return slot. You notice that the receiver cord has been ripped out of the phone and is hanging loose.The phone has been spray painted with weird hieroglyphs from top to coin return slot. It is missing its receiver.A tentacle-like telephone cord is here.tangled phone cordIt is one of those flexible metallic receiver cords. It reminds you of a severed tentacle. Of course tentacles aren't usually attached to telephones.You drop the tentacle-like cord.You manage to get the severed end of the cord onto the guitar pick and and pull the pick to you.You manage to hook the guitar pick with the severed end of the cord and pull it to you.You can't reach the pick with that. You need something long and flexible, like a tentacle.No need to reach that.It isn't long and flexible.You have to take the cord out of the pizza box first.You hook the guitar pick with the severed end of the cord and pull it to you.You hook the guitar pick with the severed end of the cord and pull it to you.You can't reach the pick with that. You need something long and flexible, like a tentacle.No need to reach that.It isn't long and flexible.You have to take the cord out of the pizza box first.You have to open the pizza box first.You take the tentacle-like cord.coin return slotOKYou don't want to stick anything in the coin return slot.You see someone has left a quarter in the coin return slot.The coin return slot is empty.quarterYou take the quarter.You take the quarter.quarterIt's mixed up with all the rest of your change now.It's mixed up with all the rest of your change now.It's mixed up with all the rest of your change now.chordkatshebgbhebgbsamsambillyThere is a ticket to a Laughing Kats concert here.ticketThe ticket is so wrinkled and filthy as to be practically illegible. But you can make out that it is to see the Laughing Kats at HeBGB, which is all that counts.hieroglyphsThe strange symbols say nothing. Well, you seem to be able to make out the letters CTHULLU -- just gibberish.advertising stickersOne of the advertising stickers catches your eye. $nVISIT LOLA ON BOWERY $n Lola - you imagine her as having a deep brown voice.flutedrumstromboneguitarorgansaxaphonebassharmonicapianokeyboardside of building$p$tThere's nothing to see. There doesn't appear to be any entrance. At least not right here.buildingIt is just a dingy, featureless building.streetlightIt is so dark you can't even read the graffiti you know must be on the pole. You can barely discern a few very tough New York moths circling the burnt-out light.There is a wire trash basket by the curb.trash basketIt is just a wire trash basket bearing a sign admonishing passersby to 'Dispose of -- well, the other half of the sign has been disposed of -- somewhere.'storefrontsEven the bars and grates have been spray painted but there is nothing readable.noticeIn the middle of a red circle, and crossed out by a bold slash, is a picture of a cup with a pencil sitting in it.$pUnderneath is the admonition: $nNo Loitering $nNo Soliciting $nNo PanhandlingIn the middle of a red circle, and crossed out by a bold slash, is a picture of a cup with a pencil sitting in it.$pUnderneath is the admonition: $nNo Loitering $nNo Soliciting $nNo PanhandlingwallIt is just a brick wall.The line has vanished but a few fans, punks and yuppies, are hanging about, being harassed by panhandlers.Rock fans, both yuppies and punks, are lined up waiting to get into the club. Panhandlers work the line.fansThe fans are the typical mixture of streetwise New Yorkers and gawking New Jersey yuppies.hebgbThe legendary HeBGB rock club. The wall is a horrible dirty stucco, punctuated by a tiny, barred window, like the porthole in a ship.windowThe tiny barred window contains a sputtering neon sign for Heinekin.There is an empty wine bottle here.wine bottleThe bum pulls the bottle out of your reach.You pick up the empty bottle.You don't want to get close enough to the bum to examine his wine bottle.It is an empty bottle of 'Boone's Farm' raspberry wine.There is a paper cup here.paper cupThe bum pulls the cup out of your reach.You pick up the empty cup.You don't want to get close enough to the bum to examine his cup.It is a somewhat crumpled paper cup decorated with smiley faces.You place the felt tip pen in the cup.You place the pen in the cup.You really don't want to put that in the sticky paper cup.There is a ten dollar bill here.ten dollar billPaper money actually isn't very green. More of a sickly gray. drawerThe drawer is scratched and broken, with only a ragged hole where a lock must have been.$p$tThe drawer sticks fast as you try to pull it out.The drawer is already open.$p$tThe drawer resists then comes open with a squeak like the sound of nails scratching a blackboard. $p$tA skunk with blazing eyes and something red in its mouth comes flying out, hits the floor and races away into the records. $p$tSkunk? Recovering your wits you realize it was just a huge rat. What made you think of skunks? The drawer resists then comes open with a squeak like the sound of nails scratching a blackboard.The drawer is already closed.You push the door shut.A desk is embedded in the solid mountain of albums.deskIt is a beat up old wooden desk. Using something small and sharp someone has scratched into the front of the desk a heart and the words 'Sid Loves Nancy'. The desk has one remaining drawerwhich is open.which is closed.You can't budge the desk, and a good thing since doing so would bring a ton of vinyl down on your head.You can't budge the desk, and a good thing since doing so would bring a ton of vinyl down on your head.Looking for a way to open the desk you notice it has a single remaining drawerwhich is already open.which is closed.How do you want to do that?A dried out rubber band is here.dried out rubber bandIt is an ancient and dessicated rubber band which has lost all its elasticity.Picking up the rubber band, you see it is just an ancient and dessicated rubber band which has lost all its elasticity.anicent vinyl artifactsThe light in here is so dim and the records so tightly packed you can discern nothing about them except that they are incredibly old. Older even than the Rolling Stones.nodrawerA scrap of cardboard is here.scrap of cardboardIt is just the well gnawed remains of what might once have been a small box. You can make out the words: $pRED HOT GUITAR PICKSPicking up the bit of cardboard you see, it is just the well gnawed remains of what might once have been a small box. You can make out the words: $pRED HOT GUITAR PICKSboarded over doorPlywood covers what once was a door.boarded over windowPlywood covers what once was a window.cobwebsEven the cobwebs are decrepit, ragged and dusty, dangling like small tentacles.There is a small black book here.small black bookIt is a small book. A label on the cover says: SAM MOON'S DIARY.All the pages have been torn out of the diary.All the pages have been torn out of the book.posterThe poster shows Al Jolson as the Jazz Singer. Sam was really into blackface.There's a crumpled paper lying here.crumpled paperYou pick up the paper. It looks like it was ripped from a diary and crumpled up. There is scrawled writing on it.The paper looks like it was ripped from a diary and crumpled up. There is scrawled writing on it.$tYou pick up the crumpled paper. The writing is nearly illegible, as if the author's hand was trembling uncontrollably, or as if he was trying to grip his pen with something less dexterous than a hand, but you manage to decipher the wobbly hieroglyphs: $p$t "--am finally on the verge of understanding. AT LAST! AT LAST! The CHORD infests my mind, haunts my reverie. I feel it in my fingers. I feel it in my toes. The horror, the wonder, is all around me. Growing! $p$tBilly has listened to the tape too. He think's I don't know. But he will never be able to play the CHORD. He's not a punk. Just an old hippie. $p$tIt is only a matter of time now. But it is getting harder to hold the guitar pick. Still, the suction cups help."$tThe writing is nearly illegible, as if the author's hand was trembling uncontrollably, or as if he was trying to grip his pen with something less dexterous than a hand, but you manage to decipher the wobbly hieroglyphs: $p $t"--am finally on the verge of understanding. AT LAST! AT LAST! The CHORD infests my mind, haunts my reverie. I feel it in my fingers. I feel it in my toes. The horror, the wonder, is all around me. Growing! $p$tBilly has listened to the tape too. He think's I don't know. But he will never be able to play the CHORD. He's not a punk. Just an old hippie. $p$tIt is only a matter of time now. But it is getting harder to hold the guitar pick. Still, the suction cups help."A shelf is built into another wall.shelfIt is just a dusty shelf.wallThe walls are covered with crude drawings of bizarre and weirdly contorted creatures, like the work of a caveman on acid.To the west is a door which isshut.open.doorIt is a stout wooden door.You turn the key and hear the lock click open.You can't do that!You turn the key and hear the lock click shut.You can't do that!You have to close the door first.The door is already locked.You unlock the door with the key and open the door.The door seems to be locked.To the east is a door which isshut.open.doorIt is a stout wooden door.You turn the key and hear the lock click open.You can't do that!You turn the key and hear the lock click shut.You can't do that!You have to close the door first.The door is already locked.You unlock the door with the key and open the door.The door seems to be locked.A key is here.keyIt is just a normal looking door key.You take the key.crowdThe crowd is an ocean of leather and more than a few chains.glowing neon signsSome of the beer signs glow steadily, others sputter. Miller, Coors, Bud, Guinness - they produce an eerie, bluish glow, giving a corpse-like cast to the patrons.Beside the entrance is a pay phone.pay phoneIt is a typical pay phone with all the usual parts - gummed up coin return slot, an 'Out of Order' sign. Someone has torn off the receiver and cord.There's no point in putting that on the pay phone.A ballpoint pen is here.ballpoint penIt is just an old ballpoint pen.You take the old ballpoint pen.coin return slotThe slot is all gummed up, but empty.Is that a quarter you see behind the the gum in there?quarterYuck. There's nothing but discarded chewing gum in there! You try to wipe your fingers on your skintight, ratty jeans.out of order signThe sign says 'Out of Order'.You don't want to take that sign. It looks like it has been there forever.A hideously twisted cord is here.hideously twisted cordThe broken, dangling cord at the end of the receiver looks like a tentacle.You hook the guitar pick with the end of the cord and pull it out.You hook the guitar pick with the end of the cord and pull it out.You can't reach the pick with that. You need something long and flexible, like a tentacle.No need to reach that.It isn't long and flexible.You have to take the cord out of the pizza box first.You hook the guitar pick with the end of the cord and pull it out.You hook the guitar pick with the end of the cord and pull it out.You can't reach the pick with that. You need something long and flexible, like a tentacle.No need to reach that.It isn't long and flexible.You have to take the cord out of the pizza box first.You have to open the pizza box first.You take the tentacle-like cord.At the end of the bar is a bowl.bowlAs you look toward the bowl the bartender notices it is empty and tosses in a handful of peanuts.a handful of peanutsYou scoop up the peanuts.You pop a couple peanuts into your mouth and decide you couldn't possibly eat them. They're rather soggy. You wouldn't feed them to your pet goldfish. Speaking of goldfish, you wonder how Patti is doing and how soon you'll see her again.pretzelYou take the pretzel.You take a bite of the disturbingly twisted pretzel and decide you couldn't possibly eat it. It's so stale you wouldn't feed it to your dog. Speaking of your dog, you wonder how Stiv is doing and how soon before you'll see him again.beer$tEven though you've got the bartender's attention, you can't hear each other over the din but you manage to exchange cash for beer like a couple of mimes. As if a couple of mimes would last ten seconds in here with this crowd. "Thanks for the tip," the bartender mimes, as he fails to give you any change!"You can't buy a drink without enough money.The bartender is so busy you can't get his attention.$tEven though you've got the bartender's attention., you can't hear each other over the din but you manage to exchange cash for beer like a couple of mimes. As if a couple of mimes would last ten seconds in here with this crowd. "Thanks for the tip," the bartender mimes!"You can't buy a drink without enough money.That's not for sale.Even though you've got the bartender's attention, you can't hear each other over the din but you manage to exchange cash for beer like a couple of mimes. As if a couple of mimes would last ten seconds in here with these punks. "Thanks for the tip," the bartender mimes!" You can't buy a drink if you don't have enough money.The bartender is so busy you can't get his attention.This is a commercial establishment. If you want a beer you have to buy it.beerIt's an opened can of 'Fox Head'. The label says '100 percent unnatural ingredients.' Must be a typo. On the other hand the tales you've heard about this brew are enough to make your blood run cold. You take a sniff and recoil. Now you know where it got the name 'Fox Head.'Screwing up your courage you chug the 'Fox Head.'The can of 'Fox Head' is empty. Thank God!$tYou attempt to discard the can of 'Fox Head' but frighteningly, it seems to resist, clinging to your hand like some living thing.The can of 'Fox Head' is now a dreadful memory.You attempt to discard the can of 'Fox Head' but frighteningly, it seems to resist, clinging to your hand like some living thing.As you release the can of Fox Head it seems to slip away into the dreadful dimension from whence it emerged.stageThe stage swims in a heat haze.crowdThe crowd in the auditorium seems lost in a heat haze. You can't make out any faces. "Play. Play," shout your fans!guitarThe guitar seems frozen to your hands. It is meant to be played!It is an electric guitar. It is meant to be played.Your fingers on the neck of the guitar search for that booming chord you heard while floating in the void. You slash at the strings.crowdThe same people you saw outside and in the bar except for a group at one table near the stage. They look like record company executives.executivesThey must be record company executives. Look at the sweaters, casual but expensive. Their haircuts are worth more than everything you own. So are their obscure imported beers. These are the guys who can turn a kid into a rock star overnight.sweatersYou don't really have to look at those.tables$p$tThe tables all jammed together are a weird collection - wooden, metal, square, round, even some card tables and crates. They are all occupiedstage$p$tSome band you don't recognize is playing. You wish you were up there instead.wine$p$tYou don't seem to have enough money to buy any wine at these prices!.equipment$p$tJust the usual amps, drum kit, mikes.amp$p$tThey're larger than the amp you plugged your guitar into out in the garage.chordbulbsThe bulbs flicker fitfully.There is a sign taped beside the sheet.hand printed signThe crudely hand lettered sign says $pDRESSING ROOMThe hand lettered sign says $pDRESSING ROOMyellow sheetYou don't even want to touch the sheet.The sheet is in bad shape. It looks like something a body might have been wrapped in for a hundred years or so.There is an old wooden chair here.wooden chairIt is a scratched old wooden chair.As you pick up the chair the pizza box falls to the floor.You manage to pick up the wooden chair.There is a pizza box herewhich is closed.which is open.pizza boxThe pizza box is now open.The pizza box is now open.OKIt's already open.On the greasy box are the words VICTORY PIG PIZZA.Inside the box are only a few strings of cheese.I guess a little cheese on that won't hurt.You slip the tentacle-like phone cord into the pizza box.You slip the tentacle-like phone cord into the pizza box.That won't fit in the pizza box.You don't have the box.You have to open the pizza box first.You take the $o out of the pizza box.You have to open the pizza box first.It isn't in the pizza box.You close the lid of the pizza box.You close the lid of the pizza box.It is not open.You pick up the pizza box.cheeseJust some stringy, oily bits of cheese, somewhat reminscent of tentacles.You can't get any of the sticky cheese off the box.Assorted junk, mostly discarded burger wrappers and other fast food debris, is strewn everywhere. Bands have been coming in and out all evening long.junkYou don't want to look too closely.The idea gives you the creeps.wrappersJust greasy burger wrappers.doorThe door says CHICKS, DUDES, ETC.puddleYour reflection in the disgusting puddle is not a pretty sight.wallThe filthy walls are covered with layer upon layer of graffiti, strings of arcane and indecipherable symbols, like some hideous web. You barely manage to pull your eyes away.pipeIt is just a rusted pipe dripping water. The fact that the sink is gone is of little consequence. Anyone crazy enough to use this place wouldn't be washing their hands anyway.Shadowy shapes are heaped against one wall.shadowy shapesStraining your eyes you see that the shadowy shapes are just a trick of the fragmented light seeping down from overhead.You feel grit under your feet.gritOn closer inspection the grit turns out to be fossilized rodent droppings.rough wallIt is too dark to actually see the wall but you can almost feel it there in front of you.You touch the wall but feel only rough but solid stones.Feeling the wall, you can find no opening.You touch the wall but feel only rough but solid stones.Feeling the wall, you can find no opening.You touch the wall but feel only rough but solid stones.Groping along the wall you can find no opening.You touch the wall but feel only rough but solid stones.Feeling the wall, you can find no opening.You touch the wall but feel only rough but solid stones.Feeling the wall, you can find no opening.You touch the wall but feel only rough but solid stones.Groping along the wall you can find no opening.You touch the wall but feel only rough but solid stones.You touch the wall but feel only rough but solid stones.Feeling the wall, you can find no opening. This could take awhile.You touch the wall but feel only rough but solid stones.Groping along the wall you can find no opening.Feeling the rwall, you can find no opening.You touch the wall but feel only rough but solid stones.As you run your hand over the wall you feel a fissure. Now that you know where it is, you can actually make it out, just faintly.shapeThe dark shape appears to be a pile of boards.pile of boardsJust a pile of old, discarded boards.The boards are too heavy to lift.You move the boards but find nothing of interest, even when you feel along the dark wall beside which the boards were piled.There's a narrow fissure in the wall.fissureThe narrow fissure leads back into darkness, probably to the rat's nest, but you can make out something glinting, a guitar pick. That must be what the rat has been carrying around. But the pick is beyond your reach. You could probably reach the pick if you had, say, flexible tentacles, but unfortunately all you have are hands which can't reach back there.You don't want to put anything in the rat.$p$tThere's a Harmony Meteor Guitar here. The very guitar Dave Davies played on that most eldritch of all punk rock songs, the Kinks' YOU REALLY GOT ME!harmony meteor guitar$p$tAs you pick up the Harmony Meteor an electric shock seems to run up through your arm and straight into your heart.That is impossible for from this moment you are as one with your guitar!A guitar pick is here.guitar pickIt is a bright red guitar pick on which is printed 'RED HOT.'You can't reach the pick. The fissure is too narrow. You need something more tentacle-like.OK.A clunky old tape recorder.tape recorderThere's a place to put the tape in, a button marked PRESS TO PLAY and another marked PRESS TO EJECT.You take the tape recorder.OK.OK.OK.OK.You can't put that in the tape recorder.There's already a tape in there.'Disco Duck'tapeIt is just an old cassette tape with 'Disco Duck' scrawled on the label in pen.You take the tape marked 'Disco Duck'.'Cats' tapeIt is just an old cassette tape with 'Cats' scrawled on the label in pen.You take the tape marked 'Cats'.'XXX' tapeIt is just an old cassette tape with 'XXX' scrawled on the label in pen.You take the tape marked 'XXX'.'Jolson'tapeIt is just an old cassette tape with 'Jolson' scrawled on the label in pen.You take the tape marked 'Jolson'.eject buttonThe tape pops out of the recorder.The tape pops out of the recorder.The tape pops out of the recorder.The tape pops out of the recorder.There's no tape in the tape recorder to eject.play button$p$tThe tape squeals as it begins to turn then the tape recorder starts to vibrate. $p$tYou are engulfed by a sound, like a wave as big as the universe breaking over the earth. A roaring sound out of space and time that resonates every molecule of your being, imprinting itself into your brain and into your fingers which begin to twitch, curling impossibly, fingering a chord that cannot be formed by a human hand, heard by human ears, conceived of by the human brain or played on a guitar shaped by the geometry of this world. And then the tape clicks off. But the memory remains. You know now, you will be able to play that chord when the time comes. $p$tAmazing what you can do with duck tape!$p$tThe tape squeals as it begins to turn then the tape recorder starts to vibrate. $p$tYou are engulfed by a sound, like a wave as big as the universe breaking over the earth. A roaring sound out of space and time that resonates every molecule of your being, imprinting itself into your brain and into your fingers which begin to twitch, curling impossibly, fingering a chord that cannot be formed by a human hand, heard by human ears, conceived of by the human brain or played on a guitar shaped by the geometry of this world. And then the tape clicks off. But the memory remains. You know now, you will be able to play that chord when the time comes. $p$tAmazing what you can do with duck tape!Memories...All I have are the memories... Andrew Webber...your mind reels with horror!Barry Manilow stuff...wow, Sam really had a dark side!Mammy, how I love ya, how I love ya... Sam always did like blackface.You have to put a tape in first.With the commode moved a hole can be seen.holeStone steps lead down from the hole.A stained and chipped commode sits at an odd angle.A stained and chipped commode sits pushed up agains the wall.commodeWith a great effort, you shove the heavy commode to one side.Moving the commode once was all you could manage.You strain to lift the commode but it is too heavy.Water has pooled near the base of the commode which doesn't seem to be fastened to the floor properly.No one has to go bad enough to use this lavatory!There appears to be niche in the wall, well above your head.nicheStanding on the chair you can see into the niche.The niche is too high for you to see into, even standing on your toes.There is broken glass from a beer bottle here.broken glassIt is a broken shard of an old Fort Schuyler Beer bottle.Stuck to the wall beside the door is a sign.large signThe sign says: $pHeBGB $nFifth Annual $nRock Around the Clock $nAll Your Favorite Bands $nAll Night Long $p$nSpecial Tonight $nOne Drink Minimum $nAt HeBGB's low prices $pA few bands are listed, but not the Laughing Kats.The sign says: $pHeBGB $nFifth Annual $nRock Around the Clock $nAll Your Favorite Bands $nAll Night Long $p$nSpecial Tonight $nOne Drink Minimum $n At HeBGB's low prices $pA few bands are listed, but not the Laughing Kats.doorwayBeyond the large attendant you see shadowy figures moving through a smokey haze.katssamstage doorIt's just a door. The guard is too big to see past.Featureless walls press in from the sides.wallsActually the walls are not entirely featureless. Like practically everything else in the city they are covered with spray painted arcana: $p'Stiv wuz Here' $P'Rock n' Roll Lives' $P'Cthullu is not dead but only sleeping' $pThe wall at the back of the alley is smooth and unclimbable.wallThe wall at the back of the alley near the stagedoor is smooth and unclimbable.katsThere is a studded collar here.collarYou discard the heavy collar.You start to remove the heavy dog collar but a ghostly voice hisses at your from deep inside your own thoughts. "Not yet."You discard the heavy collar.You discard the heavy collar.You start to remove the heavy dog collar but a ghostly voice hisses at your from deep inside your own thoughts. "Not yet."You discard the heavy collar.You discard the heavy collar.You start to remove the heavy dog collar but a ghostly voice hisses at your from deep inside your own thoughts. "Not yet."You discard the heavy collar.It is a wide leather dog collar with large metal studs. Burnt into the leather are the initials 'M.T.'noseYou open the safety pin and place it in one nostril but you cannot force yourself to drive the safety pin through your nose. Is this courage? No it's not.Has the city finally driven you mad?You've already stuck the safety pin through your cheek.You open the safety pin and place it in one nostril but you cannot force yourself to drive the safety pin through your nose. Is this courage? No it's not.Has the city finally driven you mad?You've already stuck the safety pin through your cheek.lipYou open the safety pin and your mouth but you cannot force yourself to drive the safety pin through your lip.Has the city finally driven you mad?You've already stuck the safety pin through your cheek.You open the safety pin and your mouth but you cannot force yourself to drive the safety pin through your lip.Has the city finally driven you mad?You've already stuck the safety pin through your cheek.earYou open the safety pin and count three but you cannot force yourself to drive the safety pin through your earlobe.Has the city finally driven you mad?You've already stuck the safety pin through your cheek.You open the safety pin and count three but you cannot force yourself to drive the safety pin through your earlobe.Has the city finally driven you mad?You've already stuck the safety pin through your cheek.earlobeYou open the safety pin and count three but you cannot force yourself to drive the safety pin through your earlobe.Has the city finally driven you mad?You've already stuck the safety pin through your cheek.You open the safety pin and count three but you cannot force yourself to drive the safety pin through your earlobe.Has the city finally driven you mad?You've already stuck the safety pin through your cheek.tongueYou open the safety pin, stick out your tongue and count three (in your head) but you cannot force yourself to drive the safety pin through your tongue.Has the city finally driven you mad?You've already stuck the safety pin through your cheek.You open the safety pin, stick out your tongue and count three (in your head) but you cannot force yourself to drive the safety pin through your tongue.Has the city finally driven you mad?You've already stuck the safety pin through your cheek.eyebrowYou open the safety pin, clench your teeth and count three but you cannot force yourself to drive the safety pin through your eyebrow.Has the city finally driven you mad?You've already stuck the safety pin through your cheek.You open the safety pin, clench your teeth and count three but you cannot force yourself to drive the safety pin through your eyebrow.Has the city finally driven you mad?You've already stuck the safety pin through your cheek.cheekYou realize you will have to put the pin through your cheek, not just in it.You don't have the $o.Has the city finally driven you mad?You've already stuck the safety pin through your cheek.$p$tYou open the safety pin. Closing your eyes you count to three and shove the pin into your cheek. The pain sends you staggering backwards. But the safety pin is now through your cheek. Gingerly you close the pin.You don't have the $o.Has the city finally driven you mad?You've already stuck the safety pin through your cheek.Just touching the pin sends pain shooting through the side of your face. Taking it out might be a job for a doctor!Don't be foolish.Just touching the pin sends pain shooting through the side of your face. Taking it out might be a job for a doctor!Don't be foolish.buildingsYou see only the dirty, boarded up backs of warehouses.The graffitti artists have not even been at work back here. Perhaps this particular alley is too foreboding even for them. You figure that the building to your right must be the one housing HeBGB but there is something disturbingly 'wrong' about the odd, curving angle of the alley.loading dockThe loading dock must be directly behind HeBGB.warehouse wallsThe walls have not even been spray painted. You can't help wondering why vandals have avoided this place.concrete wallOddly, the concrete wall has gone untouched by spray paint toting vandals. The concrete has crumbled away in places forming gaps you could probably use as handholds to climb the wall.You scramble up over the wall.You can't climb that.doorThe door is securely boarded shut, although something much smaller than you has gnawed at the bottom corner creating a tiny hole.small holeThe hole is only large enough for a rodent.On the wall right at the mouth of the alley is a large poster.large poster$p$tIt is a photograph of the LAUGHING KATS. Maybe one of the few publicity shots they ever allowed. You immediately recognize tall bald headed flutist BLITZ KREIGER looming above the others. The slight figure with the blazing eyes and the white skunk stripe in his lank hair is YNGVIE the demon guitarist himself. Bass player MICK THRASH, trying to look tough but looking more like a pudgy accountant in a studded dog collar stands to one side. Sitting in front wearing a black leather miniskirt and a blonde Mohawk is SUZI UZI, the Kats' drummer.end of dockThere is nothing to see at the end of the dock.and wearingjeansEven if you wanted to do that in public, they're so tight it would take you ten minutes to get out of them.Even if you wanted to do that in public, they're so tight it would take you ten minutes to get out of them.Even if you wanted to do that in public, they're so tight it would take you ten minutes to get out of them.You've already managed to get that into the pocket of your skintight jeans.That's too large to fit into your skintight jeans.Your jeans are skintight and more than a little skin is showing through the holes.tee shirtYou don't want to show your skinny chest in public.You don't want to show your skinny chest in public.You don't want to show your skinny chest in public.You slip the single underneath your tee shirt where it can't be seen."Hey," yells Billy, "you're not pulling any Abbie Hoffman steal this book stuff on me. Get that single out from under your shirt!"You don't want to put that under your tee shirt.You can't put anything in the Ramones Tee shirt.You can't put anything in the Ramones Tee shirt.You slip the single underneath your tee shirt where it can't be seen."Hey," yells Billy, "you're not pulling any Abbie Hoffman steal this book stuff on me. Get that single out from under your shirt!"You don't want to put that under your tee shirt.Looking down you can see the Ramones.writing$p$tThe glowing writing looks at first like the work of a drunken, and perhaps radioactive spider, but the mad scrawl becomes clear as you gaze at it. You know what it says, even though you don't seem to be actually reading it:$p$t "You're a thinker, Phil. The fact that you are reading this at all demonstrates that. You could've grabbed that guitar and raced out onto the stage, grabbed for fame and glory without a thought.$t "And if you had...well, you would've thought it was just a stupid game. You would've missed the moral of it all. Yeah, the quest for fame and riches turns men into monsters. $t "So what'll it be? Are you going to pick up that guitar, keep on playing, or are you going to say goodbye to all that, get on with life, walk out through that curtain, straight out of this stupid game, to the west remember."$p$tThe glowing writing looks at first like the work of a drunken, and perhaps radioactive spider, but the mad scrawl becomes clear as you gaze at it. You know what it says, even though you don't seem to be actually reading it: "$p$tYou're a thinker, Phil. The fact that you are reading this at all demonstrates that. You could've grabbed that guitar and raced out onto the stage, grabbed for fame and glory without a thought. "$p$tAnd if you had...well, you would've thought it was just a stupid game. You would've missed the moral of it all. Yeah, the quest for fame and riches turns men into monsters. "So what'll it be? Are you going to pick up that guitar, keep on playing, or are you going to say goodbye to all that, get on with life, walk out through that curtain, straight out of this stupid game, to the west remember."Land Of 10,000 Disks$p$tThe LAND OF 10,000 DISKS is a typical cramped New York City shop.Behind Billy the famous 'music wall' is plastered with record jackets from floor to ceiling.There's a door to the west. The street is to the north.$p$t"Hey," yells Billy. "You come back here with my magazine." Displaying remarkable speed for his size, he's beside you in an instant, snatching the magazine away. "I don't care if you haven't finished reading." he says, placing the magazine on the counter.$p$t"Hey," yells Billy. "Don't try sneaking out of here with that single." Gray ponytail flapping the shopkeeper bounds out from behind the counter, grabs 'Stab! Stab! Stab! Stab!' and lays in on the counter. "You want it, you buy it."Houston Street$p$tThe Land of 10,000 Disks record shop is near the corner of Houston Street and the Bowery.Houston runs east and west and the shop door is to the south.$p$tBilly just threw you out. You don't dare go back in there!$p$tYou don't want to head toward the West Village. The East Village is more your speed.$p$tYou can't take the sidewalk around the side of the building because of a gaping construction hole and out on Bowery yellow cabs dance wildly to the insane bleating of their hideous horns. Why risk crossing?$p$tAs you wait for the traffic light at the corner of Houston and Bowery, you realize you cannot leave until you have found what you need at the Shop of 10,000 Disks. $p$tThe Land of 10,000 Disks record shop is near the corner of Houston Street and the Bowery.Houston runs east and west and the shop door is to the south.$p$tYou drop the $o. Practically before it hits the sidewalk a ragged street dweller leaps on it, snatches it up in filthy hands and races off. You hope you don't need the $o after all.Street1CrossingCorner Of Houston And Bowery$p$tAt the corner of Houston and Bowery is a used furniture store. Across the street, to the south, is The Shop of 10,000 Disks. Bowery runs north from here. $p$tYou don't want to head toward the West Village. The East Village is more your speed.$p$tOut on Bowery yellow cabs dance wildly to the insane bleating of their hideous horns. Why risk crossing?$p$tBilly just threw you out. You wouldn't dare go back!$p$tYou see the shop is closed. Why go back?$p$tYou drop the $o. Practically before it hits the sidewalk a ragged street dweller leaps onto it, snatches it up in filthy hands,and races off. You hope you don't need the $o after all.Hall$p$tA short, bare hall leads west to a backroom.NowhereBack Room At Record Shop$p$tBilly's windowless back room is enough to give you claustrophobia.The only way out of the mess appears to be the door to the east.You drop the $o onto the table.Corner Of Bleecker And Bowery$p$tFrom here Bleecker Street runs west and Bowery north and south. The storefronts are all concealed at this time of the evening behind various kinds of bars and grates.Out on Bowery yellow cabs careen about in a macadam mosh pit. Why risk crossing?You are at the corner of Bleecker which runs to the west and Bowery which continues north. The storefronts are all concealed at this time of the evening behind various kinds of bars and grates.East Bleecker$tBleecker Street, going west, is dark because the streetlight here is out. The sidewalk runs along what you suppose must be the side of the building in which HeBGB is located. Bowery is to the east.You don't want to cross the street. It is even darker over there.West Bleecker$p$tIt is too dark to see much of anything here, except that there is no entrance in this side of the building. The street runs east and west. There seems to be an alley to the northwest.You try to leave but the bum manages to place himself in your way.You try to leave but the bum manages to place himself in your way.The streetlights seem to be out all the way down the street. It looks too dark and forboding to continue.It is even darker across the street.Outside HebgbThe famous HeBGB rock club is located in a nondescript building which serves mainly as a warehouse.The entrance is further north. There's a notice on the wall.Your attempt to cut into the line is met by angry glares and sharp elbows. Maybe you should just try waiting patiently.Out on Bowery yellow cabs careen about in a macadam mosh pit. Why risk crossing?You wait impatiently in the line.Office At Record Shop$p$tThe room, nearly concealed behind the stacks of records, is little more than a walk-in closet but you can't actually walk in because it is packed with still more of Billy's ancient vinyl artifacts. A narrow gap between stacks of records is to the north.There isn't room to drop anything.Narrow Stairway$tA narrow, weirdly uneven set of stairs leads up and down.Upstairs Hallway$tThe upstairs hallway which runs north is nearly dark.You have to open the door first.End Of Hallway$tThe hallway ends here at a boarded up window. What was a door to the east has also been boarded up. To the west is what looks like a closet which has long since been relieved of its door. The hallway extends back to the south.You can't walk through the plywood over the door.Closet$tThe closet is nearly empty except for cobwebs. The hallway is to the east.Storeroom$tThe storeroom is bare. What must have been a window in one wall has been covered with plywood and nailed shut. Whoever removed the contents of the room left a poster on the wall.You have to open the door first.Bar$p$tIt's like a mosh pit in here. The bar is nearly concealed by the crowd. Most of the light comes from the wall full of glowing, neon beer signs behind the bar.To the north is a corridor while the door to Bleecker is to the east.Limitless VoidLimitless VoidYou move through darkness cold as the shadow of eternity. Still, you sense, as much as see, a light to the east.A vast rushing cold prevents you from turning back.StageYou are standing on a stage in a vast auditorium. The crowd chants, "Play, play." You are holding a guitar.Your feet seem frozen to the stage.Seating$p$tThe old tables in the cramped seating area down in front of the stage are jammed together so tightly there's barely room to stand. A haze of smoke hangs over the crowd. You can go up to the stage and there is a door to the northwest. The corridor leading into the club is to the east.You can't get on stage, there's a band playing there.StageOne of the bands left all of its equipment set up on the stage.You've dreamed of being up on this stage your whole life. PLAY!You plug your guitar into the amp.You can't do that. Hurry up and play.$p$tYou plug in the Harmony Meteor guitar.$p$tYou plug in the Harmony Meteor guitar.Hey, dude don't ruin the drama here!HallEnd Of Hallway$p$tThe featureless hallway ends at stairs which lead up and down.Narrow Hallway$p$tOnly half the bare bulbs in the ceiling of this hallway survive. The seating area is to the southeast. The hallway extends north. To the east a yellowing sheet hangs down, only partly concealing what appears to be an alcove.Dressing Room$p$tThe dressing room is nothing more than an alcove concealed by the hanging sheet.Precarious Stairs$p$tA steep stairway leads up and down. Well, strange as the evening has been, you wouldn't expect the stairs to only lead up!Bottom Of Stairs$p$tThis section of basement hallway might have led somewhere once but now it is boarded off. To the north, in front of you, is the infamous HeBGB lavatory, The door is lying on the floor across a noisome puddle. Behind you the stairway leads upwards.Lavatory$p$tThe lavatory is tiny and the walls seem to lean in toward you. A pipe protruding from the wall indicates there was once a sink. To the south is the open door.You can't go that way.No one has to pee bad enough to use this lavatory!Cellar$p$tLight from the lavatory seeps down into this gloomy, rock walled, chamber along with water. There is a large door to the east. Stone steps lead up.Back Of Cellar$p$tThis dank echoing chamber would be utterly dark except for a few thin shafts of light dropping through cracks in the ceiling. There is a large door to the west and a smaller opening, to what might once have served as a coal bin, to the south.Unfortunately an eldritch horror blocks your path.You drop the cord.You drop the cord.OK.Coal Bin$p$tSo this is what they mean by stygian gloom. The vague illumination here does not reach the walls. An indistinct shape lies near one wall. There is a doorway to the north.The hungry rat pounces on the pretzel, gobbles it down and darts away. He seems to be moving slower now that he has a meal in his stomach, but he's still too fast for you to spot where he's running to.The hungry rat pounces on the peanuts, gobbles them down and darts away. He seems to be moving slower now that he has a meal in his stomach, but he's still too fast for you to spot where he's running to.OKThe rat sniffs the $o then looks at you reproachfully, as if to say, how do you expect me to eat that?The rat leaps onto your offering again and eats greedily. But this time he's really stuffed and as he waddles slowly away you spot the fissure he's vanished into, part way up one wall and concealed in the shadows.Hebgb Entrance$p$tA narrow doorway leads west into the dim interior of HeBGB.Bowery runs north and south."Ticket please," snarls the large attendant.Entrance To Side Alley$p$tFrom here an alley extends west along the side of HeBGB. Bowery runs north and south.To the north Bowery looks gloomy and uninviting.Out on Bowery yellow cabs careen about in a macadam mosh pit. Why risk crossing?A dimly lit alley runs west along the side of HeBGB. Bowery runs north and south.End Of Side Alley$p$tThe alley along the side of HeBGB is illuminated in one spot by a sputtering bulb over what must be the side door to the south. The alley, which extends back to the east, ends here. You bang your nose on the wall.$p$tYou step past the guard and it seems you are about to get inside, but then you feel a big hand on your shoulder and in an instant the guard has tossed you back into the alley with a perfectly executed atomic doom fling. "Almost had me fooled,' he growls. 'But now I can see you don't belong back here."$p$tThe big guard grabs you and body slams you against the wall. $p$t"Who do you think you're fooling? I can tell you don't belong here. You wanna get in. Go out front and buy a ticket."The alley here is illuminated by a sputtering bulb over what one might call a side door to the south.Narrow Corridor$p$tOutfitted with your dog collar and safety pin you feel like a real punk. The guard was as oblivious as a ref at a wrestling match as you went past. $p$tFrom this narrow, featureless corridor you can turn west into the seating area in front of the stage or proceed a few steps south to the bar. The side door to the club is to the north.$p$tFrom this narrow, featureless corridor you can turn west into the seating area in front of the stage or proceed a few steps south to the bar. The side door to the club is to the north.$p$tA huge bouncer, who looks like the tag-team partner of the guard outside appears out of nowhere to bar your way. "No cans of beer allowed near the stage. Too dangerous for the bands! Fans don't like the beat, they throw the cans! Drink it or drop it!" He immediately slips back into the crowd.$p$tA waitress blocks your path. "Minimum one drink," she snaps. "Let's see, we got white wine that's twelve bucks a bottle including tax, and then we've got red wine that's ten bucks and twenty-five cents including tax. You buying or leaving?"Back Alley$p$tThe alley behind HeBGB is like the bottom of a dark cavern. The buildings on either side display only their blank backs. Bleecker is to the southeast and the alley curves toward the northeast.End Of Back AlleyThe alley ends here at a concrete wall. Behind you it leads back to the southeast.You can't walk through a wall.This is a wall, not a stairway.Middle Of Back Alley$p$tIt is claustrophobic back here. The only light is what little seeps down from the permanently illuminated haze above the city. The alley curves back to the southeast and continues to the northeast between warehouse walls. There is a loading dock to the east. The alley continues to the northeast.Loading Dock$p$tThe loading dock looks like it hasn't been used for years. There is a door in the side of the warehouse to the east.On closer inspection the door appears to have not only been locked but nailed shut.The soundless chords from an invisible bass guitar hammer at the inside of your skull.You can still hear the faint echoes of ghostly chords.Dressing Room$p$tThe dressing room is nothing more than an alcove concealed by the hanging sheet. But now one wall is covered in weirdly glowing writing. The hall lies to the west.A shimmering form seems to block your path. At first you think it is a giant, ghostly rat, then it looks nearly human. "$p$tNo, Phil. You can't leave until you've made your choice. Read the message and make your choice."The Street$p$tThe street is dark and lifeless and a chill has descended over the city.HeroBillyBilly just grunts. You've been in the shop often enough to know he's not much of a conversationalist, unless you want to buy something or have a question that will give him a chance to show off his knowledge of rock n roll.You really don't want to put anything in Billy. He looks like he has enough in him already.Billy is a big man, an old double album, or maybe even a boxed set of a man. His gray hair is tied back in a long ponytail. There's a ring of keys hanging from his belt.$p$tBilly says, "That single is a collector's item. I can let you have it for ten dollars and cheap at the price. Anything by the Laughing Kats is worth a mint these days. An autograph from anyone in the band is worth plenty and I'd be a rich man if I could lay my hands on that tape they...' Billy turns pale as his voice trails off. 'But we don't speak about THAT in this shop. Now, how about the single? Do you want to buy it?""$p$tHey, I got tons of singles in here. You want to know about one of my records, go get it."$p$tBilly says, "That single is a collector's item. You got a real bargain there. Anything by the Laughing Kats is worth a mint these days. An autograph from anyone in the band is worth plenty and I'd be a rich man if I could lay my hands on that tape they..." Billy turns pale as his voice trails off. "But we don't speak about THAT in this shop. "$p$tBilly somehow manages to widen his eyes while maintaining a glazed expression, "What? You don't remember GABBA GABBA? Well, it was kind of highbrow for a punk zine. Every time I read it I learn something new.""$p$tBest group that ever blew an amp," says Billy. For a second he seems to be gazing into the past. Actually Billy always seems to be gazing into the past. This time, though you get the feeling he doesn't like what he's seeing. "$tReal bummer about...well, I don't want to talk about that." He gives a shudder.$p$t"Haven't been there for years," says Billy. "I suppose you're looking for a gig. My advice is stay away."$p$t"I suppose you're another out of work musician looking or an introduction. Well, it's true, we used to be partners, but it's been years since we spoke." You notice a chill in Billy's tone.$p$tYour words hit Billy like...well...like some thunderous heavy metal power chord. He turns white and comes rushing our from behind the counter. $p$t"No one ever speaks about....about...THAT in here," Billy shouts as he throws you out into the street. As you get up off the sidewalk you are even more curious about this chord that dares not speak its name.$p$tYour words hit Billy like...well...like some thunderous heavy metal power chord. He turns white and comes rushing our from behind the counter. $p$t"No one ever speaks about....about...THAT in here," Billy shouts as he throws you out into the street. As you get up off the sidewalk you are even more curious about this chord that dares not speak its name.$p$tBilly's face darkens. "Yngvie," he mutters, shaking his head. "Yngvie was a rat.""The Kats had the hardest rockin' flutist I ever heard!"$p$t"You mean the tall skinny guy in the Laughing Kats? Played one mean flute. He used to drop by all the time. But, of course, I haven't seen him,since, well...that's not a very pleasant subject." Billy's voice trails off and he licks his lips nervously.Billy just looks at you. Way back in the sixties he used to know a lot about mind altering substances. Now he sometimes doesn't know about anything.$p$tBilly says, "That single is a collector's item. Not a scratch on it, and more than half of it's there. I can let you have it for ten dollars and cheap at the price. Now if it were autographed, well, it'd be worth a small fortune. Or half of one."$p$tBilly says, "That single is a collector's item. Not a scratch on it, and more than half of it's there. I can let you have it for ten dollars and cheap at the price. Now if it were autographed, well, it'd be worth a small fortune. Or half of one."Hey, I have lots of singles. Go get the one you're interested in.$p$t"GABBA GABBA? That magazine is priceless. Every time I read it I learn something new.""$$??? Beats me."$p$tWay back in the sixties Billy used to know the price of a lot of mind altering substances. Now he doesn't know the price of much of anything, outside what he sells including$$.$p$tBilly laughs. "'I don't give autographs. There's a few I'd pay good money for though."$p$tBilly just shakes his head. "You don't want me to autograph that. Now go get someone who's someone -- or at least someone who WAS someone -- to autograph it and I might give you a good price."$p$tBilly looks at the autographed single and hands it back. "So you scratched it already. How many times have I seen that trick? Wasn't scratched when you bought it. You're not getting your money back."$p$tBilly hands the single back."You want to buy this? It's ten bucks, and cheap at the price. Otherwise put it back in the box."$p$tBilly just shakes his head. "What are trying to give me that for? You want to buy something?"You don't want to give that to Billy.$p$tBilly looks at the autographed single and hands it back. "So you scratched it already. How many times have I seen that trick? Wasn't scratched when you bought it. You're not getting your money back."You don't want to sell that to Billy.Bowery Billy, the shopkeeper, is standing behind the counter.fluteBlitz"Yeah, I'm Blitz Kreiger. Great to know somebody still remembers. Anything you want, just ask for it."His shaved head floats high above you like a gibbous moon."Hey, Dude, didn't I already say I'd give you one?""No problem, for a fan," says Blitz. What do you want me to autograph?""Sure, dude," says Blitz, who proceeds to unzip several dozen pockets in his leather jacket before shaking his head and handing the single back. "Don't seem to have anything to autograph it with.""No way, dude. I don't wanna autograph that. You have anything else?"$p$tBlitz looks puzzled. "I know you want an autograph, but..." Then he understands, takes the safety pin and your single and scratches his autograph into the vinyl.$p$t "Enjoy the song, dude." He hands back the pin and single.$p$t "Say, I'll bet you can't tell me what instrument I played on that song. Go on. Guess." $p[Answer by typing 'you played whatever instrument']$p$t"Be glad to give you that autograph," says Blitz, taking the pen and the single. He scratches at the label of the single with the pen then frowns. "Heh, dude. This pen is dry!"He hands the single and the empty pen back.$p$tBlitz unzips a lot of pockets and says, "I know you want an autograph but I don't seem to have anything to write with.""I know you want an autograph, but I can't write with that!""So, where's that single you wanted autographed?""I'll be glad to autograph it, if you've got something to autograph it with.""That can't be autographed."Blitz examines the single and hands it back. "That record got to number one in Austria, Dude."$tBlitz looks puzzled and pushes $o away. "You want something, Dude?"You don't want to put anything in Blitz."What a guitar player," says Blitz. "Even if he was a rat!"Blitz just snorts, "He called himself a manager. Well, he managed to run through most of our money, that's for sure!""He gave the Laughing Kats their start," says Blitz. "Even after we refused to go on in blackface.""Great club. Don't miss our set tonight!""I can't tell you about the chord. That's what you've got to find.""Never be another group like the Kats. We hit Number one in Austria."Blitz just glares. He isn't much of a talker.StrangerThe tall stranger glares down and says, "Why should I talk to you? You don't even know my name!"He is just your typical looming, lurking stranger, about seven feet tall, totally bald and dressed completely in black leather."Why should I autograph anything for you? You don't even know who I am.""Why should I autograph anything for you? You don't even know who I am."The stranger glares down and says, "Why should I talk to you? You don't even know my name!"$p$tStudying a large poster in the shop window is a very tall, cadaverous looking stranger with a shaved head. He is dressed entirely in black leather. You might almost say he's lurking, except for the fact that he seems to be staring at you, almost as if he wants to talk.$pThe tall cadaverous looking stranger is still lurking near Billy's doorway for some inexplicable reason.JoeBlitz is still standing outside Billy's, as if he's waiting for something.Blitz is still standing outside Billy's, maybe waiting for you to tell him, 'You played....' Talk about ego!$pThe sidewalk is crowded. A woman who has tried to avail herself of the phone company's services kicks the defective pay phone with a high heel. A couple of dog walkers bark at each other.PhoneySam$p$tSuddenly a misshapen, menacing figure lurches out of the shadows nearly colliding with you. $pAs your momentary terror subsides you see it is only a bum. He's carrying a bottle of wine and drinking from a paper cup decorated with a happy face.$p$tThe bum slurps wine from his happy faced paper cup. He squints down at your Ramones tee shirt.$p$t "I wuz in that band," he says. "Sure wuz. Morty Ramone. Thash me. One night back in '79 Dee Dee comes down sick and I wuz hangin' round the pinball machines. So they ast me up on stage, knowin' I had some reputation back then in musical circles..."$p$t The bum rambles on but you don't hear. You realize that in twenty years, considering your lack of success, this could be you - except that you haven't played with the Ramones even at one gig.$p$tFinally the bum lurches away to Bowery where he turns the corner and heads in the direction of Houston Street still drinking wine from his grinning cup.Bum"Thanksh. Now I can write my memoirs."'Thanksh. I always wanted.'The bum mumbles incoherently and shakes his wine bottle at the shadows.The bum looks alert suddenly. "I'm not sayin' nothin'," he mutters.Just another stubble-faced, ragged New York bum. You really don't care to examine him too closely.Smells like a bum...The bum looks like he has enough in him - wine at least - already.$P$tYou hear a sound that sends chills down the back of your neck. Something moving in the shadows further down Bleecker. Or maybe just your imagination.NoiseNew YorkersThey're real retro punks with dyed hair and sharp objects stuck through various parts of their faces.The punks just snort at you through their nose rings.We don't need no stinkin.Better not try to put anything in them.YuppiesThese guys are looking around in amazement as if they've never been east of Hoboken."No thanks," says one of the yuppies. "We couldn't take that from you."The yuppies eye you suspiciously and say nothing. They seem to pay more attention to the guys who panhandle.Better not try to put anything in them.The yuppies look at you and your paper cup and pen nervously. "Here," says one, handing you a ten. "We don't need any pens right now. But go buy yourself a cappuccino or something."They ignore you. Guess they won't get fooled again.The yuppies just ignore your entrepreneurial efforts.$pThe panhandlers jostle each other like vultures at a carcass.$pThe panhandlers working the fans are a hard looking crew. "I just got outta prison," one is saying. "Can you spare bus fare back to my aunt's."$pOne of the panhandlers is talking to the yuppies. He shakes a dented tin cup full of pencils at them. In New York City even panhandlers can be entrepreneurs. "Dollar apiece," he growls. The yuppies just cower. $p"Uh, thanks, but no. Plenty of pencils back in Weehawken," says one of the yuppies in a trembling voice. "But here's a ten." $pthe panhandler grabs the bill, glowers appreciatively and takes off before all the liquor stores close. The yuppies look relieved to be rid of him at any price.PanhandlerBetter not try to put anything in the panhandler.The panhandler is too busy to talk.The panhandler is too busy to talk.Hey, these panhandlers all look the same - charity cases you can't refuse.BartenderThe bartender has an albino look about him as if he has basked endessly in the pale light of neon beer signs.It is too noisy in here for the bartender to hear you.Maybe you should just buy a beer.It is too noisy in here for the bartender to hear you.Your shout can't be heard above the noise in here.You can't put anything in the bartender.$p You can't help noticing that the beseiged bartender is having a hard time keeping up with the demand for beer.$p You see the bartender is slapping down beer cans frantically as if all the fiends of hell are after him.$pYou see that the bartender is sliding beers down the bar in a frenzy while the crowd shouts for more.$pThe bartender wipes his forehead as he pauses in his labors for a moment.BartenderThe bartender has an albino look about him as if he has basked endessly in the pale light of neon beer signs.It is too noisy in here for the bartender to hear you.Maybe you should just buy a beer.You can't put anything in the bartender.It is too noisy in here for the bartender to hear you.Your shout can't be heard above the noise in here.Bartender$p$tA huge shadowy creature blocks your way. Wriggling tentacles reach out but the horrid creature does not move forward.$p$tA nightmarish mass of squirming tentacles like a bag of snakes pulled inside out blocks your path.$p$tYou path is blocked by a hideously, gobbling monstrosity out of space and time.$p$tThere is a horror barring your way. The thing seems to shift and waver as if your eyes cannot capture nor your mind grasp the perverted symmetry of its grotesque anatomy.$p$tThere is a horrible chittering sound. Then silence. The dark chamber is empty.Creature$p$tApart from the mass of writhing tentacles, the dripping ichor and the fact that it has only one eye, the creature looks a lot like Sam Moon in blackface. The eldritch horror seems to be looking at the tentacle-like phone cord dangling from your belt. "Ffffriendddd. My ffffrienddddd."The creature just shakes its tentacles, and other appendages, maybe even its booty, and gobbles. If it understands you, or is telling you something, you can't understand it.The hideous creature is busy menacing you! It doesn't want that.$p$tA large rat is sitting in the middle of the floor looking at you.$p$tThe large rat chatters at you.$p$tThe rat sniffs the foetid air of the chamber and squeaks plaintively.$p$tThe nasty rodent looks at you with hungry eyes that say even rats have to eat.$p$tThe rat darts away into the shadows along the wall and vanishes, moving too quickly for you to tell where he went.RatThe rat leaps up and bites you. Apparently it doesn't like to be reminded of the past.It looks like the rat you saw earlier carrying something in its mouth. It has a white stripe, rather like the white stripe Yngvie the guitarist used to sport in his hair. It also has Yngvie's beady eyes. Could it be...?The rat won't let you get near enough to give it anything.As you reach out to feed the rat, it runs away. You didn't really expect a rat to take anything out of your hand, did you?$pOut from the shadows lurches Bowery Billy. "Stay away from my storeroom," he bellows. He lumbers towards you. His gray ponytail swings menacingly. In one big hand he's holding a shard of broken glass. The jagged edge glistens.$p$tBilly is still out in the hallway. "So, back for more are you?" He comes at you again with the shard of glass.Billy swipes at you with the jagged glass. This is one mad hippy. You duck, wishing you had a weapon.Billy's eyes look glazed as continues to come after you, flailing with the jagged glass. If only you had something sharp yourself!BillyBilly's eyes not only are glazed but also crazed.You raise the jagged edged single STAB! STAB! STAB! STAB! and then you stab, stab stab stab! There's blood everywhere. Billy's eyes roll back in his head and he crumples to the floor. Well, actually, you barely scratched his hand, but being a nonviolent flower child at heart, he keeled over at the first sight of blood, luckily for you.Billy just laughs at your puny weapon. The pen might be mightier than the sword, but it isn't a match for a jagged piece of a broken beer bottle.Billy just laughs at your puny weapon. The pen might be mightier than the sword, but it isn't a match for a jagged piece of a broken beer bottle.You whip Billy with the phone cord but it has as much effect as beating him with a limp squid.You whip Billy with the phone cord but it has as much effect as beating him with a limp squid.A hot pizza would've been a more effective deterrent than the box.The smiley face cup is an offense to aesthetics but not much of an offensive weapon.The dangerous part of the can was what was inside it.Grabbing the guitar pick you strum Billy savagely, to no effect.You can't swing the chair hard enough to do any good against Billy's assault.The recorder bounces off Billy's thick skull, just like most of the music that came out of it.You can't fight back with that.You don't have that object to attack with.No point attacking anything with that!Billy gibbers wildly.Billy gibbers wildly.BillyBilly's still breathing, but his hair has gone even grayer.In one hand he's clutching a key.Billy lies on the floor in a large, motionless heap.AttendantThe attendant looks like Sid Vicious on steroids. He's got a big safety pin stuck through his cheek.$p$tThe attendant looks at your ticket and his face goes white. He gives a nervous laugh as he hands the ticket back. $p$t"You've gotta be kidding. I don't know where you got this but the Laughing Kats haven't played here for twenty years. In fact, they haven't played anywhere for twenty years. Except maybe in Hell. Hey, didn't you read the sign?" he asks, indicating the large sign by the entrance.Sorry, we're sold out tonight.The attendant just shakes his head. "What am I supposed to do with half a single? And one that's scratched too! You have a ticket?""Son of a...! Gave me a fright. For a minute I thought Sam was...well, never mind.""You're not bribing your way in with that," snaps the attendant."Where's your ticket?""No time to talk," growls the attendant."Where's your ticket?""Hey, we don't talk about THAT at HeBGB. And what they say about this place and the Kats and all that, well, none of it's true!""The owner? I'm afraid he's...uh...indisposed right now.""Better move on, there's people waiting to get in! You have a ticket?"A very large attendant with wild hair and wild eyes is taking tickets.$pA girl with a dog collar and a ring through her lower lip walks past you to the sidedoor and is ushered in. From her looks, she might be in a band. Haven't you seen her before?$pA fellow with spiked hair, not to mention a spike stuck through his cheek goes past you and is allowed through the sidedoor. He looks like a punk, at least. All these punks begin to look the same after awhile.$pA couple with matching nose rings and metal studded bracelets stroll past and go into the sidedoor. They certainly look like friends of the band.$pA girl with a mohawk large loops through her eyebrows walks past you to the sidedoor and is ushered in. From her looks, she might be in a band.$pA fellow with a chain around his neck and a smaller chain dangling from his nose goes past you and is allowed through the sidedoor. He looks like a punk, at least.$pA couple with matching knuckle dusters and pierced cheeks stroll past and go into the sidedoor. They certainly look like friends of the band. Doesn't this pair look familiar? It must be the style.IncrowdGuardHe looks more like a wrassler than a rocker.The guard pushes the single back into your hands like it's red hot. "Get that outta here. I'm sayin' nothin' about the Kats. I'd rather get in an iron cage with Andre the Giant. Now get lost!""This is strictly pencil-neck-geek size," he says, handing the collar back. "Wouldn't fit my wrist."The guard sneers at you. "You can't buy me off. We're runnin' an exhibition here, but it ain't fixed!"The guard just looks at you and shakes his head warningly.If you try to put anything in the guard you will probably end up in an atomic death grip."You don't look like you belong back here," the guard tells you. "Get lost!""So you heard of the Kats. You still don't like you belong here. Go away!""That old hippie. He's always hanging around about here. Used to work with Sam so I have to let him inside. But I don't have to let you in!""We don't talk about the boss no more! You lookin' for trouble?""Better move on, there's people waiting to get in who look like they belong here!"An enormous guard blocks the door.SamBilly$pStrutting back and forth on one end of the loading dock like he's on a stage is a bass player. Or at least the pudgy man with the huge nimbus of grayhair is going through all the motions, even if you can't see any bass. The disturbing thing is, you can almost hear the bass chords echoing in your head.$PThe strange bass player continues to thrash away at his air bass and the noise that can't really be inside your head keeps getting louder.$pThe weird bass player continues to play his ghostly bass guitar.$PThere's no stopping this air guitar hero. The impossible chords pound in your brain.Bass PlayerThe pudgy bass player is hunched over his phantom instrument, flailing away. His gray hair frames his face in a halo. His eyes are dark holes. He is wearing a cruelly studded dog collar.The bass player is hunched over his phantom instrument, flailing away. His gray hair frames his face in a halo. His eyes are dark holes. His neck looks bruised.The bass player ignores you. He's busy playing.You don't want to interrupt the bass player.Hesitantly you move closer and reach out toward the bass player but his gyrations foil you. You can't seem to put your hand on him.The bass player just glares at you as if to say "Who do you think you're talking to? Haven't you learned anything so far tonight?"The bass player just glares at you as if to say "Haven't you learned anything so far tonight?"$p$tAt the end of the dock something glimmers then is gone like steam rising from the manhole covers in the streets. You pause for a moment, half expecting whatever it was to return. But it doesn't. Not yet.GlimmerMick$p$tMick does not reply but pauses just long enough to whip off the heavy dog collar he's wearing. He tosses it to you, leering. As you catch the collar you look away from him for an instant. When you look back he has vanished.$p$t But you can hear, inside your head, a kind of voice less real than a sound but more substantial than a memory.$p$t'Find the chord It's inside.'$p$tMick just keeps flailing. Maybe you've gotten the only message he's going to give you.$p$tMick does not reply but pauses just long enough to whip off the heavy dog collar he's wearing. He tosses it to you, leering. As you catch the collar you look away from the bass player for an instant. And when you look back he has vanished.$p$tMick just keeps thrashing. Maybe you've gotten the only message he's going to give you.$p$tA shadow seems to shoot past your feet. A huge rat. You catch a glimpse of something in its mouth before the rodent vanishes into the darkness in the general direction of the loading dock.Rat2$p$tYou notice people heading into the alley. Who is the large man with the gray ponytail? It must have been your imagination. Billy would still be at the record shop. You squint into the shadows but the man is gone.Billy3$pYou're relieved that Billy failed to notice the single hidden under your tee shirt.GetoutSuziThe babe is definitely a punkette, dressed in a tight leather jacket, sporting a wild pink dyed mohawk and more than a little hardware in her deathly pale face."$tListen up," she begins. "I've come here tonight just to see you, Phil. Because it was twenty years ago today that rat Yngvie found his infernal chord and sent everyone within earshot into ...well...into I don't know where. Wherever you go when you've heard the impossible, the horrific, the sublime. Whatever. $p$t"Poor Yngvie was right there at ground zero. I guess that ultimate chord just brought out his true self and everybody knew Yngvie was a rat. $p$t"But everyone else in the Laughing Kats...well don't ask me how I know... but I've been told the rest are just...waiting. Not dead, you know, but just sleeping. Until someone comes along who can play that chord again. Someone who isn't such a rat. Who'll play that chord for good and not for evil! $P$t"OK. OK. It doesn't make sense but then 'Louie, Louie' and Gabba Gabba Hey' and 'Do wop do wop' if you get my drift. $p$t"So here's the deal, Phil Dude. You look like a punk to me. What you gotta do is find the tape Yngvie made. Once you hear that chord you'll never forget it. Right? $p$t"But you need the right tools then. The right guitar and the same guitar pick Yngvie used. Everything just the same. Then you get up on that stage... $p"There's record company execs here tonight. When they hear that sound you will be a star. You wanna be a star don't you Phil? Doesn't everybody?""Let's just talk."The punkette draws away, almost as if she doesn't care to be touched. "No, I couldn't take that...really."As you try to touch the punkette she shifts slightly. You can't even see her move, but your hand encounters nothing.Impetuously, you suddenly kiss the punkette on her black lipstick. All you feel is a sensation of coldness. Probably the silver lip ring. As you move away your lower lip burns with the cold.The punkette is standing next to you.$p$tIn front of the shop, you notice a tall, cadaverous looking stranger. As you watch he finishes taping a large poster to the window and steps back to admire his work. He continues to stand there, beside Billy's door. You might almost say he's just lurking on the threshold. Except he seems to be looking at you, almost as if he wants to talk.The bartender, noticing that the bowl at the end of the bar is empty, tosses in a pretzel.$p$tAnd suddenly you are floating in a void so dark it obliterates from your brain the very memory of light. Yet on all sides you feel looming monstrous presences, larger than galaxies, darker even than the utter absence of that light you no longer recall. And this terrible darkness is filled with a sound more terrible still, the awful, maddening piping of eldritch flutes. $p$tThe maddening flutes suddenly fade and you hear another sound, from a million miles away, a single chord played on an electric guitar the size of Jupiter. $p$tBut before your mind can grasp the sound it is gone and then, in the silence you hear a crazed chittering as if a billion rats are gnawing at the edge of reality. $p$tYou see light to the east.$p$tThe sound explodes out toward the audience. It is not what you recall, however. In fact, you can't quite remember the strange, monstrous chord. $P$tWhat you have played has a horrifying effect on your fans. They seem to melt and change and suddenly you are facing a sea of wriggling, waving tentacles. $P$tThe grotesque creatures begin to swarm out of their seats and onto the stage, their writhing tentacles reaching for you.$p$tAnd then you are standing unsteadily between the tables near the stage. The real stage. You can't even remember how you got here.$p$tSuddenly there's a waitress beside you. She doesn't look as old as you, which means she's probably not old enough to be in here. She's wearing a baggy HeBGB T-Shirt, featuring a pointy headed cartoon creature, and about five pounds of metal in her face, not counting her braces. $p$t"Hey," she says, "We've got a minimum one drink -- She stops and gazes at you in amazement."Hey, anyone who can chug that stuff...well...cool...." She's gone before you can respond, leaving you with an impression of wide eyes and metal rings. $p$tYou are aware of someone standing next to you. A punkette dressed in tight leather. Was she there all the time? $p$t"Hi," says the punkette. "That 'Fox Head's good for a trip old Bowery Billy would appreciate. Wanna talk?"$p$tWeird feedback reverberates through HeBGB like the cries of other dimensional creatures heard through a chink in reality. $p$tShadows swarm and coalesce. You realize you are no longer alone on the stage. On one side of you crouches pudgy bass player Mick Thrash, looking just as he did on the loading dock, and on the other looms Blitz Kreiger, clutching his dreadful flute. You are not surprised, glancing behind you to see on drums the helpful leather clad punkette who you recognize as none other than Suzi Uzi. $p$tYou search the neck of the guitar for that booming chord you heard on Yngvie's tape. Human fingers could never form that chord, but yours can. $p$tYou slash at the strings and the sound seems to turn reality inside out. The crowd is roaring. There's Billy dancing on a table. And Sam pogoing. No one notices his flapping tentacles. $p$tAnd as Blitz's maddening flute kicks in, somehwere in the interstellar void Cthullu is kicking out jams more ancient than the universe while the mother of a thousand goats is moshing with her offspring. $p$tSuddenly you see grotesque creatures clawing their way over each other to reach the stage- record company executives! You realize you've finally achieved your ambition. You're the next big thing. $p$tYou've taken the place of the legendary Yngive, who is nowhere to be seen. After all, there's no room for a rat in the Laughing Kats. $p$tCONGRATULATIONS! YOUR RECORD'S JUST GOT TO NUMBER ONE!As you approach the corner of Bleecker you feel something hard poke into your back. $p$t"Your money or life," growls a rough voice. $p$tBefore you have a chance to weigh the offer deft fingers sweep your clothing and squeeze into your pockets extracting your change. $p$t"Don't get me wrong, I was deprived as a child," says the mugger. "Besides, it isn't like you've never stole nothin' right? Like W.C. Fields put it, 'You can't cheat an honest man.'" $p$tThen the mugger is gone. $p$tNine dollars and seventy five cents for your life was a pretty good bargain. On the other hand it is kind of depressing to think that's all your life is worth. $p$tBesides, maybe the mugger was right. You had it coming.$p$tThe monster undulates over to the twisted, tentacle-like cord and makes horrible gobbling sounds at it, as if it expects the cord to talk back.$p$tYou hear something behind you. Turning you see that the punkette has followed you down to the basement. The chord must have muddled your senses. The punkette keeps flickering in and out of focus. $p$t"So now you've heard the chord and found the pick to play it with, don't you think you'd better get to the dressing room," she whispers. "It's almost time for you to go on stage and PLAY THE CHORD!"$p$tYou hear something behind you. Turning you see that the punkette has followed you to the storeroom. The chord must have muddled your senses. The punkette keeps flickering in and out of focus. $p$t"So now you've heard the chord and found the pick to play it with, don't you think you'd better get to the dressing room," she whispers. "It's almost time for you to go on stage and PLAY THE CHORD!"You blink, trying to clear your eyes, and discover that somewhere, without being aware, you have already returned to the dressing room.$pYou hear the crowd chanting. You can't belive it but they seem to be yelling $pPHIL! PHIL! PHIL! PLAY THE CHORD! PLAY THE CHORD!$pYou seem to be moving in a dream because suddenly you are standing on the HeBGB stage."$p$tPLAY THE CHORD!" roars the crowd.$p$tYou can hear the rat chattering somewhere nearby. He's probably hidden in his nest.$P$tThe rat is chattering nearby but you can't see where he's hiding.As you step backwards and away from Billy's jagged weapon, your foot goes over the edge of the stairway and you tumble down the stairs. You get up gingerly, relieved nothing is broken.$p$tYou must be still be suffering the effects of the Fox Head because the punkette seems to dissipate into a mist and vanish. Maybe she was a dream too.$p$tYou can barely remember walking out, down the hall, past the stage. You could feel your foolish dreams tugging at you. But then you thought of the hideous gobbling thing that had once been Sam Moon and poor money crazed Billy and you just kept going.... $p$tOh hell! $p$tLook this is just a silly three chord game!!! $p$tYou seem to be moving in a dream because suddenly you are standing on the HeBGB stage. $p$tThe Harmony Meteor guitar is in your hand.$pYou hear the crowd chanting. You can't belive it but they seem to be yelling $pPHIL! PHIL! PHIL! PLAY THE CHORD! PLAY THE CHORD!Huh?I don't understand.I don't know what you mean by 'all'.I don't know what you mean by 'it'.I don't know what you mean by 'them'.You can't refer to multiple objects with '$v'.I can't guess what you want to $v.You must supply a noun.You must give an object after 'but'.You can only use 'but' after 'all'.That doesn't leave much to $v!I don't know which $1 you mean.I can't see any $1 here.You can't go that way.You can't do that.You can't $v the $1.There is nothing here that you can $v.There is$$, and here.is here.Thecontains, and $$.Theis empty.You have scoredpoints out ofI don't know that word.(again)Enter file name to save inThat file already exists, overwrite (RETURN confirms) ? Sorry, save failed.Sorry, could not open that save file.Sorry, the save file was created by a different version.Sorry, the save file did not contain a save for this adventure.Enter file name to restore fromAre you sure (RETURN confirms) ? Do you want to RESTART, RESTORE or QUIT ? a$tYour name is Phil Howard. You're a musician. Or at least you can play a few guitar chords. You journeyed to New York City hoping to follow in the footsteps of your idols, punk rockers like the Ramones, the Stranglers, the Saints and the legendary Laughing Kats. But you weren't prepared for the city -- the zombie-like hordes in the streets, the choking miasma from the garbage filled alleyways, sirens screaming through the night, air that tastes like the edge of a knife -- it gives you the hee bee gee bees. $p$tWorse yet you haven't found a single gig and now left with only a pocketful of change you can't even pay next month's rent. So on this hot July evening you're out to visit a few favorite haunts, maybe buy yourself a souvenir, because this time tomorrow you'll be on the bus back to Arkham. $p$tThen again, down in the dark and twisted streets of New York, who can be sure what's lurking just around the corner? $PTHE HeBGB HORROR! $nCopyright (c) 1999 by Eric Mayer $nWritten in ALAN version 2.8 $nPresented in the tradition of the punks who believed that even if you couldn't play a chord you could still make noise. $p[enter 'help' for instructions 'credits' for credits and 'hints' if you really need a solution]