Art I like Maintenance section
Fine. I give up. What do you want, then?
Well, we don't always get what we want.
Hold your horses mate. If you don't want to play, that's your choice.
Thanks for asking! Sure.
You've now in a hallway. It is dimly lit, and lined with wood panelling. One door sits at the end, marked with a label: "Gallery Access".
Ok then. Your choice. You lose. .
Your body starts to show the effects of lack of food, sunlight, drink, and sleep. Before long, you no longer have the energy to think. Your death is uneventful.
You wait even longer. You are starting to inch closer to malnutrition.
Again, nothing eventful goes down.
Nothing interesting happens. No sound, smell, taste, or sight of note occurs. You continue to wait.
You decide to go for a short stroll. It just seems to wear you out, so you decide to sit back down again.
You give the wall a mighty kick. Little do you know, however, that behind the plasterwork are eight-metre-thick protective barriers constructed of medical grade titanium. Therefore, you have just lost a leg, and pass out from blood loss.
You try to, but it's too hot to handle. There's no lightbulb switch anywhere.
There's only four walls, a roof, and a floor. If there was anything else, you'd have noticed by now.
The floor contains nothing unusual.
There's nothing on the roof, excluding a lightbulb.
Surprise! There is something there... A slight scuff mark. Other than that, there's nothing.
Of course, there's nothing there as well.
Of course, there's nothing there either.
Of course, there's nothing there.
There isn't.
Well, I can't stop you. But I don't exactly think that's fair - for both me and you.
Ok then.
So... you've still in the white room.
You've in a white room. That, might I remind you, has no doors, windows, trapdoors, or other escape routes. Soon enough, you will be inured to this environment, and you will forget the very concept of escaping.
YOU. CANNOT. GET. OUT.
No seriously. You can't. get. out. It's not possible. It's like squaring the circle. It's like drawing blood from a stone. It's like swallowing the sun.
Ok then. Let's get back to the point. There's... uh, what is it again, no way to, um get out.
To be fair, I don't give you a lot of options. Maybe since I'm too lazy to write a decent amount.
The car turns a corner and skids to a quick spot in the parking lot. Someone's in a hurry. You hop out of the vehicle and into the main building with an excitement that only a small child can muster.
You unzip your backpack, and reach into the pocket emblazoned with the latest million-dollar merchandising opportunity. Inside, as you know well, is your spelling checklist. It contains a list of words to review. Oh dear. Looks like you are unable to spell "pohtatoe" correctly.
Suddenly, the bell rings. It seems it's time to take the spelling test. Well, fail the spelling test. At least you've not late.
Try learning to spell before bombarding me with poorly-thought out insults, mate.
You can't escape. The room has no doors. That's a rather inconvenient architectural feature, isn't it?
Since you've decided to do nothing, nothing happens. You've still in that really bland, depressing, and, you know, white room.
Since you've decided to do nothing, nothing happens. You've still in that really bland, depressing, and, you know, white room.
You've in a white room. You can't remember how you got here, but you get the feeling you've done something wrong.
You've in a derelict hallway. The whole place is marked with caution tape. Some vintage wood panels have fallen off the walls and landed on the floor. Bits of ceiling are missing, revealing wiring and plaster tucked above you. A few fluorescent lights flicker dimly.
The only door is down at the far end. It has no official labelling, but a sticky note taped to it says "Dark Personal Secrets". Maybe you should leave things be....