> 1
You're not sure what it is that wakes you. The rat nibbling on your foot? The steady drip of icy cold water on your brow? The distant thumping noise of construction work? Or the mad laughter which echoes around this subterranean dungeon?
Most likely it is all of them.
You come to, blink a few times, struggle with the ropes which keep your hands firmly restrained behind your back, and then look up and see…
Him.
"Hello," says Clueless Bob Newbie. "Welcome to your new home."

...press a key...

"The amenities are somewhat basic," Bob says as he boots off a rat which is trying to climb up his leg. "But I'm sure you'll cope, Mr Smiffy. After all, you've spent your life in a cesspit of foulness and depravity so this should be a setting you're entirely familiar with."
"I worked in an office, Mr Newbie," you tell him, striving to keep the abject terror out of your voice. "As a reviewer of adventure games." You wince a couple of times when you feel something crawling around your feet. "I even remember reviewing a couple of your games."
"Really?" Bob has his face pushed into yours. It's not a pretty sight. "What did you think of them?"
You try to say 'I loved them. They were great!' but artistic integrity gets the better of you and before you know it, you come out with "they were pure, unadulterated bilge written by someone with the intellectual capacity of a slug and the talent of a sewer rat. They were to the world of interactive fiction what Hitler was to the Jews. They were-"

...press a key...

"So you didn't like them then." Bob, strangely, smiles. "I submit you were wrong, Mr Smiffy. I submit that you were forced to write those reviews by an editor so insane with jealously over the majesty that were my games that he brainwashed you into believing they were bad. Is that not the case?"
You long to cry 'you're right! Definitely! I love your games! Now let me go!' but, again, artistic integrity betrays you and turns your words into "no, Mr Newbie. I wrote those reviews and I believe in what I wrote. You're an abomination to the IF community and ought to be banned from ever approaching a computer keyboard as long as you live and breathe."
Bob sighs. "I see your editor did a thorough job. This might be more difficult than I first thought." He pulls out a knife. "And considerably more painful."

...press a key...

You try to crawl away as he approaches but the ropes don't allow you that kind of leeway.
"Bob, please!" you gasp. "There's no need for this! Don't torture me!"
Bob frowns. "I'm not going to torture you. How barbaric." He smiles. "I'm going to make you play my games until you like them."
The thought sets you to screaming. "NO! Torture me instead! Please! I'm begging you! Anything but-"
But he uses the knife to cut the ropes away then drags you out of the cellar, along a corridor, and into a small room bare aside from a desk, a chair and a computer.

...press a key...

And, of course, a CD labelled Masterpieces of CBN. Possession of these CDs is a criminal offence punishable in some countries by death. Then again, anyone who's been playing Clueless Bob Newbie games for long is as good as dead anyway.
Bob shackles you to the chair and slips the CD into the computer.
"321 of my best efforts," says Bob as the screen flashes and groans. "Of course, it was difficult deciding which were my 321 best games and so many had to be discarded for inclusion on a second CD I'll be bringing out soon. But I'm sure you'll find a few on here that tickle that fancy." He claps you on the shoulder. "You're going to stay here, Mr Smiffy, until you're cured of your brainwashing dislike of my games. Then you're going to go back to your editor and write an honest review saying how amazing you thought my latest game was. Then, and only then, will the world begin to appreciate the true genius that is Clueless Bob Newbie."

...press a key...

And with those fateful words, he leaves the room and locks it behind him. On screen, the first game is about to start…

...press a key...






In the Claws Of Clueless Bob


An ADRIFT Text Adventure by David Whyld
E-Mail: dwhyld@gmail.com
Website: http://www.shadowvault.net
Written: April-May 2005 with ADRIFT Version 4, Release 46


(1) Read the introduction
(2) Start the game
(3) Walkthrough
(4) Game Information
(5) Things to know before playing the game

> 2







The Hobbyt












A comfutble tunnel-like home
U is in a comfutble tunnel-like house wiv curvin walls an a green door. U can go east an west.

> quit
In desperation you manage to bash the letters "Q U I T" on the keyboard and the game, mercifully, finally understands a command. You slump at the keyboard, your mind numb from the horrors you have just witnessed. But you made it. You played an entire Clueless Bob Newbie game and you're still alive. And by the look of things, that was one of his bigger games as well. Maybe, just maybe, you'll get through this nightmare in one piece after all-
The door bursts open and in rushes Bob, face aglow.
"Great, wasn't it?" he cries, almost hopping up and down in excitement. He claps you on the shoulder. "Now, Mr Smiffy. Give me your honest opinion of the game. Your honest opinion, mind. Don't sugarcoat it for me. Tell it to me straight. What was it like?"

(1) "It was great!"
(2) "It was awful!"

> 2
Bob's face falls. He takes several steps back from you and clenches his fists. Fearing a beating, you brace yourself… but instead he says, "I see. It looks like the brainwashing your editor put you through was more thorough than I first expected. More extreme measures are called for. Yes! I will write a game especially for this. But for now…" He grabs hold of you. "Back to the cellar for you."

...press a key...








Cellar
Your new 'home'. And not a pleasant one either. The floor is knee-deep in water, there are rats and large spiders swimming around in it, and there is no light. Funnily enough you can still see although how this can be you don't know. Perhaps the laws of physics don't apply here just as they don't apply in Bob's games. A flight of worn steps lead out of here.

> kill rat
You reach for the nearest rat and it meows at you!
Meows?
Yep. It meowed alright. This reminds you of a CBN game you once had the misfortune to play before you realised who it was by. He had misspelled the word 'cat' as 'rat' throughout the entire game and never even realised it. Of course, the cats/rats in his game bore little resemblance to cats/rats in the real world. For a start, they ate spiders…

> catch spider
You manage to catch hold of a spider by one of its six legs (six? Well, this is the cellar of Clueless Bob Newbie's house so you probably shouldn't be surprised) and hoist it up from the floor. As you do, one of the rats gives it a hungry look. An idea suddenly occurs to you and you fling the spider to the rat. The rodent seizes the six legged freak and wolfs it down in one go. Then gives a satisfied belch!
Nothing else seems to happen for now.

> u
You ascend the steps. Bob is waiting for you, rubbing his hands together in evil genius mode (minus the genius bit of course).
"Time for another game!" he proclaims and frog-marches you to the small room.

...press a key...

"This one," says Bob as he sits you down in the chair, "I wrote just this morning. Took me… oh, 7, maybe 8 minutes. Long time for me to spend on a game that is. Including the advanced dialogue options and combat system I introduced, there must be close to 30 lines of code in this baby."
"As many as that…" you say numbly. "What did your beta-testers think of it?"
"Beta-testers?" Bob snorts. "I never use beta-testers! Those people are cretinous fools. Why, one once had the nerve to tell me that ten spelling mistakes a line was a bad thing!"
The game starts to load on screen.
"… fancy that …" you mutter as you're plunged into…

...press a key...








The Big Maize Game












Maize
U is in a maize. U can go north, north, north, north and north.

> n
U cant go that way. Try going south.

> s
U cant go that way. Try going east.

> e
U cant go that way. Try going west.

> w
U cant go that way. Try going north.

> n
U go north an find yourself in annuver part of the maize.



Annuvver Part Of The Maize
U is in a big roome wiv a tresure chest in the middle. There are exits to the east and the east.

> open chest
U need a kee to open the tresure chest.

> get kee
U get the kee.

> open chest
U open the tresure chest wiv the kee. There is 1000065056696 peaces of glod inside. U is rich! Woo-hoo!

...press a key...

"Yes!" cries Bob as the games reaches its conclusion with the inevitable 'Gam Ova' screen. "Now that, you have to admit, was a classic."
You struggle to agree with him but instead only manage: "it was certainly different."
Bob nods, apparently mistaking your deathless pallor for appreciation of his game. "Sure was, Smiffy. I don't usually bother with that level of implementation in my games but here I felt it was necessary. Sure paid off as well. You ready to write a glowing review for me yet?"
You say, "of course, Mr Newbie. It would be an honour. I'll praise your game as the greatest work of interactive fiction the world has ever seen. A thousand years from now people will look back on this game and still be amazed by it."

...press a key...

Actually, that's what you intended to say, but somewhere between your brain and the mouth, the words change to, "a good review? Of that fifth rate piece of tosh? Mr Newbie, you must be joking! My cat's written better games than that. And he was drunk at the time!"
Bob gives a sigh. "I'll have to do some research into brainwashing techniques," he says, "because whatever your editor used on you was the real thing. Otherwise how you have failed to appreciate the glory that was my game? The sheer depth of interaction? The fully realised virtual world where anything and everything can happen? Well…" He lifts you up from the chair. "Back to the cellar I guess."

...press a key...








Cellar
Is it your imagination or does the cellar look slightly different than before? Not quite as… dark. And a bit… drier. Still a horrible cellar admittedly, and made even more so by the rats and the caterpillars, but a definite improvement on the way it was before. The same flight of worn steps lead out of here to… a fate possibly worse than death.

> x rat
The rats look just the same as before, only a little plumper. You-
"Evening, Mr Smiffy," one of them says.
You experience a thrill of dread. "You can talk?"
"Well…" The rat puts on a thoughtful expression. "It depends. Either I'm really the first rat in the history of ratkind to achieve the power of speech. Or rats have always been able to speak and they just haven't felt the need before now. Or I'm not really speaking and you've gone stark raving mad and just think I'm speaking. What do you think it's a case of?"
"None of them sound very appealing," you admit.
The rat snorts. "You're trapped in the cellar of the world's worst adventure game writer, pal. I'd say you're a bit past the stage where anything is going to sound appealing."

...press a key...

"But," says the rat, "things could be worse."
"You're right. He could have a computer put down here."
The rat grimaces. "Hey, no tempting fate. Of course, it'd be madness to put a computer down here in a wet cellar but then this is Clueless Bob Newbie we're talking about here. He's so far past madness he's on first name terms with insanity and dementia."

> talk to rat
"What?" says the rat. "You think that just because I can talk, I'm going to reward you with something? Fat chance."
"I did give you that spider," you point out.
"Yeah? I could have caught it myself. I just… Aw hell." The rat scurries off into the shadows and returns a minute later dragging a bottle of beer with him. "Here. Take it. I was going to save it for myself but you probably need it more than me."
You take the beer gladly. "I sure do. He's making me play these games. Well, I call them games-"
The rat holds up a paw. "Pal, believe me when I say this: I don't want to hear. Seriously I don't. I might be destined for a life prematurely cut short when a cat bites my head off but that doesn't mean I want to be tormented before then. Drink your beer and leave the adventure game chatter for the next talking rat you meet."

> drink beer
You chug it down. It probably tastes nothing special but for a guy trapped in the cellar of a deranged adventure game writer, it tastes like pure heaven. Unfortunately, there's not enough to get you drunk but you feel mildly tipsy afterwards.

> u
You climb the steps - and find Bob waiting for you.
"An empty bottle, Mr Smiffy?" he says when he sees the bottle in your hand. "You don't need to wander around with that. Here, let me have it." He snatches the bottle from you and throws it away.

...press a key...

"I'm going to give you a choice this time, Mr Smiffy," says Bob when you are once more in the room you have begun to think of as the torture chamber. Is an iron maiden and a rack and a set of heated needles half as fearsome as a CD containing 321 Bob Nebwie games? "There's a wartime epic called 'Blud', a science fiction game which is a cross between Star Wars and Star Trek which I've called 'Wars Trek' and, wait for it, a serious work dealing which deals with drugs issues and emotional instability in a sensible and caring fashion. I've called it 'Lousy Junkies'. Which one do you want?"

(1) 'Blud'
(2) 'Wars Trek'
(3) 'Lousy Junkies'

> 1
And you're in the game…

...press a key...








Blud












Battelfeeld
Ure in a feeld wiv lots of ded bodees an bullits flyin all ova the place. U can see some nme sojers. U can go south.

> shoot sojers
U blast em wiv your gunn. They falls down ded on the ground an a bridge appears.

[A bridge? Why the hell has a bridge suddenly appeared?]

The bridge gets bigger an bigger an-

...press a key...


You're back in the room. Still alive. Barely.
Bob gives you an enthusiastic clap on the back and cries, "what a classic! Man! Even though I wrote that one, I was still on tenterhooks while you were playing it! There's so much going on that anything could happen!"
You wonder if 'anything' includes the game actually being any good but you doubt it. This is Clueless Bob Newbie after all.
"And your verdict…?" Bob asks.
You open your mouth and say:

(1) "Bob, it was great. Could use a smidgeon of improvements but, all in all, resoundingly brilliant."
(2) "Bob, it was diabolical. You have a reputation for truly awful games but, with this one, you've exceeded yourself yet again. Hell will surely freeze over before a worse game comes alone."

> 1
You say, "Bob, it was great. Could use a smidgeon of improvements to bring it into line with the lesser text adventures that plague the world but, all in all, like all your works: resoundingly brilliant."
You frown to yourself even as you're speaking the words. They're a lie, you think. They're completely untrue. And yet-
And yet the beer is giving you the nerve to speak them all the same!
Bob beams. "I knew you'd come around. I knew that brainwashing your editor performed on you wouldn't be able to withstand the wonder of my games and that, sooner or later, your resistance would crumble and you would be another convertee to the Church of CBN!"
The Church of CBN? Dear god, he really is mad!

...press a key...

"Back to the cellar for now," says Bob. "I've got to think things through prior to your writing a glowing review of my games. Is fifty games enough for a first review? Or should I go for quantity first?"
"Quality definitely," you say, horrified at the prospect of fifty games to review.
"Yes, you're probably right. We'll call it forty games and leave it at that. But which forty? Hmmm, this will require some thought…"
Bob ushers you back to the cellar which might be cold and damp and miserable, but at least it doesn't have any of his games in it.

...press a key...








Cellar
The cellar again. It looks pretty much the same as before and yet, at the same time, slightly different. Where are the rats and the spiders and the caterpillars? All gone it seems. Departed since you were last here. The floor of the cellar is still flooded but nowhere nearly as deeply as before. In fact, this time you can even see the floor.

> x floor
Now not as flooded as before, you can actually see the floor. And, on top of that, you can see what looks like a trapdoor down there.

> x trapdoor
Currently shut. Probably locked as well. Has this been there all along? Surely not. You'd have discovered it before now if it was there all along, wouldn't you? Even covered by water, you'd surely have walked across it at some point and noticed it was there. So it looks like the trapdoor, along with the rats and spiders and caterpillars, is one of the strange things about this place that changes from time to time.
Something about the trapdoor, you can't really tell what, strikes you as mighty suspicious.

> x trapdoor
You take a closer look at the trapdoor. And notice that it's not made of metal or wood but, strangely enough, of something that looks quite like chocolate. How bizarre.

> bite trapdoor
Eating trapdoors is normally the sort of thing that only happens in the games Bob writes, but as this trapdoor is made not of steel or wood but chocolate, you manage to chew into one side of it. It's hard going though. It might be chocolate but it's foul-tasting chocolate. It's also pretty tough stuff.
But after a minute or two of chewing, you have started to bite a hole in the surface.

> bite trapdoor
You dig into a bit more of the trapdoor. You're beginning to suffer chocolate overload now but as anything is preferable to another bout of playing CBN's games, you persevere.

> bite trapdoor
Your waistline begins to bulge unpleasantly but you cram more and more of the chocolate trapdoor into your mouth. The hole now is big enough for you to fit through.

> d
You force your way into the tunnel beneath the trapdoor. A brief moment of worry assails you - you don't know what's down there and it could well be worse than where you are now. But then you reflect on your current predicament and realise there is no fate in the world worse than being forced to play Bob's games one after another, endlessly, until your mind just collapses and dies from sheer overload. If dropping down the tunnel beneath the trapdoor leads to your certain doom, then so be it. It's certainly the lesser of two evils.
You force your way through the trapdoor - and fall.

...press a key...








Somewhere Else












Fowl Smellin Tunnul
U is in a sewer tunnul. It is drak. U see lots o stuff u don't wanna see. U can go north. You blink and wipe filthy water from your eyes. You are lying on the ground, in what appears to be a regular sewerage tunnel, replete with the smells and sensations that a regular sewerage tunnel is well known for. Despite the unpleasantness of the situation, you give a cry of relief! You're out of Bob's cellar and, better yet, you're still alive!
But then you stop cheering and notice something worrying. Very worrying indeed. The tunnel is actually spelt "tunnul". And "fowl" and "smellin"? Ye gods, you might be out of the cellar but you're not free of Bob's clutches yet. It seems his madness has polluted even the sewer tunnels running beneath his house.

> n
You move north.

Branchin Tunnul
Three tunnuls meat ere comin from the west, the south an the east. Dere is a giant sleepin ere. He luks ugly.

(This is worrying. You know that tunnuls isn't spelt like that and yet you can't seem to think of it being spelt any other way. Has exposure to Bob's games polluted your mind in such a way that you can't tell right from wrong any more?)

> w

Dinning Roome
U is in a dinning room wiv a tabul an food on top o it. U can go east.

(You shake your head at the abrupt change in locations. What happened to the sewer tunnel?)

> get food
U don't see no food.

(Dear god. You can't even take the food despite the fact that it's right there in front of you! Hang on, maybe there's a way around this.)

> get food
U don't see no food.

(Something about the food strikes you as… wrong. It's almost transparent. You wonder…)

> get food
U don't see no food.

(You wonder if you close your eyes, you might be able to pick it up after all.)

> close eyes
U cloze ur eyes an pik up the fod.

(Whew! You actually solved what passes for a puzzle in a CBN game.)

U open your eyes.

> e
You move east.

Branchin Tunnul
Three tunnuls meat ere comin from the west, the south an the east. Dere is a giant sleepin ere. He luks ugly.

(This is worrying. You know that tunnuls isn't spelt like that and yet you can't seem to think of it being spelt any other way. Has exposure to Bob's games polluted your mind in such a way that you can't tell right from wrong any more?)

> give food to giant
The giant taks the food an ates it. He burps and sez "grate!"

> e
You move east.

Ded End
The tunnul reaches a ded end jus ahed of u where someun as put a gait. It iz loked tite. U can go east.

> e
U go east.

(Hmmm… did you just step right through a locked gate there? Looks like it.)



Dessert
U is in a dessert. The son burns briteley overhed an there is a camul ere. U can go west.

(Hang on! A desert? But only a moment ago you were in a sewer tunnel! Then again, why should you expect the geography in Bob's games to make any sense when the games themselves don't?)

> ride camul
U hop onna the camul's bak an it takes off an flies inna the aire. (Takes off? A flying camel? You just shake your head in despair.)
U fly for a long tim. Then a plain appears outta nOwerE an shots u down. U crash an the camul explods!

...press a key...








Aftermath










Many hours pass before you awaken. You are lying in the bomb-blasted shell of a building. The remains of the camel - which now looks remarkably like a hang-glider - lie against one wall.

As you pick yourself up and dust yourself down, you notice something both remarkable and rewarding: the spelling has been fixed! Which can mean only one thing…
You are no longer in Clueless Bob Newbie's reality! You are back in the real world!

Quite how you came to pass from his reality into the real world on the back of a camel/hang-glider you can't imagine, but right now you're too relieved to be free of that demented madman to worry about such things. From now on, no more text adventures. No more reviewing. You're going to go and live in a cave somewhere and grow mushrooms and hold meaningless conversations with shepherds about turnips and moss.

...press a key...

You stagger from the building, taking a good long look around to see where you are.
That's when your euphoria fades and is replaced by a growing sense of dread.
For there before you, fully five hundred feet tall, outlined against the skyline, is a statue of Clueless Bob Newbie himself. In one hand he holds that hateful and banned collection of his games, Masterpieces Of CBN, and in the other hand is a knife with a reddish tint (probably from the blood of all the reviewers he has brutally stabbed for giving their opinions on his games). A long procession of people in cloaks lead to the temples situated around the feet of the enormous statue.

...press a key...

What is this place? Surely not another game…? No, it can't be. The spelling is fine and the grammar, while hardly Shakespearian, isn't the assault on the nerves that is the hallmark of Bob's usual style. What you're looking at now, hard as it is to imagine, must be some kind of alternate reality where Clueless Bob Newbie is worshipped as a God.
As you sink to your knees in disbelief, you can just about imagine the statue turning its head to you and booming: "WELCOME TO MY WORLD, MR SMIFFY!"

...press a key...

And here ends the game. For poor Smiffy at least. But CBN's further adventures can be found in:

"The Church Of CBN"

...press a key...








The game has ended and nothing more can be done. If you reached here with a score of 12 - well done. You didn't resort to the hints at all. If not, maybe you should try again and see if, this time, you can go the whole way without the hints.