01 Feb THE ONLY SENSIBLE RITUAL PASTA
You wake up to find yourself lying flat in an unfamiliar and utterly filthy room. Your head pounds as you sit up and survey your surroundings.
“Ohhhhww. . . What hit me?”
You notice the room is dimly lit by a hanging bulb that threatens to flicker out any moment. Large piles of debris are scattered about the small room, and there are no windows.
“Hey, who said that? Where am I?”
To your left, right and straight ahead of you there are sinister looking doors. You do not fully comprehend your situation, but you must choose one of these doors. One door-
“Hey! Are you ignoring me?”
-Leads to salvation. One leads to an endless maze of halls and passages that will trap you forever, and the third leads to eternal damnation. You must-
“Wait, what? Are you serious?”
YOU MUST CHOOSE A DOOR.
“Why? The exit’s right there.”
In the cold, frightened core of your heart, you know that there is no escape from the desolate predicament you now find yourself in.
“Dude, the doors right there. It even says so. See? ‘Exit’, right on the front. Big letters too.”
After a moments struggle, you come to realize the futility of resistance and return once more to the crossroads of passages. There is no way out.
“Only because some bastard locked up the exit-”
You grumble to yourself as you contemplate-
“It was you wasn’t it? Jerk.”
CONTEMPLATE YOUR FATE.
“Fine, fine. Eenie, meenie, miney. . . That one.”
-You say to yourself as you chose the door to your left. Unbeknownst to you is that that particular door leads only to misery, death, and the destruction of your very soul.
“What? Oh HELL no!”
A sudden burst of intuitive clarity causes you to leap away back before the door closes behind you, sealing your fate.
“It wasn’t intuition, you just said-”
You must make your choice between the remaining two doors.
With a sigh, you go towards the one in the middle.
“I know what I’m doing-”
“-I don’t need you telling me. Prick.”
You take hold of the doorknob to the passage that will lead you to wander the maze for all eternity, oblivious to the fate that will soon befall you. Deathless, mindless and hopeless, your rotting corpse will still walk on long after-
-You cry as you once again leap back from your choice of passage.
“Don’t get snappy with me. So, one door left? Salvation, ho.”
-You say as you head towards the final door and grasp the handle. The path you have chosen will be long and frought with peril. You will face unsurmountable, blood thirsty foes and travel farther than the simple realms you think of as ‘life and death’. Should you fail, your tattered soul will serve as one of the tortures spectral servants of the lord of the underworld, Gwyn ap Nudd. Should-
“Wait a minute. . . ”
-You succeed, you will have all the unimaginable pleasures of this world and the next, though you will be doomed to remain in the underworld as Gwyn’s right hand man-
“HOLD UP YOU OMNISCIENT LYING PACK OF DOG CRAP! You said one of the doors would get me out of here! Salvation, remember? How is being trapped in the underworld salvation? Get me out!”
There is no escape-
“Don’t give me that! There’s always a way out.”
There is no- What are you doing? Where did you get that pipe?
“It was lying in one of those piles of trash. What does it look like I’m doing? I’m going to bust down the exit.”
You can’t do that! It’s against the rules!
“Oh, there are rules now, ehy? What happened to your big, scary, narrorator voice?”
There is no escape!
“There will be, just give me a minute! Just, a little. . . There! Ha, got it!”
“I just did. Goodbye and good luck, Mr. Scary voice. I’m going home, go find another stooge.”
I, ah-oh, fuck. I’m out of here too! This place gives me the willies.