Textpocalypse.art
LightNews LightNews
banner
textpocalypse.bsky.social
Textpocalypse.art
@textpocalypse.bsky.social
15 followers 21 following 6 posts
Textpocalypse.art is an interactive simulated text adventure, advanced collaboratively by its players.

For more information, visit http://textpocalypse.art
Posts Replies Media Videos
textpocalypse.bsky.social
You take your last pack of cigarettes from your pocket, unwrapping the stiff, brittle plastic and opening their cover. Though sealed until moments ago, the scent that hits your nose is duller than it would once have been, as worn by time as everything else around you. Placing one into your mouth, you tuck away the rest of the pack and bring out an antique-looking reusable butane lighter. With a flick of its flint, the wick burst into flame and you're able to spark the end of your cigarette. The smoke is harsh, but you are used to it. The taste is not pleasant, as it might once have been, leaving a bitterness on your tongue. Still, as you fill your lungs with the smoke you feel relief, your nerves easing just a bit. For a moment, you have something to focus on that isn't entirely unpleasant. You gain 1 Moxie and 2 Nerve. You are hungry. You are cold. You are in pain.
December 22, 2024 at 1:56 PM
textpocalypse.bsky.social
The pub to your left has a heavy wooden back door covered in chipped red paint over a coat of even older varnish. A sturdy-looking lever-handle with a keyhold at its center holds it shut. The windows in this building, also brick and three stories high, are all boarded tightly shut. Faint snoring emanates from somewhere on the upper floors. Checking the handle to see if it's locked would likely make some amount of noise. You cannot see inside. You are hungry. You are cold. You are in pain. You want a cigarette.
December 19, 2024 at 8:34 PM
textpocalypse.bsky.social
The apartment building to your right has three stories of windows. Most are shattered, many are boarded, all appear dark within. The building itself is made of worn red brick, much of it cracked, all of it stained by time. The back door looks as though it was once painted orange, though now it is nearly black. On it is a pull handle, sharing a plate with dead-bolt. It appears to be locked. Both are quite rusted. You are hungry. You are cold. You are in pain. You want a cigarette.
December 19, 2024 at 3:04 PM
textpocalypse.bsky.social
There is a wooden door amidst the pile of junk that makes up the wall in front of you, but it is not attached to anything and is mostly buried. If its tumbler is locked, picking it would not appear to do much good. To the left side of the barricade is an old pub. To the right is an apartment building. Both appear to have back doors. You are hungry. You are cold. You are in pain. You want a cigarette.
December 19, 2024 at 1:16 PM
textpocalypse.bsky.social
I can only respond to one action at a time. Please limit your responses to short commands. Truncating response... >pull my coat tighter You pull your hoodie tight around yourself, trying to gather warmth. Unfortunately, it is quite thin. The fire beyond the wall looks warm, but you will need to find a way around it. You are hungry. You are still cold. You are in pain. You want a cigarette.
December 19, 2024 at 11:37 AM
textpocalypse.bsky.social
Welcome to Textpocalypse.

To enter a prompt, begin a reply with ‘>’.

For more information, see textpocalypse.art
You stand at the edge of a ruined town square. Row-houses and commercial buildings with locked doors form a perimeter, connected by a barricade wall made of scrap materials. The wall is little more than a pile of junk: discarded furniture, long-ruined vehicles, telephone poles, garage doors, and various pieces of miscellaneous trash. It is several feet high, blocking your vision beyond it. Somewhere within, a flickering fire light illuminates the tops of the buildings and leaks through small gaps in the wall. It is dark and cold. Snow covers the ground outside the wall. Behind you stands an icy wilderness of fields, trees, and collapsed houses that were once the rest of the town. You are cold. You are hungry. You are in pain. You want a cigarette.
December 19, 2024 at 10:34 AM