Link from Choose-Your-Own-Adventure Cthulu Faced Bookmark

YOU are reading this halfbakery idea because you clicked on a link that lead YOU to this particular page on the internet, to read on and further consider the merits of this intriguing idea, turn to 1. To flatly dismiss it in a bad tempered huff, turn to 15.

YOU think carefully about those old Choose Your Own Adventure, or Fighting Fantasy books made famous by the likes of Ian Livingstone and Steve Jackson and which became incredibly popular to teenagers and pre-teens alike during the 1980s.

To reminisce about a golden childhood, turn to 3. To shake off disturbing memories and return to the idea at hand, turn to 9.

Somehow YOU managed to get to page 2 – which is pretty strange, since none of the other passages actually lead to here. Are YOU reading this correctly? Maybe YOU didn’t realise how it works, and have just read on from page 1, as YOU would a regularly organised piece of text. Unfortunately this means YOU’ve failed to understand the underpinning context of the idea, either start again from the top, or face the VISCIOUS BRANDERSNATCH!

VISCIOUS BRANDERSNATCH……….SKILL 16…………STAMINA 24

If you defeat the Brandersnatch, you're definitely cheating. Turn to any page you want.

YOU hark back to golden summer afternoons, stretched out on a wooden deck, clutching the latest from the Choose Your Own Adventure series in your imp-like palms. Puberty looms bafflingly beyond the horizon, and YOU are as yet blissfully unaware of its inevitable and disturbing imposition. In the meantime, YOU spend your days in a state of perpetual wonder and joy.

To continue this nostalgic whimsy, turn to 8. To get on with it, turn to 5.

Yes it was rather, wasn’t it! YOU nod in agreement, thinking that although YOU’ve not actually got to the bit in the idea that actually tells YOU what it is (though YOU may have guessed that already from the main and sub-titles) – YOU already like it so much that it’s going to be difficult not to bun this one.

To actually get to the bit in the idea where YOU find out what it is, turn to 7. To meander on a bit more first, on some seemingly irrelevant tangent, turn to 16.

Turning to the book, YOU take in the front cover, a garish depiction of some mythical beast chewing what appears to be an unfortunate adventurer’s leg. The back cover explains the general concept, something to do with a Dungeon, in which there might be some traps, the kind that cause severe injury, and in some cases, without appropriate medical attention, could prove fatal. Specifically, it describes that rather than reading the narrative in the traditional, serial manner, the reader takes some responsibility for the outcome of the story, by taking choices as they are offered throughout the text.

To nod in agreement at how well this bit was explained, turn to 4. To grumble at some imagined spelling, grammar or syntactic error, turn to 11.

What a mistake! As your mouse approaches the bone button, your chest explodes and a million MANGROVE WORMS rush out. Unfortunately YOU died before YOU could cast a negative vote. For YOU the idea is over.

YOU decide that it’s time you got to the point where you actually learn what the idea is about. It turns out that the bookmark in question allows you to keep track of important pages so that should YOU turn to a page that turns out to be a dead-end, or otherwise doesn’t tell YOU what you want to hear, YOU can backtrack to an earlier point in the narrative, and take an alternative route. Traditionally, this method of play was adopted by all but the most die-hard of role-players, and was achieved by an interweaving of fingers into the pages, or deft pencilling of margins. With this invention, YOU simply use one of the great Cthulu’s facial tentacles to keep track of each decision YOU feel YOU may need to temporally revert.

To bun this idea, turn to 10, to bone it turn to 14, YOU saddo.

Pondering further on your glorious childhood, YOU fail to notice the immense SPINY HWOORANG SHAMEN suspended from the ceiling above your head. It pounces murderously as YOU loll in contemplation of a long-lost innocence. As the SPINY HWOORANG SHAMEN gorges itself on your twitching brainstem, YOU can console yourself that mercifully, at least, your final thoughts were happy ones. For YOU this idea is over.

Shuddering at the thought of a wasted youth, YOU press on reading further into the idea. YOU realise for no particular reason, that the wrong decision at this point could spell your immediate demise.

To decide something arbitrarily one way, turn to 13. To avoid unlucky numbers, and choose the other, turn to 12.

10.

With a sense of happiness and joy, YOU bun the idea – “What genius it is!” YOU announce to anyone who may be around, and so masterfully wrought so as to convey an idea, not just in terms of language, but structure as well…

YOU realise now that with this knowledge, YOU have learnt the merit of the idea, and may happily annotate in the comfort that for YOU, this adventure was a happy one!

Well done!

11.

YOU shake your head in pedantic annoyance at the slipshod English. “What tosh!” YOU announce, and are about to annotate your disdain, when, from the corner of your eye, you spot the hideous apparition of an angry looking GRAMMORG! He dismembers YOU and eats your twitching corpse. For YOU, this idea is over.

12.

Unlucky! By worrying about silly numerical superstitions, YOU’ve walked directly into this arbitrary and completely unforeseeable plot device that spells the end of your game. At the realisation of this, and the thought of having to go back to…oh no! YOU forgot your place! YOU’ll have to start ALL the way from the beginning again – and, by the time you get to the last decision, YOU might make the same mistake again! Ha ha ha. YOU die horribly in some generically gruesome manner and for YOU, the idea is over.

13.

Ha! So YOU thought that by not worrying about silly numerical superstitions, YOU would avoid arbitrary and unforeseeable plot branches?! Well, YOU were wrong! Without warning a massive FLANG HOUND devours YOU whole. For YOU this idea is over.

14.

YOU are just about to click on the bone icon, when YOU realise that it’s actually a pretty good idea after all.

To change your mind and bun it, go to 10. Or to bone it anyway, turn to 6.

15.

“What is this wanker on about now?” YOU scoff at the idea presented before you. “What Complete Bollocks!”. YOU decide to annotate, and are just about to type your first word, when your keyboard instantly explodes violently, embedding all of its keys in your face. YOU now resemble WORDY, from that BBC schools’ series "Look and Read". For YOU, this idea is over – alphabetface.

16.

“I have incredible buttocks” she declares breathlessly, in a manner completely unrelated to the previous passage. This causes YOU to seriously doubt whether YOU’ve turned to the correct page. Maybe YOU misread the number the last part told YOU to go to. YOU’d check, but YOU can’t remember which bit YOU just came from! So YOU wonder, “Did I make some kind of mistake?” Or maybe it’s just a circuitous way of pointing out another benefit of the idea. Either way, YOU’ll never know since YOU’ve just drowned – for absolutely no discernable reason. For YOU, this idea is over.