Candied, crushed sago't gulaman
Nuclear winter has gutted the planet, forcing humans to hibernate in sustenance pods. You are awoken prematurely from your slumber. The greeter AI helps you shake off the vertigo and supplies you with every bit of info you require. Of course, you have amnesia. That’s normal, according to the AI. Side effect of the hibernation process, it says, before inviting you to look at his collection of famous historical photographs.
[Every Tuesday, we… tues a free browser game that you can play in five minutes.]
What’s your flavor, fictional AI? Are you the amiable yet secretly murderous heir of HAL and GlaDOS? Are you some kind of Bicentennial Man form of being? Benevolent but myopic? What are you?
And why are you keeping me here? What are you hiding?
Scriptwelder’s A small talk at the back of the beyond splits your attention and eyesight. Left side: a semi-real-time dialogue parser. Ala-Façade without Trip’s loping timbre and bug-eyed revelation stares. Right: a locked room supplying a view of the immediate surroundings and a static marquee of your monologues (doubling as nudge in the right direction).
Word of advice: the right side can be explored but not clicked. The left side houses the capricious AI and all of its proclivities. Ask the AI about what has happened. The parser is pretty anemic, but the personalized error messages cover quite a bit without breaking immersion.
The AI is a gamey sort. It invites you to play chess with him. It beckons you to listen to a story. There is no doubt that they are distractions. From what? And, more importantly, why?
Where is everybody?
Answer these questions by playing the game here, or by clicking any of the screenshots.