Ana.
/random name/
Que podría ser María.
O tal vez Lucrecia.
Podría llamarse Carolina. O Natalia.
O Josefina Carmen Elizabeth.
O Nadja, la flor exótica.
/random names/
**queda todo el texto con los nombres (poner tipo 4 o 5), se sigue cuando se cliquea uno y se guarda la opción ¿poner una ilustraciòn que sea una mezcla de muchas mujeres y cuando aparecen más nombres se mezclan muchas mujeres más?**
Que vive sola en su departamento. O en un PH. O en la casita de atrás de sus padres. O en una pensión. O en un hotel.
/random places/ **que aparezcan 3 y se sigue cuando se elige uno, podrá ser que con cada random se cargue una imagen? onda, que quede un tapestry de 3 imágenes**
Es [joven]. -> Podría ser [vieja]. -> O una [nena]. -> Pero no, es una [joven adulta]. Lo suficientemente joven como para saber que nada es concluyente todavía. Lo suficientemente adulta como para saber que a veces responsabilidad y deseo no coinciden.
**en cada edad, cuando se cliquea, aparece una imagen en sombras -o en composite de muchos rostros- de una mujer de esa edad**
**cómo paso a la siguiente? es por tiempo?**
Un poco por eso trabaja en [administración/telemarketing/cobranzas telefónicas/servicio técnico].
Es un martes. O un miércoles. Uno de esos días en que ambos fines de semana se ven lejanos. Ajenos.
algo sobre el trabajo para hacer sentir el paso lento del tiempo... usa su hobby de encontrar formas en las cosas para pasar el tiempo cuando se aburre... caritas en enchufes, caritas en post its, caritas en cosas del escritorio
sale del trabajo, formas en las nubes...
(dentro del trabajo, son todas caras u ojos que miran, fuera del trabajo son formas libres)
una chabona, vive sola, trabaja, tiene como hobby encontrar formas en las cosas, por ejemplo, en las nubes o en las manchas de humedad...
(acá puedo poner una imagen, y dar opciones de "se parece a"...)
en algún momento, empieza a ver rostros, y al poco tiempo se asusta porque una cara tiene algo raro que la pone nerviosa
(acá puedo poner distintas características que la pongan nerviosa para elegir, como ira o duda... eso podría determinar qué cosas le aparecen después)
el tema es que cada vez ve menos cosas que no sean caras, y esas caras empiezan a acosarla, empieza a sentir que no está sola nunca...
a veces veía... tal cosa
otras veces... tal otra cosa
pero la mayoría de las veces...
cada link de lo que ve lleva a un texto y un random de opciones... ejemplo
muchas veces era la cara de su abuela, que aparece por todos lados, blah blah blah
pero la mayoría de las veces era la cara de
-> su ex
-> su primer amor
-> el almacenerosi eligen 'you' la historia es sobre vos
Ana.
/random name/
Que podría ser María.
O tal vez Lucrecia.
Podría llamarse Carolina. O Natalia.
O Josefina Carmen Elizabeth.
O Nadja, la flor exótica.
/random names/
**queda todo el texto con los nombres (poner tipo 4 o 5), se sigue cuando se cliquea uno y se guarda la opción ¿poner una ilustraciòn que sea una mezcla de muchas mujeres y cuando aparecen más nombres se mezclan muchas mujeres más?**
Que vive sola en su departamento. O en un PH. O en la casita de atrás de sus padres. O en una pensión. O en un hotel.
/random places/ **que aparezcan 3 y se sigue cuando se elige uno, podrá ser que con cada random se cargue una imagen? onda, que quede un tapestry de 3 imágenes**
Es [joven]. -> Podría ser [vieja]. -> O una [nena]. -> Pero no, es una [joven adulta]. Lo suficientemente joven como para saber que nada es concluyente todavía. Lo suficientemente adulta como para saber que a veces responsabilidad y deseo no coinciden.
**en cada edad, cuando se cliquea, aparece una imagen en sombras -o en composite de muchos rostros- de una mujer de esa edad**
**cómo paso a la siguiente? es por tiempo?**
Un poco por eso trabaja en [administración/telemarketing/cobranzas telefónicas/servicio técnico].
Es un martes. O un miércoles. Uno de esos días en que ambos fines de semana se ven lejanos. Ajenos.
algo sobre el trabajo para hacer sentir el paso lento del tiempo... usa su hobby de encontrar formas en las cosas para pasar el tiempo cuando se aburre... caritas en enchufes, caritas en post its, caritas en cosas del escritorio
sale del trabajo, formas en las nubes...
(dentro del trabajo, son todas caras u ojos que miran, fuera del trabajo son formas libres)
una chabona, vive sola, trabaja, tiene como hobby encontrar formas en las cosas, por ejemplo, en las nubes o en las manchas de humedad...
(acá puedo poner una imagen, y dar opciones de "se parece a"...)
en algún momento, empieza a ver rostros, y al poco tiempo se asusta porque una cara tiene algo raro que la pone nerviosa
(acá puedo poner distintas características que la pongan nerviosa para elegir, como ira o duda... eso podría determinar qué cosas le aparecen después)
el tema es que cada vez ve menos cosas que no sean caras, y esas caras empiezan a acosarla, empieza a sentir que no está sola nunca...
a veces veía... tal cosa
otras veces... tal otra cosa
pero la mayoría de las veces...
cada link de lo que ve lleva a un texto y un random de opciones... ejemplo
muchas veces era la cara de su abuela, que aparece por todos lados, blah blah blah
pero la mayoría de las veces era la cara de
-> su ex
-> su primer amor
-> el almacenero
en un momento, tiene que salir a la calle y empieza a ver en las caras de otros las caras que la obsesionan, las personas primero empiezan a perder definición de sus features y a verse genéricas
después empieza a ver las caras de las personas en las cosas y las cosas en las caras de las personas... hasta que empieza a confundir todo y empieza a relacionarse con las cosas en lugar de las personas
por lo pronto terminaría con ella sentada en un rincón rodeada de caras... por ahí podría ver de armar dos imágenes, una con ella rodeada de cosas con caras y otra rodeada de caras y que se puedan ir alternando ad infinitum (una te lleva a la otra y viceversa), para mostrar que está atrapada en eso... si además, pudiera borrar la barrera entre qué es real y que no, sería lo ideal
hay otra ruta donde ve una cara familiar que la rescata
hay otra donde elimina todos los espejos y tapa todo lo que pueda parecer una cara en su casa… pero las caras la siguen y las ve por el rabillo del ojo, la mayoría del tiempo las ignora
<div class="titlepage">[[THE EYES THAT LOOK BACK|first]]</div>
<div class="titlepage2">Leno
2018
miss-leno.itch.io
TW | IG | Tumblr: lenogalaxies
//Special thanks to Rumpelcita and David Marchand for all their support and all their advice on Twine. And to Meredith, for all her patience and encouragement.//</div>(set: $nameMC to 'Anna')[[Anna|names]].Who could also be (link: "Maria")[(set: $nameMC to 'Maria')(go-to: "apartment")]. Or (link: "Joss")[(set: $nameMC to 'Joss')(go-to: "apartment")].
Maybe it was (link: "Laurie")[(set: $nameMC to 'Laurie')(go-to: "apartment")], (link: "Amy")[(set: $nameMC to 'Amy')(go-to: "apartment")], (link: "Gabriela")[(set: $nameMC to 'Gabriela')(go-to: "apartment")], (link: "Steph")[(set: $nameMC to 'Steph')(go-to: "apartment")] or (link: "Alex")[(set: $nameMC to 'Alex')(go-to: "apartment")].
Or (link: "Consuelo Carmen Elizabeth")[(set: $nameMC to 'Consuelo Carmen Elizabeth')(go-to: "apartment")].
Or even (link: "Sasha, the exotic flower")[(set: $nameMC to 'Sasha, the exotic flower')(go-to: "apartment")].
Or was it (link: "you")[(set: $nameMC to 'She')(go-to: "notyou")]?$nameMC lives alone in an [[apartment|irrelevancy]]. Or a [[rented room|irrelevancy]]. Or in a [[little house|irrelevancy]] behind her parents house. Or in a [[hotel|irrelevancy]].(set: $nameMC to 'Anna')
(link: "Maria")[(set: $nameMC to 'Maria')(go-to: "apartment")]
{(if: $estructura < 20)[sdfadsgsdgfsf ](else-if: $cercania > 100)[grthytrtyreytre](else-if: $aburrimiento is 4)[fdgsdytrhythjgfjghjfgj
]}
(link-reveal: "a")[
ssssssssss]
(link-reveal: "a")[
(link-reveal: "b.")[
bbbbbbbb.
(link-reveal: "c.")[
ccccccc.
]]]
The (link-undo: ) macro
(link-undo: string) → command
Takes a string of link text, and produces a link that, when clicked, undoes the current turn and sends the player back to the previously visited passage. The link appears identical to a typical passage link. This command should not be attached to a hook.
Example usage:
(link-undo:"Retreat") behaves the same as (link:"Retreat")[[(undo:)](#macro_undo)].
Rationale:
The ability to undo the player's last turn, as an alternative to (go-to:), is explained in the documentation of the (undo:) macro. This macro provides a shorthand for placing (undo:) inside a (link:) attached hook.
You may, as part of customising your story, be using (replace:) to change the ?sidebar, and remove its default "undo" link. If so, you can selectively provide undo links at certain parts of your story instead, by using this macro.
Details:
As with (undo:), if this command is used on the play session's first turn, an error will be produced (as there is yet nothing to undo at that time.) You can check which turn it is by examining the length of the (history:) array.
See also:
(undo:), (link-goto:)It's irrelevant.
What matters is this: the very first memory of that place is of her looking at the building and thinking about how the windows and the doors resembled a face.
It matters because it was part of [[who she is]].She was a funcional and productive member of society. She was also The Bearer of Scars. She Who Was Caged. The Detective of Faces.
Someone who was young enough to remember that things can change and flow, but old enough to know how to hide herself, how to make compromises. She knew of the way that responsibility and desire don't match.
Which is why she worked in administration (click-replace: "administration")[a bank](click-replace: "a bank")[bureaucracy](click-replace: "bureaucracy")[her own vision of hell].
[[Long hours and repetitive tasks|hell]].Take (link-reveal: "today.")[
(link-reveal: "It's 3 pm.")[ (link-reveal: "But it could be 10 pm.")[ (link-reveal: "Or 5:55 pm.")[
Every hour, every minute feels the [[same]].]]]]She's copying data on a spreadsheet. (click-replace: "copying data on a spreadsheet.")[making a call for her boss.](click-replace: "making a call for her boss.")[answering generic corporate messages.](click-replace: "answering generic corporate messages.")[photocopying some documents.
Wait! The photocopying documents part was something she actually enjoyed.
The random nature of the machine fascinated her. How every copy was not a copy but a version of the original document. The quality degradation that could turn an important document into an unreadable, valueless mess.
The myriad of [[faces|faces]] that stared back at her.]She wasn't The Detective of Faces out of nothing.
In fact, that was her handle at the several sites to which she uploaded her collection of photos. Well curated walls (click-prepend: "walls")[virtual ] showing tons of everyday objects with faces on them.
Not "faces" faces. You know, found faces. Faces we see, not faces that are actually there, right?
Like, the house.
Or clouds. Or weird markings on a wall.
Our compulsive tendency to put faces on [[everything|idling]].Thinking about it, she didn't know when she had started her collection.
She had always seen them, but at first it was just a casual hobby taken after her mom's. But her mom, bless her, only ever found saints and Jesuses, maybe a Pope or two, or a Virgin Mary. She never had the ability to find friends and neighbours or past lovers or people lost to time and distance. Neither could her mom make up new faces, nor see faces of (link-reveal: "people she didn't meet yet.")[
(That happened only twice, to be honest. The first time, she ended up having such a bad relationship with the bearer of the face, that the second time she took it as a warning sign and avoided such person altogether. She never knew if it was a good decision or not).]
At one point, she started to take pictures of them. She believes this to be true because there has to be a first picture. There's always [[a first time|firstie]], even if you don't remember it or don't have anything to show for it.She doesn't remember the first time she [[understood|firstie2]] what they were saying, either.It wasn't until she heard the voice of a coworker asking if she was done with the machine that she came back from her toughts.
She returned to her desk, where she took pictures of the found faces at pages 3, 12 and 32. She uploaded them to her social media accounts and watched the likes pile up while printing a copy of the shadow of her $foundface's face.
She put the printed photo on her purse and left the copies over the desk.
It was time to [[head home]].Let's take page 3 of the stack she was copying. There's this face hidden among textures in the lower left corner clearly looking back at her.
She stares at it(click-append: "stares at it")[, but nothing happens].
On page 12, there's one that looks exactly like the profile of (link-reveal: "a high school teacher she used to look up to.")[
*(The same teacher that used to tell her that she would never get past low wages jobs and terrible relationships. She could at least thank that the prophecy hadn't work on her salary.)*]
Page 32 is tricky. She couldn't decide wether it reminded her of [[her father|persona]] looking with their usual disdain, or if it was [[her childhood's best friend|personb]] looking over their shoulder as if apologizing for saying goodbye.(set: $foundface to 'father')She looked at the page closely, paying attention to the sound of the paper, to the words it said.
//"You think you know what's best for you? Are you sure you want to argue with me on that? No wonder your life never goes anywhere. You shouldn't have left him. You will never find anyone else to take care of you when your mother and I are gone."//
It had been more than a year since she had last visited him, and she still felt guilty about it.
For a few moments, she got lost into the invisible scars [[she was carrying|moles]].(set: $foundface to 'long lost friend')She looked at the page, trying to see if there was a message for her.
//"I'm sorry, but I want to be normal for a while. Can you understand that? If you are my friend you will be happy for me."//
Yes, it was definitely her old friend. The words still echoed through her adult life.
She wished she could say the experience had taught her how to tell a good friend from someone who was not. She wondered if it was just that some things cannot [[be learnt|moles]].She found a place to sit. The doors hissed and her body reacted to the change in speed. She put her purse on her lap and hugged it tightly.
Her thoughts wondered once more.
//The worst that could happen is that nothing happens.//
The spot on the floor looked just like the cashier at the grocery store.
You know how sometimes [[everyone has their eyes on you|eyes on you]] and sometimes you are longing for someone to [[acknowledge that you exist|look at me]]?
She was clearly in the mood to discuss with strangers.Sometimes you just want to be you. Without fear, without (link-reveal: "judgement.")[
//Are you going to complain how everyone was// (link-reveal: "//looking up to you?//")[
They weren't looking at me. They were watching their own idealized selves on the place I (link-reveal: "was standing in.")[
//I don't see//(link-reveal: "// the difference.//")[
I was an avatar of their (link-reveal: "own desires.")[
//But you have //(link-reveal: "//a platform.//")[
To perform to their command. I only want my story to be heard and [[to be remembered|change]] for who I truly am.]]]]]]They never knew (link-reveal: "who I was.")[
//Is this another story about how shitty //(link-reveal: "//your childhood was?//")[
Are there (link-reveal: "other kind of stories?")[
//Some people actually had //(link-reveal: "//a happy childhood.//")[
But we are all products of our stories as much as we are the products of our (link-reveal: "history.")[
I just wanted my story to be heard and my face [[to be remembered|change]].]]]]]//Home, as if you can call that empty nest a home. A shrine, maybe. To all your mistakes.//
She looked up. A lovely cloud that looked like a three eyed old lady was judging her from the [[sky|subway]].//il never be atss.fulid//
On the wall, a collage made of a selection(click-prepend:"selection")[ well curated ] of her treasures, carefully arranged so that the (link-reveal:"lights")[
//ou can call taht etpmll yuor miek The fearwsrot taht cluod heppan is taht noihtng hapsnor yuo?You wl Aor yuor lfie never geos anrehwye.//
and (link-reveal:"shadows")[
//ou shndluo't hvae lfet . ano esle to ae cra e of yo wehn yuor mehtt A s re, an I are geno. //
could talk with more (link-reveal:"harmonius voices.")[
//I' s ro, but I w n t to mol [[for we|stronger]] ih. C//]]]//Who decides what's relevant about us and what's not? Who is she really? [[What would she say about herself if you asked|who she was]]?//Wh-
What was wrong?
<div class="moresound4">//wl-nor y 8fr lf ittah? No//</div>
This is [[not|whispers2]] what was supposed to happen!
<div class="moresound5">//uor miorek Trr
-r....exc77fdg e wss
...rrot tah//</div> <div class="moresound7">//tyrtyrt tkae crae of you wehnh? If you are my fnei+rd you wlil b dsdad hjui... ç
you wlil vxcvcx ds be hpYou wl Are you srue yoaeand trewtah? Ippay for mkjlk //</div>
The chorus is too [[intense]], [[terrifying]].
<div class="moresound8">//344 y -i8k ghidi'0e + h
f you are my fneird dsgfd´//</div>
As insidious as a faint repetitive [[sound]] she suddenly notices. A whisper that comes from somewhere else.
<div class="moresound9">//jk+r sr,oty an you unx dtsru... obt hpay for m,e.u wn//</div> <div class="moresound9">//y for m,e.u wnatr sroty auobt how sttihy yuor ch
ohl to au gre+ wti-h me on//</div> She crouches, her hands to her ears. Useless. The sound doesn't faint. <div class="moresound9">//To aHeczddasd-u, as if y w'tahs bset for yuo?You wl Are you srue yoan you ughk dt sreand ttah?+ If you ar// </div> It was a mistake. A huge mistake. <div class="moresound9">//e my fnor meh tt a hemo.//</div> She didn't even cry. <div class="moresound9">//+ wti-h me on To aHeczddasd-u, as i//</div> She just stayed there. <div class="moresound9">//bbb..ssdnor yu zxzor lfie ne y v +gggdse+r geosh nire, mebyaor and I are gen+o. I'm syrro, b.ut I wnat to be namrol fo//</div>Her own thoughts lost now. <div class="moresound9">//A svbe hppay for me.u wnatr sroty auobt how</div> <div class="moresound9">sttihy yuor choh +
111 //</div><div class="mistake">Everything a mistake.</div>
(live: 20s)[(transition: "dissolve")[ [[Start again?|Start]](stop:) ]]<div class="moresound7">//ttkae cou srurae of you wehnh?
and trewtpa
you wlil vxcvcx ds be hpy for mkjlkYnn o //</div>
The calling sound from her (link-reveal:"cellphone.")[
She ran towards the other room and the sofa and the purse. She emptied the contents over the sofa, and took the (link-reveal:"phone.")[
A friend.
<div class="moresound5">//---lfie never geos anrehwye. You shndluo't hvae lfet hmi. il never atss.fnid anoyne esle - ---to//</div>
//"Hey, I know you are super busy but there's this movie I thought you would like. I was wondering if you want to watch it with me"// (link-reveal:"She sounded so casual.")[
<div class="moresound3">//ttkae cou srurae of you wehnh?
you wlil vxcvcx ds be hpy for mkjlkYnn oand trewtpa //</div>
She answered something she hoped was a(link-reveal:" yes.")[
//ohl to au gre+ wti-h me on To aHeczddasd-u, //
//"Is everything OK? We can grab a coffe and talk about it, if you want. Or about the movie, if you don't want to talk about it yet."//
Minutes later, she was [[out of the house|soundend]].]]]]<div class="moresound9">//y for m,e.u wnatr sroty auobt how sttihy yuor ch
ohl to au gre+ wti-h me on//</div> She screams. She panics. <div class="moresound7">//To aHeczddasd-u, as if y w'tahs bset for yuo?You wl Are you srue yoan you ughk dt sreand ttah?+ If you ar// </div> She starts to tear down the collage on the wall. <div class="moresound5">//e my fnor meh tt a hemo.//</div> Years of carefully collecting faces now being destroyed. <div class="moresound3">//+ wti-h me on To aHeczddasd-u, as i//</div> More and more frantically, as she noticed the sounds getting quieter. <div class="moresound">//bbb..ssdnor yu zxzor lfie ne y v +gggdse+r geosh nire, mebyaor and I are gen+o. I'm syrro, b.ut I wnat to be namrol fo//</div>Dissapearing. <div class="moresoundmenos">//A svbe hppay for me.u wnatr sroty auobt how</div> <div class="moresoundmenos2">sttihy yuor choh +
[[111|terrifying2]] //</div>I do what I can, she thought while getting on the subway.
//Isn't that what you always say before doing something you end up regreting?//
It took her some time to realize the voice came from a stain on someone's shirt that looked like the janitor at work.
[[I'm almost finished|firstie3]], she answered.The mouth opened and she entered.
A (click-prepend: "plant")[lonely ] (link-reveal:"plant")[ (with a portrait of a couple kissing on one of is leafs)] greeted her.
//Even alone I can enjoy(click-append:"enjoy")[ a nice kiss].//
She ignored it. The task at hand was more (link-reveal:"important.")[
She took out the photo she had printed from her purse, that she left abandoned on a sofa (click-prepend:" sofa")[n old].
She caressed the paper on her hands, trying to staighten it. It was a bit battered from its journey.
//Not even in paper form can you take care of me and my needs.//
She walked towards the next room, walking among lots of boxes with their contents written with markers on the outside. Never unpacked.
On the further side of that room, [[her project|mural]].]Her focus went back to (link-reveal: "her own hand.")[
Three moles on the back, in triangle formation,(link-reveal: " one of them bigger than the rest.")[
//Why do you hold on to the things that// (link-reveal: "//hurt you?//")[
It's always [[the first image|moles2]] she uploads to an account.]]]Not the (link-reveal: "same picture.")[ She always takes (link-reveal: "a new one.")[
And each one tells her [[something new|past faces]].]]//Why focus on the worst parts? Don't you think that maybe your attittude is indeed the //(link-reveal: "//problem?//")[
Do you think I would reject a little bit of peace, (link-reveal: "if I could get it?")[
The faces on the cracks of the floor tiles were particularly violent (link-reveal: "//today.//")[
//Maybe you'd like to feel //(link-reveal: "//special.//")[
If I wanted to feel special, I would choose something [[fun|running]] to be remembered for, at least.]]]]//Running is fun//, said the negative space [[between|distance]] two flowers.So is putting distance between us and [[the things that harms us|entrance]].The eyes of her [[home]] were half closed, the door smiled.A big vague (link-reveal:"face.")[
Staring back (link-reveal:"at her.")[
With a pair of big blurry eyes, and tons of small inquisitive ones.
<div class="moresound3">//[[d. gg k2 --fewr zxf |whispers]]//</div>]]Maybe not every story is about you. Perhaps this one is about me. Or it may be that this one is about you too, but you can pretend this time that it happens to [[someone else|apartment]].<div class="moresound">//nse.dff Tmistako aHem o, f y w'tahs b et fo o?You wl Ardalwayssdae you sdasd s rue yeklonely loan you un and ttah? u are my rd youstop w lil [[b|mural2]] //</div><div class="moresound2">// an clal tah --t etp.gma- m l l//</div>
The cacophony got louder as she got closer to it, her hand almost touching the pieces of paper on the wall, fascinated and afraid of what she might end up awakening.
<div class="moresound2">// ppa.n is ta9ht no.-ihX t4tn g hapswwwnep//</div>
She put some tape on the back of the printed page and placed it on an empty space in the middle of other pages.
<div class="moresound2">// ldn dsag .´ta ñt n32----- tm hap...s x 57 n//</div>
She saw it clearly. [[The finished work.|mural3]]<div class="moresound6">//choh +
111
to au+gre wt,ih me.. on ttah? -No dwedd, bbb..ssdnor yu zxzor lfie ne y v +gggdse+r geosh nire, m//</div>
She wanted a clear, unified, [[voice|shouts]], not to empower millions of threads pulling her in all directions.
<div class="moresound7">// ebyaor and I are gen+o. I'm syrro, b.ut I wnat to be namrol for a weli-h. C
-.y ev cv 4
+
uor miorek- Trr
r....e+xc77fdg e wssrrot tah //</div>The clouds, the floortiles, the flowers, were silent.
The house sighed in relief.
(live: 10s)[(transition: "dissolve")[<div class="mistake"> [[Start again?|Start]]</div>(stop:) ]]She got rid of (link-reveal:"everything.")[
Every (link-reveal:"piece of paper.")[ Every (link-reveal:"social media account.")[
Even the leaf of the plant (link-reveal:"with the lovers kissing.")[
[[The Detective of Faces was no more|terrifying3]].]]]]She could still (link-reveal:"hear faint whispers.")[
Notice the shadows on the corner of her eyes trying (link-reveal:"to get her attention.")[
Translucent enough for her (link-reveal:"not to acknowledge them.")[
It was enough for now.
(live: 10s)[(transition: "dissolve")[<div class="mistake"> [[Start again?|Start]]</div>(stop:) ]]]]]