It sure has been a freakin' long day. The (link: "sofa")[used bus seat] is looking comfier than it has in years. You switch on [[ye olde boob tube|News Story]] to unwind and give your thinkbox the downtime it so desperately craves.
You definitely don't live the grandest of lives. Here you are in a dumpy old space-garage; using crates for furniture and plywood for tabletops. Your bedding accomodations include the luxurius seat you pulled out of the old cab that broke down. Brady's was the same thing; from when he flew solo.
Gourmet cuisine included packets of dehydrated TV dinners. That was the most you could afford from the local nutrition materializer. Damn corporate buyouts.
Still, you definitely had it better than those poor saps who were eaten alive by the DRA. Poor souls. You wish you didn't have to rob them for a cab ride, but how else does a guy get by in this world?
Some day, man. Some day you'll get away from this fool's life and climb the ladder to the economic elite! When you do, no more bratty customers, no more wise-cracks from Brady. You'll just sit on your throne, look down, and laugh.
[[It seems the media aren't the only ones around here with opinions no one asked for|Prologue2]]An overly-made-up anchorwoman recounts what passes for news these days:
"Once again, the Giant Monkey Man has imposed stricter travel regulations upon the Ninth Dimension. Passage is restricted solely to authorized personnel. Of course, diplomats and other various government officials are exempt."
[[Yep. Sounds like a typical Tuesday.|Prologue1]]
Damn pencil-pushers."What's wit you today?" you hear a grating but familiar voice object.
"Don' tell me ya got stiffed AGAIN!"
You'd recoginize that voice anywhere. A short, rugged, pale-skinned cabby who looks like he rolled out of bed two weeks late approaches you. It's Brady.
"Oh, come on, Brady," you reply empathetically. "You know it's just as bad for them out there as it is for us."
"Yeah yeah. But charity ain't payin' the bills 'round here! I'm serious, pal, you gotta your act together. If we don't scrape up 5,000 bills by de end o' next week, they're gonna give us the boot! You don't wanna be left at the mercy of the [[DRA|DRA]], do ya?"
You wipe your brow internally. [[That's the last thing you want.|Prologue3]]DRA. The "Desitute Relocation Agency".
These Einsteins were tasked by the feds with the task of "relocating" poor folk out of the way of loyal taxpayers due to a misguided effort by some scumbag politician to make himself appear "charitable". Typically, this meant being dumped in some kinda lowlife community that had just enough rundown apartments to spare. Nasty neighbors. And worse jobs to be found.
And that wasn't even the worst of it. The worst of it was it did to your social status. If you were sent HERE, everyone would view you as trash. Your credit rating would be in shambles, you'd have a hell of a time convincing anyone to employ you; living in such a craphole filled with crappy people. And good luck buying your own dimesional transporter. That old piece of junk you call a "cab" probably has another five years in her at best.
[[Nobody wants to be sent HERE, if they can avoid it.|Prologue2]](set: $days to 3)
"Yeah...you're right," you answer reluctantly. You'd hate to let your partner down.
"So what did you find? [[Any good prospects?|Leads]]"You look at the calendar.
Only $days days left.
[["Alright. Here's what I managed to scrape up."|Customer1]]<!--Multiple endings are possible based on how much money the player has at the end--!>
(if: $money is 0)
(elseif: $money > 0 and $money < 1000)
(elseif: $money > 1000 and $money < 2000)
(elseif: $money > 2000 and $money < 3000)
(elseif: $money > 3000 and $money < 4000)
(elseif: $money > 4000)"Your first customer will go to the pier. He's a bit of an oddball. I dunno what they want, but it seems like they only want to head to the pier. ...Well, they're paying, so what do I care? Anyway. [[They'll be at the station any minute now."|Customer1-1]](if: (history:) contains "Prologue3")[Days remaining: $days Money Earned: $$money]
You want him to pay, but he wouldn't be able to afford his wedding if he didn't....Wow. This guy really sucks, and he's nervous as all hell. I almost feel bad for him.
...I gotta make money though.Hmm. I could give him some easy questions, but should i?You step outside the station to wait for your [[client|Client1]]. Oddly enough, you can't see what's so strange about him. Dunno why he had to get a ride on a day like today. The pier is several miles out of the way, and the weather is crap. Oh well. It's his money.
[["Where to, mac?"|Customer1-2]]Doesn't <i>seem</i> like that much of a "weirdo". Looks, to you, like a regular young man dressed in an extravagant blue tuxedo; complete with carnation, stylish black bow tie, and inky-black hair neatly styled into an elegant combover. He's fidgeting impatiently; as if there's something urgent he desperately needs to do.
[[Welp, you're not getting paid to stare at people.|Customer1-1]]You open the door for him, and he frantically scrambles inside the cab.
"Oh thank the [[Benevolont Dice Shakers|BenevolentDiceShakers]] you're on time! I was starting to get worried I'd be late."
Again, with the fidgeting.
You have one hell of a long drive ahead of you, so your client decides to make some conversation.
"I'm sorry to call you out here in this terrible weather, but I promise this is super important. You see, I'm running a bit late for a wedding. The trouble is, we're pretty short on cash right now, and we might have trouble paying our bills if we go all out. Of course, we could save quite a bit if we could save on this cab fare somehow. I'm not going to do that to you, though."
"I gathered that," you reply. "But why do you need to go to the pier?"
"Oh didn't I tell you?" he responds; genuinely surprised. "My bride is a human girl."
(text-style: "shudder")[...You damn near choke on your own coffee!]
[["What did you say?!"|Customer1-3]]Some people wonder where the universe came from. In reality, it's not actually that complex. Just a bunch of nerds with too much time on their hands. What started out as a simple orc-slaying campaign got out of hand REAL fast.
...Let's just say there were a lot of natural 20's rolled that night.
[[Anyhoo, that's enough philosophical pondering for one lifetime.|Customer1-2]]"Haha. Good one," you nervously reply.
"No! I'm serious! It's this evening, and I'm not sure I'll have enough to afford that apartment we need to live together. I know it seems odd, but this pier was the only place we could open a rift to travel through."
This was just <i>way</i> above your freaking head. A mermaid you could understand, a harpy you could understand, even a kraken--though they're often known to be gold diggers--would make some level of sense, but a human?! What would a young man like himself want with a human girl?! They're the ugliest life-forms out there. The only reason a human man marries one is to make himself look better by comparison.
He glances over at the meter.
"I mean, I'm sure I can, but we're going to have to cut a lot of corners afterward."
You finally reach the pier. You can see the young man's forehead practically drenched with sweat.
You could [[waive the fare just this once|CustomerEnd1Waive]], but then again...[[that's less to pay the bills|CustomerEnd1PayFare]].(set: $days to $days - 1)
You return home; anxious to get in front of the boob tube again. You just want nothing more than to park your butt down and let all the cares in the world just melt away.
Sadly, duty calls, and in this case, duty's name was "Brady".
"Listen up!" he announces. "This'll get us out of the hole for sure! I just cooked up another great scheme."
You groan. You just made a really hard choice. The last you needed was to get ordered about by your partner again. "Brady, come on. Don't do this to me."
Brady pats you on the back. "...I'm sorry bub. I don't mean to be so harsh. I'm just...concerned for ya, you know? I'd hate to see the DRA take ya away."
[[Feeling a tiny bit more loved, you listen in; hoping that whatever he cooked up doesn't end up burnt.|Customer2-1]]"For this assignment, I want you to go to the Reality TV dimension."
<i>"Dice Shakers, spare me,"</i> you think to yourself, and frown in disgust.
Brady could sense your resentment from a mile away.
"Now, I know what yous is thinkin', but bear with me here, we can make GIGANTIC bucks from puttin' on a quiz show in this very cab! I got everything all rigged up last night."
You are about to just get on with it when Brady interrupts.
"Just one thing, though. MAKE SURE THEY GET THE QUESTIONS WRONG. Failure does wonders for ratings, y'know. And I don't think I have to remind you we need all the ratings we can get."
[[You nod and finally get on your way.|Customer2-2]]The Reality TV dimension...
A regular hive of bullies, con artists, and gossippers. Everyone around you is creeping around the windows of various buildings; attempting to pry into their neighbor's private life for even the tiniest snapshot of something embarassing. Some of them don't even care about the money. ONE FRAME is all they need to humiliate a rival forever.
You grow sick to your stomach just from looking at the place. The sooner you get outta this dump, the better.
Uh oh! No time for sightseeing. [[Here comes's a contestent.|Customer2-3]]You plaster on the fakest smile you can possibly muster--almost to the point of injuring yourself--and greet the contestent to--you can't believe this is what Brady actually came up with--"Dollar Drive"!
Here comes a bird-woman. You know their type. Not only do they look like birds, but true to their name, they're flighty as all hell. They get super enthused about the tiniest things and never shut up.
Another thing true to their names: they're also bird-brains.
"OH EM GEE! ARE YOU FOR REAL?! I'VE NEVER BEEN ON A GAME SHOW BEFORE!"
Hoo boy. [[This is gonna be rich.|Customer2-4]]You recall the rules, and explain that she will win $1000 if she can answer one question correctly before you reach your stop. However, she'll still have to pay the fare if she gets it wrong. You begin looking through your deck to find a question to ask her.
She surprisingly acts cocky about the situation. As if there's no doubt in her mind that she'll win.
[[Now then, what to ask?|Customer2-5]]You look through your database of questions. It appears like you could ask one of the following:
[[What was the cause of the Pie War of 3036?|Customer2A_Hard]]
[[What is 2 times 10|Customer2A_Easy]]You can hear mumbling to herself in the back seat; trying her hardest to recall her high school history courses. Of course, even for high school, this was still a tricky question to answer. The truth of the matter was, it was a trick question.
The Pie War could have had many causes. It could have been as simple as one of the clown people getting enraged from slipping on a banana peel or as complicated as someone from the Bakery Dimension being unwilling to give up his secret recipe for the sake of unifying their people. Any way she went about it, the answer would undoubtedly be wrong.
She growls in frustration!
"Urgh! I don't know! Was it...because of the Pastry Incident of 3015?"
BZZT! WRONG!
You finally stop and she gets out.
"GAH! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU PEOPLE! WHAT A DIRTY TRICK! YOU KNOW NOBODY ACTUALLY KNOWS THE ANSWER TO THAT QUESTON!!!"
She pays you the fare and slams the door in your face.
You almost feel guilty about it, but...she deserved it, right?
[[You continue on to find another contestent.|Customer2-6]]
(set: $money to $money + 1000)She mills it over for about five minutes, then looks over with the most conceited expression you may have ever seen on a human. You had merely asked a simple math problem, and here she was grinning as if she had found the cure to the common cold. You try your best to refrain from pointing this out.
"Um...20?"
DING DING! CORRECT!
Finally.
"Ha! As if I'd actually lose! You guys need to step up your game."
You strain yourself resisting the urge to tell her that she took five minutes to arrive at the answer to a simple math problem, and just bring her to her stop and hand her the prize.
Glad that band-aid's ripped off. Good riddance. [[Let's see who the next moron is.|Customer2-6]]You find your next contestent waiting at the corner. He's a college student: one of the most pathetic lifeforms in the universe. These guys typically spend 3/4s of their life studying and then the other quarter searching for a job. You wouldn't wish this existence on your worst enemy, but as Brady said, you're not a charity.
This one, at least, appears to be a touch more humble than the one before him. It's a young scholar waiting patiently to be picked up at the curb. He doesn't seem to be any particular hurry; nor does he expect what exactly is in store for him in your cab.
You announce to him that he's on a game show, but he doesn't seem to have the same reaction as the last woman. His reaction is more a combination of joy and genuine shock; as if he never even imagined he was capable of being a contestent.
"W-well, don't leave me hanging," he insists. "Bring it on!"
[[You begin to wonder what kind of question you should ask him.|Customer2-7]]You manage to find a couple of questions that could work:
[[What is the meaning of life?|Customer2-7B_Hard]]
[[How do you sell ice to eskimos?|Customer2-7B_Medium]]
[[What is the opposite of black?|Customer2-7B_Easy]]All he can do is sit there, mouth agape, until you finally reach your stop. You can practically hear the gears in his head turning. You can practically smell the fuses in his mind shorting out. The poor guy had just about as much as he could take.
Naturally, this was to be expected. As Brady had instructed you earlier, this question was to be your ace-in-the-hole; the one you pull out when you encounter a customer who does not look like they can be defeated.
Well, you won, but the young man didn't look like he's doing too good. In fact, he seemed like he was about to die of humiliation just by approaching the building. Secretly, you hope he does well, but you're far from confident.
[[Ah well. Back to the station.|Leads3]]
(set: $money to $money + 1000)The young man's eyes perk up with inspiration.
"Oh! Now that's a good one. Let's see..."
He begins talking about the principles of "supply and demand", "market value", and a bunch of other businessy mumbo-jumbo you'd have to pull out a dictionary to even begin comprehending.
Based solely on how confident he sounds, you eventually just assume that he's correct and award him the prize.
As it turns out, he was on his way to a job interview for, and he left the cab feeling a ton more confident.
[[You make your way back to the station.|Leads3]]The young man just stares at you in disbelief.
"...Are you even kidding me right now? How stupid do you think I am?! Ugh. I don't know why I'm surprised. It's not like anyone else takes me seriously. Just...drop me off and be done with it, will you? I don't even care about the prize anymore."
You reluctantly stop and the young man storms out, but hey, at least you made money off the deal.
(set: $money to $money + 1000)
[[You better just head back...|Leads3]]<!--Multiple endings are possible based on how much money the player has at the end--!>
(if: $money is 0)[(goto: "BadEnd")]
(elseif: $money > 0 and $money <= 1000)[(goto: "PoorEnd")]
(elseif: $money >= 1000 and $money <= 2000)[(goto: "NeutralEnd")]
(elseif: $money >= 2000 and $money <= 3000)[(goto: "GoodEnd")]
Looking back on everything that happened, you really didn't do half bad. You and Brady scraped up enough to afford a cozy little joint in the burbs. Looking out the window, you already see much more pleasant scenery than what you had found back at the station, but somehow you feel guilty.
...Are your customers really okay?You were able to scrape something up. It wasn't much, but hey. At least you'll be out of the hands of the DRA. You end Brady ended up finding a quaint little beat up shack on the outskirts of town. It isn't much, but it's home. Brady may be a pain-in-the-butt, but he's your pain-in-the-butt.
Still, you're just barely get by. Outside your window, you gaze out at all the crap, and imgaine them as the people you managed to help. You wonder where they are now. Did the wedding happen? How were they faring in the Reality TV Dimension? Did the college student ever make his dreams?
You click on the news, and find that at least SOME of this is true. At least the world isn't all bad.
You can't help but remember all the people you helped, and it makes the pain a little more bearable.Well, this is it. You couldn't bring in any money at all. It's over. Granted, some people ended up happier for it, but at what cost?
The DRA will be here in about five minutes to take you away. You think about how life will go. You reflect on the choices you made. You begin to wonder where you went wrong.
Suddenly, looking down on people doesn't look as satisfying as you hoped it would be.You did it! You finally did it! You're LOADED! Goodbye, dingy old station, and good riddance! You're living the high life now! All around you, you can find those poor saps who mocked you, who made fun of you, who said you couldn't make it. You sure showed them!
However, as the days go on, you feel less and less secure about your victory. The money that once brought you joy just doesn't anymore. You start thinking about the people you scammed as well. Was it worth it?
Thinking it over, maybe there is something you can do to redeem yourself. You look in the newspaper. It seems there's an organization forming to [[disband the DRA|DRAEnd]]. A bunch of people signed a petition, and they need everything they can get to abolish the policy.
Apparently, they've set up a charity that will relocate everyone the DRA cast out to much nicer neighborhoods. You could probably give them enough money to go through with it, but you'd spend everything you have.
Well, nobody's forcing you.Poor guy sounds like he's in a tough spot. Question is, should you do this?
Brady's going to be on your case nonstop if you do, but then again, isn't he always?
The two of you eventually reach your destination. You almost have to shove the words past your tongue, "N...N...No charge."
Phew! That was a hard band-aid to rip off. The young man stepped out of the cab; almost delirious!
"Really?! Oh man, thank you so much! I was worried we might have to cut some people off the guest list, but now we might be able to add some! This is going to be the best wedding ever."
As you drive away, you can see him scramble for his phone and excitedly call his fiance. You still didn't totally understand his taste in women, but a happier guy there never was.
[[You drive away with a lump in your throat.|Leads2]]{(set: $money to $money + 1000)}
You REALLY don't wanna do this, but you know what'll happen if you don't. You come to your destination.
"Alright, mac, that'll be 1000 bills."
He reluctantly hands you the money and steps out.
"Hey...thanks for the ride. It'll be tough for me, going forward, might have to cut a few corners in the future, but...there's no shame in a...modest wedding, right?"
He chuckles nervously as he pulls out his phone and begins making a very painful text, presumably to his fiance.
[[You drive away with a lump in your throat.|Leads2]]It happened.
Your decision made headlines. The charity set to work straight away, and millions of people are now free from the clutches of the DRA. Unfortunately, there was onen person they couldn't save: you. The charity had expended all of its resources on people who needed help the most, and you now live in a beat up old shack just like the cab garage.
Your dream is gone. Your hopes shredded to pieces, but somehow, you don't seem to mind...(set: $days to $days - 1)
Today is the final day. If you're going to have any hope at all of affording the rent, now is the time to take action. Not only that, it seems Brady actually wants you for something.
"Hey...can I [[speak for a minute|3-1]]?""I know I...order you about a lot, but this time is serious. I really need your help."
Brady looked grave. He was damn near on his knees. You've never seen him like THIS before.
"I'm...not really sure how to put this but...the old girl. She's kaput. This probably don't matter that much to you, but to me, she's my lifeblood. I'll be on the streets if we don't get her patched up! Can...can you help a guy out?"
You think about the situation you're in. It would cost you $1000 dollars to [[fix the cab|FixCab]]. Of course, you could always [[decline|DeclineCab]]. After all, you can get him a brand new one when you're loaded, right?(set: $money to $money - 1000)
You sigh. What are friends for? After all, he did give you a place to stay and meals to eat all this time.
"...Here. Take it," you tell him reluctantly. Brady drives out the garage. You can just barely make it out, but you can swear he actually praised you under his breath.
He finally came around.
[[...Then again, you might just be hearing things.|EndCheck]]You think it over long and hard. Why should you be nice to that prick, anyway? All he does all day is order you about and criticize you for trying to help other people. Screw him, he doesn't need your money! MAYBE you'll help him out in the future, but only if he behaves himself.
You storm out the door; leaving Brady to stare depressed into his pile of bills; knowing full well he won't make it to next month. If the DRA takes him, so be it. You'll consider letting him live with you, but only if he gets down and begs.
[[You get home in the hopes of finally earining some damn shuteye.|EndCheck]]