Slay the Farmer

The Narrator: You're on a path through-

Voice of the Defiant: Like hell we are! This is a grudge match now, and I'm not gonna waste any more time in the goddamn field! We're starting in the fucking farmhouse!

The Narrator: What do you-

The Narrator: The interior of the farmhouse is a violent clash of wood and metal, all stabbing out and curving inwards to funnel you at knifepoint down to- wait, what just happened? What did you do?

Voice of the Prince: I feel dizzy.

Voice of the Defiant: I told you, I'm tired of wasting time! I'm in charge around here now, so let's get moving already!

Voice of the Survivor: Running doesn't work. If we want to stay alive, we have to be sharper than that.

Voice of the Desperate: We aren't in charge here and we never were. I don't think he is either! She might not even be! We have to find something safe, something familiar, and stay away from all of this!

Voice of the Defiant: Nope, not a chance. If she needed to die after killing us once, she's definitely asking for it now.

The Narrator: Great. So you've been here before. How many times?

Voice of the Prince: This should be our third.

The Narrator: Your third? No wonder things are falling apart, we weren't supposed to go past one! You do know every time you lose, she escapes and ends an entire world, right?

Voice of the Desperate: That's not our business. As long as we're safe, nothing else matters.

Voice of the Survivor: Doesn't matter what happens when we die, because we aren't going to die.

Voice of the Defiant: That's the spirit! Glad to have you on board. As for you, the other new one, I'd like to see some more team spirit from you.

The Narrator: Okay, please try to stay focused here. This is important.

The Narrator: The only furniture of note is a splintered wooden table, a pristine axe-

Voice of the Defiant: We take it.

The Narrator: Okay. Fine. You take the axe before I can finish describing it. It would be difficult to slay the Farmer and save the world without a weapon.

Voice of the Survivor: That's better. We've got to arm ourselves if we're going to live.

Voice of the Defiant: Exactly! I'm glad somebody gets it. This time, she's going down.

Voice of the Desperate: Why does she need to die? We can just do something else, far away from here! I don't trust whatever he is telling us to do.

The Narrator: If you don't trust me, why not trust yourself? Killing somebody who's already killed you twice seems like it's in your interests.

Voice of the Defiant: Yeah, as annoying as it is, he's right. This is about revenge now, not survival or world-saving or whatever.

Voice of the Prince: I'd still like to save the world, if that's possible.

Voice of the Survivor: We're surviving. We have to.

Voice of the Defiant: Look, all three of these interests are aligned! We don't need to fight, we just need to go cut her head off!

Voice of the Desperate: She's just going to kill us again, can't you all see that? Have you learned nothing?

Voice of the Defiant: We've learned plenty. We've learned that she can slip her chains, that's way more than we knew last time.

Voice of the Survivor: And we saw how she moves. That makes her easier to dodge.

Voice of the Defiant: Exactly! We've got this in the bag this time. We just need to find out how to get down there.

The Narrator: What do you mean, "find out?" The door's right there.

Voice of the Prince: What door? All I see is the mirror.

The Narrator: There isn't a mirror. You've really messed things up, haven't you? It's like you can't even see reality anymore.

Voice of the Desperate: Our reality is safer than his. If there's no door to the basement, she can't come get us.

Voice of the Survivor: No, we're in danger right now. If the mirror isn't real, anything could be behind it. We have to be wary of it.

> [Approach the mirror]

The Narrator: You walk up to the door at the end of the room and pause in front of it. You... think you're looking at that mirror, don't you?

The Narrator: *sighs* Whatever. Reach forward and open it. The handle's over there.

Voice of the Defiant: Yeah, just get it open. I am done wasting fucking time.

> [Reach forward]

The Narrator: As you place your hand on the door, it swings open.

Voice of the Defiant: And there goes the mirror. I wish I could say I was surprised.

Voice of the Survivor: It was never real. Just a trick, to make us lower our guard.

Voice of the Desperate: It's part of something bigger than us. That's why it keeps disappearing. It wants to hide something from us, something we have to know!

Voice of the Prince: Right, well, it's gone now, so we should get moving.

The Narrator: Keep your focus and you'll do fine. You can kill her.

The Narrator: You step out onto the stone stairs, only for them to crumble beneath your feet, a thin layer of stone giving way to a massive pit. You tumble straight down, your body badly bruised at the bottom as you barely avoid being impaled on the stalagmites that litter the ground.

The Narrator: The form of the Farmer comes into view, already free from her chains, her forearms replaced with massive scythe-like blades. She smiles, the weapons scraping against the stone floor as she slowly approaches you.

The Farmer: Scotty! There you are! It looks like you don't have a way out anymore, and I don't think you'll fall for the same thing twice, so I'm not gonna keep up the dumb act anymore.

The Farmer: Last time was fun, but you didn't even try to fight me! Come on, I know you've got better than that in you! Maybe you can even stay alive more than a second this time!

Voice of the Defiant: That smug bitch thinks she's already won!

Voice of the Desperate: She has! There's nothing we can do against her, we should have left!

Voice of the Survivor: She will win if you keep up that attitude. You can't think about death. The only thing that matters is we're alive right now, and we can stay that way.

Voice of the Defiant: Does it matter if we do? We've died twice, and no harm has come of it. We've just got to win once, and then this is settled for good.

Voice of the Prince: No harm has come of it yet.

The Narrator: Plenty of harm has come of it! Two entire worlds are dead!

Voice of the Desperate: That doesn't sound like our problem.

Voice of the Survivor: The past can't save us. The present is the only way to stay alive.

The Narrator: Your internal bickering is interrupted by the sound of the Farmer's foot tapping against the ground impatiently.

The Farmer: Tick tock, Scott! You're not gonna let me have all the fun myself, are you?

Voice of the Defiant: Okay, showtime. Anybody got any ideas?

> "I don't trust ANY of this. I'm outta here." [Turn and leave]

Voice of the Defiant: Finally. Like I've been saying from the beginning, better if we just wash our hands of this.

The Farmer: Oh come on, Scott, don't be boring like that.

Voice of the Prince: She's... bored?

The Narrator: It doesn't matter if she's bored, she doesn't get a say in this sort of thing. She's a prisoner-

The Narrator: Shit.

Voice of the Prince: What does that mean?

Voice of the Defiant: Nothing good.

The Narrator: No, it's not. I don't want to describe it, but... I have a job to do.

The Narrator: In a sudden burst of movement, the Farmer leaps forward, a curved, scythe-like blade erupting from her free arm. Her wrist hangs limp and empty from the violent expulsion.

The Narrator: I guess she did have a weapon after all. Apologies.

Voice of the Defiant: Bit fucking late on that one. What are we gonna do?

Voice of the Prince: She's still chained up. We just have to stay out of reach.

The Narrator: Indeed. And those chains do stop her for a moment, as she tugs on them like a dog on a leash.

The Narrator: She looks down at the bound arm with a mixture of confusion and annoyance.

The Narrator: And then, with a flash of her other arm, she severs that hand neatly, below the chain. She is free, and she is coming for you.

Voice of the Prince: Okay, maybe we aren't as safe as I thought.

Voice of the Defiant: Stop complaining! Kill her! We're armed, and she's down a limb!

The Narrator: She darts forward immediately, swinging for your neck, and to your credit, you wield your axe with sudden strength and precision, knocking her weapon aside.

Voice of the Defiant: Haha, yes! We've got this!

The Narrator: Your excitement is short-lived, because after that single brief exchange, she immediately recovers, severing your dominant hand and leaving you unarmed.

Voice of the Defiant: Shit.

Voice of the Prince: When did she get so good at this? We killed her so easily last time!

Voice of the Defiant: She's cheating, it's the only conclusion that makes sense. No point in fighting a cheater.

The Farmer: That was fun! I'm going to kill you now.

The Narrator: And with the shing of metal and the tearing of the flesh around your neck, she does just that.

The Narrator: Everything goes dark, and you die.

The Farmer: A knife? Scotty boy, you're being ridiculous. What use would I have for a knife?

The Farmer: I can promise you with one-hundred-percent honesty that I am totally, absolutely, probably not carrying a knife right now.

The Farmer: I mean c'mon mate, I don't have any reason to stab you to death, or cut your skin off of you and look at your insides, or cut across your throat and watch you gurgle on your own blood! I'd never do a thing like that to a friend!

Voice of the Prince: Jesus.

The Narrator: She's definitely out for blood. It's a good thing she isn't armed.

Voice of the Defiant: How gullible are you, exactly?

The Farmer: What? Nooooooo! I don't even have any stabbing implements! I'd never stab anybody!

The Farmer: I'm just Pearl, an innocent little farmer. And you, Scott, are a dashing prince and my best friend, about to walk up into totally-not-stabbing range to help me.

Voice of the Prince: Wait, we're a prince too?

Voice of the Defiant: Assuming that's not just some more bullshit she made up.

The Narrator: Much more important than what you are is what you're going to do. She just vaguely threatened you yet again, how many times does she have to do that before you realize you're in danger?

Voice of the Defiant: We know we're in danger. How stupid do you think we are?

The Narrator: Then why haven't you killed her already?

Voice of the Defiant: Because we're still trying to figure out our angle! Jumping right in got us killed last time.

Voice of the Prince: Actually, if I remember correctly, jumping right in worked fine. It was sticking around after that let her kill us.

Voice of the Defiant: You be quiet.

Voice of the Prince: What makes you think you're in control? I've been here longer.

Voice of the Defiant: And clearly your advice didn't get us anywhere, so step down and let somebody who cares take the lead!

The Narrator: Will you two shut up? Arguing isn't serving anybody's goals except for hers.

Voice of the Defiant: You're right. If there's one thing we can all agree on, it's a firm policy of "fuck her."

The Narrator: Agreed.

Voice of the Prince: ...I'm not against that policy, but can I abstain from supporting it either?

Voice of the Defiant: No, you can't. You're with me or against me.

Voice of the Prince: Then I guess I'm with you, for better or for worse.

The Farmer: Last time? You mean when you locked me down here in the first place?

Voice of the Prince: Wait, what?

The Farmer: I mean, I don't remember anything happening between then and now. Like you coming into the prison you made for me with an axe, and killing me, and me killing you back!

The Farmer: So since nothing like that happened, the last time you're talking about must be when you locked me up!

Voice of the Prince: Okay, putting aside for a second that that's obviously a lie, can we talk for a second about how we locked her up without remembering it?

Voice of the Defiant: If she's lying - badly, by the way - about remembering dying, then who's to say she's not making the rest of it up?

Voice of the Defiant: Our decision-maker stupidly let slip that we don't remember her from before all of this, so she's free to make up whatever she wants about our past.

Voice of the Prince: No, that doesn't make any sense. What would she have to gain from lying about that? Not to mention, we just established she's not a good liar, and it doesn't feel like a lie.

The Narrator: Well, let's say it is - that means she's a liar and obviously trying to hide something, which means she's worth killing. Or, alternatively, it's not a lie, and you really did lock her down here in the past - past you then obviously agrees that she's a threat to the world, and you should trust your past self by killing her.

Voice of the Prince: Wait, are you saying you don't know if it was us?

The Narrator: I'm saying it doesn't matter if it was you. Either way, she's just proved that she deserves to die. It's just logic.

Voice of the Defiant: We already knew she deserved to die, based on the part where she killed us.

The Narrator: She didn't do that, but we've already gone over that.

Voice of the Prince: No, hold on, I'm not letting this go. Back in the woods, you just said "people" locked her down here, and implied that they couldn't kill her. Were you making all of that up?

The Narrator: It doesn't matter what I said in the woods, or what happened to make her end up down here. I've laid out the present situation clearly, and whatever past you did has no relevance.

Voice of the Defiant: It very well could've been us. Past me sounds like just the sort of prick to leave present me to solve this problem instead of dealing with it himself. Figures that I have to be the one to clean it all up!

Voice of the Prince: That's- okay, whatever.

The Farmer: Hellooooooo? Earth to Scott? You've just been staring at me! Come on, we can't dawdle, it's not safe down here!

The Narrator: She gasps in faux-shock, her mouth wide open, though her hands remain behind her back.

The Farmer: Scott! We've been friends for almost our whole lives, and you want me to think you've forgotten me?

The Farmer: It's me! Pearl! Your best friend! Your lifelong companion! Your dear mate!

The Farmer: ...

The Farmer: What's another word for friend?

Voice of the Prince: Ally?

The Narrator: She can't hear you.

Voice of the Defiant: If she's supposed to be our "friend," why won't she actually answer any god-damned questions?

The Narrator: Because she's not your friend! How many times do I have to explain this, I even warned you outside - she's just saying whatever she thinks will get you to spare her!

Voice of the Defiant: Oh, don't worry. At this point, nothing will get me to spare her.

Voice of the Prince: Well... I don't know. She only killed us in self-defense last time.

Voice of the Defiant: Self-defense? Self-defense is when you kill somebody to keep yourself from dying. Killing somebody and dying anyway is just being petty!

Voice of the Prince: And you'd know all about petty, I suppose?

Voice of the Defiant: For god's sake, I'm trying to get revenge.

Voice of the Prince: My point is, maybe if we drop our hostility, she will too. It doesn't feel like she's lying about knowing us.

Voice of the Defiant: No, it doesn't, but it also doesn't feel like she's gonna tell us a single goddamn useful thing. I think she deserves to die for that alone!

Voice of the Prince: *quietly* Petty.

Voice of the Defiant: Do you want to die too?

Voice of the Prince: I didn't say anything.

The Narrator: Stop squabbling with each other and get moving. It doesn't matter if the Farmer knows you or not - which she doesn't, by the way - because either way, she has to die now! So stop getting stuck in your head.

The Farmer: A threat to the world? Well that doesn't sound like me at all.

The Farmer: Come on, Scott, we've known each other for years now! You think I'm still keeping secrets from you, mate? That hurts!

Voice of the Prince: Okay, she definitely knows us.

The Narrator: Are you joking? Listen to her tone of voice, she's clearly lying.

Voice of the Prince: I mean, she's lying about being dangerous, but she has no reason to lie about knowing us, right?

Voice of the Defiant: Who knows! Does it matter?

Voice of the Prince: ...Yes? I want to know who we are!

The Narrator: It doesn't. All that matters is saving the world.

Voice of the Defiant: All that matters is getting revenge.

The Narrator: If that's the motivation you need, then sure.

Voice of the Defiant: Good. She doesn't deserve a word out of us!

Voice of the Prince: Not talking lets us listen. Not keeping our senses sharp was our downfall last time.

The Narrator: As you descend the final step, you lock eyes with the Farmer. She looks you over, a sharp smile slightly turning up the corner of her mouth.

Voice of the Prince: I wonder if she remembers what happened.

The Farmer: There you are, Scott! Come on, get me out of these chains, we aren't safe here!

Voice of the Prince: There's that name again. Does she know us?

The Narrator: It's nothing. Don't think about it.

Voice of the Defiant: It's probably another fucking trick. She just wants us to trust her, to get close enough to let our guard down so she can stab us again. Her hands are even behind her back!

The Narrator: She's not going to stab you, but you shouldn't let her out. And you're right - that name is nothing. She's almost certainly trying to trick you somehow.

Voice of the Prince: But... if that's not our name, what is? I don't think I remember it.

The Narrator: It's not important what your name is right now. We can go over that after you do your job.

Voice of the Defiant: Well, hold on now, the more you try to push us away from this the more I get the sense that we should be thinking about it!

The Narrator: There are much more important things to be thinking about right now, as I've already said.

The Farmer: Scott? You are here to save me, right? I know we've had some tough times, but we're friends!

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The Narrator: You take the axe from the table. It would be difficult to slay the Farmer and save the world without a weapon.

Voice of the Defiant: Feels much better to have our weapon again. Let's go make her hurt for what she's done to us.

Voice of the Prince: I'm not sure I have quite as much vitriol about it, but it does seem like this is what we should be doing.

The Narrator: I don't care why you're doing it. I'm just glad you two have put your hearts in the right place.

> [Enter the basement]

The Narrator: The door to the basement creaks open, revealing something that might at some point have been a staircase. Jagged stalagmites break through the slats of the stairs, as if the very earth has tried to destroy your way down.

The Narrator: From below wafts the scent of salt and iron. Creeping up with them is the sound of something metal striking rock, over and over, a bone-crunching sound.

Voice of the Defiant: Metal. See? I told you she has a weapon.

The Narrator: That sound could be anything. It's probably the sound of her chains. Get out of your own head, for everyone's sake.

The Narrator: Her voice, pained and gleeful, scrapes up the stairs.

The Farmer: Hello? Someone up there? Come on down, I need help!

Voice of the Defiant: Does she seriously think we're gonna buy that?

Voice of the Prince: Why does it sound like she's hurt?

Voice of the Defiant: Maybe the axe wound last time managed to have some consequences. Good. She deserves it.

The Narrator: You walk up to the wall next to the basement door. It's a wall. There isn't much to see here.

Voice of the Prince: No, this isn't a wall. The mirror's right in front of us.

The Narrator: I'm telling you, there's nothing there.

> [Wipe the mirror clean]

The Narrator: You reach forward and rub your hand against the basement wall. I hope you know how ridiculous you look right now.

Voice of the Prince: ...It's gone. But there was a mirror a second ago, I swear.

Voice of the Defiant: Great! Now even the furniture's trying to mess with us. I say if we see it again, we should smash it.

The Narrator: Just stop wasting time, please.

> (Explore) This whole building is different from last time.

Voice of the Prince: Very different.

The Narrator: That's because this is your first time here. Of course it doesn't look the same as it did in whatever fantasy you had.

The Narrator: You and the Farmer are both still very, very alive, and in her case, that needs to change. So focus up. A lot's riding on this.

Voice of the Defiant: Why are we still pointing things out to him? He just uses it as an excuse to lie to us and then spout the same shit again.

The Narrator: A warning, before you go any further.

The Narrator: She will lie, she will cheat, and she will do everything in her power to stop you from slaying her. Don't believe a word she says.

Voice of the Defiant: Hah! Like we need to be told that now. Why can't you warn us about the important things? Like knives.

Voice of the Prince: Can you drop it? It's getting a little annoying listening to you complain about that every other sentence.

Voice of the Defiant: I'll drop it when he acknowledges he's full of shit. And I don't see that happening any time soon.

The Narrator: If you're quite finished, I'd like it if you could get on with the world-saving.

Voice of the Defiant: Yeah, whatever.

> [Proceed into the farmhouse]

The Narrator: The interior of the farmhouse is full of harsh points and edges, like a hundred splinters, arrows, and harsh stones tried to weave themselves into the shape of a building. The only furniture of note is a wooden table, splintered by the pristine axe jammed into it.

The Narrator: The axe is your implement. You'll need it if you want to do this right.

Voice of the Prince: ...what about the mirror?

The Narrator: There... isn't one?

Voice of the Defiant: Oh, I see, you've got selective blindness for mirrors and knives, is that it?

The Narrator: Or you just like making things up. I can't describe anything that isn't the exact truth of the situation as I know it, so here are two facts: the Farmer is unarmed and there isn't a goddamned mirror in this room!

Voice of the Defiant: Oh, for the love of- just grab the axe and get it into her neck as soon as possible.

The Narrator: On that, we can agree.

The Narrator: People locked her up. And I told you what this place is: a path through a field. Don't overthink this.

Voice of the Defiant: Great. Zero answers as per usual.

Voice of the Prince: If people locked her up, why didn't they kill her? Why's all of this gotta fall on us?

The Narrator: *sighs* Don't let it go to your head, but it's because you're special. You're the only one able to slay her.

The Narrator: Call it... a prophecy, if you'd like.

Voice of the Prince: A prophecy? I like the sound of that.

Voice of the Defiant: Yeah, great. Did this "prophecy" mention her knife?

The Narrator: I'm not engaging with this anymore.

Voice of the Prince: Come on, don't you like it a little bit? Knowing that we're special?

Voice of the Defiant: You know what I'll like a lot more? Putting that blade in her heart and having it stick this time. If this "prophecy" gets us there, then great, but I personally couldn't care less.