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Alone in the Dark 2

Alone in the Dark 2

Alone in the Dark 2

Don’t ever be truly alone in the dark with this helpful walkthrough!


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Walkthrough (from INTERPLAY)


December 24th 1924. Hell’s Kitchen. California.
Night enveloped the sinister manor. A north wind howled and leaden clouds
rolled across the sky, chasing what little light was left. Sallow rays of
sun were swallowed in the choking blackness that embraced this unhappy
corner of the world. The yellow taxi with its bright chrome seemed an
insolent intrusion into this universe of gloom. The car came to a halt
some hundred yards from the gates to Hell’s Kitchen and, as soon as the
lone passenger had gotten out, hastened back towards the safety of the
city. Edward Carnby watched the taxi disappear round a bend. The branches
of some trees flickered briefly in the beams of its headlamps, like
doomed souls jerking in the eternal fires. Carnby walked to the gates,
happily unaware that he was embarking on a trip into terror. He did know
that he was all alone; were hell to break loose inside the house, he
would have to face it without help from outside. That night, in that
house, hell broke loose. Now, as this troubled century draws to a close,
many enigmas posed during the night of December 24th in a bleak manor
house somewhere in California remain unanswered. INFOGRAMES invites you
to listen to some extracts from that spine-chilling adventure, as told by
Edward Carnby himself in his memoirs. The memoirs of one man alone in the
dark Which chapter of Edward Carnby’s memoirs would you like to listen
1) In the Garden of Hell’s Kitchen
2) The Demon’s Abode
3) The Forgotten Galleon


(A loud explosion)

I entered Hell’s Kitchen with quite a bang. My bomb blasted open the gate
and blew the guard off his feet. Before he could gather his wits, I
squeezed off a couple of 44 slugs into his no-good carcass and rid the
world of a bad guy. That’s when I realized this night was going to be
kind of ghoulish: you see, his body sank under the ground all by itself.
I picked up his Tommy gun and a flask and wondered what the future held
for grave-diggers. Well, I was in! Going along the alley, I got as far as
a bench when two gangsters, who obviously heard my bomb, arrived to bid
me a warm welcome. The formalities did not take too long. We exchanged
season’s greetings and a lot of bullets. Then they lay down because they
were feeling dead.


Whoever took care of the gardens in that place would have been an
interesting person to meet. I did not get a chance to although I did run
into quite a few people. It seemed as if the Homicidal Maniacs Club had
just declared open season on Carnby. I remember a whole lot of
pump-action shotguns all eager to empty themselves into my guts! I am
afraid I was forced to terminate those folks. I have never felt
comfortable in a garden since that night. I found time to pick up a few
useful items: some ammunition for my Tommy gun, a rope, a few flasks and
a grappling-iron. I also came across a strange enigma: four giant playing
cards, each of them an ace! The only thing I could think of was that
diamonds were One Eyed Jack’s emblem. So I crossed my fingers and stepped
onto the ace of diamonds. The next thing I knew, I was lying on my back
in some kind of an underground tunnel.


I forgot all about being winded; after all, I had just discovered a
secret underground tunnel! Wasting no time, I walked along the gallery
and soon came face to face with a very weird character. Was he trying to
kiss me or what? He sure didn’t look like he wanted to kill me. In fact,
he was following me around like a puppy-dog. Now, I’m a broad-minded guy,
and I might have allowed this bozo to hang around except for one thing:
he smelled bad. Oh boy, did that guy stink! It was just so nauseating I
was forced to head-butt the creep into eternity. I sure hope they have
deodorant. I made a quick visit of the tunnel complex, finding only a
flask, an illegible fragment of a notebook and a chest with a wood-worm
problem. I thought I could make out something shiny under the chest, so I
tried pushing it. There was a scraping sound behind me. My hand flew to
my Tommy gun, but there wasn’t anybody to shoot: I had in fact activated
a mechanism of some kind. Before my eyes, an altar rose from the floor! I
pushed the chest some more and uncovered a metal jack of diamonds. That
didn’t seem like a whole lot of use, so I put it down on the altar.
Imagine my surprise when a ladder appeared on the wall opposite me! That
wasn’t the only thing that appeared. I also saw a shapeless
semitransparent creature. Not waiting to decide if I was scared, I ran
over and started punching it, whatever it was. Well, I guess that was the
right thing to d it quickly vanished, leaving me with a rusty pirate
cutlass. I’d had about all I wanted in those tunnels, so I climbed up the
mysterious la dder. To be honest, I thought I was going up into the house
through a secret passage in a chimney. However, I found myself back when
I had found the rope. Well, they do say being a private eye means taking
the tough breaks on the chin, whatever that means. All that greenery was
starting to get on my nerves, so I made my way towards the statue of One
Eyed Jack, whose top I could clearly see.


Getting to the statue wasn’t all that easy: there was a giant root in my
way. I had to use the sword I won underground to hack a way through. The
next thing I noticed was that the statue was very well guarded. A little
guy was gazing at it as if it was a bagful of hundred dollar bills. The
little character was the notorious Shorty Leg, so called because he was
short and had a wooden leg. I could not remember what else he was famous
for. Then he kindly demonstrated: that wooden leg was pumping a hail of
44 caliber slugs at me. Shorty had his technique down to a fine art, and
to eliminate him, I had to shoot at the precise moment he raised his leg.
Before sinking, like his buddies, beneath the ground, he left a scrap of
journal that made for fascinating reading. It was in fact the immortality
pact of a certain Music Man, also known as Sean O’Leary. This piece of
paper could turn out to be a weapon worth all the Tommy guns in the
world! I took a good look at the statue Shorty leg admired so much. I
even thought how nice it would be to turn into a pigeon for long enough
to express my feelings, but there wasn’t much time for dreaming. I turned
to walk away when I remembered a photo a dead hoodlum had left behind. It
showed One Eyed Jack and some of his henchmen standing in front of the
statue. The sculpture was a good likeness, which didn’t say much for
Jack. There was a detail, however, which caught my attention: the
statue’s arm wasn’t in the same position as in the photo! I breathed
slowly and got to work. I knotted the rope to the grappling-iron. Then I
threw the grappling-iron over the statue’s arm. I got lucky: my first
throw was good. The arm came down. I heard a click and Open Sesame! There
was a secret opening under the statue. Silently thanking whoever it was
for discovering photography, I went down the hole.


The ladder that led down below the statue would have scared the pants off
a monkey. It looked like a well and felt bottomless. And the deeper I
went, the worse the smell got. A sickening stench of putrefaction! The
air was thick with it. The ladder was getting greasy and dangerous.
Suddenly, a rung broke! I scrabbled for a grip but it was no use. The
bottom came up fast and hard. Luckily, no bones felt broken. Somebody up
in the sky must have been on my side that night. But my weapons were lost
and there was no going back. I was on a stone platform in the middle of a
huge underground room. All around me there was thin air, so I couldn’t
afford to foul up. The only way forward was along a wooden plank which
acted as a bridge to another stone platform just visible in the darkness.
It didn’t look too promising but there wasn’t any choice. Before walking
the plank, I picked up a crank, a nickel and a paper bag that happened to
be sharing, the platform with me. I made it across to the other platform
and almost tripped over something soft. I took a closer look at this
latest obstacle. It was Ted, Ted Striker, my best, maybe my only friend.
A lousy place to die, buddy. After a couple of minutes, I was steady
enough to search him. All I found was a torn page from his investigation
notebook. By holding it against the other fragment I’d found, I was able
to read the following message: “Carnby, if you `re reading this, I `m
dead. The Sanders girl was kidnapped by One Eyed Jack In spite of what
one paper claimed. The man is a monster, obsessed with gambling and
death. Hell’s Kitchen is a warren of secret passages. I’m sure that for
one of them, the answer lies in the cards. Remember all those poker
nights we had. Something else: the gang makes hooch in the basement and
transports it by boat at high tide from a cave in the cliff-face. Carnby,
you’ve got to kill that monster and get the girl out of there. It’s time
for the pupil to show his teacher how it’s done!” Before leaving Ted for
the last time, r took his pipe-cleaner. Maybe his wife would like it as a
keepsake. The only way out was an armored door that seemed locked. I
tried the handle. It was locked all right! It was a shame to let a door
prevent me from saving the Saunders kid. So I used the old paper under
the door trick. You know the idea: you slide a sheet of paper under the
door. Then you stick something thin like a pipe-cleaner into the
key-hole. If you’re lucky like me, there’s a key on the other side; you
push it out with the pipe-cleaner and it falls onto your paper! You pull
the paper back out from under the door, grab the nice key and feel proud
of yourself. Well, that’s what I did. The door opened with a creak that
reminded me of Derceto.


The basement guard and I had something in common: a passion for opera! I
would have loved to discuss Puccini with him but he looked like he’d
rather fill me fill of front-row tickets to a Heavenly Choir recital. So
I took out my paper bag, blew into it, making a big balloon which I then
popped with an ear-splitting bang! The guard naturally raised his
pump-action shotgun in my direction. We looked into each other’s eyes for
an instant. What I saw in his encouraged me to pull down the nearby
lever. A keg helped him all the way to the cliff’s edge. He sang
something on his way down but it didn’t sound like Puccini. I took his
shotgun, flask and a manuscript he’d been considerate enough to leave for
me. After all, we music-lovers have to help each other out. As I took a
look around, a clock caught my attention. What was it doing there? On one
side there was a delightful little hole that exactly matched my crank! I
didn’t hesitate to join the two in wedlock and they were so grateful.
They showed me an attractive secret passage beneath the barrels! I’m not
one to look a gift-horse in the mouth, so I went through there like a
shot. In front of the service-elevator, I came across a box of cartridges
for my shotgun. I was just slipping some into my grateful weapon when the
door of the hoist closed and I heard the motor start up.


In the ground-floor hallway, I was greeted by an interesting individual.
He held a weapon that was as grotesque as it was deadly: an accordion.
Noticing that his left hand had been replaced by a hook, I had a clearer
idea of the kind of music he played. For the moment, he was interpreting
a very rhythmic piece that also managed to punch six-inch holes in the
wall behind me. This just had to be the one and only Sean O’Leary. How
privileged I was to have him play specially for me! His life story was
remarkable. Dublin-born, this son of Erin was destined for greatness as a
harpsichord player. But his hopes of a fine career were dashed when some
members of an audience suggested he should learn to play with more than
one finger. Naturally, he threw them out of a window. The authorities
were most unfeeling and young Sean was forced to flee over the water to
Scotland. where he joined the 3rd Highland Regiment. He lost his musical
hand at Gibraltar and deserted before he lost the other. O’Leary studied
accordion under the stern gaze of that fine teacher, Sancho Fernandez,
the mad weaponsmith! Saying low in the Leeward Islands, the talented Sean
was forced to undertake he most atrocious tasks to earn a meager crust.
The poor fellow was almost lynched on the Night of the Red Knives. He
sought refuge with One Eyed Jack and proved himself worthy of his
leader’s trust during the massacre at Cao Bang. In spite of he deep
respect his music inspired in my soul, I felt it was time for Sean to
retire and was about to blow his head off when an idea came to me:
instead of wasting my precious cartridges, I took out the Music Man’s
Immortality Pact and tore it in two before his horrified eyes. Good-bye
Sean and thanks again! I inherited his hook. Well, maybe I’d need curved
toothpick someday. All of a sudden, there was gunfire! Strange as it may
seem, no one was firing at me! I carefully opened the door, to find out
who was doing the shooting.


A wide staircase led from the laundry room up to the first story, but I
decided the basement was the place for me. The gunshots were getting
louder; they seemed to be coming from the next room. Before opening the
door, I grabbed a battledore (that’s a clothes beater, in case you didn’t


I had no trouble walking into the Firing Range unnoticed. The two firers
were making enough noise to drown out a charging herd of drunk mammoths.
These two geeks had a view of the world that began and ended on the
firing range wall. Wondering if they could possibly be robots, I looked
for a switch but they didn’t have one. So it looked like I was going to
have to turn them off some other way. Now, these lads were armed to the
teeth and covered in very impressive muscles. That called for a sneaky
approach to the problem. I seized my chance when one of them stopped to
reload his weapon. I took out the other gangster with my only bullet and
used the first guy’s frozen surprise to empty all my cartridges into his
unattractive face. Can you believe, he didn’t want to go down! I had to
beat him to pulp with my trusty battledore. Never take a clothes beater
for granted, my friend! I picked up the package of cartridges for the
shotgun, and found myself taking potshots at the targets on the wall.
Well, you aren’t going to believe this, but the cards repositioned
themselves to form an ace of diamonds! Not only that, but a secret
passage opened up before me! And there was a guard pointing his gun at me
and pulling the trigger. Repeatedly! I treated him to a little battledore
therapy. Poor guy never stood a chance. The way ahead was clear.


My target practice had just led me into a distillery! There was enough
illegal whisky there to last your lifetime and mine. I was thirsty but
this was no time for fun, so I grabbed a bottle and told myself I’d drink
it later on in honor of Ted. However, I did drink the contents of a flask
I found on the shelves, and felt a whole lot better. I also discovered a
book, which told me a lot about the activities of one of the residents, a
charming son of a gun called Tom Flaherty, better known as T-Bone. Having
set fire to the tavern of one Donovan, Tom sailed the China seas. At Yen
T’ai, he teamed up with a pair of sushi specialists with a lust for gold,
and called them his Cookies. This jolly group was held responsible for
the raid on Madam Jojo’s gaming house. Well, the three buckaroos broke
out of Macao jail and ended up signing on for One Eyed Jack. Being a wily
bird, T-Bone managed to liquidate the head cook and take his place. Old
Tom was a dab hand with blowpipe and used it to slaugh ter the crew’s
dinner. His two helpers did the rest. Was I going to meet these lunatics?
I found one more thing in there: a book by a senator called Grandt, all
about how to play pool. It didn’t teach me a whole lot, but since it
mentioned a “one-armed bandit”, I was tempted to spend my nickel. And I
won the jackpot! Well actually, I won two tokens. The alcohol fumes were
starting to get to me, so I decided to return to the Shooting Gallery.
There was a surprise waiting for me: something fat and wearing
undershorts tottering in front of the gallery door and drinking something
that looked lethal. His eyes had given up trying to work as a team, but
one of them looked like it saw me. That heaving sack of drunken stupor
couldn’t attack me, even with my help. And I wasn’t about to shoot him:
what if he exploded in my face! Offering him my bottle of whisky seemed
as sure a method as any. I don’t know what those boys put in their hooch,
but that guy went out like a light! I had a look in his bag. There was a
Santa-Claus outfit in there! Were kids going to sit on that beast’s knee?
How could Santy have fallen so low? Shaking my head more in sorrow than
in disgust, I put on the costume. My next objective was to get to the
ground floor.


Clearly. the gangsters were used to having Santa Claus in the building,
as the cookie I met outside the kitchen didn’t appear the least surprised
to see me. Something about the way he walked puzzled me for a few
moments. Then I figured it out: the cookie was being very careful to walk
only on the white floor-tiles. I did the same thing. Just as I was about
to enter the kitchen, my foot was clumsy enough to step on a black tile.
I knew I was in trouble when a loud click sounded in the corner of the
room; the statue of Neptune fired his trident at me! I jumped back, and
let the cookie take over my target duties. He was perfect: the trident
took him right in the belly; a painful end, but richly deserved, in the
opinion of many edible animals. Before going into the kitchen, I went up
to the statue of Neptune and usurped his crown.


Hardly had I set foot in the kitchen, when the head cook, none other than
T-Bone, waved at me to sit down and eat the fried eggs that were on the
table. This warmed me to the fellow, but the eggs weren’t cooked. How can
anyone not fry eggs right? Still, not wishing to be an ungrateful Santa
Claus, I swallowed them. Maybe it was the way I didn’t sway drunkenly.
Maybe it was my pump-action shotgun. Whatever the reason, T-Bone soon
figured out that I wasn’t the Santa Claus he knew and loved. He grabbed
his blowpipe and was soon spraying me with poisoned darts. I fended them
off with a handy fry-pan, and soon he was out of ammo. Now it was an
straight-forward classic duel: fry-pan against fry-pan. I’ll admit that
my fencing skills were of limited value. I had played a little tennis
though, and soon managed to smash convincingly. At least T-Bone thought
so. Having cooked his goose, I turned to face the inevitable assault of
savage hordes attracted by the clang of cooking utensils. But no one had
come. As a matter of fact, somebody somewhere was laughing heartily,
oblivious to the havoc being wrought in the kitchen. I inspected the
place and found a vial of poison, which I promptly poured into a half
bottle of wine. Before leaving the kitchen, I noticed a dumbwaiter, an
elevator for food trays. It was activated by a little bell.
Unfortunately, I was too big to get in it. I left the kitchen and came to
a double door that I reckoned should open onto the guard-room.


The double door near the kitchen had a serving hatch which I was able to
look through. In the room beyond, two guards were twiddling their thumbs
in boredom. Those boys were more than happy to play along. I placed the
bottle of poisoned wine in the serving hatch The hatch opened and the
bottle vanished. After a short while, the hatch opened again. Those guys
must have eaten something real bad, because they collapsed in a very
unhealthy way. I was just about to go in, when an old friend dropped by;
my boozing buddy from the Shooting Gallery was back in business. I was
afraid he was going to invite me for a drink, but I needn’t have worried.
He had other things on his mind. From his undershorts, he pulled out his
revolver and started waving it at me I couldn’t afford the scandal, so I
bopped him into never-never land with my y-pan. Furniture-wise, the Guard
Room was a fine example of the almost-nothing style, except for a barrel
organ and a foldaway bed. The door at the other end of the room was
locked. Being a music lover, I was curious enough to push tone of the
tokens I’d found into the organ’s coin-slot. The token, which was yellow,
triggered some loud music and a brief noise off to my left. I looked over
and saw a gold doubloon spinning on the floor. I picked it up, glad to be
making some money at last. I felt I should try my second token, a brown
one. No gold doubloon this time. But the Dormitory door opened, which was
a welcome surprise.


Not being sick in that dormitory was about as easy as keeping your cigar
dry in the shower. The place was musty, dusty and damp. with paper
hanging off the walls. What kind of creepy nut would want to sleep there
My visit wasn’t wasted. though I can tell you! I found a bullet-proof
vest on the first bed. On the floor, I picked up a Tommy gun and an ammo
clip. Feeling ready for battle, I made for the second-story hallway.


I was received on the second story by a nut who was going to be tough to
crack: a deadly sharpshooter by the name of Alister Fein, alias Black
Hat. This charm-school graduate began his life of crime at age eight!
Little Alister missed his daddy, so he placed a teddy-bear stuffed with
gelignite at the gate of Killarney jail! He and I had similar methods.
Nine bodies were carried out from the smoking rubble. All that remained
of captain Dickson was a fine black hat. Alister kept it as a souvenir
and decorated it with very sharp blades. His exploits made an outlaw of
him and he was soon in Trinidad, where he studied hard and became an
acknowledged expert in firearms and manhunting. One Eyed Jack could
hardly pass over this kind of talent, now could he? Black Hat and I
didn’t get much of a chance to chew the fat, I’m sorry to say. My Tommy
gun just wouldn’t shut up, and then it jammed. But not before giving poor
old Alister his very last belly-ache! Having no one else to pass the time
of day with, I sauntered over to the pool room.


In the pool room, there was a pool table all right, but no balls. This
tall character was looking at me, his right arm stretched out in my
direction. An ally at last? Somehow, I didn’t think so; I mean, best
buddies don’t normally point derringers at each other. Then he threw it
down on the pool table. The man was challenging me to a duel! I didn’t
feel too happy about that, believe me. I’m a good shot with any weapon,
even dueling pistols, but give me machine guns and dynamite any day. Now,
according to dueling code, I was supposed to fire the first shot. He
didn’t hold with old-fashioned notions like dueling codes and emptied his
gun at me. So, when he stopped to reload, I played the same trick on him.
I lied about being a good shot: I aimed for his heart but could only
manage to drill him between the eyes. Oh well. He left me his sword
stick. A gentleman to the end. I had a look around and found only half of
a parchment, which meant I couldn’t read it. I kept it anyway. There was
also a book there, all about the criminal adventures of some of One Eyed
Jack’s gang. De Witt was heavily featured; he was the party I had just
exterminated. It also talked about Black Hat, and two others I hadn’t yet
had the pleasure of meeting. I closed the book and headed for the


An oppressive atmosphere hung in the air of the witch’s bedroom. My skin
crawled. It even tried to get the heck out of there, but the rest of me
was braver and so my skin stayed, under protest. Sticking out of the wall
were two arms, and they were waving a sword. Well, I had my swordstick,
so we were soon locked in mortal combat. Guess who won. And I won a new
half-parchment. Illegible, of course. I was nearly going to say something
shocking like Dag blast it!” when a bright idea pushed a button somewhere
inside my slow-moving brain. Feverishly, I superposed the parchment on
the one I found in the pool room. Hey presto! The message read: “If the
white queen seeks the throne, the king must empower her. May the amulet
laid in the center of the sign open the doorway to space. That is the key
to the royal gambit.” At first, that meant about as much to me as the Old
Testament in medieval Mongolian. But as I gazed about the room, my eye
was attracted to an ivory bust facing me. The young woman’s milky eyes
seemed to wink at me. was she the one I was supposed to “empower”? How do
you give power to a queen? I didn’t know too much about royalty, but how
about if you crown her? I tried it. with the crown I took from the
Neptune guarding the kitchen door. Immediately, I heard a tinkling sound
from the next room. I went in there. That chamber of sorcery was even
scarier than the bedroom. It was narrow and dark. On the floor, in the
middle of a big flat stone, lay a beautiful amulet, shimmering with a
thousand lights. I couldn’t help myself: I snatched it up and was struck
by what felt like a lightning bolt. I wasn’t able to move a muscle! To my
horror. my feet rose from the floor, and I began to float up towards the
ceiling. My chest was being crushed by some invisible force. I couldn’t
breathe! So this was the end of the road for E. Carnby! I hadn’t done
much better than Ted, after all. What really made me mad was failing the
Saunders girl death stole over me like a black shroud. Then, all of a
sudden, the pressure lessened. 1 could breathe again, even flex my
muscles. I was suspended horizontally in mid-air two yards above the
floor. Then I was released. “Ouch” is a nice way of putting it.


The room I was “transported to after I took the amulet had no furniture.
The only things I found were a flask and a message addressed to One Eyed
Jack from Christmas Acme Limited. They were sorry they couldn’t deliver a
red pool ball, but hoped he would accept a case of champagne as a mark of
their esteem. How did those guys stay in business? The door wasn’t
locked, so there was nothing stopping me from looking for more trouble.


The hallway in the attic was empty of people. An old wooden pirate’s
chest caught my eye. What I found inside it was better than any treasure:
a cute little Tommy gun and a clip of ammo. I hardly had time to stroke
it lovingly before a crazed acrobat jumped in from someplace and started
twirling all around me. This weirdo would have been great in a circus,
but I wasn’t in the mood and he was making me dizzy, so I weighted him
down with some lead. Meanwhile a huge blob of a guy had waded into the
act. Now, this clown was in no shape to try acrobatics, so he just fired
a lot of bullets at me. I got into the spirit of the thing, and fired
back. For a while there, we were really communicating. Then he got cut
off, leaving only a key for me to remember him by. The twirling dancer
was the next to pass away, and he left a grenade behind. That was
considerate, because I love explosions. My next move was to inspect the
junk closet the blob person had come from.


The attic junk room contained quite a lot of piled up junk. One
brightly-colored object stood out: a jack-in-the-box. There was nothing
unusual about it, and yet I couldn’t help feeling it was watching me!
Don’t ask me why, but I had a sudden urge to insert the gold doubloon I
found near the dormitory into the jack-in-the-box. Naturally, its head
sprang out on a spring. Something struck my face! I searched for my
aggressor, but it was only a little pompom from the clown’s hat. I put it
in my pocket and went over to the only closed door in the attic.


The room I entered contained nothing but a child’s bed. Slouched against
a wall lay a puppet. It was the only note of joy in this depressing
place. I turned to leave the room when a noise caused me to look back.
The puppet was standing up, observing me! There was something specially
chilling about that puppet. It didn’t attack me, it just danced around,
doing a disjointed jig. I have a relational problem with that particular
kind of puppet, so I felt it would be better for both of us to separate
while we were still good friends. Next door was a charming little
interior garden, sadly neglected. The resident snakes made it clear they
didn’t appreciate being disturbed. So I went to the door very gently,
followed by my puppet pal. I threw the pompom in among the snakes, and as
I had hoped, the puppet ran in to fetch it. What a dope he was! With the
snakes being so busy, I turned my attention to an idea I’d been playing
with for some time. My sense of direction told me the garden was above
the ground-floor dining room. The two rooms shared the same chimney! With
a jolly “Ho ho”, Santa Claus dropped his grenade down that chimney. I
think the boys below got quite a kick out of it! Having announced my
arrival, it only remained for me to go down the chimney myself.


The grenade I had sent down from the attic had thinned the enemy’s ranks.
Only three gangsters were left to enjoy the Christmas present Santy had
brought them. When the smoke finally cleared, I was tickled to see those
hardened killers had actually decorated a Christmas tree! Underneath it
all, they were just lovable rascals. A shiny ball on the tree attracted
my attention: it seemed to weigh down the branch more than it should. It
turned out to be a pool ball. Weird. I thought of the message from
Christmas Acme Limited informing One Eyed Jack they couldn’t deliver a
red pool ball. But there was another connection that my brain refused to
make. I went through all the objects I had collected. The included quite
a lot of written documents: books. parchments journals; but nothing I
could use now. Then I read this message: “The ball of fire opens the gate
to Hell”. That was it! The ball of fire had to be the red pool ball, and
the gate to Hell was surely a secret door of some kind. I ran out of
there and up to the pool room like a bat out of Hell’s Kitchen! I tried
out my theory on the pool table. Nothing! I did every damn thing with
that ball, but no secret door opened. Well one more good idea that turned
out bad. Then I noticed the Chinese billiards table. Two seconds later, I
dropped the ball inside. Bingo! The bookcase creaked open. My secret door
beckoned. It was locked but I had a key, the one I took from the bad guy
in the attic.


As soon as l set foot in One Eyed Jack’s secret room, I sensed the
danger. That place was a dark as the inside of a shark’s belly. My nose
hit something hard. Then a ghastly laugh froze my blood. Then a blinding
light blinded me. After a few seconds, I was able to squint: no doubt
about the man with the gun. This was One Eyed Jack himself! I would have
jumped on him, only I was stuck in some kind of bird cage. Jack was
smiling down at a little girl. That’s right, there was Grace Saunders,
happily playing next to one of the great psycho-killers of history. One
Eyed Jack wasn’t in any hurry to put me out of my misery. That suited me.
He sensed the solemnity of the occasion and decided to tell me the moving
story of his dastardly deeds. When that was over, he raised his revolver,
no doubt feeling it was time for me to meet my maker. I glanced one last
time at the poor little infant I had been unable to save from the
clutches of this heartless evildoer. As you can imagine, it all happened
very fast. As Jack lovingly squeezed the trigger of his gun, Grace ran
straight out of the room! jack hesitated between finishing me off and
running after the girl, and decided to finish me off. Only kidding!
Actually, he sprinted after the little girl. I thanked the powers that be
for my reprieve, unlocked the door of my prison with the hook I won from
the accordion player, and ran after One Eyed Jack and the Saunders child.
I bounded down the stairs and heard the front door open. If the gangsters
intended leaping into a car, then it was all over. But that’s not what
happened. The front door was shut. I rushed into the guard room, where
I’d noticed some windows. The howling wind at my back made me turn round.
Elisabeth Jarret was a very decorative dame. But what a lousy sense of
hospitality! She came at me, and she meant business. Being a gentleman, I
stepped back a pace or two and would have kept on going if the wall
hadn’t stopped me. Well. I tried one of my relaxed grins. She grinned
right back. The next thing I knew. I was floating up in the air. My head
felt like it was inside a bell, doing the ringing. I lost consciousness.



When I came around, I was in irons deep in the hold of a ship. Beside me
was the poor little Saunders girl, exhausted, no doubt in deep shock from
the horrors she had witnessed. Then I saw Elisabeth Jarret. Her cold eyes
bore into mine, and I felt she was rummaging through my soul. In her
hands, she held a doll, and it looked like someone I knew very well. Me.
My first thought was “voodoo”. She then told me her life story. `More
than two centuries ago, Elisabeth Jarret arrived in Haiti. I was an
innocent little girl then. But my new tutor, Henry Cotton, taught me fear
and contempt. But in hiding, a slave from the plantation taught me to
ride the shadows. Soon the pupil grew stronger than the master… And
Cotten felt the weight of my revenge… and became my creature. Soldiers
captured us, but did they recognize Cotten? The Flying Dutchman was my
prison. I was thrown into the hold with my creature… I could “see” the
captain kept the spare key to my irons. My spirit wandered… One-Eyed
Jack “heard” my call and knew what reward awaited him. My soul guided
him… Death is my ally. One-Eyed Jack signed the pact and he and his
crew became immortal. Every hundred years, we had but to sacrifice an
innocent girl: she would grow old instead of us… At long last, I felt
the breath of freedom.’ Her story was over. As she flew off, the witch
contemptuously twisted the doll she held. Pain seared through my body. My
muscles felt like they were tearing apart. After an eternity she relaxed
her grip. Every ounce of energy had been wrung from me. As I slipped into
oblivion, I saw Grace pushing a plank.


Grace tiptoed into the Guard Room. She was welcomed by a parrot with
things to say. A little birdseed was enough to get him singing. Grace
listened with great care to this little rhyme: If it is the staff you’re
looking for, It has been hidden, what a bore, In the cabin of the
one-eyed man. That’s where you should seek it, if you can. If you please,
Do not sneeze. Grace managed to find a sandwich to eat, and a pepperpot.
On the wall, she saw a useful plan of the ship, which indicated, among
other things the position of the captain’s cabin on the first level. She
also noticed that in the ship’s galley, a small service elevator for
food, called a dumbwaiter, communicated with the kitchen up in the house.


Grace now had to get to One Eyed Jack’s cabin, by way of he north ladder
to the first level. She had just left the Guard Room when the sound of
footsteps came from her right Grace instinctively ran of to the left. It
was a dead-end! Both doors were locked. The footsteps were getting
closer. Grace hid under the steps and held her breath. Just in time, The
guard turned into the corridor and stopped. He seemed to hesitate.
Turning his back to her, the guard gave Grace a chance to escape: she ran
down the corridor and scrambled up the ladder to safety. From the first
level, Grace was able to climb another ladder to the deck.


The deck of the Flying Dutchman was littered with reminders of a bygone
era: coils of rope, cannons and kegs, not to mention quite a few drunken
seadogs singing shanties no fragile young ears ought to hear. Very
slowly, Grace slipped from hiding-place to hiding-place, making her way
to the captain’s cabin. A thunder of applause made her look at the
pirates. They were cheering the acrobatic feats of the amazing Mr. Eye.
In the excitement of the moment, no one noticed him drop his tinderbox
lighter. No one except Grace, that is. It lay beside a hiding-place, so
she was able to get it without any of the pirates seeing her. The little
girl finally made it to the hatchway that looked down onto the captain’s
cabin. They say that fortune favors the brave. Well, Grace had been brave
all right, and now she got a lucky break: a rope was hanging inside.
Grace disappeared through the hatchway and slid down the rope.


Once inside the captain’s cabin, Grace noticed his staff lying on the
bed. She took it and went to leave. The rope to the hatchway had become
unhooked. The only way out was the cabin door. Judging from the coarse
laughter nearby, the trip wasn’t going to be easy. Grace stayed very calm
and worked out a devilish scheme. She opened a chest that lay on the
floor and found a miniature cannon. She positioned it carefully in front
of the door to the corridor. Then she shook her pepperpot inside the
barrel of the cannon. Finally, threw a crystal vase from the bookshelves
onto the floor. The nearby laughter stopped. The door was thrown open and
light flooded in. A threatening figure stood in the doorway. Grace lit
the fuse with her tinderbox lighter. The figure kept coming, until at
last the cannon fired a cloud of pepper in his face. He sneezed so hard,
he banged his head on the door-frame and went down for the count! Grace
searched him quickly and discovered a little bell, which she kept. She
silently went along the corridor. When she got to the galley, she heard
footsteps, and they were coming her way. Praying nobody would see her,
Grace slipped into the galley.


The galley, for that’s what a ship’s kitchen is called, was a smallish
room. Grace peeked through the door and saw two men climbing the south
ladder. Oh no! They were cooks, obviously heading straight for the
kitchen to prepare Christmas dinner. There was no time to lose. The
little girl looked for the dumbwaiter. There it was! She went up to it
and rang her little bell. The result was almost immediate: the
dumbwaiter’s little door opened. Grace had just enough time to grab a
chicken foot and a key from the table, before she squeezed into the


After a rather scary ride up in the dumbwaiter, Grace Saunders arrived in
the kitchen of the house. Luckily, she was alone. Outside, a man stood
guard. How was she going to get past him! Grace examined the kitchen.
There were lots of sharp and pointy things, but Grace didn’t like the
idea of blood, so she looked for something else. Opening a closet, she
saw the solution to her problem: a pot of molasses and an ice-bucket
filled with ice cubes. She carefully covered the floor with the ice
cubes, then went over to the door. Sticking her tongue out at the
startled guard, Grace backed into the kitchen. The guard sauntered after
her, fairly confident of his ability to defeat her in single combat. he
then stepped on an ice-cube and gained a whole new perspective on the
situation. His very ugly head smacked sickeningly on the floor. Grace
headed for the first story.


Quiet as a mouse, Grace crept up the stairs to the second story. The
guard who was pacing up and down didn’t look very friendly, and when he
saw the girl, he rushed forward to get his hands on her. Meanwhile, she
fancied a little molasses, but OOPS, spilled it on the floor! That silly
old guard just kept right on coming. When he decided to avoid the sticky
stuff, he was already in it. While he learned how a fly feels when he’s
stuck on fly-paper, Grace went into the billiards room.


Inside the billiards room. found a token in one of the pockets of the
billiards table. Then she skipped along to One Eyed Jack’s desk, where
she found out there were lots of drawers she couldn’t open. It was
child’s play to insert the captain’s staff into the matching hole in the
desk. There was a pleasant little click and the top drawer slid open. It
contained a key to nice Mr. Carnby’s shackles which Grace naturally took.
Next stop: the witch’s bedroom.


As soon as Grace entered the witch’s room, she felt very nervous. All
that spooky stuff, the skulls and weird masks. It was too much like the
scary stories the bigger kids sometimes told her. This time, though it
was more than just a story and all of a sudden she felt very much alone.
But she also knew that her immediate enemy was fear, so she fought it
down and walked into the chamber of sorcery. There, she placed the
captain’s staff on the flat stone in the center of the room. The staff
immediately began to dance and twirl, becoming the staff of Loas, a
powerful Voodoo object. Grace, keeping her imagination in check, took the
staff once more, not knowing what it was.


Grace had one objective. To get to Carnby and free him. She figured all
she had to do was go back the way she came, by going to the kitchen and
taking the dumbwaiter down to the ship’s galley. The trouble was the
armed guard near the kitchen door. Grace had a bright idea. As silently
as she could, she made her way into the Guard Room, where she had
previously noticed a foldaway bed. She placed her teddy-bear exactly
underneath, then went to the barrel organ. She hid between the machine
and the wall, then inserted her token. When the music started, the guard
rushed in, saw the teddybear and went to pick it up. When he leaned over,
the bed fell on him with a resounding thud! The way was clear. Grace ran
into the kitchen, rang her little bell in front of the dumbwaiter and
waited. A few instants later, the little door opened and she climbed in.
When she got to the ship’s galley, she was met by a small welcoming
committee. It seemed the two cookies didn’t like little girls taking free
rides in their dumbwaiter. They seized grace and made the mistake of
taking her down to the lockup where Carnby was chained in irons.


I had trouble believing it. The Saunders kid had actually brought me the
key to my chains! For the moment, she was being roughed up by a bad guy,
who was kind enough to turn his back on me. I used the key Grace threw
over to get free. My Houdini act was kind of noisy and the pirate whirled
round with a dangerous glitter in his eye, and a shiny cutlass all ready
to strike! Well, I had been boiling with rage and frustration for some
time, and beating the brains out of this bozo was the perfect way to
express those emotions. I rushed headlong at him and attacked like a
tornado. The scurvy dog came to a painful end. I was roused now, and this
ship was about to get cleaned out! I picked up the cutlass and went to
the next room, where a noisy parrot covered the oaths of my second victim
in as many minutes. Going through the hall, I took the left-hand
corridor. Somebody tried to stop me. I don’t even remember what the swine
looked like. But he did leave me a short fuse and an old-fashioned pi


The next door I opened was to a room filled with kegs and bottles. These
guys drank to much, even for thirsty cutthroats! Naturally, the place was
guarded. Why, it was none other than Shorty Leg, my old friend from the
statue of One Eyed Jack. “History keeps repeating itself”, as the saying
goes. Not wanting to contradict the wisdom of that fine proverb, I killed
Shorty Leg again although this time, I cut him to bits with swordplay.
Before making his exit, old Shorty managed to drop a pistol, some lead
bullets and a coat of chainmail. I pushed one of the barrels, to find a
second coat of chainmail and a bottle containing an extract from the book
of marvels. I didn’t want to spend too long in that room, so after
putting on the chainmail, I left, heading for the first door on my right.
It wasn’t locked, so I gave it a gentle shove. It opened onto what
appeared to e the ship’s hold


Things went pretty quickly in the ship’s hold. I didn’t see Black Hat at
first, so he had all the time in the world to aim his pair of pistols at
me. The bullet that should have killed me just bounced off the chainmail.
It was his turn to taste cold steel. I stabbed and hacked `til he was
forced to fall down dead. In his will, he left me some bullets for my
charming old pistol. My work in the hold was done. Next stop, the


Inside the foundry, the heat was intense. The two blacksmiths, on the
other hand, eyed me rather coldly. Their fine blades would have turned me
into bite-size chunks, if my footwork hadn’t been as good as it was.
Flashing my well-known daredevil grin, I wielded my own sword, impressing
those hamfisted lugs with the elegance of my deadly technique. They died
at the hands of a master! I calmly inspected their workplace. The
wood-burning furnace was blazing away merrily. Taking great care, I
lifted the white-hot poker that stood before the furnace door. A noble
instrument and a kind weapon, since it wounded and cauterized its victim
with the same stab. I must admit, however, that I felt more adventurous
fighting with a cutlass. I decided to take along the excellent pair of
pincers that lay on the workbench behind the furnace. They looked like
they needed a change of pace. On the floor, I came across a key. The
words “powder magazine were scratched into it. My heart sang with joy;
gunpowder has always been one of my great loves. The key fit the end door


Like a lot of the rooms I’d visited in Hell’s Kitchen. the powder
magazine was guarded. The fellow who now faced me was no stranger: I had
already killed him. De Witt. you’ll recall was a keen duelist, and set
about me with a flashing bade and some very classy moves. Unfortunately
for him, he never lived long enough to put my lessons to good use. He had
no use for his bag of sand. his little barrel of gunpowder and his book,
so I inherited them. Having done about as much damage as I could down in
he hold of the ship, I decided to climb the metal ladder up to the first
level. The first door I looked through opened onto a room containing a
ship’s cannon. The foundry on the level below connected with this room
via a large opening in the floor. I was intrigued and went in.


Inside the armourer’s, the guy who was supposed to be guarding the cannon
was in fact catching up with his beauty sleep. He had a lot of catching
up to do. He wasn’t the only one snoring around there. More sleepers
could be heard in the room opposite. I pushed open the door. As I
thought, this was the dormitory. Three pirates, lying in bunk-beds, were
probably dreaming about smoke and plunder on the high seas. They looked
so happy, I hadn’t the heart to wake them up. In fact, I felt it only
right to give those boys all the sleep they needed. I put the little keg
of powder down facing the big cannon over in the armourer’s. Then I went
into the armourer’s and, taking out my pincers, set about cutting through
the chains that held the cannon in place. Everything was going fine, the
only sound was my pincers cutting through tough steel. And the guard had
stopped that horrible snoring. I silently thanked him, then felt the
hairs on the back of my neck running for cover. I span round just in time
to see the guard prepare to impale me. I hate being impaled; its not
dignified. So I had no choice but to kill the guy. Once the chains were
cut through, I turned the cannon round to point directly at the little
powder keg. Pushing that cast-iron monster wasn’t easy but the next bit
made it all worthwhile. I put my short fuse onto the firing nozzle.
Everything was ready. I silently wished the sleepers happy landings, and
lit the fuse with my poker. That little barrel of gunpowder lived up to
expectations. The only things I found in the smoking wreckage of the
dormitory were a flask and a small bag of gold coins. That last item gave
me an idea, so I headed for the galley to try it out.


As I neared the galley, I heard high-pitched laughter. The door was
locked, but that was no big problem. I just shook my bag of gold coins
and waited. What pirate of the name can resist the sound of pieces of
eight? Sure enough, the galley door flew open and out waddled two tiny
characters wielding hatchets. I chuckled at them but they didn’t see what
was funny. As a matter of fact, they put up quite a fight and I almost
felt sorry when my sword finally ended their very short existence. I went
through to the pantry where I ran into an old sparring partner. T-Bone
wasn’t looking too healthy, even if his blowpipe still sprayed poisoned
darts. But in close-quarter fighting, blowpipes start to look kind of
silly. As he died, he left behind a strange item: a metal jack of
diamonds. I decided it probably functioned as a key. Opposite the
kitchen, I had noticed a door and so I went back and tried the metal card
in the door’s unusual lock. It worked! I entered the room beyond.


Even as I stepped into the captain’s room, something didn’t feel right.
My fears proved to be justified when, a couple of seconds later, my feet
floated off the floor. A sense of duty made me test my muscles: they were
all out to lunch. The really scary thing was that I could still see and
hear. And I saw a very welcome sight: Grace Saunders grinning from ear to
ear. She tiptoed over to the captain’s statue and placed the staff of
Loas in its outstretched hand. It wasn’t much of a surprise to see a
passage open, leading into Elisabeth Jarret’s room. Miss Jarret was so
busy deciding what nasty thing she wanted to do with the doll she held,
she never noticed Grace. The little girl had read in a book she’d
discovered that a simple chicken leg was all it took to defeat voodoo
magic. Moving towards the witch, Grace held up the drumstick, looking as
though she actually believed everything she read. I’ll never sneer at a
chicken again. It was as if all the witch’s occult powers had turned
against her. Jarret rose in the air and melted before our astonished
gaze! Jarret’s death abruptly ended the spell that held me up in the air.
Luckily my nose was there to cushion the fall. I picked myself up and was
about to do the same to Grace and bring her back to her mommy and daddy,
when a bad thing happened. From the floor in front of me emerged a
creature that was hideous. Worse, it was big, with muscles that rippled
like the surface of a swimming pool just after many elephants dived in at
the same time. I fixed the beast with a masterful stare that works
surprisingly well on smaller dogs. Then I fled up the ladder to the
ship’s deck.


After the unspeakable monster in the captain’s cabin it was quite a
relief to face the host of bloodthirsty pirates I ran into on the deck.
My fear now turned to irriation, and Music Man was the first to be
punished. He had made little progress in his music, I was sorry to see.
This time, I had no pact of immortality to tear up, so I just shot him in
the head. His buddies soon joined him in death. I had become a proficient
swordsman and these adversaries were no more than musing playthings. As I
sent them on their way into eternity, I watched Bubble-Blade scramble up
the mizzenmast and Mister Eye climbing up to his lookout post in the
crow’s nest. When I had finished on deck. I followed Mister Eye. The
other mast had no ladder and if I did descend from apes they can’t have
been the tree-dwelling type.


The lookout post was perfect for anyone looking for the best way to break
your neck. This tiny little platform sixty feet above the deck was home
to Mister Eye. Let me fill you in a his background. He was born at
Nouamghar, and ended up being deported to Haiti. A meaningless existence,
until he made Miss Jarret’s acquaintance. She initiated him into voodoo
as her servant. After the attack on December 25th, he was made lookout
because of his exceptional view. He also handled the harpoon with
remarkable dexterity. I managed to best him, though, forcing him on the
defensive with thrust and parry, until finally he just stepped back into
thin air! Bubble-Blade was still alive, which was a situation I intended
to correct. I was up the mainmast, and he was over on the mizzenmast. He
was in no hurry to come to me, so I had to take the initiative. And there
wasn’t much time to lose: One Eyed Jack was down on deck, getting Grace
ready for sacrifice. Inwardly swearing at fate for landing me in this
mess, I used my hook to grab a dangling rope, closed my eyes and leaped.


There we were, Bubble-Blade and I, standing on a horizontal pole high
above the deck and about to fight a duel. My adversary tried to bolster
my confidence by performing cute acrobatic tricks that should have been
impossible. He was also an expert with a sword. Thinking that I might as
well get it over with I attacked first. Bubble-Blade was surprised by
this; he clearly expected me to be paralyzed with fear by this time.
Anyhow, he hesitated for a second, just to show me how disgusted he was.
I didn’t want him to change his opinion of me, so I attacked again, with
all the violence I had in me. He wasn’t used to getting killed that way,
and he took it real badly. Well, the time had come at last for my
showdown with the evil boss of all that murderous riffraff, the infamous
One Eyed Jack himself Leaping to the deck, I went to where captain
Nichols’ sword stuck up from the deck. I had read that this weapon alone
could put an end to Jack’s evil career.


With captain Nichols’ sword in hand, I walked with a firm step to where
One Eyed Jack waited. He did not attempt to stop me from cutting through
Grace’s chains with my pincers. She scampered to temporary safety, as
Jack and I squared off to decide her fate. He slashed at me. I dodged the
blow with a split second to spare. My enemy’s one good eye stared at me
stonily. His two swords twirled in the air like dancers. I parried as
best I could. The fight went on, deadly and bitter and hard. I was
growing tired. Soon, I was bound to make a mistake and then Jack would
strike like lightning. I had to gamble on a sudden attack; it worked!
Jack stared at me in disbelief, then crumpled to the deck. I closed my
eyes and laughed with relief. Another laugh, bloodcurling, the cackle of
the tomb, echoed round that cavern. One Eyed Jack was back on his feet.
He lashed out at me with the power of demons. Where I found the speed and
strength to parry that attack I will never know. Maybe I had come too far
and seen too much to let that scumbag beat me. Maybe it was the thought
of getting Grace back to her home for Christmas. Or maybe it was because
Ted Striker was one of the few friends I ever had. Maybe it was all of
those. One Eyed Jack couldn’t be allowe d to continue his reign of
terror. I found the energy I needed, and destroyed him. There was no time
to lose. I grabbed Grace and jumped into the lifeboat. We were
practically out of the cavern when an explosion reverberated through the
air. The ghostly figure of One Eyed Jack was firing the ship’s cannons.
Huge lumps of rock fell from the cavern walls and smashed into the ship
below. Giant waves dashed against each other. Our rowboat was tossed out
onto the ocean. Outside, the sea was calm. We were safe at last. The sun

was peeping over the horizon. It was going to be a beautiful day.




32,000 hit points:
Wait until you are in the house. Go to the kitchen. Take the frying pan. Take the poison that is next to the dumb waiter, and the other poison on the counter. Create poisoned wine. Drink the wine. Hold the [Enter] until the “Inventory And Actions” list appears again. Your hit points should be lower than -1000. Repeat this process until your hit points are out of the negative range. You should have approximately 32,000 hit points. Use the frying pan to keep sober.

Just Adventure

Just Adventure

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