Brian Oliu
WHO IS BRIAN OLIU? A GAME OF MYSTERYOliucom Interactive Non-Fiction
Copyright © 1982/2006 by Oliucom, Inc. All rights reserved.
Release 23/Serial Number 112282
You are sitting on the couch in a small room that seems oddly familiar.
>help
To help you with the basics of playing the game, here are a few basic commands to get you started.
Commands are entered at the > prompt at the bottom of the screen. Try whatever commands seem appropriate at any given point. This can also be interpreted as a mathematical equation; the blank black space to the left is greater than your input.
Examples:
Look - gives you a full description of your current location
Diagnose - gives you a report of your physical condition
Inventory - gives you a list of what you are carrying
Wait - electronic equivalent of sleep
Get - lets you pick things up
Examine - fully describes an object
Where is, What is, Who is - questions about places, things and people in the game
Communicating:
When you come across another character in the game, you can talk to them by entering their name followed by a comma, then the question, e.g.:
John, what does this mean
Brian, who is in control here
>restart
You are sitting on the couch in a small room that seems oddly familiar.
>examine
Living room, on the couch.
It is a small room with carpeted floors. You would guess that the rent in such a place would be somewhere around $717.00 per month, including lawn maintenance and garbage pickup. There is a faint smell of Lysol and burnt rice in the air. There is a door leading outside to your left. To your right is a small kitchenette, and a hallway leading towards three other rooms. On the walls in the hallway are a few poster frames with what appears to be a photo collage of the owner of the apartment. The color scheme of the apartment is red, black, and tan, and appears to be constructed in a “faux-Asian” décor. In front of you is a coffee table with a red tablecloth on it. Beyond that is a television, which is off. Above the television is a sheathed red and black Chinese sword.
There is a silver book here (on table). You can see your reflection in it.
>look at couch
It is black, leather, and comfortable. It reminds you of your couch, except better.
>look at television
You would have put the Jian sword on a different wall. It’s all right where it is: perched above the 32” Sony WEGA, possibly evoking some sort of Damocles slash perils-of-technology type metaphor. You don’t make this connection. Then again, stare at something long enough, you will inevitably come up with some sociological cheesecake, and here is yours: It’s funny how the area around a television set needs some sort of decoration; some prints on the wall behind it, a vase with flowers on top of it, or even custom cabinetry around it. A frame within a frame within a frame. This framing just so happens to include a gaudy Chinese blade, which you assume is not from ancient Shanghai, but from some flea market in Eastern Pennsylvania. You’re not sure if this says anything about the parser of said decorating scheme. In fact, you don’t know why you’re being so judgmental, considering you’re not entirely sure what you would have done differently.
>go outside
You don’t want to do that.
>go outside
You don’t want to do that. Besides, you’re waiting for someone.
>wait
Time passes…
>wait
Time passes…a man appears.
>look at man
He looks exactly like you thought he would. Matching outfit. Large feet. Wide body. However, aside from those details, it was frustratingly difficult to get an extended look to accurately describe him physically. He would often disappear from view; you’d occasionally see the shape of his foot in a white Puma sock, or the outline of scar tissue on his left hand, but you could never directly see his face. There were pictures of him on walls not protected by knives where you could see his features: dimples, short hair, excellent eyebrows. However, it seemed that none of the photographs of the man looked like him at all.
>ask the man “why am I here?”
The man appears confused when asked this question. He replies, “You’re the one who should know.”
>ask the man “why don’t any of the photographs on the wall look like you?”
The man laughs. “No one looks like they do in photographs. It all depends on a multitude of variables. For example, this photo here was taken on a late afternoon in Baltimore. Therefore, it casts peculiar shadows that alter such things as nose definition, eye color, and skin clarity. Also, the photo was taken by a girl named Katie, who stands approximately five feet three inches tall. Furthermore, myself and the gentlemen I am with are standing on a slight incline. Therefore, the angle of the photograph is taken from a lower vantage point to eliminate any semblance of a chin, as well as make myself seem more grandiose and larger than I might be in real life. Of course, it was not Katie’s intention to take a photograph that looked exactly like this one. However, the stringing together of variables created this product. But you didn’t come all of the way here to ask me about photographs looking and not looking like me, right?”
>ask the man “then why am I here?”
The man appears confused when asked this question. He replies, “You’re the one who should know.”
>diagnose
Living room, on the couch.
You are in an apartment living room. You are sitting next to an unknown man in a white Adidas jacket.
>inventory
A wallet that contains 31 dollars, a Bank of America Platinum Credit Card, and an Alabama Driver’s License that reads “Brian Oliu”.
A silver LG cameraphone that has a large scratch across the outer LCD screen, as a result of keeping the phone in the same pocket as your house keys.
House keys.
>ask the man his name
The man nods. “I thought you’d never ask. My name is Brian Oliu.”
>tell the man that you are brian oliu
Brian Oliu rubs his eyebrow with his knuckle—his comfort habit that he had picked up when he was a child and moving away from thumbsucking. “No…I’m afraid not. I really don’t think so. This is my apartment. That is my television. This is my couch.”
>take out your wallet
You reach into your left khaki pocket and pull out your black leather wallet that you received as a graduation present from your neighbor back in New Jersey. He has since deceased.
>show man your alabama driver’s license
Brian Oliu looks confused, and he too pulls out his wallet that he received as a graduation present from his neighbor back in New Jersey since deceased and shows you his Alabama Driver’s License that also reads “Brian Oliu”.
>explain to the man that you are brian oliu, born november 22 1982 to patricia and edward oliu and that you don’t appreciate him pretending to be you
Does not compute.
>sdlkfjakldsjf
Does not compute.
>…
There was no verb in that sentence.
>stop
What would you like to stop?
>this
Does not compute.
>look at man
Brian Oliu is sitting on the couch. He has a puzzled look on his face, almost as if he is as frustrated with the situation as you are.
>get up from couch
You are now standing. As you arise from your seat, Brian Oliu does the same.
>take sword
You reach over the television and take the Jian sword off the wall. You can’t decide whether or not the samurai sword is heavier or lighter than you imagined it. You always seem to note how easy it is to wield a sword in various wuxia films, but you are highly suspicious of this. You are often shaky in your trust of media. Nevertheless, on a scale of one to ten, one being as light as a lightbulb, and ten being as light as a sack of potatoes, the sword is a 4.
>take sword out of sheath
It makes a “sch-ing” sound upon unsheathing. You see a reflection of yourself as well as Brian Oliu in the steel of the blade.
>kill man
You take the blade and ram it into Brian Oliu’s stomach. At this exact moment, you feel a sharp pain in your belly and fall towards the floor, crashing through the particleboard coffee table and hitting the floor. The coordinated crumbling of both your corpse and that of Brian Oliu must have looked rather hilarious and tragic, much like one member of a three-legged race at a Field Day tripping and falling, bringing their partner down to the grass with them. This is no matter to you, because you are losing consciousness due to the blood loss that a stab lesion from a blade brings. Your last thought is probably identical to many people’s final thoughts, which is this: “Wait…what?” You try to think of some suitable last words, but what with the confusion of the moment and the spinning of your head, you are unable to compose anything pithy and expire in silence.
You have died.
We are about to give you your score.
You have scored 6 out of a possible 12, in 28 turns.
Would you like to start over, restore a saved position, or end this session of the game?
(Type RESTART, RESTORE, or QUIT):
>restart
WHO IS BRIAN OLIU? A GAME OF MYSTERY
Oliucom Interactive Non-Fiction
Copyright © 1982/2006 by Oliucom, Inc. All rights reserved.
Release 23/Serial Number 112282
You are sitting on the couch in a small room that seems oddly familiar.
>help
When entering a command, please keep in mind that WHO IS BRIAN OLIU? A GAME OF MYSTERY utilizes a parser, whose purpose is to perform syntax analysis. The parser accepts the English language input from the keyboard, converts it into numerical symbols, interprets said symbols, and finally displays the appropriate output text.
As a result, all text input into the machine is an illocutionary act; a performative utterance. When something is said, it is done. Please use your words carefully: all words will change personal or environmental statuses; it is not up to you whether or not these statuses are conferred or self-actuated.
>examine
Living room, on the couch.
You are in an apartment living room. You are sitting next to Brian Oliu.
>inventory
A wallet that contains 31 dollars, a Bank of America Platinum Credit Card, and an Alabama Driver’s License that reads “Brian Oliu”.
A silver LG cameraphone that has a large scratch across the outer LCD screen, as a result of keeping the phone in the same pocket as your house keys.
House keys.
>ask the man “what just happened?”
Brian Oliu looks at his cuticles. “You killed us.”
>tell the man “but I just stabbed you”
“Haven’t you figured out yet that we are the same person?” Brian Oliu says.
>tell brian oliu “but I am the real brian oliu”
“No,” Brian Oliu says. “We are both Brian Oliu. I am the third person Brian Oliu, a glorified version of your first-person Brian Oliu. Being in the third person, I take on a much larger character role than you do, as the limited first-person narrator.”
>tell brian oliu “i don’t understand”
Brian Oliu scoffs. He is about to explain the complexity of the entire dualism of Brian Oliu, how while it may appear that Brian Oliu and the player of this game are complete opposites, they are truly one in the same: homoousis. He may also explain what this, all of this, all all of this, really, truly, honestly means, why you can’t leave the room, why it is a living room and not a dining room, why the couch is black, not tan, the red red, not yellow, or some other choice on the palette, why an apartment, not a house, why this book, not that book, this coffee table, not that coffee table, and why you, and not him.
However, before he is able to enlighten the player, the lights in the apartment go out. It is uncertain whether or not these two events are related.
>turn on light
You are not the real Brian Oliu. I am the real Brian Oliu.
Brian Oliu interjects, “But I thought we established that I was the real Brian Oliu.”
“Brian Oliu” is not the real Brian Oliu either. I am the mechanism, the game itself, so, therefore, I am the real Brian Oliu. You both are creations of my mechanism: Brian Oliu’s voice as illustrated by the command prompt caret bracket, (the “player”) and personified in the form of the third person Non-Playable Character (“Brian Oliu”). Ergo hence, this makes me the machine that keeps all of this together. “Brian Oliu” cannot have an action without my allotment, and the player must abide by my pre-determined rules of gameplay.
>ask brian oliu for help
To whom are you referring to? Yourself, the Non-Playable Character, or the parser?
>ask brian oliu the non-playable character for help
Brian Oliu looks at his cuticles.
>ask brian oliu the non-playable character for help
Brian Oliu looks at his cuticles.
>ask brian oliu the non-playable character for help
Brian Oliu looks at his cuticles.
>ask brian oliu the non-playable character for help
Brian Oliu looks at his cuticles.
>wait
You don’t seem to understand. He is offering automated responses that I have programmed for him. While you, player, seem to be a compelling person, there is no interest or intention behind the answers he presents. There is no purpose behind the action. You often feel this upon waking up on the black leather couch in your apartment after dosing off while watching television. It was not your intent to wake up; you would be content sleeping forever. You simply need a catabolic process to counteract an anabolic process.
You are bound to my framing, my coding, and therefore my rules of conventions. Watch.
The lights go on. “Brian Oliu” disappears. You no longer feel comfortable in this living room. You feel compelled to leave.
>leave
You try to leave, but find that a gigantic forest green Cerberus that breathes fire and eats human flesh now blocks the door that once led outside. You are trapped.
>quit game
Are you sure you want to quit? (Y/N)
>y
Does not compute.
>go fuck yourself
Does not compute.
>you are not real i am real
Congratulations. You have established that you are a zimboe, not a zombie. You have won the game.
You have scored 9 out of a possible 12, in 15 turns, but your score is completely irrelevant.
Would you like to start over, restore a saved position, or end this session of the game?
(Type RESTART, RESTORE, or QUIT):
>quit
Does not compute.
>restore
.sav file not found
>quit
Does not compute.
>restart
WHO IS BRIAN OLIU? A GAME OF MYSTERY
Oliucom Interactive Non-Fiction
Copyright © 1982/2006 by Oliucom, Inc. All rights reserved.
Release 23/Serial Number 112282
>help
Oliu.hlp file is missing or corrupted.
>examine
Living room, on the couch.
It is a small room with carpeted floors. There is a door leading outside to your left, however, when looking through the window, you see a three-headed mythical beast eating children on your patio. To your right is a small kitchenette, which is now engulfed in flames. Also to your right is a hallway leading towards three other rooms, none of which you wish to explore. On the walls in the hallway are a few poster frames with what appears to be a photocollage of you. There are numerous pictures of your escapades, including photos from a weekend on the beach in Delaware, and a shot of you in a hooded sweatshirt standing on top of a hill in North Baltimore with your buddies. The color scheme of the apartment is red, black, and tan, and appears to be constructed in a “faux-Asian” décor. In front of you is an unbroken coffee table with a red tablecloth on it. There are no bloodstains on the floor. Beyond that is a television, which is off. Above the television is a sheathed red and black Chinese sword.
There is a silver book here (on table). You can see your reflection in it.
>take book
Taken.
>look at book
It is a copy of John Searle’s Minds, Brains, and Programs.
>read book
You begin to read, “A computer just does what the human does — manipulate symbols on the basis of their syntax alone - no computer, merely by following a program, comes to genuinely understand..." but the book becomes pixelated and blurry, before assimilating itself into the background of the room. When the book disappears from sight, so does any memory of the book or its contents.
At the precise moment that the book disappears, a map is slipped under the front door. It is uncertain whether or not these two events are related.
>pick up map
Taken.
>examine map
It is a character map of all two thousand Chinese characters needed to have a basic literacy of the Chinese language. Another piece of paper is slipped under the front door. It is uncertain whether or not these two events are related.
>pick up piece of paper
Taken.
>examine paper
It has the Chinese character representative of the number “one” on it. Another piece of paper is slipped under the front door.
>pick up piece of paper
Taken.
>examine paper
It has the Chinese character representative of the number “two” on it. Another piece of paper is slipped under the front door. Followed by another. And another. This continues until approximately two thousand pieces of paper are covering the carpet.
>organize papers
Using the map provided, you being to slowly sort through the Chinese characters, blissfully unaware, 0 by 0 and 1 by 1.
Congratulations. You have won the game.
You have scored 12 out of a possible 12, in 12 turns, but it’s not like you can comprehend what this score means, nor have you learned anything by playing this game.
Would you like to start over, restore a saved position, or end this session of the game?
(Type RESTART, RESTORE, or QUIT)
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