The Text Adventures represent Zinyak's autobiography, titled Zinyak: Galactic Overlord & Head Emperor Supreme of the Zin Empire: A Life[1] There are a total of eight in all scattered around the simulation; each represents a single chapter which focuses on some defining aspect of Zinyak's life prior to his invasion of Earth.[1]
Our story begins in the remote village of Zinshire, a hamlet just west of Zinport, in the country of Zinland, on a planet known only as Zin. By nature, the Zin people are an uncultured and slow-witted lot, easily entertained by such diversions as arm wrestling and counting the spots on one's back. The people of Zinshire most especially fit this description so I'm sure you can already foresee the struggles I endured in life.
The first of those struggles were my parents. My father, a simple butcher, was a small man with a fierce temper. Of all the things I learned from my father, the one that sticks with me most has to be:
My father, though as thick as the back hair on a newly born Zinfant, did indeed have an unquenchable hunger for control. While he never managed to rise higher than the head of a simple village council, he nonetheless carried the dream.
My mother on the other hand, a gifted seamstress who married far below her station, wanted me to enjoy the things so many others could not. I remember clearly, on the eve of my thirteenth birthday, her taking me to:
One might think a place such as Zinshire would not support a fine bakery-and you would be right; it closed after a year-but it was not for lack on trying on my mother's part. She wished for her only child to have an appreciation for the finer offerings of life and she began my education with Zinkar's delectable pastries.
Not only did I sample the goods at Zinkar's shoppe but I spent a summer there sweeping the floor, tending the counter, and even learning a bit of the culinary arts. I took to baking with zeal. Clients enjoyed my baked goods and I became known throughout Zinshire for my:
Ah, I can still feel the layers of crisp dough flaking gently on my tongue awash in a smooth release of sumptuous cream. Even though Zinkar's endeavor was not long for this world, I continued to sell my renowned cream puffs door to door. A business which thrived, I must say, doing well enough to supplement my admission to the most prestigious private school in Zinland.
I had acquired the money to attend the finest school in Zinland but that was just the beginning. While I would love to say Zinkov Preparatory Academy embraced me with open arms, the truth of the matter is I was not the finest student. In order to gain admission, I had to endure rigorous physical and academic testing before they would grant me access to their legendary halls of learning.
While participation in competitive sports is encouraged, and a good source of income for any institution of higher learning, testing for such a thing was not required.
As was my mother's wish, Zinkov Prep was an institution that prided itself on its scholastic offerings. To that end, it only accepted candidates that displayed academic prowess and further promise. So it was that I endured many weeks of standardized testing and training prior to my entrance examination.
I am proud to say that I took to the studies well and managed to bring up my scores across the board. Still, there was one subject above all others that I had a particular affinity for. As you may have already guessed, that subject was:
Ah, the written word. I had, like most Zin, learned to read while in utero but that was all very dry texts such as manuals and design documents. It wasn't until this far more serious pursuit into academia that I came to love the classics.
How surprised was I that some of the finest literature in the universe came from a tiny watery planet more than ten million lightyears away! While it would be some time until I visited that seemingly unremarkable waystation, I had fallen in love with its artistic offerings already. One author's work in particular captured my imagination. Can you guess the scribe responsible?
If I wanted to read about deceitful children, time-traveling charlatans, and overburdened bullfrogs, I'd...well, I suppose Twain would be the one. But no.
The good doctor's work is among the finest in literature, there is no doubting that, but I did not get lost amongst his colorful characters and impeccable rhyming structure as much as others.
I shan't abide any author who dares suggest frugality and the demand for a proper work ethic are grounds for otherworldly intervention. I don't care if the worker's boy is on crutches! That man had a business to run!
Jane. Sweet, sweet Jane, how like my mother's dreams, you are. Even now, all these years later, just the thought of Emma, Elinor, and Elizabeth's exploits and romantic missteps brings a lump to my throat. Oh, the intoxicating back and forth between Miss Bennet and Mr. Darcy, how I could read those lines toward infinity.
It was my celebrated essay on Jane Austen's body of work that caught the attention of the Zinkov admissions board who not only allowed me entry into their fine institution but secured my later position as Head of the English-Language Appreciator's Society.
Thus was my love of literature cemented and access to Zinkov Preparatory Academy assured. Which is where I met the teacher who would help me find my life's true purpose.
I clearly recall my first tentative steps into Zinkov Preparatory Academy. I was a lad from the countryside coming into the big city, eyes wide and mind eager. I had never seen a building so large or so many finely-dressed young people yearning for knowledge. It was the first time in my life I ever felt I was somewhere I truly belonged.
Of course, not all of the Zinlings there were courteous, studious-minded folk. Predictably, it wasn't long before I crossed the path of a brutish young man named Zinfax. We instantly loathed each other. It was obvious from the start that Zinfax took umbrage with my:
Typical, no? I was now entering the proud and prejudice-filled society I had read about so eagerly just a few months prior. While Zinfax was a boor and a constant thorn in my side, I found solace in my studies. Literature had engaged me early on but the offerings of Zinkov Prep allowed me to expand into even higher-minded subjects such as intergalactic warfare and how to exploit diplomacy for personal gain. What a world of knowledge there was to explore!
More than any of the Zinkov faculty, Professor Zinlow informed my later days. I remember clearly, it was just two weeks into my first year, when Zinlow pulled me aside after class and said to me:
"ZINYAK, NEVER LET ANYTHING - OR ANYONE - STOP YOU FROM PURSUING YOUR DREAMS."
Has anyone ever told you that before? What a remarkable thing to say to a formative lad! And he was right. I, as the poor son of an ignorant butcher, had made it to the finest university on the planet. I wasn't just pursuing my dreams-I was living one!
Those words kept me strong through four years of demanding study, kept my mind clear from physical distraction, and are to thank for my graduating with honors from Zinkov Preparatory, a first for anyone from the hamlet of Zinshire.
Order of operation, don't you know. Yes, I admit, I let my personal dislike for that heinous bully overcome me and I snapped Zinfax's neck like old bark flaking off a dying oak. My time at Zinkov Preparatory now at an end, I entered yet another phase of my life, one that would take me to a great many exotic locations and allow me to realize, finally, my true potential.
After my time at Zinkov Preparatory Academy, I did what all young people on Zin must do: I entered the military. Prior to my days at Zinkov, I admit I did not look forward to this rite of passage but, after, I relished the idea of honing myself into the specimen I would later become.
Basic training was, as it is designed to be, a particular sort of Hell. I don't know what the rules are where you come from, reader, but military training for the Zin Army consists of a grueling eight-week course that pushes recruits to their breaking point.
Some did not survive the training and were sent off to work in the mines or forced to join the Zin National Orchestra (famous across seven galaxies for how hideous their music is). In order to endure the training, I often relied upon:
A wise man once said "Without a target, we are all just bullets in the wind." I wrote that in my journal last week. And it's true. Whenever you find yourself facing a seemingly insurmountable challenge, it helps to envision all the turncoats, opportunists, and megalomaniacs that are just waiting for you to fail so they can swoop down and pick the meat from your bones.
I took to weaponry and tactics like a parasite to a vital organ. My sergeant said I was a "natural born killer" who 'lacked empathy" and had an "unparalleled predatory instinct."
It was evident even then that I had conqueror's blood coursing through my veins. I took to every task with gusto, never accepting anything but the best from myself and all those around me. I had vision, I had drive, I had everything needed to seize the universe by the nebulas and make it mine.
Perhaps it's my eloquent speaking voice or preternatural vocal range but I have always had a gift for oration. Combined with my undeniable charisma, getting others in step with my own ambitions comes naturally. I speak, they listen. Even if I do need to thrash them about the head a few times first.
After basic, I entered service and was sent to the front line of the great war that was brewing on Planet Bedard. There, I led the charge against the great Bedardian commander Franscot. Using my innately keen insight, I surprised Franscot by:
After basic, I entered service and was sent to the front line of the great war that was brewing on Planet Bedard. There, I led the charge against the great Bedardian commander Franscot. Using my innately keen insight, I surprised Franscot by:
After basic, I entered service and was sent to the front line of the great war that was brewing on Planet Bedard. There, I led the charge against the great Bedardian commander Franscot. Using my innately keen insight, I surprised Franscot by:
SNEAKING INTO HIS BASE UNDER THE COVER OF DARKNESS
While it may sound like a simple tactic, you should be aware that the average day on Planet Bedard lasts an excruciatingly long time. But I and my charge held our position until the perfect moment to strike. We infiltrated Franscot's compound, trampled his men under our mighty boots, and shattered the door to his bedchamber. Wherein I pounced upon the fool and smothered him with his own pillow.
From there, I led the charge after numerous enemies of the Zin Empire. Soon, the entire Bedardian Army fell before us and we had yet another notch on our already impressively-carved belts.
A magnificent victory under my belt, my military superiors saw fit to bestow upon me a Meritorious Service in the Glory of the Almighty Zin commendation and my first of many promotions.
Recognition breeds contempt though and I made many enemies throughout my military career but perhaps none more scathing, more heartbreaking than Zinfob. The Brutus to my Caesar, Zinfob served with me well against the Bedardian army but his pride got the best of him when he:
Citing my unquenchable bloodlust, cold and calculating demeanor, lack of conscience-all the things that were held in such high regard during training-Zinfob dared to suggest that I was unfit for high-level command.
I was brought before my superiors in a mock tribunal, held simply to satiate Zinfob's whim, I assure you, where I was called upon to defend myself against these allegations.
Complying with the tenets of the charade, I took my seat as defendant. As clear as the strained cries of a fallen foe, the charges were leveled against me. Against each one, I:
Admittedly, I may have used some coarse language-as emphasis to underline my points-but I conducted myself as one ought during any legal proceeding. After carefully explaining myself to the council, they saw my point of view and dismissed Zinfob's case against me.
Afterwards, I hunted my accuser down and killed him where he stood.
That nastiness behind me, I not only continued to fulfill my role within the Zin Army but I excelled at it! After many more successful terrestrial campaigns against our foes, the officials saw fit to:
Indeed! No longer was I a simple passenger on our interplanetary death vessels, I now had my hand firm upon the rudder. Metaphorically speaking, of course, interplanetary death vessels are steered by complicated navigation systems.
It was time to leave terra firma behind me and venture toward the stars. After forcibly convincing my crew to celebrate my newly appointed position with a soiree in my honor, we lifted anchor and spread our sails (again, metaphorically speaking) towards destinations just ripe for the picking.
And that, dear reader, is where my tale gets most exciting.
Like a Siren calling ships to the rocks, the velvety expanse of space has been a harsh mistress to many. To me, the unconquered reaches were a challenge I not only accepted but yearned for. So many poor souls blithely unaware of how mediocre their existences were without a firm hand to guide them toward greatness. Oh how I longed to be that hand.
The terrestrial victories I had accumulated in my prior campaigns often failed to adequately test my keen tactical instinct. The maneuvers and strategies employed by so many of my foes were woefully pedestrian on their best days. I knew somewhere in the celestial womb, a leader must exist who could properly challenge me. How fortunate I was that I only had to eradicate twelve civilizations before coming toe-to-toe with the talented and well-trained forces of the Jetyang Theocracy.
Despite what you may have heard about the people of the Jetyang quadrant, I assure you they were ahead of the rest in their martial prowess. Perhaps most impressively, the Jetyang had mastered:
Despite centuries of effort dedicated to that pursuit, all of their attempts at melding flesh and technology resulted in nothing greater than automated harvesting machines.
By harnessing the geothermal energy of Jetyang's molten core, the Theocracy were able to power a Dyson Sphere-like shield around their entire planet. It sparkled in the sun like a chorus line of stars pirouetting in the sheerest glimmer of light. The way it shattered in the wake of our neutronic lasers was, simply, breathtaking.
Upon our arrival on their planet's surface, the head of the Theocracy, an imposing figure named Bishop Quirkzug, pleaded for not only his own life but the lives of his people. Always a fair man, I agreed to meet him on a level field of battle. Mano-a-mano as true gentlemen. I even let him select the contest. Much to my surprise, he chose:
And I thought I had left such uncultured diversions back on Zin. I learned then that this so-called "sport" had reached a far wider audience than I had hoped. Yes, Quirkzug chose to challenge me at arm wrestling.
Little did I know that the cephalopodian anatomy of the Jetyang, combined with the curved surfaces that pass as tables, allowed them great leverage at this sport. Oh-ho! How clever Quirkzug was! Luring me into a trap that played upon my own prejudices! Well done! Well done, indeed. As it turns out, the winner of that match was:
Yes, yes. Quirkzug used his anatomical advantage to best me at that infantile test of strength. After shooting him through his enormous eye, I congratulated his corpse on a job well done. Giving the Jetyang people no quarter, we made hasty work of their pathetic planet and to this day I keep Quirkzug's desiccated tongue in my pocket.
Though I wasn't aware of it prior, the Jetyang homeworld was a rich source of gemstones and minerals in rare reserve on other planets. With resources in high demand at our disposal, I was able to fund many more conquests throughout the richness of space.
As you indubitably are already aware, the "Grand Jetyang Victory" was just the beginning of my storied career in the Zin Army. I still had numerous conquests awaiting me, including my first venture out toward a place the native scholars once called "Via Lactea."
Possessing astute foresight as I do, coupled with my at-times all-consuming need for control, I knew that before I set out to do anything more, I must:
Even I cannot be everywhere at once. I knew in order to keep my crew appropriately subordinate while still being able to have some essential "me time" that I had to have someone I could trust implicitly to oversee the orders I gave. Someone who could be my eyes and ears and also tend to my every whim without question.
It was a plucky young soldier named Zinjai who stood cranial crown and shoulders above the rest. I knew he would be make a fine lieutenant. But, as is customary to prove one's successor's worth, I first administered:
Those were already part of our daily routine. I saw no need to beat a dead horse. Do you see what I did there? I made a pun. It was a very good one too.
A QUIZ TO DETERMINE HIS UNDERSTANDING OF BASIC ETIQUETTE
I was not about to appoint someone as my military surrogate and manservant who was unable to appreciate propriety and tradition. I knew that if anyone were to even attempt to fill my proverbial boots that they had to be able to do so in any conceivable situation. So it was I constructed a battery of examinations designed to test his etiquette across all manner of occasion. They really were brilliant, if I do say so myself.
WE WERE ATTACKED PRIOR TO THE DINNER COURSE OF A FINE MEAL
In what was a regrettable lapse in judgment on the part of famed Buunian tactician Ariel the Furious, the Buune Armada attacked us in mid-space during the most important segment of Zinjai's testing. After destroying the Buune Fleetship and flaying all the crewmembers, I beheaded Ariel the Furious with a bread knife and threw his remains into the onboard incinerator.
His testing over, I formally named Zinjai as my lieutenant/servant, and we continued our trek into deep space. Per my grand plan, I set about culling the universe of its weakest cultures first, starting with:
As even neophyte Zin should know, the Great Linguistic Misunderstanding carved a wide political chasm that separated the Goetz-Bray Alliance millennia ago. What do they teach in schools these days?
The Kjoertnerfer Tribes have been a blight on Central Alspazia since time immemorial. Really, I was doing everyone a favor by razing those heathens to the ground. But did the Unified Nations of Central Alspazia show me any gratitude at all? Of course not!
Nothing short of planetwide genocide was going to shut them up. Which, thankfully, it did. From there, I continued on my path, conquering every planet that stood in my path. Yet, despite the sense of unparalleled accomplishment I felt, something was lacking.
It was not until later that I would stumble upon my greatest achievement. My defining moment.
Yes, I held the keys to the universe in my grasp yet something was missing. These victories, numerous though they were, felt hollow. I found myself wanting more, needing more. What could I possibly be missing? I had everything. Civilizations trembled when I announced my presence. My own army lived in fear of my wrath. What could I possibly be lacking?
Then, like an evolutionary link crawling from the depths of a primordial soup, it hit me. I had taken so many lives-for what purpose? Conquering was not enough. I needed to test them. To challenge them. To collect them. It was then I decided to build:
I could not trust those who fell before my might to roam around unsupervised in the real world but a virtual one, that was another matter entirely. It came to me as a vision! A vast interconnected web of simulated worlds designed not only to contain the best and brightest in the universe but to break their wills and make them subservient to me, Zinyak, Galactic Overlord and Head Emperor Supreme of the Zin Empire. Oh, did I forget to mention I killed my predecessor and claimed his throne for my own? My apologies for the oversight.
I tasked Zinjai with overseeing the Simulation's construction. We would hold the physical bodies of my fallen foes in a nutrient-rich suspension designed to accommodate even the most peculiar metabolisms. Meanwhile, their minds would be go on in a world of my own creation, based on each subject's:
Yes! Everybody, aside from your humble narrator, is afraid of something. Familial loss. A straying loved one. Anonymity. Spiders. And by subjecting each victim to their deepest fear, to replay their most dreaded moment over and over again until their psyche shatters and their minds become malleable putty in my eager fingers, I could control them. I could control everyone.
And who better to test the Simulation upon than my right-hand man. Zinjai was not eager to partake in the Simulation but after a brief, though intensely painful, discussion, he saw the benefits of the architect being the first to walk into his own building.
For hours, I heard Zinjai's screams echo throughout the ship, like the mellifluous song of a child in mourning, and I knew then that the Simulation was my raison d'être. It would set the standard for forward-thinking empires throughout the universe. And if any should ever match its brilliance, I will crush them and claim their design for my own.
To be honest, Zinjai didn't tell me what his deepest fear was and I didn't press the matter. For I had other things to do. With the Simulation as my crown jewel, I took to universal conquering with renewed zeal. I found a pleasure in forced subjugation of sentient lifeforms I never thought I'd have again.
To be honest, Zinjai didn't tell me what his deepest fear was and I didn't press the matter. For I had other things to do. With the Simulation as my crown jewel, I took to universal conquering with renewed zeal. I found a pleasure in forced subjugation of sentient lifeforms I never thought I'd have again.
A LIFE SPENT CLEANING THE LAVATORIES OF THE ZIN MOTHERSHIP
To be honest, Zinjai didn't tell me what his deepest fear was and I didn't press the matter. For I had other things to do. With the Simulation as my crown jewel, I took to universal conquering with renewed zeal. I found a pleasure in forced subjugation of sentient lifeforms I never thought I'd have again.
My enemies didn't simply fall by my sword-their wills were snapped like the bones of a mouthy subordinate. I no longer had only the echo of their dying words to remember them by, I had a whole world of twisted imagery and deep-rooted doubts and phobias. Oh joy! Oh cascading bliss!
And I could visit them whenever I wanted. I had complete control. I held their brittle consciousnesses in my hand and could play with them, like flicking seeds into the wind.
The Simulation was not perfect. Nothing is. Even the masterwork Venus de Milo is short a couple appendages. But it was mine. And it was beautiful. For those who tested my patience by attempting escape, I had protocols in place. When needed, I intervened personally. Though it was rarely necessary. Many of the subjects thought they were exceptions to the Simulation's rule but I put everyone of them summarily back into place.
So it was I went about collecting the exemplary specimens from cultures throughout the entirety of the known world. With one exception. A certain destination whose exploitation I wished to savor. A place whose artistic contributions had first set me upon my path. There was someone there I especially wished to meet-and with the time-bending capability of the Mothership, I could. But also I knew any planet capable of literary work of that caliber must also breed warriors unlike any other. I was excited, reader. Every part of my essence shivered with anticipation.
With the might of the Zin Empire behind me, I set out toward the far corner of the universe, toward a new galaxy, to conquer a planet I had only enjoyed through its culture: Earth.
Unlike Matt Miller's text adventure in http://deckers.die, choosing the wrong answer in these Text Adventures simply returns to the question instead of restarting from the beginning.