You were here.

Paul's parents were rather fond of this small pool. This is where you fell asleep after the party, because you were too drunk to stumble home. I am walking unsteadily. January 23rd 2014. A wind blows in from the darkness and gently tussles your hair. You seem to be the only passenger on this battered old bus. You are in a brightly colored room, full of unimplemented decorations. Your name is GrunderBar and you happen to be one of the wealthiest, and most powerful men on the Moon. Vous apercevez un Thorin, un Smaug, un Bilbon, un Gandalf, un Nains et un Dragon. Ajiaco Santafereño ist eine Hühnersuppe mit verschiedenen Kartoffelsorten. You've managed to land a good job in your field right after university. [[Next|Week 2]]

''You were here.'' a hardly interactive metafiction by Joshua Houk [[Start.|You were here]]

Curtis turns off the loping diesel engine and spits in the dirt and stares toward the fence row to the south of his property. And so it stands before you, a house that could have been cozy, if not for the peeling paint, the flying gargoyles encircling the roof, and the looming twelve-foot tall fence with 'WARNING: Electrified' painted in blood red letters. The mansion was old, built perhaps in the 19th century. You are in the Tic-tac-toe hall. It's the year 1921, you are a Russian man that just finished school and left to become rich in America. You arrive and are greeted by the guards. Vous avez reçu un appel du chef de Police de 5 cents qui vous demande de l'aide. "Come on!" Heads or tails? Pay attention, because there's a short quiz at the end. Hier verbringst du deine erholsamen Nächte. Du stehst in der dachlosen Eingangshalle der verlassenen Burg. São 6:40 da manhã. Vous, ainsi que le reste de votre troupe, avez élu domicile quelque part au milieu d'une vaste étendue d'herbe. Tout est plongé dans une semi-obscurité, comme à son habitude. La lumière blafarde d'une lune gibbeuse filtrait par la vitre ébréchée, éclairant comme elle pouvait la pièce. A dank room that cost you a few favours to learn about. Le parterre de spectateurs semble s'étendre à l'infini devant ses yeux. Du stehst im Freien auf dem Land, ein kleines Haus steht linker Hand. [[Next|Week 3]]

You are sitting in your desk chair, in front of your narrow desk in your tiny office. You are in a ROCKET. [[Next|Week 4]]

Du bist in einem Kerkerraum mit steinernen Wänden. The twilit streets of the doom-beset village lie before you. [[Next|Week 5]]

Llevas muchos años preparandote para este momento, toda la formación que haz recibido en escuela de mariscales Gustavo Pinilla se pondrá a prueba ahora, ha llegado el momento para la prueba final. YOU ARE A MIGHTY TRASH WIZARD, CARRYING THE ENCHANTED BLOOD OF GENERATIONS OF TRASH WIZARDS BEFORE YOU. Once there was a girl called Catherine Apple-Ninja Denise Yarmilla van Houten. Your friends have asked you out to dinner! [[Next|Week 6]]

You stand within a spherical room bisected by a transparent floor. [[Next|Week 7]]

Chloe was always like this. Your crappy apartment, seen in its entirety. She had appeal like citrus, yeah, she could make you smile. The exhibition is now closed. The exhibition is now closed. The exhibition is now closed. Unfortunately for you, it's very dark here. The exhibition is now closed. The exhibition is now closed. Morning, Boss! Pedir comida. [[Next|Week 8]]

I, Ace Alexander, helped create, design, and promote the match of the century, a match unlike any other... a match made in steel. It's 1941 and a global war is going on. Here's a little background before I begin. [[Next|Week 9]]

They watch you as you run, as fast as you possibly can, your lungs bursting. You stand before a massive castle, its walls and towers rising toward the sky. You are sitting at a tiny bar, and you are the only customer here. I'm in a vampire bitch clique at my all-girls tennis school on the moon where we live because earth was ruined by mega corporations. [[Next|Week 10]]

Congratulations! After 24 seconds of matchmaking... Your sensors activate slowly and feeling comes to all needed areas of your body. Le grand feu crépitait. It's 3:00 AM but you're not asleep. An unnamed employer will pay you $''''50,000 to murder The Author. You seem to be having a conversation with a disembodied voice. [[Next|Week 11]]

The ring Yulia's grandmother gave her wasn't very pretty — an overworked silver band, rough black stone surrounded by an ill-thought combination of colored gems — but she wears it while Grandma Eva is in town. You wake up suddenly to the shouts of men barking orders followed by the staccato bark of automatic rifles. Sweat splatters across your body, and the air is loaded with a fusion of smells that fill you with emotions careening between exhilaration and disgust. [[Next|Week 12]]

Water engulfs you. The whirring and chirping of medical instruments is all around—a worrying commotion, to some, but to your ears it is as regular as a heartbeat, as usual as business. It's another Monday morning. "Begging a thousand pardons, master." You shiver. I am asleep. The pod door opens, waking you from your hyperslumber. You have been wandering through the desert for years. By the time anybody gets around to reading this: I will be dead. This is the subway station below Gregarious Grange, Groddle Meadow. You haven't been here for months. War. There is a laptop here. Ein heller und freundlicher Raum mit einer hölzernen Theke, auf der eine völlig antiquierte, aber noch intakte Kasse steht, und den vielen Regalen voller verschiedener Süßigkeiten. Mein Name ist Filip Malony, ähnlich wie Philip Marlowe aus L.A. oder Philip Maloney aus DRS3. Die große Wiese war ein Teppich aus saftigem Grün, umgeben von Flüssen und durchzogen von schmalen Bächen. The hill on this side of the river is a wide lawn with only a few trees, seemingly designed for the purpose of offering a clear view of the tower. A cloud of dust leaps into the air around you. It's the year 1716, you and your brother James are the crew members of a pirate ship in the heart of the Caribbean. [[Next|Week 13]]

It is night. You're seventeen. Once upon a time there was an old man, shrouded in mystery venturing across the land living his life. Once upon a time in the 17th century there were two friends, Seth and John. You see an old man up the road while traveling with your brother. You are one of two brothers, your older brother the knight, you the squire. Oak chopped slowly pieces will form another instrument. Your life as an artist is about to begin. It is the weekend. You were sure that this was a better spot than where you've been picking all morning. You are in the middle of your store, surrounded by stacks of rare and esoteric books. I counted this high. "School really sucked today," you mutter, grabbing the various items from your locker to stuff them into your backpack. "He’s still here." Here you spend your morning hours. You breathe, and the vessel breathes with you. The sound of your alarm clock wakes you and you groggily switch it off. Your shirt is ironed, your odour cologned, and after some pre-drinks with Imogen and her boyfriend Levi, the three of you are on your way to the party. You are the only passenger in the spacious, luxurious cabin of a private helicopter that seats six people in first-class recliners. [[Next|Week 14]]

It has been ages since I last came here... The walls of the room are warped and uneven, a dull red. You find yourself in the forest on a quest to find the Sacred Staff of Deck Koji. You are in near complete darkness. I was first made aware of Jacob at age eight or nine. You hold in your hand a pink, heart-shaped card daubed in rosewater and oil of jasmine — an invitation to the Princess Philantha's Grand Equinox Ball. [[Next|Week 15]]

And here you are and she's driving through the night and the car engine rumbles in your chest and your mouth tastes of bruise and blood and gravel and your tooth feels — [[Next|Week 16]]

The year is 1982. Anders. You wake up. You are standing in an open field west of a white house, with a boarded front door. You look up into the sky and admire the beauty of the twin moons, dancing a graceful waltz through space. You stumble forwards, your body heavy. You are Mordecai the Magpie. You suddenly hear a loud scream in the street: "The Black Shadows!" You are Sir Gawain. No one knew just how this plague had come to existence. It's the most magical place on earth, and you've had it all there — the drugs, the drama, the unabashed violence, and the harm it's done to you and everyone you've ever loved. You are standing on a dock on the western side of the island. [[Next|Week 17]]

You are sitting at a desk. You find yourself in a room. Die Zelle ist bar jeder Einrichtung, nur eine Pritsche ist gegen die Wand geschoben. [[Next|Week 18]]

This is your bedroom, or at least you think it is. Before you slumps your uncle's old, sagging farm house. You and Sam sit across from each other in a cozy booth with a window looking out on a somewhat depressing overcast autumn afternoon. This is quite possibly the nicest condo you've ever been in. Ever since the fall of the Galactic Thessalocracy 40 years ago, on account of the erebus plague, the one thing that has bound people together across far-flung star systems has been a love of Viennese pastries. As on every Friday, a few guys and gals from work meet at the local waterhouse, "Cullen's." Mr. Fandango’s outer office. "You're going to clip a plate, Joanna." You've landed. You stand by the front hatch, which is on the north wall, of your fallout shelter. Even through six inches of reinforced steel, you can hear the noises. This is a dead end. Grey and white rain streams down over hard concrete edifices, where it goes swirling and shining, reflecting the dingy streetlights as it pours into the gutters and then down into the black sewers. The classroom is quiet now. The walls are flat white, save for four paintings along the south wall, each centered under its own spotlight. Feels like the apartments of a well-off academic couple who entertain a lot. There are many folkloric spooks and creepy-crawlies associated with Wooley Swamp, but the most famous is the story of Lucious Clay and the Cable Boys. Vast metal towers stand in silhouette against the stars, backlit by the full moon. You hear a twitter. You can go west. The tower lies a hundred paces and a thousand memories away, a bone needle jabbing into a sky of smoke, sinking red sun, and fretting winds. Existence is a fractal coherency, sparkling in ten perfect dimensions. So there's this forest that's out of the way but not too far out of the way and some folks decided to dump their old household appliances. I'm drifting in the darkness.... Ah, it's a brand new day. Click to play! Detective Cochone is being tortured by a dancing bear. A rickety wooden platform is built on the edge of a cliff to serve as a station for a cable car ride up to the mountain. "Mother?" A bread knife, a tea strainer, a breadbox, and a tea tin are scattered on the counter. You stand at an intersection at the center of a small city. You are standing in an open field west of the white house. "Is there any chance you might be pregnant?" I am the CEO of a very powerful company. This information booth is untidily stacked with maps and fliers. The street is thick with mangled cars and billowing smoke. [[Next|Week 19]]

You've always said that you wanted to be a party photographer. For a bachelor apartment, this place wouldn't be too bad if it weren't so unkempt. You are a Squeegee kid. How are the cubs doing? [[Next|Week 20]]

You have been assigned a position in the Skull Village near Murqvarna. Four other people stand around the room, all staring at you for an answer. [[Next|Week 21]]

You wake up in the school bus. It is a quiet evening. Grated floor plates groan underfoot as you stride along the dim corridor, headed for the striped pressure door at the far end. You wake up, as you do most mornings. The room surrounds you with white foam boards, each three metres long and three metres wide. You are a man. "Movies and all that other bullshit try to teach you that people die by choking out one final request, or silently in peace, or some shit." [[Next|Week 22]]

You are trying to fuck the dictionary. You can feel the seconds passing. Marcus is a poet, with a wealthy general as his patron. You pull back on the throttles as the battered Imperial combat armature in your sights begins to glow with the tell-tale light of a core breach. You there! [[Next|Week 23]]

You found this booth in a run-down shopping mall, tucked between the dollar store and the pretzel stand. Night falls. In the world called Sie, magic comes from the stars. Where are you now? Hi there and thanks for volunteering to save the world! You can't read in here any longer; you'll be sick. [[Next|Week 24]]

In a little cottage somewhere in the magical world of fairy tale creatures sat Oggy the Owl. She bought you from a pawn shop. [[Next|Week 25]]

Let's travel back four years ago to 2010''''... You didn't realize Nolan was gay until you peeked at his desktop. You slip through a gap in the queuing traffic just wider than your handlebars and join the flow of traffic heading west. It is March 19th, 2004. [[Next|Week 26]]

You remember the moment perfectly, despite all these years. Darkness, all around. A tall black BOX of a room. [[Next|Week 27]]

You descend. You are at Milky Bar, a famous hangout in the old town centre. [[Next|Week 28]]

The street is so quiet, where are all the cars? Now, where was I? Monsieur Phileas Fogg returned home early from the Reform Club, and in a new-fangled steam carriage. Besides! "Thank you for joining us!" [[Next|Week 29]]

So, I'm, like, at a party at the house of these family friends — it's my parents' choice to be there, not mine, but when you're a kid, you basically go wherever your parents take you — and I'm sitting on their sofa, staring off into space while everyone speaks Farsi around me. You're deep in a deadwood forest, face to face with Athena MacIntyre, whose dad you killed. [[Next|Week 30]]

A meadow stretches out as far as you can see on all sides of you. Sit here on this firescape next to me, look out down the street and see those birds flying up into the air and feel that, it feels like the spirit is being lifted up. [[Next|Week 31]]

Satisfecho de haber completado tu encomienda, dejás que tu mirada vague por el inmenso jardín. [[Next|Week 32]]

The sound of a trash truck outside your window wakes you up. What time is it? Where would you like to go somewhere today? [[Next|Week 33]]

So you wake up... It's raining. What havoc you endure this day? If you had told me a year ago the girl I met at Meg's party would end up living at my place and would then end up flying to Mars I would've laughed at your face. A metal bench. It is cold and humid, cement walls surround you. Important decision! Vous vous relevez sur cette plage. One morning, you're awoken by the slamming of the front door and a wave of overwhelming physical sickness. [[Next|Week 34]]

Over there you see a remarkable cave, wonderful to be seen, and in this night-time light the entrance is beautiful with shrubberies green. Natasha has a few things to settle before she can actually schedule an appointment at the visa center. Decido comenzar este diario para poner en claro mis ideas, para entender mejor esta nueva situación. [[Next|Week 35]]

A pretty red star shines over the edge of the closest planet, painting all the clouds and land masses and things with a spectacular crimson hue. After the buyers go, there are armloads and armloads of not-quite-perfect flowers that all wind up in Dumpsters. You are Amity Watkins, and you've just started your senior year at Foxville High School in the smallish, obscure town of Foxville, Massachusetts. [[Next|Week 36]]

This morning, you thought you heard the noise of a highway somewhere beyond the pines. [[Next|Week 37]]

A crunch echoes in the darkness. [[Next|Week 38]]

You wake up with a headache. You are standing in a large room, with a tall ceiling overhead. You struggle to penetrate the dark of the Library vault, shadows inky black after the glare of the fields of glass. Since its foundation in 2034, AlethiCorp has grown to become the foremost information management consultancy company in the western world, helping governments, corporations, and all kinds of administrative bodies make sense of the vast amount of information that must be dealt with in the modern information age. You can see a few small hillocks rising behind you, some trees and foliage surrounding you, and a small house, chimney smoking gently, a few paces in front of you. You stand in the town square in the city of Gilwin. Burnt structures on the side of the road. Welcome to the future of computing power; welcome to GENE. "I want everything on the menu," Caroline says, giving you a challenging smile. Strolling through the final airlock, you feel satisfied that the facility's in order: the spacesuits are starched, the moon rocks are neatly arranged, and you personally checked that every stateroom is in perfect condition. When you wake up, something is passing through the night sky. That's where you are. You are on a path in a dense, dark forest. The room is full of all sorts of equipment which might make sense if you had read your textbooks. As soon as I see the black glove lying on the snow I know something bad had happened. The stars above the manor of Ephraim P. Noble look like tiny pinholes in the mylar of a broken diskette. You're in the back of a support lorry which has been driven as far as it can go. You're in the basement of a defunct little bistro in the West 7th neighborhood of Saint Paul. One day, without meaning to, you found it. It is a bit of a difficult commute, I'll admit. You're in the cabin of The Spirit of Fresno, the plucky little plane that couldn't. A busy road arches above you, the sound of cars above echo in this space. It's dangerous to go alone, the wise men say. Soft music is playing in the background, shielding you from the outside world in this otherwise quiet place. The digital shrieks of your alarm clock finally jolt you awake. How long has it been since Emily returned your key? This must be a university student's room: small, cheap, messy, and stuffy. The package feels heavy, but you keep it balanced against your left hip. The room is cramped, yet filled with light. Ye wauken. You are standing on an empty Florida highway, and your broken-down truck is here. A nice sunny room for taking afternoon refreshment, with lace curtains and a comfortable sofa. My towel curves elegantly across the shiny floor tiles from the shower towards the washing stand. The government had every legal right to imprison you; they drew your name. The clock dutifully reports that it's 2:05AM. You are standing amid a rubble pile of scree, upturned dirt, broken branches, and massive trees snapped like twigs. "Oh I hate that horrible Annette." A small chamber, dimly lit in a tinge of blue. You park the van at the location at the end of the GPS arrow and shut off the ignition. There is a big obelisk of onyx here. "Welcome Prisoner." The voice booms across the empty room. Laughter tastes bitter in a burnt mouth, and yet that's what you're continuously doing with this girl at the bar. Dead brown leaves cover inky black lake. Good morning, Billy. "SHH-TUM!" [[Next|Week 39]]

Avi, my love, no running in the store. Finally the fortress is done. "PRISONER!" booms the Robailiff. The day is bright and clear. [[Next|Week 40]]

You are standing in a field of grass. You sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Your best friend Andrew has invited you to a sleepover at his house this weekend! You wake up, a flicker of consciousness playing across your brain. Ah, Paris. You can see a table (on which is a book) here. You pull on the front door to make sure it's locked, and then you make your way over to your car. "First game!" Schlussendlich haben sie dich morgens geholt. You barely see it in the corner of your eye; a blow aimed at your head! I thought about doing this journal writing shit for a long ass time. [[Next|Week 41]]

You see a cat sitting on the back of the couch, licking her paw. The lab is unsettlingly dim, but familiar enough: rough wooden walls, the broad stone surface of the workbench. You wake up not knowing who you are, where you are or what you're doing here. As soon as you return to your car, the radio buzzes. This is a big empty lot at the intersection of two streets. The parking lot for the diner is unremarkable. This is the Character Creation room. You've lived in this town since you were born. You sit huddled under a blanket in your living room, listening to the wind spookily blow through the trees. The list for the hundred-year Convent of Evil was published and you were eleventh on the list. The human hosts have unusual physiologies. I put you in a room in the basement. The nun smiles at you and raises her cup in salute. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. You've spent a long night out on the streets, threatening tricks and demanding candy from the general populace. The faces are coming out of the walls again. Amara squints and stops walking. The cement wharf is sun-baked above, slapped by water below. Before the street – and the open world – is my garden. It was lovely summer weather in the country, and the golden corn, the green oats, and the haystacks piled up in the meadows looked beautiful. A full moon gives a silvery sheen on the large, black, dead tree and the graves that surround it. There was once a man who lived in a hut in the middle of the forest. The one-room cottage you share with your mother is shabby, but clean. You stand, a stiff column with arms clasped behind your back. [[Next|Week 42]]

Trick or treating is over and your life is a nightmare. A high-ceilinged cell of pale polished birch. Today is not today. This is a tidy first-class cabin. [[Next|Week 43]]

The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult I vowed revenge. The little village of Bohun Beacon was perched on a hill so steep that the tall spire of its church seemed only like the peak of a small mountain. It is very seldom that mere ordinary people like John and myself secure ancestral halls for the summer. [[Next|Week 44]]

In a forest of mixed growth somewhere on the eastern spurs of the Karpathians, a man stood one winter night watching and listening, as though he waited for some beast of the woods to come within the range of his vision, and, later, of his rifle. There was once a queen who had a little daughter, still too young to run alone. Having murdered his brother-in-law, Orrin Brower of Kentucky was a fugitive from justice. In a private room meets a socialite, a thief, and a scholar. [[Next|Week 45]]

A Bat fell to the ground and was caught by a Weasel, and was just going to be killed and eaten when it begged to be let go. This is the first passage. [[Next|Week 46]]

You are the last of the Death Walkers, all the others have either been killed or lost their powers by force... Cedric himself knew nothing whatsoever about it. The first day is cauld-kin. It was nearly bed-time and when they awoke next morning land would be in sight. [[Next|Week 47]]

Sitting at your desk you can't help but to wonder of all the wonderful gifts that will await you under the tree. Inside of a ship, there is a room. No two births are the same. The phone rings. It's not a game. [[Next|Week 48]]

You unwrap the burrito, and holding it in your hands, you take a bite. You are standing in a monastery chapel. You see a robotic Anubis, jackal-headed guardian of the Egyptian underworld, seated on a throne of gold-etched silicon in a hall of dark glass. On December 6th 2014 at 3:16am you finally start crying. [[Next|Week 49]]

You probably shouldn't have pushed that button. You are standing in an enormous hall. The trail to Kalvik leads down from the northward mountains over the tundra which flanks the tide flats, then creeps out upon the salt ice of the river and across to the village. [[Next|End]]

You were here. [[Restart|Start]] [[About]]

//You were here// was compiled and implemented by Joshua Houk from November 2014-January 2015 in Twine 2 for the 8th Annual New Year's Interactive Fiction Event. If you don't also have the accompanying zblorb file, that's available, too. Text comprised of the first sentence of the initial room description (or rough equivalent) of all available interactive fiction releases in the year 2014 as listed in the Interactive Fiction Database [http://ifdb.tads.org/]. For the Twine release, these are listed by chronological order of release, and each page represents a sequential week of the year. Thanks to: 0vr, aarthur9, Devi Acharya, Adri, Aesop, Jufry Ananta, Hans Christian Andersen, Anonymous, Anna Anthropy, M.J. Antonellis, Carolina Arciniegas, Leon Arnott, Sam Kabo Ashwell, avarisclari, Axmill, Michael Baltes, Tom Battey, Rex Beach, Austin Benyo, Dave Bernazzani, Andre Berthiaume, Ambrose Bierce, Rust Blight, Bramble Bobonong, MC Book, Duncan Bowsman, Eric Brasure, Christopher Brent, Bronques, Michael Brough, KT Bryski, Frances Hodgson Burnett, Timothy Butcher, Liam Butler, Jens Byriel, Jeri Caamaño, Nicky Case, Pergola Cavendish, Robert Chambers, Charry, Steph Cherrywell, G. K. Chesterton, Ammore Chicks, chrisamaphone, chrisb184, Simon Christiansen, ClairDeLune, Claire6129, Chad Comeau, Conor, Matthias Conrady, Paul Corriveau, Perry Creel, Guillermo Crespi, Ethan Crosthwaite, Rhino Cyborgs, D.B.T, Cynthia Dawn, Dick Dawson, Robert DeFord, Simon Deimel, Summer Del Mono, Maria del Pangolin, nahuel denegri, Alan DeNiro, Arthur DiBianca, Otis T. Dog, Philip Douglas, Dreischütz, Dana Duffield, Jason Dyer, John Earthling, Barrie Eaton, Mark Eaton, Conrad Elton, Lars Engelmann, MOUNT ENNUI, John Evans, Emilce Fabricio, Jp Fallon, Kiel Farren, Romanos Fasoulis, Father, Fear of Twine, Elena Fedina, finefin, Jerry Ford, Eric Forgeot, Sam Foxall, Joey Fu, Lester Galin, Matthew Gallant, Marisa Gatto, Gazok, Giannis G. Georgiou, Mike Gerwat, Erin Gigglecreek, Harry Giles, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, Lynnea Glasser, Histroy Gloam, Kevin Gold, David Good, Richard Goodness, Dr. Al Gore, David Görzig, GravityPixel, Andrew Gray, Richie Greene, Lindsey Gregor, SJ Griffin, The Brothers Grimm, Chandler Groover, Javy Gwaltney, Michael Hanley, Hannes, Venus Hart, Joyce Hatton, hcgoldsmith, Healy, O. Henry, Gerardo J. Hernandez, Hexfu, Naomi Hinchen, Jonna Hind, H. J. Hoke, Tory Hoke, Jodediah Holems, Ryan E. Holman, Gregor Holtz, Buster Hudson, Lee Hulme, Justin Hurst, Sean Hwang, Snowball Ice, IFforEducation, Gavin Inglis, inkle, Marco Innocenti, Nnamdi Christopher Iroaganachi, A.E. Jackson, jaktube, A.D. Jansen, jatekos101, Meg Jayanth, Nigel Jayne, Kelly Jensen, Jesse, Paul Jessup, Jod, John, Alain Jolicoeur, Elizabeth Jones, E. Joyce, Mike Kale, kaleidofish, Alon Karmi, Kateri, Bharat Khiani, Deirdra "Squinky" Kiai, KimikoMuffin, kiran, Greg Klein, Alexander Klimon, Thorin Klosowski, Carly Kocurek, Alex Kriss, Kristian Kronstrand, Jonas Kyratzes, Hugo Labrande, Lambert Lambert, Amanda Lange, Peter Laskin, Jason Lautzenheiser, lectronice, Yoon Ha Lee, Lee, Simon Leek, Juhana Leinonen, Lepak, Doug Lindsay, lioninthetrees, Rowan Lipkovits, a lost kitten, Luckyskull2, Canis Lupus, michael lutz, Clinton Ma, Jason Mac Innes, Magnetix, Mischa Magyar, malachy_o, MANIAC Studios, Mr. Manpants, David T. Marchand, Matthew Marcus, j. marie, mariza, Chris Martens, W. Somerset Maugham, Tasha McCartney, Jesse McGrew, Jason McIntosh, Ade McT, Megan, Herman Melville, Midnightnoa, Midorix, Mike69420666, Laura Mitchell, Wes Modes, MoLoLu, Geoff Moore, S. Elize Morgan, Katharina Müller, Marius Müller, Mykael, nasserarien, Natrium, natulia, neongrey, Brenda Neotenomie, niinik, Julia Noomen, Royce Odle, Hanon Ondricek, oranebeast, Tia Orisney, Doug Orleans, C.E.J. Pacian, pageboy, Jackson Palmer, PaperBlurt, Glenn Parker, Robot Parking, Entropic Pen, Tony Perriello, Connor Phillips, Andrew Plotkin, Tom Pod, Edgar Allan Poe, Porpentine, Hannah PS, Morgan Rille, Roadcrosser, Steven Robert, Frédéric Robin, Robot, Briar Rose, rosencrantz, Benjamin Roux, SahibdeepNann, Saki, Anastasia Salter, Aleks Samoylov, luis sanchez, Caelyn Sandel, J. Sax, Hannes Schueller, Andrew Schultz, Zachary Sergi, Ben Serviss, B Minus Seven, Shelter UK, Ivaylo Shmilev, Sean M. Shore, Emily Short, Sky, R. Morgan Slade, Rebecca Slitt, Sloane, Snoother, Iblis Snowsdottir, SoftSoft, Claudia Starling, Mæja Stefánsson, steter90, Nicholas Stillman, Stormrose, Strangelander, Dean Svendsen, Syara, Lady Tallhat, D.B. Taylor, Ms. Tea, TheSuperiorRealms, Thomack, TK, Totally Not Satoshi, Trekkie101, Elise Trinh, Tsukareta, tynichole, Unknown, Kent Valentine, Marco Vallarino, Alex Van Pelt, Carolyn VanEseltine, Sebastián Vansteenkiste, T. Y. Vaught, Ryan Veeder, Pieter Verster, Andrew Vestal, vicbrusal, Frédérique Villé, Vo, Vociferocity, Volksbad, Angelique Vordan, Amadeo Voss, Paul Wang, Andrew Watt, Matt Weiner, Ashley Wentz, whoshotjfk?, David Whyld, Gabriel Widing, Phantom Williams, Caleb Wilson, Marshal Tenner Winter, wolfbutler, Wolly Wombat, Peter Wonica, S. Woodson, Zachary Worcester, xavea, Filamena Young, Tyler Zahnke, Vincent Zeng, Oliver Zhang, Zunemi, and Orion Zymaris. Hope y'all don't mind. [[Restart|Start]]

[[You were here.|Week 1]]