The high fence of the very real, and very intimidating Dog Park crackles and pops with barely leashed electricity. You see a shadow beyond the gate… a hooded figure?



Footsteps, and before you can turn, a black bag slips over your head. You hear familiar sirens and then…



[[Nothing.|dp death]]

<<stopsound "nvimages/growl.mp3">>

Few dare approach the miniature underground city that grows in the caverns underneath lane 5. Even fewer return.



<ul><li>[[Descend into the city.|descend]]</li><li>[[Turn back.|bowling]]</li></ul>

<<replace "Play a drumbeat, a heartbeat.">><<sheart>> <<h>><<endreplace>>

In the end, it’s almost too easy. The News falls for the baited trap, unable to resist the ripped up headlines you’d scribbled onto spare printer paper.



One false move by a clicking claw and the trap springs. Your scout master would be proud.



Getting it back to the station becomes a simple matter of avoiding the spikes and the claws and the acid that try to peek through the trap. Simple.



But you make it, and lock it into a fresh box, and smile, knowing that The News will only ever terrorize Night Vale again in a controlled and scheduled manner, [[as it should be.|ending]]

It is your first day as an Intern at the Night Vale Community Radio Station. You know it may be your last. But the show can’t proceed as normal until you recapture The News.



It used to be kept in The Newsroom, behind a propped-up mop, under a bristling pile of headlines, and locked inside a steel box.



But the mop has been knocked over, the headlines are scattered, and the box still has acid burns dripping down its side. There are no other clues as to its whereabouts.



It seems that if the show is to go on, it is time for some [[investigative journalism.|station]]

Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.



You know that investigative journalism involves some risky things, but there’s risky and then there’s <em>librarians</em>. You’ll look for clues elsewhere.



[[Back|nv hub]]

And all is as it should be.



The News is locked away, and you’ve completed your first task as Night Vale Radio Intern.



Good Job!



Now, you almost feel ready to handle anything life can throw at you, or pitch at you, or catapult towards you.



Stay tuned next for the final click of a mouse, and the melancholy which comes when an adventure has ended.



And as always — no matter the medium — Goodnight, Night Vale.



[[Goodnight.|credits]]

<<if $steve>>He seems to be enjoying his slice of invisible pie. You decide to leave him alone since he was so useless before. Good choice, <<$name>>.



[[Back|diner]]<<else>> <span class="dial">“Oh hey there <<$name>>, out on an errand for Cecil today?”</span> Steve asks, even though you’re obviously wearing your intern tunic.



You look around the diner again. There is no one else here you can [[question.|steve q]]<<endif>>

<h1>INVESTIGATIVE JOURNALISM

<span class="s"> A WELCOME TO NIGHT VALE FAN GAME</span></h1>

Input your name to start: <<textinput $name [[BEGIN|intro]] >>







Fan-Made by <a href="http://astriddalmady.com/" target="_blank">Astrid Dalmady</a>

[[Additional Credits|credits]]



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To the family of intern <<$name>>, we regret to inform you that <<$name>> has been lost to forces beyond our control. The only evidence of their existence left to us is the high-pitched, unending scream that now fills the hallway outside of Station Management’s office.



And though <<$name>>’s time in community radio was short, their scream is long. They will not be forgotten.





<ul><li>[[Make a different choice.|manage door]]</li><li>[[End it here.|credits]]</li></ul>

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You stand outside my recording booth. I wave. You wave back. I blink twice, shake my head and swallow the secrets that were trying to slither their way up my throat.



In short, I don’t know anything about where The News might have gone. Sorry, <<$name>>!



[[Back|station]]

Walking past computers you don’t dare use, you remind yourself of the skills you will need for your upcoming encounter: The 5 W’s of Investigative Journalism.



Who?

Where?

When?

Why?

and

[[What was <em>that?</em>|net 3]]

A soft hissing, the patter of exoskeleton on linoleum, and the steady rhythm of transitional graphics. The sounds of The News echo strangely inside the Internet cafe.

And you can hear it getting louder.



Although you have been looking for it, The News is now coming to you.



<ul><li>[[Try and Chase Down The News.|run]]</li><li>[[Try and Trap the News.|trap]]</li><li>[[Try to Reason with The News.|reason]]</li></ul>

Journalism is all about the leg work, and your legs are working overtime. They must in order to keep up with The News.



It turns a corner. You follow. Another. Blood pounds in your ears, in your legs, as you force your body towards its limits.



The line between chasing and being chased begins to blur as you dodge a razor sharp feeler, or try to grasp at a furred appendage.



But the chase continues, and as you begin to run for your life, I take you now [[to the weather.|weather]]

The City Council would like to remind everyone to not go near the Dog Park. Dogs are not allowed in the Dog Park. People are not allowed in the Dog Park. Intern <<$name>> is <em>definitely</em> not allowed in the Dog Park.



<ul><li>[[Turn Back.|nv hub]]</li><li>[[Keep approaching the Dog Park.|dp 2]]</li></ul>

Seeing as authorization from the City Council is needed to use a computer, the Downtown Internet Cafe is rather empty at this hour, and at all other hours.



Comforting posters say things like<span class="dial"> “All Connections Are Illusions!” </span> and <span class="dial"> “Surf the World Wide Web!”</span> gently into your ear. In one corner, a blank wall gives way to the [[Passport Photo section|passport]]. There used to be a poster here, but it’s been ripped and melted beyond recognition.



In front of you, [[computer|computer]] desks stretch back, rows upon rows of empty computers fading into the distance as they curve and twist into what appear to be a series of tubes, or [[tunnels|tunnels]].

<<replace "Stop a feral growl.">><<pgrowl>> <<gs>><<endreplace>>

The beings look at you with their many eyes. They look around you, and beneath you, and through you and within you. They see all you have been, all that you are, all that you will never be.



<span class="dial"> “Sorry,”</span> One of them says, wrapping up their turn with a perfect split. <span class="dial">“But we’ve been pretty focused on the game.”</span>

The other beings nod, dark yet incandescent.



You nod back. Bowling is important, and they are inconceivable, so it seems the best course of action.



<ul><<if $josie is false>><li>[[Ask Josie about The News instead.|ask josie]]</li><<endif>><li>[[No More Questions.|bowling]]</li></ul>

<<stopallsound>><<if visited("run")>><<goto "capture run">><<else>><<goto "capture trap">><<endif>>

You grip the handle, and open the fridge. You sweat as the cool air flows out, colliding with the hot desert air in ways that nature never intended.



<<if $ant>>The half-eaten tuna sandwich has mostly melted by now. There is no more evidence here.



[[Back|break]]

<<else>>Inside the fridge, the bite of acid is stronger. A half-eaten tuna sandwich (wheat-free, of course) is dripping with it, as if somehow the sandwich managed to fight back against its predator and claim a lone antenna as its prize.



You recognize the antenna as one of the many broadcast feelers of The News. It oozes with slime and mayonnaise.



<ul><li>[[Grab the antenna as a clue.|grab]]</li></ul><<endif>>

<<stopsound "nvimages/radio.mp3">>

Returning to the scene of the crime runs contrary to everything you’ve ever learned about investigative journalism, but desperate times call for desperate measures.



The mop that once balanced on The News box has toppled over and melted into pulp. There is a hole in the wall, but nothing you can follow.



Still, to have eaten through steel, The News must have been <em> very </em>hungry.



[[Back|station]]

<<replace "Stop a drumbeat, a heartbeat.">><<pheart>> <<hs>><<endreplace>>

I don’t even know what you’re walking towards. Dog Park? Pffft. There’s no Dog Park. What’s a Dog Park?



<ul><li>[[Turn Back.|nv hub]]</li><li>[[Keep going.|dp 3]]</li></ul>

<<replace "Play a high chance of radio.">><<sradio>> <<r>><<endreplace>>

<<stopsound "nvimages/thunder.mp3">>

The microwave clock blinks at you.



<div class="blink blink-infinite">12:00</div>



You don’t know why you expect it to change. It doesn’t. It never will. Time, after all, doesn’t even work in Night Vale.



Or maybe no one has set the clock yet. Either one.



[[Back|break]]

<<replace "Stop the rolling of thunder.">><<pthunder>> <<ts>><<endreplace>>

Downtown Night Vale is the bustling, beating, bleeding heart of our little town. It houses the many important buildings like The Downtown Convention Center, The Downtown Dentistry Museum and the Downtown Bloodstone Circle.



However, the antenna you found is tuned to only one place, and that is the new [[Downtown Internet Cafe|cafe]].

The sun is bright. You shade your eyes from its fearsome glow as you step outside the radio station.



<<if $ant>>You’ve found all you need to there. [[All journalists must someday leave the nest.|nv hub]]<<else>>You’ll come back to the station later to finish finding the clues. [[Assuming you survive that long.|nv hub]]<<endif>>

Clues as to the disappearance of The News could be scattered anywhere throughout the station. It’d be best to look closely for anything you could find.



But not too closely, of course.



You can search for clues in [[the recording booth|booth]], [[the break room|break]], [[the Station Oracle|oracle]], [[the Newsroom|newsroom]], or ask [[Station Management|manage door]].



Or, you could [[leave the station|outside]] and search for clues elsewhere.

The neon lights of the bowling alley fade into insignificance as you descend into the caverns below lane 5. The light of the tiny city below is barely enough to see by.



You don’t smell acid, or the whiff of tragedy and newsprint, so The News must not have come by here.



You turn to leave, only to find the rope you used to climb down has been cut. You gulp, seeing tiny shadows flicker [[right outside your field of view.|cave death]]

A corner of the poster remains, a patch of sky and the letters “SV”. The rest is mangled, lost forever to the rage of The News. The breed that escaped must have been a local variety; they never get along with the International News.



[[Back|cafe]]

<<loopsound "nvimages/thunder.mp3">>

You outline the facts: The News belongs at the radio station, it will only be hunted out here. You present all the arguments in a logical and concise way.



But The News is a bundle of a legs and claws and outrage and unshakeable belief in things that are not facts. The News can not be reasoned with, but you realize this [[too late.|reason death]]

Investigative Journalism: A Welcome to Night Vale Fan Game

You write a note for them: a detailed, yet concise report stuffed onto a single yellow square. The note slides smoothly under the crack, and <<continue "you wait.">>you wait.



The door cracks open, darkness roiling with disappointment. A chill descends your spine, one vertebra at a time as you realize [[you forgot to fill the note out in triplicate.|manage death]]

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The <span class="light">light colored links</span> let you explore.



The <span class="dark">dark purple links</span> mark your decisions.



The invisible links lead to the Secret Government Websites, of which you should pretend to know nothing.



[[Welcome to Night Vale.|mission]]

The jukebox glows with the same mint-green light that illuminates the sign outside. Inside, you see several records, and several things of which there are no records. You look at the song choices to make sure that the 25 cent investment would be worth changing the music.



[[Change the song to Last Christmas, You Ripped Out My Heart|diner][$song = "Last Christmas, You Ripped Out My Heart"]]

[[Change the song to Shut Up and Dance, or Else|diner][$song = "Shut Up and Dance, or Else"]]

[[Change the song to Escalator to the Void|diner][$song = "Escalator to the Void"]]

[[Change the song to Please Stop Believing|diner][$song = "Please Stop Believing"]]

[[Change the song to MMMBop|diner][$song = "MMMBop"]]

You step towards what seems to be the endless passageways of the internet. It branches off in every which way, tables curved and placed as to separate you from the rest of the cafe by a wall of circuitry and screen savers.



The acid has melted through the floor. The News is Here.



<ul><li>[[Explore the Internet Cafe.|net]]</li><li>[[Head back to the front.|cafe]]</li></ul>

Night Vale sprawls out in front of you. It reeks of sand, and blood, and finite possibilities.



Your keen reporting instincts, and the caustic trail The News has left, narrow down your options as to where to search for clues. Not all of them will be fruitful, most all will be dangerous. Such is the life of a reporter.



<<clues>>



[[Return to the Night Vale Community Radio Station|station]]

[[Investigate the Moonlite All-Nite Diner|diner]]

[[Investigate the Night Vale Public Library|library]]

[[Investigate the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex|bowling]]

[[Investigate the Dog Park|dog park]]

<<if $ant AND $josie AND $steve>> <ul><li>[[Make Your Way Downtown|traffic]]</li></ul><<endif>>

Josie listens patiently to your questions. Has she seen anything? Yes. Anything unusual? Also yes. It is only when you mention The News specifically that she reveals anything you previously did not know.



<span class="dial">“Don’t know much about The News, but The Night Vale Daily Journal has been up in arms about some new construction downtown. The angels read me the Imaginary edition every night.”</span>



Somehow your mind flags this information as important as it filters out all the other hundreds of sights and sounds and smells as insignificant. You thank her for the information by choosing not to mention that angels aren’t real.<<set $josie to true>>



<ul><<if visited("ask angels") is false>><li>[[Ask the beings that are definitely not angels about The News.|ask angels]]</li><<endif>><li>[[No More Questions.|bowling]]</li></ul>

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<<stopsound "nvimages/heart.mp3">>

<<replace "Play a feral growl.">><<sgrowl>> <<g>><<endreplace>>

The break room fridge is white and with a [[dingy yellow handle|fridge inside]]. Someone at one point tried to spell out a warning in magnets across its front, but they obviously ran out of letters.



<span class="dial">"BEWAR3"</span>, it reads. You’re not sure if you can take it seriously like that.



[[Back|break]]

In the end, your humanity is your advantage. While The News is faster, stronger, deadlier at first glance, as a human you can outlast it. You can endure.



You follow it, unrelenting, unceasing. At times, it turns and tries to attack, but you evade it, and then follow again. It knows it is being hunted, and eventually, it collapses, unable to run any more.



Getting it back to the station becomes a simple matter of avoiding the spikes and the claws and the acid. Simple.



But you make it, and lock it into a fresh box, and smile, knowing that The News will only ever terrorize Night Vale again in a controlled and scheduled manner, [[as it should be.|ending]]

The break room is where all present, past, future, and non-future employees of Night Vale Community Radio come to relax and have a snack before they get caught by Station Management.



There’s a slight burn of acid in the air near [[the fridge|fridge]] and [[the microwave|microwave]], but you can’t tell if its just the scent of a normal refrigerator or a sign that The News scuttled its way through the break room.



You can either take a closer look, or [[keep looking around the station.|station]]

Thank you for playing

<h1>INVESTIGATIVE JOURNALISM



<a href="javascript:history.go(0)">Back to the Main Menu</a></h1>

Welcome to Night Vale is a production of <a href="http://www.welcometonightvale.com/" target="_blank">Night Vale Presents</a>



<div class="col">If you enjoyed this game, please consider checking out my original games <a href="http://astriddalmady.com/" target="_blank">here</a>, or following me on <a href="http://dastridly.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">tumblr</a> or <a href="https://twitter.com/dastridly" target="_blank">twitter.</a>

A huge thank you to Nat, Sierra, Michael and Melanie for helping me edit the game,

and to <a href="https://www.patreon.com/dastridly?ty=h" target="_blank">my Patreon patron</a> Some Strange Circus for helping to support my original work.



Made in <a href="http://twinery.org/" target="_blank">Twine</a>

Twine Macros from <a href="http://www.glorioustrainwrecks.com/" target="_blank">Glorious Trainwrecks</a>

Sounds from <a href="http://www.freesound.org/" target="_blank">Freesound.org</a>

</div>





Our sincerest condolences to the family and friends of intern <<$name>>. We take comfort in these final moments that we are allowed to speak of them, before all record of <<$name>> is stricken from Night Vale records and memory.



They will be missed with the same vague sense of nostalgia felt towards a place you’ve never actually visited.



<ul><li>[[Make a different choice.|nv hub]]</li><li>[[End it here.|credits]]</li></ul>

It has been a week since intern <<$name>> was last seen climbing down into the caverns below lane 5. No rescue attempts have been made, but we’ve all agreed that it’s best just not to think about it. Our hearts reach out to their friends and family.



<ul><li>[[Make a different choice.|lane 5]]</li><li>[[End it here.|credits]]</li></ul>

And now for today’s traffic.

Every day we make <<continue "choices.">>choices.

Big choices, <<continue "life changing choices.">>life changing choices.

You might think that the choice you made last night of what to eat for dinner was a small choice, but <<continue "you don’t know that.">>you don’t know that.

<<continue "You don’t know anything.">>You don’t know anything.

That is, in fact, <<continue "the only thing you might know.">>the only thing you might know.

It is the only nugget of truth you can cling to when the world asks you questions you barely understand, and expects answers that are <<continue "beyond all of us.">>beyond all of us.

Questions like: Who am I? Where am I? Does this shirt look nice? <<continue "What even is a mountain?">>What even <em>is</em> a mountain?

The world will ask this of you, but take comfort in the fact that you can always answer:

<<continue "I don’t know.">>I don’t know.

And <<continue "make a choice anyway.">>make a choice anyway.

This has been [[traffic.|downtown]]

The new Downtown Internet Cafe is closed for the foreseeable future after The News destroyed most of the computers there.



And to the friends and family of intern <<$name>>, whose remains were found within the store, we offer our condolences.



It seems that both flesh and circuits have trouble handling the type of concentrated vitriol The News can produce, especially when said vitriol is acid strong enough to melt steel.



<ul><li>[[Make a different choice.|net 3]]</li><li>[[End it here.|credits]]</li></ul>

<<replace "Play the rolling of thunder.">><<sthunder>> <<t>><<endreplace>>

<<nobr>><<if $ant AND $josie AND $steve>>You have all you need now. The News is definitely downtown.<<elseif $ant AND ($josie OR $steve)>>

Physical evidence: check. Wild speculation on part of a local townsperson: check. This would usually be enough, but gas is pretty expensive now, and an additional source would save you some cash.<<elseif $ant>>

You have the antenna, but little else. Maybe someone, somewhere saw something, somewhere.<<elseif $josie OR $steve>>

You have a hint as to where The News might have gone, but journalism is about more than just wild speculation. It needs body parts, and additional sources.<<else>>

You don’t have a single lead. The News must have left something you could follow.<<endif>><<endnobr>>

Old Woman Josie is polishing a large bowling ball when you approach her. The finger holes look much too big to fit her hands, so it must belong to one of the many winged beings that surround her. Funny, you didn’t know they played too.



<<if $josie AND visited("ask angels")>>You've already got the information you need from them though, so you should leave them to their game. It seems like Josie is on a roll.



[[Back|bowling]]<<else>><ul><li>[[Ask Josie about The News.|ask josie]]</li><li>[[Ask the beings that are definitely not angels about The News.|ask angels]]</li></ul><<endif>>

There is something about the Internet Cafe that sets you on edge. Perhaps it reminds you too much of the library, with its silence and easy access to information. But you are a journalist, and you <em> will </em> find the news.



The vague feeling of unease only gets worse when you’re faced with a fork in the road, both paths showing evidence of The News.



<ul><li>[[Turn Left.|net 2]]</li><li>[[Turn Right.|net 2]]</li></ul>

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The Moonlite All-Nite diner is the best place in Night Vale if you want to have a slice of invisible pie.



It is also the only place in Night Vale where you can buy invisible pie, so that works out well.



The diner is almost empty, as it usually is after the breakfast rush and before the lunch stampede. A [[jukebox|jukebox]] fills the silence with that classic song “<<$song>>”.



You found oozing splatters outside, but the staff says they saw nothing, as per regulation. There is only one other person in the diner you could ask, but he’s always wrong and you should really just ignore anything that <em>[[Steve Carlsberg|steve]]</em> has to say.



[[Back to Night Vale|nv hub]]

<<loopsound "nvimages/growl.mp3">>

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A shadow undulates behind frosted glass as you approach the door labeled Station Management.



Uncertainty grips you: uncertainty over your choices in employment, uncertainty over your choices in existence, uncertainty over what it is that’s <em>actually</em> gripping you.



<ul><li>[[Approach the door, and tell them The News is missing.|manage shout]]</li><li>[[Go back to examining the rest of the station.|station]]</li></ul>

<<loopsound "nvimages/heart.mp3">>

Today, the weather comes to you with a click, and a rush of sound.



<<pradio>>

<<pthunder>>

<<pheart>>

<<pgrowl>>

<<silence>>









[[End the Weather.|capture]]

He nods and takes a bite of invisible pie as you question him on whether or not he’s seen The News. He, as you should have known, is less than helpful.



<span class="dial">“Sorry, but I don’t really pay much attention to The News. It seems like it’s all gloom and doom and doom and doom and doom nowadays.”</span>



You turn, but he continues, <span class="dial"> “I did see some kind of trail out back though. Seemed to lead towards Downtown. Might be worth looking into.”</span>



You thank him with more eagerness than you should for such a paltry clue. Really, intern <<$name>>, did you have to question <em>him?</em><<set $steve to true>>



[[Back|diner]]

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Any macros in this passage will be run before the Start passage (or any passage you wish to Test Play) is run. %/



<<set $song to "Last Christmas, You Ripped Out My Heart">>

<<set $name to "[NAME REDACTED]">>

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<<loopsound "nvimages/radio.mp3">>

Your scout master told you that earning your “Trapping That Which Seeks You” badge would come in handy later in life, and you’re glad you listened.



The knowledge you gained hunched over a scented campfire is what lets you build a trap now, cobbled together from pamphlets and mice.



You set it and wait.



You are good at waiting. The majority of your life has been waiting. In line, for people, for lowercase news. The practice serves you well as you fold yourself neatly under one of the desks, keeping your line of sight clear.



And as you crouch and huddle and <em>wait</em>, I take you now [[to the weather.|weather]]

The Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex is Night Vale’s premiere location for food, fun, and miniature underground societies ready to wage war on the world above.



The crashing of pins echoes through the complex, as many people are getting some practice in before the weekly bowling league. [[Lane 5|lane 5]], as usual, is empty.



[[Old Woman Josie|josie]], who lives out near The Car Lot, is down by lane 13 along with several winged beings that certainly are not angels.



[[Back to Night Vale|nv hub]]

You enter the storage closet where the Station Oracle sleeps and ask if they know anything about The News.



“{{{01010100 01101000 01100101 01110010 01100101 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01101110 01101111 00100000 01100110 01110101 01110100 01110101 01110010 01100101 00101110 00100000 01010100 01101000 01100101 01110010 01100101 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01101111 01101110 01101100 01111001 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01110110 01101111 01101001 01100100 00101110}}}”, they reply.



You already knew that. Somehow you imagined they’d be more helpful.



[[Leave the Oracle.|station]]

Astrid Dalmday

The corrosive slime stings your fingers, burning off your fingerprints with a sizzle. A part of your identity slips away into the void.



You store the antenna in a freezer safe bag you find. It will surely help you track down The News.



<span class="dial">You have gained a clue.</span><<set $ant to true>>



[[Back|break]]

There is a different screen saver on every single monitor in the Internet Cafe. Some are static images of memories you almost forgot, some are lines moving in patterns you recognize from maps and dreams. Some computers are turned off, and their screens ripple and sway from disuse.



None have been damaged by The News, even if keyboards and tables melt in its trail. The screen savers are certainly doing their job correctly.



[[Back|cafe]]

<<replace "Enforce Silence.">><<silence>><<stopallsound>><<endreplace>>