FoldingStory is a group storytelling game.
Enter the fold.
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Instanbul Night 3: Went to a Hamam.My flea infestation is gone but so is my tattoo. The scrubbing took off more than dead skin.Ouch! Noone wants my electric blankets. Cash is low. -
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"That I'm rich! Uh, I mean... nothing." Doc recorded me repeating all my dreams, and excused himself. I overheard him call a smut publishing firm. Big sums were bandied about. Hey! -
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nuns from around the world "liking" his assets, much to his chagrin. Why, he couldn't even step foot in a church without a nun approaching him for his autograph. Twas a bad habit. -
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a taker, not a giver. You NEVER vote for my folds, you slacker!" The voice from his computer screen pouted. "Let's make a deal, shall we? Write one decent fold, just ONE, & I'll
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roscope, Dr. Destructo tapped on his shoulder. "Mike," he said with a sympathetic sigh, "disco is long dead. And you're in the lab..." The realization that it was no longer 1977