FoldingStory is a group storytelling game.
Enter the fold.
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little faces. Wilfred was in a foul mood,which probably meant his diabeetus was acting up again. "I hate staying at Uncle Wilfred's house" whispered Jane, who ducked when a pancake -
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and fired wildly and without restraint. The neurons had slept too long, and this fold was just in the wrong place at the right time. Peter's ennui was blasted from the page -
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the narrow passage on the ceiling, trying to escape. The female zombies bellowed beneath him as he crawled towards freedom, until he felt a bony hand grasp his boot -
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Detective Manatee was hovering right outside, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Hmmm," he mused. "I wonder if..." He took a few more notes & swam off...to confront the killer.
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"I was 25 years old when I died for the first time" - he thought, looking through the glass. "And yet, I remember every detail - as it was yesterday". The red wine really got him