Choose Your Own Adventure- Every Path Leads to the Bear

This is a Choose Your Own Adventure roleplay.

The complete master text appears farther down this post solely for judging and word-count purposes. Because that version contains every possible branch and ending, it includes spoilers and is not the intended reading experience.

CLICK HERE FOR THE OFFICIAL ROLEPLAY

COMPLETE MASTER TEXT

The material below contains every branch and ending of the roleplay and is included only for judging and complete word-count verification.

Spoilers begin below.

---

You have just left Nathan Lake and his mother beneath the vaulted ceilings of the Detroit Institute of Arts.

Amy Lake tested you with the Miracle on Ice. You survived. More importantly, you told her that Nathan would be safe. Not because Ivan Stnaislav would protect him, but because Nahtan had proved capable of protecting himself. He reached the summit of the Aggro Crag. He sacrificed for the collective. He earned your respect.

You left him behind with a crumpled museum map in your hand, searching for Caravaggio’s Models: Friends, Lovers, Rivals.

The map has already betrayed you.

YOU ARE ALONE NOW

Your destination is Caravaggio’s Models: Friends, Lovers, Rivals. The title alone is suspicious, but the museum map insists the exhibition lies ahead.

Amy’s laughter follows you through the corridor. Then Nathan’s voice. Then neither.

One second. Two. Five.

You count how long it takes before you can no longer hear them. You have no reason to count.

The map directs you forward. The sign above the next doorway reads: “EUROPEAN ARMS AND ARMOR.”

Perhaps the exhibitions connect? Perhaps the museum is irrationally organized? Perhaps Americans are simply incapable of drawing a useful map?

Beyond the doorway, filtered light shines upon steel that will outlive anyone.

Even you.

You’re alone now.

WHAT DO YOU DO?

Return to Nathan and Amy and ask for directions.

Continue into the military exhibition. It is probably a shortcut.

—

RETURN TO NATHAN AND AMY

You turn around.

No.

You have praised Nathan’s resolve, explained the importance of unity, and assured his mother that her son can protect himself.

You will not return thirty seconds later because you cannot interpret a map. You will not interrupt the sacred moments between mother and son.

The map is wrong. You’ll make it right.

Continue into the military exhibition.

—

CONTINUE INTO THE MILITARY EXHIBITION

The Two Swords of Grunwald

Two swords rest inside the glass case. Neither is beautiful. The blades are broad and darkened. Hilts made from iron, leather, and wood. No gemstones. No filigree. Weapons made for work.

You approve.

The placard tells a simple story.

King Władysław Jagiełło and Grand Duke Vytautas had once been rivals. When the Teutonic Order threatened them both, they joined their armies.

Before battle, their enemy sent them two bare swords as an insult.

One for each man.

They accepted and together, they won.

The alliance survived the battlefield, though neither man surrendered his own ambitions. Russian authorities confiscated the swords where they disappeared, centuries later.

These are just replicas.

History is more interesting to you when Russia is involved. The Aggro Crag rises in your memory. Nathan reached the summit. You saw his hand close around victory. Immunity became his.

You were pleased. More than that. You were proud.

One sword for Nathan Lake.

One sword for Ivan Stanislav.

For one round, you both, collectively, succeeded.

The museum tells you what both men won together. But it doesn’t tell you what either planned to do afterwards.

WHAT DOES THEIR HISTORY PROVE?

Shared victory can make rivals into comrades.

Victory only postpones the next rivalry.

—

SHARED VICTORY CAN MAKE RIVALS INTO COMRADES

Common purpose is all that's required. Perhaps comradeship doesn't always precede struggle. Perhaps struggle creates it.

Nathan's victory didn't weaken your position. It strengthened what you two had built.

He was your comrade. The word fits more comfortably than friend.

You think of Jagiełło and Vytautas, centuries dead, remembered together on a single placard because they chose, once, not to be enemies. No one asked if they liked each other. No one needed to.

Perhaps that is enough.

Perhaps it has to be.

You move on.

—

VICTORY ONLY POSTPONES THE NEXT RIVALRY

The swords were a gift only because the giver expected them returned, eventually, through someone's ribs.

You recognize this selfish sentiment.

An alliance is not an ending. It is a delay.

Jagiełło and Vytautas won together and returned to separate courts, separate ambitions, and an alliance that never erased the border between them.

Only one man leaves Survivor victorious.

You do not resent this fact. You have always known it. Knowing it early is not betrayal. It is preparation.

Both swords sit behind glass, unable to answer you. Wielded once, by men no longer available for comment.

You move on.

—

THE MASKED KNIGHT

The case is smaller than the others. A tournament helm, full-face, the visor shaped into something between a snarl and a grin. The placard calls it ceremonial. You doubt that. Ceremonial things do not survive centuries with dents this specific.

You know this shape of face, even blind and rusted. You have stood across a ring from something like it.

The Anglo Luchador does not trouble your thinking the way Nathan does. There is a mercy in that you rarely name. He has never once pretended to be anything other than what he is. Hatred, at least, files its paperwork on time.

Still, the helm holds you a moment longer than it should.

WHAT DO YOU DO?

Say something to the helmet you would never say to his face.

Find him. Swallow your pride. Offer what you would never offer in the ring.

Ask yourself, honestly, why an enemy is easier to trust than a friend.

—

SAY SOMETHING TO THE HELMET

No.

The helmet is not The Anglo Luchador.

It has done nothing to earn your anger.

Choose again.

—

GO FIND HIM

You know he’s around.

No.

You have had years to speak with him. Another conversation would invite you to hate him more.

Choose again.

—

ASK YOURSELF WHY

Why is an enemy easier to trust than a friend?

No.

The question is dishonest.

You do not trust The Anglo Luchador.

You trust him to remain what he has always been.

There is a difference.

Continue without him.

—

THE HECKLER

You leave the masked helm behind and nearly collide with a man wearing a PRIME sweatshirt. He’s younger than you, though most people are. His phone is already raised, its camera fixed upon your face. He stares at you with hatred in his eyes and holds his phone like it somehow eclipses your own power.

“Of all the PRIME superstars I could bump into, it had to be Ivan -fucking- Stanislav!” His words aren’t pleased. Not that you’d expect otherwise. Just another slovenly, foolish American.

WHAT DO YOU DO?

Throw him through the nearest wall.

Red Scare him into the stratosphere.

Walk away.

—

THROW HIM THROUGH THE NEAREST WALL

You’ve thrown enough people through walls to know the distance and trajectory like the back of your hand. The nearest wall is twelve feet away. The distance is not difficult at all. You take hold of his sweatshirt and pants, lift him from the floor, and propel him through the masonry like an afterthought.

Unfortunately, the wall isn’t masonry.

It is a temporary partition concealing the museum’s educational program for children.

The man passes through painted wood, insulation, and a mural depicting the daily life of a medieval village. He flies into a room filled with fourth graders wearing paper crowns and tabards. His flight ends upon a replica throne, where he lands upside down.

For a second, no one speaks. And then?

The children applaud you as their new king.

You have now become the one thing you’ve loathed the most: an imperialist king with a gaggle of little sycophants.

You’re no better than Lindsay Troy.

BAD ENDING: YOU’VE BECOME WHAT YOU’VE ALWAYS FEARED.

Return to the previous choice.

—

RED SCARE HIM INTO THE STRATOSPHERE

The Red Scare has ended worse men than this.

You seize him by the throat, twist him into position, and launch him upward. He strikes the ceiling with a hollow thud and crashes near your feet.

Silence consumes the gallery. The man lies motionless.

Then, he sits upright. He stares upward in religious awe.

“That… was incredible.”

You stare at him.

He scrambles to his feet with an enthusiasm unaffected by his recent impact. “You actually Red Scared me! Ivan Stanislav Red Scared me!!”

The contempt has vanished in his voice and he looks up at you with the adoration of a child meeting a beloved hero.

“Can you do it again?”

No.

“Please?”

No.

He takes selfies, demands an autograph, and declares The Red Army the greatest faction in wrestling.

You converted him. Not through education, struggle, or ideological awakening. You have taken a loud American fool, driven him into a museum ceiling, and produced a loyal supporter.

Everything becomes clear. Your speeches were unnecessary. The articles, interviews, propaganda, and sacrifice? Wasted. Workers don’t need consciousness.

They need suplexes.

You release a long, defeated breath as the man asks if you will Red Scare his wife.

You leave the museum. Withdraw from Universal Survivor. Retire. Without opponents to hate you, what’s the point?

The American later establishes the Detroit chapter of the Red Army Fan Club. Membership reaches four hundred within a month.

BAD ENDING: YOU HAVE NOTHING LEFT TO PROVE.

Return to the previous choice.

—

WALK AWAY

You keep walking.

The man calls something after you, but you refuse to turn around. Restraint is discipline. Besides, who knows what might happen if you choose to put him in his place.

You enter the next gallery.

—

THE OATH

You arrive in the next gallery.

The few people present in this room part and move away from you, both awed and frightened by your appearance. Before you is a display with no weapon, but rather a piece of vellum held in glass. Two signatures appear at the bottom.

The placard identifies the document as an oath of mutual defense sworn between two noblemen before a military campaign. Each promised to protect one another from outside threats.

No declarations of love. No insistence that either man can trust one another without reservation. The oath describes obligations, conditions, and consequences. It assumes loyalty.

You consider Nathan Lake once more, now fully committed to ignoring the Luchador.

WHAT DO YOU DO?

Believe in Nathan Lake.

Decide What Nathan Lake Would Have to Promise.

—

BELIEVE IN NATHAN LAKE

Nathan has given you no reason to distrust him. Despite your reputation and the warnings of others, he taught you about the Aggro Crag without ridicule and stood beside you when the Luchador and Lemieux abandoned the collective. Lake believed in you. Belief is not blindness. It is judging a man by what he has done, and Nathan has done well by you.

You allow the thought to remain undisturbed. It lives, within you, for several moments.

Then, another arrives. Old and intrusive.

Belief should endure pressure.

Anyone can appear loyal when loyalty is rewarded. Bryan Dawkins did. Nathan has not yet been asked to choose between your survival and his own, or between comradeship and victory.

This isn’t Nathan’s fault, but it still hasn’t been proven.

Untested armor is decoration. The oath becomes appealing, not because Nathan failed, but because it might protect you both from what comes next.

Stand beside one another while the alliance remains useful.

No.

Stand beside one another until the end.

No. There can be only one Survivor.

Stand beside one another until standing together becomes impossible.

Continue.

—

DECIDE WHAT NATHAN LAKE WOULD HAVE TO PROMISE

For the oath to work, conditions have to be made. From Nathan.

The first promise is simple: Nathan must not turn against you. He must not place his individual advancement above the collective success of the alliance.

He must defend the alliance when others challenge it. He must offer warning when danger approaches. He must remain loyal even when it becomes inconvenient. He cannot allow private ambition to undermine your hard work.

You wonder if you’re expecting too much from Nathan. Would you be able to make the same concessions to him? Does this, in some respect, place him beneath you?

The distinction and recognition troubles you, but it’s not enough to dismiss your expectation.

Continue.

—

THE EMPEROR

The oath left you with an uncomfortable recognition. You wished to determine whether Nathan Lake could become a trusted friend, and instead drafted “terms” for such a friendship. You distract yourself, seeing a large stand beside the entrance to the next gallery.

“MEET THE EMPEROR”

At last, something straightforward.

You have never cared for hereditary rulers, or any other parasite who mistakes ancestry for qualification. Still, an emperor belongs in a museum. You expect armor, a throne, perhaps an elaborate portrait.

The temperature drops as you pass through the doorway, ducking underneath the doorframe.

Artificial snow decorates the walls. Painted glaciers stretch toward a blue horizon while recordings of Antarctic wind blow through hidden speakers.

Inside stands an emperor penguin.

It turns its head.

It sees you.

You stop.

Penguins have defeated you before. Once by snow globe. Once by pinfall. Rage and illogical fear well up inside of you.

The museum director smiles in your direction. “Would you like to come closer? His name is Winston. He’s a special attraction from the Detroit Zoo!”

The penguin continues staring. If you believed in souls, you’d think he had found yours.

“He does that with everyone,” she adds.

WHAT DO YOU DO?

Attack the penguin.

Run away screaming.

Do not make eye contact and walk away.

—

ATTACK THE PENGUIN

You will not be defeated a third time.

The employee mistakes your advance for enthusiasm and opens the enclosure. Children gather as Winston waddles forward, protected by public opinion and international conservation law.

You point down at the foul creature.

“This ends today.”

Winston blinks.

The penguin advances with short, deliberate steps, rocking from side to side.

You strike first.

The attack never reaches him. Your boot lands upon a frozen fish. Your right leg travels forward while the rest leaves the world behind. You crash onto your back with enough force to dislodge artificial snow and topple a cardboard glacier.

Winston smells blood and does not hesitate. He flops onto your chest, across your shoulders, and spreads his wings.

The nearby children begin counting.

“ONE!”

You attempt to rise, but he’s too powerful.

“TWO!”

The museum employees could intervene, but they dare not anger Winston.

“THREE!!”

The children erupt into celebration while Winston, with a knowing glint in his beady avian eyes, climbs off of you.

Winston is declared PRIME Intense Champion. All will fold before him.

You retire.

BAD ENDING: THE EMPEROR IS STILL CHAMPION

Return to the previous choice.

—

RUN AWAY

There is no time for dignity. Winston sees you. You turn and run.

Dramatically.

Your boots hammer the floor as a sustained note of pure animal terror erupts from your chest.

Families scatter while Winston watches with the satisfaction of a predator who knows pursuit is unnecessary.

You reach the doorway, but it’s too small.

You crash through the surrounding wall in the adjoining gallery in an avalanche of drywall, timber, insulation, and several information panels concerning medieval agricultural practices. You continue running through a display of feudal farming tools, destroy a replica peasant cottage, and emerge through a second wall into the museum gift shop.

Your screaming never stops.

You flee the building wearing a replica cottage around your shoulders and carrying a wooden butter churn under one arm.

Winston, that bastard bird, receives credit for frightening Ivan Stanislav through two walls without leaving his enclosure.

The museum sends Russia the invoice. You relocate to Siberia and refuse all bookings near zoos, aquariums, coastlines, or snow globes.

Universal Survivor continues without you.

BAD ENDING: TACTICAL RETREAT THROUGH AGRICULTURE

Return to the previous choice.

—

DO NOT MAKE EYE CONTACT AND WALK AWAY

You do not look at the penguin.

The penguin does not exist.

You align your shoulders with the opposite doorway and walk toward it with mechanical precision. Your arms remain straight at your sides. Your eyes remain fixed upon a medieval tapestry visible in the adjoining gallery.

Winston makes a low sound behind you.

You do not react.

Another sound follows, louder than the first.

Your stride increases by an amount too small for an observer to classify as fear.

The museum employee calls after you. “He likes you!”

You start power walking.

Only when the refrigerated air fades behind you do your shoulders relax.

You examine the floor for fish before approaching.

—

THE EMPTY ARMOR

The next gallery is quiet.

A complete suit of armor stands beneath a pool of white light, its plates arranged with precision. One hand rests upon the pommel of a sword. The other hangs beside the body.

There is no man inside.

You circle the display and study the overlapping steel. Each plate protects another. Armor, you know, does more than absorb punishment. It stands between a man and a hateful world, accepting injuries meant for the wearer.

You’ve known such protection.

For decades, another man watched the rooms you entered, anticipated the betrayal you could not see, and placed himself between you and every blade. He defended you even when you did not ask. Especially when you did not ask.

The armor is empty now.

Could it be filled?

WHAT DO YOU DO?

Imagine Nathan Lake inside the armor.

Accept that the armor must remain empty.

Leave the armor behind.

—

IMAGINE NATHAN LAKE INSIDE THE ARMOR

You try.

Nathan is intelligent. Capable. He understands strategy and stood beside you under pressure. Perhaps, with time, he could learn which dangers require action and which require patience.

But he does not know your oldest wounds. He cannot recognize what you refuse to say. He has not spent a lifetime learning how to protect you from the world, or from yourself.

The image won’t hold.

Nathan Lake is no Alexei Ruslan.

Go back.

—

ACCEPT THAT THE ARMOR MUST REMAIN EMPTY

Some positions cannot be filled.

To place another man inside would reduce everything that came before to a function awaiting reassignment. A lifetime of loyalty cannot be replaced by a willing body and sufficient competence.

The armor belongs to the man who earned it. Even empty, it remains his.

Nathan Lake is no Alexei Ruslan.

Go back.

—

LEAVE THE ARMOR BEHIND

You turn away.

There is no requirement that every exhibit provide an answer. A lifetime of loyalty cannot simply be reassigned.

Nathan Lake is no Alexei Ruslan.

You walk away.

Nathan Lake will never be Alexei Ruslan.

Some choices are not choices at all. The Soviet Union fashioned you, war hardened you, Alexei protected you, and loss taught you that anything unguarded would be taken.

You cannot simply choose to become another man because a museum offers an opportunity. Nathan would not require another man. He needs you.

He deserves to be judged by what he has done, with enough grace to make mistakes without each becoming evidence of treachery.

He deserves comradeship. For now.

Universal Survivor will not permit it forever. The field will narrow until neither history nor friendship can prevent what follows.

But that moment has not come.

You will not punish Nathan today for the man you fear he may become.

WHAT DO YOU DO?

Leave the museum feeling hopeful.

Leave the museum feeling suspicious.

Leave the museum feeling prepared.

—

LEAVE THE MUSEUM FEELING HOPEFUL

You believe Nathan Lake deserves the opportunity to remain your comrade.

Continue to THE END.

—

LEAVE THE MUSEUM FEELING SUSPICIOUS

You know that comradeship cannot alter the structure of Universal Survivor.

Continue to THE END.

—

LEAVE THE MUSEUM FEELING PREPARED

You accept the friendship for what it is, without forgetting what the competition may require.

Continue to THE END.

—

THE END

Universal Survivor will continue narrowing until friendship and survival can no longer occupy the same space. When that moment arrives, it will become what it must become.

But not today.

Today, Nathan is your comrade.

Tomorrow may demand something different. That is tomorrow’s burden.

You are Ivan Stanislav. The Russian Bear. You have outlasted younger men, faster men, clever men, and men who mistook your age for weakness and your grief for surrender.

Universal Survivor can change its rules. It can divide alliance, manufacture dilemmas, and offer choices that were never truly choices. But it cannot make you smaller.

Lake may stand beside you. The Luchador might stand against you. In the end, every path through this competition narrows toward the same immovable truth.

You are indefatigable.

The Bear marches.

You walk out of the museum alone.