You gather at a large table near the main doors, a bay window looking out over the dark grounds, to do a few team-building exercises before you get down to the important business of writing. Trust falls might not be the best idea given how many writers seem to tend towards dyspraxia, but what the hell, you’re going for it.
Just as the first person is about to go, the clock strikes midnight.
The lights go out.
You hear the doors slam shut in the far distance.
Hang on, no, that’s not right! The doors were just over the- Ah. Well. The doors are gone. The windows are gone. That’s going to be a problem, isn’t it?
A whispery breeze seems to wind around you all, and wind definitely isn’t supposed to do that. Each of you hear, from just behind you, “ymyrwyr. tresmaswyr. artistiaid. ceiswyr gwybodaeth. Rhaid gwneud aberth i Dduw Geiriau, ac Ysbryd y Llyfrgell Fawr. Nid yw pawb yn deilwng. Ni fydd pawb yn dewis. Os byddech chi’n gadael y lle hwn heb ei niweidio yna nodwch safleoedd y sêr awr o hyn ymlaen a dilynwch nhw i ryddid. Mae Gwybodaeth Fawr y Llyfrgell ar agor i chi. Dewiswch…”
| OPTION 1 | OPTION 2 | OPTION 3 | |||
| If you… | Then… | If you… | Then… | If you… | Then… |
| recognise what the language is | sprint to 491 words | don’t recognise the language | sprint to 410 [linguistics] and then to 491 | speak the language | panic and sprint to 491, then 410, and then back to 491 |