A.Journal

Checks

421 checks

Trivial

There was a desk back at Foto 24 -- the one with the red folder on it. That would work.

Trivial

The only place that even half belongs to you in this city is the upstairs room at Foto 24. Find a desk in there and get to work.

Easy

Whatever's down there is a secret, kept even from her.

Trivial

That practically confirms it -- this whole operation is a front for the secret jail. They must keep the prisoner somewhere behind that door at the back.

Easy

For something sneakier, you could try the route via the waterlock you drained.

Easy

For something more secretive, that little girl mentioned seeing a door in the waterlock canal...

Easy

Or you could case the rest of the building to see if there's an alternative way down there.

Medium

Pause for a moment. Take a step back to examine what you are seeing.

Medium

Suddenly, you are struck by the horrible feeling that something obvious is eluding you.

Trivial

It appears that this place is a front for the secret jail. The prisoner must be somewhere behind that door at the back.

Medium

You often find inspiration in the allure of architecture. Use that.

Medium

All around you: tall buildings with multiple viewpoints, from roofs and windows. You feel eyes watching you from one of them -- you may never find out whose.

Easy

That's the poetry magazine you've heard about. Has its offices nearby -- or, at least, it did.

Easy

It's as if the space was arranged to reject sharp cuts and high-contrast neon.

Challenging

Underground caverns filled floor-to-ceiling with cultivation beds, fat larvae munching on mulberry leaves.

Trivial

Not one to make idle promises, once is enough for Ramses.

Challenging

Beyond the walls of the dingy bar, the city breathes.

Challenging

The outline of a small alcove with seated patrons shimmers in your mind.

Formidable

A slow death by erosion.

Challenging

Slowly populating itself with your crew members, around you the Fogged Mirror begins to take on the appearance it had five years ago, before your network collapsed.

Challenging

Empty of the other members of your old crew, the Fogged Mirror feels barren, infinitely distant from what it was five years ago, before your network collapsed.

Medium

As if the city itself is winking at you.

Easy

The pawprints are leading to the shed.

Medium

A hundred old women's eyes watch this alley from behind the lacy curtains of their windows.

Medium

The earth is alive; it breathes and shifts in its sleep. Concrete does not. The building is going to collapse.

Trivial

Try again during business hours.

Medium

The kind of places that need security intercoms: Gated communities. Government buildings. Prisons.

Easy

Tautening the outer defences.

Easy

This isn't only way through. You can always go the long way, around the docks to the west.

Easy

Unless you're planning to hop off the end of the pier and swim for it, you're stuck.

Challenging

The flight path from Luz's costal airfields to Portofiro is approximately 60 kilometres, or 3 minutes at supersonic speed.

Trivial

A desolate spit of land on the edge of the city-state. Formerly the site of Portofiro's doomed space program.

Easy

A long, dark, sexy tunnel built on top of a worthless old village. Progress, baby!

Easy

An uncanny buzz in the air, as though a director might pop out of any one of those doorways, yelling 'Cut!'.

Medium

Your inner ear fills with the groans of ancient machinery, hydraulic mechanisms, your nostrils with the smell of exhaust and heavy fuel oils.

Formidable

The genius loci, rising to speak.

Easy

Renotel -- the dolphin payphones. Invisible courier of the city.

Trivial

You dimly remember seeing his signature yellow posters plastered around the city. They probably have his call-in number on them.

Medium

Strange. Somehow you do know where his studio is, despite having never been there before.

Medium

Wait, you don't actually know where his studio is... do you?

Medium

The signal blockers: wiry battlements like the skeletons of titanic insects face out across the strait on Portofiro's most desolate shore, snagging Luzian radiowaves as they enter.

Trivial

Room for two. You were supposed to lie here alongside your double.

Medium

No condensation, moisture stains, or signs of dripping. Not the origin point.

Medium

Definitely came from there. It's just a little coward patch, nestled in the corner like it's hiding from you.

Heroic

Heroic

Medium

No planned space for greenery either. No building was ever finished other than the silo itself.

Easy

Stage separation events and plum signatures were observed fourteen times above Luzian airspace in the past decade alone.

Easy

And now she has macrame.

Medium

And somewhere beyond them: the shores of La Luz.