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- Grant's Adventures in Norwich and Beyond -

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A choose your own adventure game about sex (part 1)
This is in two parts.  Open this and the one below to play.  Good luck, adventurer!



A Choose-your-own-Adventure Game



Welcome to the wonderful world of SEX, an interactive adventure where you get to decide the outcome of the story.  In order to play, all you'll need is a pencil, two six-sided dice and your own imagination.


Before we begin you'll need to make a character.  In the basic game, all characters are heterosexual males in the 18-25 age bracket, but further options are available in the GIRLS AND GAYS sourcebook of alternative genders and sexualities.  A blank (basic) character sheet is attached to this game.


Roll one die and add 5 to the number.  This is your skill score - write this down next to the word "SKILL."  Roll two dice and add 10 to the number.  This is your stamina score – write this down next to the word “STAMINA.”  Finally, roll one die and add 1 to the roll.  This is your LUCK score – write this down next to the word “LUCK.”


Should your STAMINA reach 0 at any point during the game, you have become too weary to continue and it is GAME OVER.  Be careful in your choices!


There are also sections for Equipment and Effects.  If you lose or acquire any of the above during the game, make a note in the relevant box.


Your adventure begins as you get ready to leave the house.  SEX is broken up into numbered sections, and at the end of each of these you will be given an option (or be forced) to choose which path you follow.



It is Friday night.  You have just had a shower and stand staring into the bathroom mirror, your toothbrush hanging limply out of one side of your mouth.  Work was especially hard today – especially when that bitch of a manager of yours guilted you into pulling an extra shift when all you wanted to do was come home – but it’s over, now, and the evening is yours.  You finish brushing your teeth, spit into the sink and twist the hot tap on, watching the water spiral down the plughole taking the foam with it.


You are so fucking tired.  Seriously.  It’s not as though you’ll pull tonight, anyway.  Look at you.  Do you want to bother going out?


If No, turn to 20


If Yes, turn to 15



Doesn’t matter what you look like, you figure – without food you’re no good at all.  You quickly towel off your hair, pull on those jeans that are probably not too dirty (best not smell them, though, in case they are dirty and you have to find another pair) and a t-shirt that you haven’t worn too much.  No – wait, a collared shirt.  Why not both?  You fashion genius.  This one isn’t too tatty.  Wear this one.

In the kitchen, you root around in the fridge looking for food.  Anything.  Come on.  Anything you can just put in your face and eat.  Is Thousand Island Dressing a meal if you put it on bread?  You guess not.  Huh.


Success!  Well, sort of.  You have two options.


You can Eat that takeout Pizza that’s probably okay but it’s been, like, what, four days now?  How long does pizza last?  It’s just cheese and turn to 16

Or you can Make a sandwich – you can use your flatmate’s cheese, maybe get some ham, looks like someone’s brought lettuce so you can totally put that in there and turn to 4



After some experimentation, you manage to find a set of clothes that is a) clean, b) not in too much of a state and c) matching, as far as you can tell.  You look pretty good.  I mean, aside from the damp hair that’s going to go fuzzy once it dries and three days of patchy stubble on your face.


You are now Well-Dressed.  Note that down next to “Effects” on your character sheet.  Turn to 10.



The sandwich takes ages to make, and thanks to your lettuce gambit you only have enough time to eat half before you have to leave the house.  You have acquired Half a badly-made sandwich.  Note that down next to “Equipment” on your character sheet.  Turn to 10.



The bouncer looks at the tatty shirt, but seems to console himself with the fact that at least you’re clean-shaven and fresh-faced.  He makes a crack about your dress sense but lets you in regardless.  Turn to 8.




“You think you can come in here, dressed like that?”  Says the bouncer.  “Fuck off out of it.”  That’s hardly fair, you think, as you walk away, you wore a collared shirt and black shoes and everything and not as though there’s really a dress code anyway fucking uppity bouncers who do they think they are you’re miles better than they are what a shower of utter bastards.  You go home, walking to save on bus fare and to stay angry longer, and get home in a mess of door slamming and thrown jackets.  You consider changing and going back to the club, but there’s no way you’d give the bouncer that satisfaction.  Shamed, angry and jealous of your friends you spend the night eating Mini Rolls and wanking.


Your adventure ends here.


You reckon that having a shave and doing your hair is a pretty good idea – you remember reading something in FHM about women liking a clean-shaven man, plus all those Gillette adverts must have some grain of truth behind them.  Maybe attractive women wearing nothing but oversized, partially buttoned shirts will launch themselves at you should you remove every follicle of hair from your face.


While thinking about attractive women wearing nothing but oversized, partially buttoned shirts, you find it harder to concentrate on shaving.  Roll two dice and add your SKILL.  If you roll 10 or more, turn to 29.  If you roll under 10, turn to 27.



Finally!  Jesus.  You push through the crowds, but there’s no guarantee that your friends are here, let alone in an easily-recognisable group.  The music thumps high and incessant in your ears and you shoulder your way through to the bar through the press of drunk people.  Where the hell are they?  Roll a dice.  If it is under your LUCK score, go to 32.  If it is over, go to 19.  Regardless of the result, take one point off your LUCK score.



You approach Jen from Accounts, and she looks up at you for a second before she clocks you as that guy from work.  You make awkward conversation for a few minutes before the realisation that you don’t really have anything either interesting or relevant to say kicks in.


If you are Well-Dressed or Well-Groomed, turn to 34

If you are Good-looking, turn to 23

If you are none of the above, turn to 12



Thanks to all this messing around with food and/or clothes, you are running late.  You grab your Wallet, your Mobile Phone and your Keys.  There are three items on the table as you leave – which one do you grab in your mad rush?  Make your decision and note it down next to “Items” on your character sheet.


- A packet of cigarettes that your flatmate left and therefore surely doesn’t want

- A condom – man, are you getting your hopes up

- A handful of loose change that is clearly yours


You stagger out of the house and see the bus go past your front door.  If you run like hell, you could probably make it, but you’re getting on and it’s been a solid five years since your last PE class.  There should be another one along soon, right?


If you want to Run Like Hell, roll two dice and add your SKILL.  If you get eleven or more, turn to 22.  If you get ten or less, turn to 36.


If you can’t be bothered with this running lark, turn to 33.



You’re probably right, you reckon, as you hang around the club on your own for a drink or two more and lamely return home, frustratingly half-pissed.  You consider drinking the whisky you have by your desk, but think better of it and make a cup of tea and go to bed chuckling quietly to recordings of old I’m Sorry, I Haven’t A Clue episodes.  God, Willy Rushton was funny.


Your adventure ends here.



You try to talk but her gaze keeps shifting from you, and hell, you’re not much to look at right now.  You make your excuses (you’re meeting some friends in another club, you hope to see her later) and, counting your losses, bail out and walk home.  You feel contemplative and important on the walk home, like the main character of a film, except you cynically note that main characters in films generally have love interests.  Vaguely pissed off, you roll home and blog angrily about the events of the day then look at stupid pictures on the internet until half past two in the morning, falling asleep and distantly wishing that your ex-girlfriend hadn’t been such a cow and you were still together and not hating each other’s guts.


Your adventure ends here.



You fool!  That’ll only encourage him!  He smiles at you and offers you a drink from his bottle.  It’s in a brown paper bag, and yeah, you’re not sure what it is.  Do you take a drink?


Oh, no, I wouldn’t, you’re too kind turn to 13.

Oh – well, alright then – just the one turn to 35.



Nothing in this house is clean!  There’s only one clean shirt left, and it doesn’t match the jeans.  Bugger  that - you put them on anyway, but lacking a full-length mirror in your room, you make a snap decision that you don’t really care about colour co-ordination, and you probably shouldn’t being a heterosexual male. 


Secure in your slightly homophobic stance, you fail to notice the fact that you now Look like you lost a fight with a Wardrobe.  Make a note of that on your character sheet next to “Effects.”  Turn to 10.



Dredging some care from Giveafuck Bay, you convince yourself to go out as you’ve stayed in all week, not counting work and going for a drink with your flatmates at the local.  Not like that counts as Going Out.  You didn’t even wear a shirt with a collar.  That’s usually a pretty good indication of whether you’re Going Out or not.  Shit, though - it’s already half past nine and you’re supposed to be meeting your friends at ten.  Looks like you’ll only have enough time to do one of the following before you leave the house –


If you want to Pick out a matching outfit rather than wear the first things you find, go to 26

If you want to Shave and put some gel in your hair, go to 7

If you want to Eat some food maybe, go to 2



You put the pizza in the microwave and, with little else better to do, stand and watch it rotate until it dings and you take it out.  It’s hot – Mum always told you to make sure that food was thoroughly heated all the way through – and it doesn’t taste bad, but there’s a lingering feeling as you eat it that maybe four days is a little long for a pizza to sit in a fridge.  Not enough of a feeling for you to stop eating, though, you understand.

You are Not sure you should have eaten that.  Make a note of this next to “Effects” on your character sheet and turn to 10.



He nods, sagely, as he realises you understand his predicament.  Turn to 24.


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