Choose Your Own Adventure- Fugitive Edition: The Third Part of the Dee Pitt Trilogy

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#1
When we last left our daring hero (Dee Pitt) he was left alone in an isolated room with a mysterious figure nursing him back to health. In his time of recovery, he reminisce of what happened the last month or two...

https://www.ultimate-guitar.com/forum/showthread.php?t=855294
(Last Thread)

Character list:
Seth Pitt” - You (guitarist)
Mike – Your best friend from the old town.
Amy – Your girlfriend, awesome singer.
Mark -Guitarist
Jimmy - Bass player
Tyran - Drummer
Sketch- Artist
Dave – Your Guardian

DWs are listed in the "DWs of CYOA: Dee Pitt Trilogy" Group.
Go to the group's page, , to learn how to become a DW.

First letter to reach three votes is teh winnerz.

It all started when you wanted to play pokemon. Too far back? Okay. It all started when you were having sex with your girlfrie-.

Still too much?

Okay, It all happened when you and the guys decided to go to a party. For some wierd reason, you wanted to smash a little kid's face in. So you end up killing him, but he turned out to be Amy's cousin. You're stunned by your own actions, but you don't have time time to worry, seeing as the Swat Team arrive. You barely escape their squadron with the help of your Guardian Dave. He drives you to his safehouse on the coast. Unfortunately, the Police still find you there, and you escape them by a hair.

You drive around (From the Dave Cave, to Amy's house, to The hospital and back to Amy's.) and finally, both you and Amy try to make a run for it to Mexico. Stopped by a police blockade, you're knocked out, and taken away to the room you're lying in know. You have no idea what happened, where you are, or even why they would save your little murdering ass.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

...Dee...


.....Dee.....


........Dee........


"DEE ROGERS PITT!" you hear someone bellow.

You look up to see a hooded figure. His face is shadowed and speaks in a low. grumbling voice. The only light in the dark room is from a single lightbulb suspended from the ceiling.

"....where am I....?" you whisper, rolling over in your cot.

"That's not important. I'm Sean Johnassen."

"I don't give a damn about who you are.... Where's Amy?"

"In prison."

You instantly wake up. She's in prison, yet you're not? It's your fault this happened to her anyhow. This isn't right.

"How is she in prison, but not me?"

"When you were rescued, two boats came and picked you two up. One boat got intercepted by police patrol boats. The other one made it here. " he explains.

"Any other questions?"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A) Where Am I?
B) Why are you helping me?
C) Are there more of you? (An organization perhaps?)
D) Where is Amy being kept?
Gear List:
'97 Gibson Explorer w/ Duncan SH-4 and SH-2
Fender Jazz Bass 'Crafted in Japan'
Yamaha Acoustic Guitar
Vox AD30VT w/ VFS2
Roland Cube 30 Bass
Modded "St. Louis" Wah
Dunlop .88 Tortex picks
Last edited by wolfy808 at Oct 10, 2008,
#4
D.

I should really get back into this...hmm.
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#5
Yes Gray, you're writing is stuff of legend. Write if you like, I'm going to bed.
Gear List:
'97 Gibson Explorer w/ Duncan SH-4 and SH-2
Fender Jazz Bass 'Crafted in Japan'
Yamaha Acoustic Guitar
Vox AD30VT w/ VFS2
Roland Cube 30 Bass
Modded "St. Louis" Wah
Dunlop .88 Tortex picks
#6
Comeback confirmed. Writing it up now. Let's hope I still got the magic.
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#7
D takes it.

----------------------------------------

You shake your head, and a dull throbbing makes itself known. Your hand wanders to the back of your head. Gauze meets your touch.

"Careful," Sean mutters, floating silently from table to table. "You took a little flight. I've never seen a kid fly, but I suppose ramming a cop car and going through a windshield prompts such."

Your eyes follow the cloaked "Sean", as he glides from one table to the next. You see books piled on one of the tables. The other is strewn with assorted glasswork, strange liquids pulsating through tubes and beakers.

A car full of memories slams headlong into your skull.

"Amy!"

Sean looks back at you, hands busily turning pages. "I already told you. Prison. Los Palos, most likely."

You try to sit up. It takes a little more effort than you're accustomed to. A look down at your body reveals the cause. Your arms are covered in white gauze, spotted in places with crimson.

You glance down at the rest of your body.

More white. You realize that your whole body is covered in gauze. Either it's a little early for Halloween, or you're trying to cosplay that one guy from that Japanese cartoon...what was it, Detergent? A glance at your left hand reveals a small tube slithering into the gauze, feeding a strange green liquid into your hand.

A grunt escapes your lips as you try to sit up.

"Easy!" Sean comments, gliding from the tables to you. He flicks a switch, and the bed moves upward, allowing you to sit up somewhat awkwardly. "You're in no shape to be trying anything. Let the Medi-gel take its course."

"Huh?" you mutter.

Sean points to the tube in your hand. "Medi-gel." He goes back to the tables, moving silently from one to the other.

You muster up your voice. "Where am I?"

Sean continues his work. "Right now, you're in my quarters. A small nuisance, but at least you've been quiet enough for me to work. That is, until now."

His reply washes over you. "You woke me up!" you assert. "...and I'm not supposed to ask questions?" you add sharply.

A clink of glasswork. "A bit much to ask, isn't it?" Sean mutters. "Fine. Be quick about your queries; I'm not an encyclopedia, so I'm not going to answer everything."

You think for a moment. "What are you, exactly?"

Sean continues his work, unfazed by your question. "A doctor. I had the fun of reassembling you."

You shake your head. "No, no...I mean, what are you? Some sort of Satanist? Wizard?"

Sean glances back at you with disapproving eyes. "What Satanist would save you?"

You roll your eyes. "Fine, I guess I get it. You still didn't answer my question."

A small sigh escapes from Sean. "I'm a part of a cult..."

"A cult!?" you interrupt. "What, are you gonna sacrifice me or something?"

Sean sighs again. "Right. We save you so we can have the fun of killing you. Don't be daft."

"Who is 'we'?" you finally ask, exasperated with the effort.

"We..." Sean continues, turning his back towards you, "are the Cult of Personality."

You muffle a small chuckle. "What, like that song?"

Sean's frustration is made apparent by the slamming of a book. "Yes, like that damned song. There's much more to it than that. We have been the underlying society of everything you might know. Elections, celebrities...your music. You name it, we have a mouth in it."

You think. "So, the election of Bush..."

Sean's hand meets his face. "A rare misstep. As for how it happened twice...let's just leave it at that, shall we?"

Sean floats next to you, and lifts a small glass of purple liquid. "Drink this." Your slight reluctance is apparent. "It'll put you to sleep for a spell, but you'll be better when you rise," Sean assures.

You think about it, and with a little nod, take the drink into your mouth. Its tasteless form works its way down your throat. It only seems like a minute when your eyes finally close.

A darkness comes over you....when finally, it lifts. Your eyes open to the dim lightbulb in the room. You quickly scan the room to find it vacant. Sean seems to have left. You look over to one of the tables...where a white cloak, white shirt, white pants, and white shoes lie waiting. A note sits next to the pristine attire.

You look down at your body to find the gauze still there, but the tube missing from your hand. You get up. Wait, what?

A quick shake of your arms and legs reveal that everything works. The pain you felt earlier is gone. You swing your legs off of the bed and make your way over to the table. You pick up the note and read.

"Don this attire and make your way down the hall. Someone will meet you there."

Odd. You take off the gauze to reveal your body...looking pretty normal for someone who just flew from a car. You put on the glaringly white attire. It's strangely comfortable...though white was never your color.

What now?

A. Explore the room. What's in all those books?
B. Go out and down the hall. Whichever way that is, anyway.
C. Go back to sleep. You don't have to do anything.
D. Pretend to be Altaïr and go sneaking.
E. Try and find a way out. Where exactly are we?

------------------------------------------

Just a warm-up. I'll get the kinks out eventually.
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Last edited by graybass_20x6 at Oct 4, 2008,
#11
E wins
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#12
Awesome, graybass, good to see you back.

Why are you people voting E?

"These people just saved me from the cops, probably saved my life, and are trying to help me... I gotta get outta here!"

You people suck at life.

I vote A, even though it doesn't matter...
#13
lol, Cult of Personality.

B.

Yes, I'm a follower and I think graybass is a democrat.

Wolfy!
Remove the list of DWs and replace it with this:
DWs are listed in the "DWs of CYOA: Dee Pitt Trilogy" Group.
Go to the group's page, url="http://groups.ultimate-guitar.com/dwsofte
enedition/"]here, to learn how to become a DW.
Be sure to add the "[" at the beginning of the url code.
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Last edited by americablanco at Oct 4, 2008,
#20
A!

Yay new CYOA edition why does it have to be a trilogy? D: can't it be like a decology :P
#21
Why did you people pick E!


dumbasses
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#23
awesome. pure epic awesomeness in insanely intense story form.
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Currently searching for more ego padding quotes.

Me in pit = me being bored. Any help is much appreciated.
#24
E.

-------------------------------------

The flickering lightbulb illuminates your white apparel, reflecting the rouge beams of light into nothingness. You don't know what drove you to put it on, this pristine cloth, or why you're still standing around. The cloak feels like a shroud of irony draped across your shoulders. You've been the complete opposite of the pure, clean white surrounding you. Amy's in prison, and the life you once knew is in shambles. And to think, this was the second life you've had. You got your chance to push RESET. Continue without saving.

In any case, you have to find a way out of here. This place was good enough for a quick patch job on your body, and that's good enough. What the heck is a Cult of Personality anyway? Besides, that song kinda blew.

You squint into the darkness, looking for any sign of exit. A small glint of silver catches your eye in the bleak shadows. A doorknob? You make your way across the darkness, reaching into the black. A couple steps further and your hand meets cold steel. Bingo. A quick turn of the wrist, and the door gives way to a blaringly white light. The rays catch your eyes off guard, and you stumble back. Why is it so bright?

A quick blink of the eyes and you brace yourself against the light. You step out.

Those few steps lead you into a hallway, though it's starkly different from what you've seen in Sean's room. This hallway is white. Disturbingly white. Music video white. You blend perfectly into everything. Incredulously, you look both ways, hoping to see something resembling an exit...an EXIT sign would be nice. The quick look shows that you're in the middle, with white doors on either side. Seriously, you'd really expect some black curtains in here.

Your choice of door falls into the classic choice-making process of the ancients, passed down from male to male, surviving ages of cultural cleansing and revival...

Eenie, meenie, minie, mo....

Using the art of the ancients (including the 'My momma told me...' variant of 1902), you pick the left door. Seems logical enough, since 'the process' is never wrong. A quick turn and you plunge into the white, making your way to the door. It only takes a small walk until you arrive at the door. You turn the knob and enter, confident that you've found the way out.

A voice rings out as soon as you enter. "Ah, the Acolyte has arrived."

Well, you've really escaped. Should have added the "NOT" at the end of 'the process'.

You gaze into the room you've just stumbled into. This room is uniquely uniform in its palate of color as well, as purple meets your eyes. Further examination reveals that there is no haze. A table sits in the room, and the chairs accompanying it are filled with other cloaked figures. Their cloaks vary in degrees of tint, from the white sitting nearly in front of you, to the gray reaching into the middle, and finally, figures cloaked in pure shadow at the end. The shadow at the end of the table extends an open hand to the empty chair at your end.

"Please, Acolyte...do have a seat."

The thoughts of escape vanish. As if Chris Hansen himself had told you to "have a seat over there" for talking to a 14 year old 'loligirl69', you find yourself compelled to sit. Soon after making this realization, you find yourself seated at the table. You try to count the number of cloaks at the table, but lose count after 20 or so.

"Welcome Acolyte...to the Cult of Personality." The shadow's voice is clear and powerful, even with the distance set between you and him. "I am Arch-Speaker Fargoth, the presiding leader of the Cult. Do not be daunted by the word 'cult', as it carries a much broader meaning than what you might be accustomed to."

You shift nervously. The Arch-Speaker's words are piercing...yet soothing. You feel almost welcome.

"We are a secret society," the Arch-Speaker continues. "Our society serves as the underlying voice of everything you know...we are influence incarnate."

Sean's explanation resurfaces in your head. Your interest peaks.

"I understand there was someone else with you...a girl."

You peer into the shadows at the end of the table. "Yes...Arch-Speaker...Amy. My girlfriend."

The Arch-Speaker raises his hand to stop you. "Yes. I'm assuming you have the intention of freeing her."

Your voice fills with strength. "Yes, Arch-Speaker. I will free her."

Mumbles and whispers fill the room. Cloaks turn to each other to exchange muffled noise. The Arch-Speaker raises his hand again, and whispers give way to dead silence.

"Tenacious. A useful trait...if honed to a fine point. Perhaps...we may be able to help you achieve your goal."

The Arch-Speaker's words strike you. It sounds almost too good to be true...but you believe him.

You raise your voice. "How?"

The Arch-Speaker raises his arms. "We, as the Cult of Personality, are masters of the spoken word. We use the voice as a lockpick...a delicate tool into the locks of minds. Persuasion and influence are among the many talents in our repetoire."

Your eyes reach into the darkness. "With all due respect, Arch-Speaker...you're saying I could talk my way into freeing Amy?"

The Arch-Speaker folds his hands together. "What I am offering to you, Acolyte...is the opportunity to learn how use your voice as a tool. Perhaps, within your studies...you could find a way to free Amy. The Cult Of Personality is secret, yet very expansive. What you see before you is but a miniscule representation of our society. Proving yourself to be an able member may sway other members to help you achieve your goal."

You glance around the table. It seems too good to be true...but you don't notice anything weird about this cult. The Arch-Speaker's words seem truthful enough. Besides...the more help you can get, the better.

"I accept the offer, Arch-Speaker."

"Excellent, Acolyte. Since you have already been aquainted with Sean the Voice, you shall serve under him. Ask of him what you inquire, and he will do his best to guide you."

A dark gray cloak rises from the table. "I thank you for the opportunity, Arch-Speaker. I shall do my best to guide the Acolyte."

The Arch-Speaker raises his hand. "Then it is so. Adjourned."

The cloaks rise from the table and begin a somewhat orderly dispersal through different doors. A dark gray cloak appears next to you in the slight confusion.

"Follow me."

Your eyes turn to meet Sean's, and you follow him back through the door into the white hallway, and back into his quarters. The dim lighting meets you as you walk in, your eyes attempting to adjust back to the dull glare of the bare bulb.

"So," Sean mutters, turning to meet your stare, "I'm sure you have questions. Since I'm your ward, go ahead. What's on your mind?"

You think for a moment. "What's with the colors?"

"The colors of our clothes represent our experience within the Cult. The darker it is, the more experience. Your clothing naturally darkens according to your experience. Old enchantment. As you can see...(Sean points to his cloak and to yours)...my cloak is quite darker than yours. This tells you that I have been involved in the art of words for some time. Your pure white cloak and clothing represent the purity of your words. You've yet to learn how to alter your speech...but in due time, Acolyte."

"Acolyte?"

"Your rank. Newest members are Acolytes. I'm a Voice. There's tons of other ranks and such...but that's only for addresing other members. It's usually apparent by color who you're talking to."

You try your best to absorb the information given to you. It seems like you have the bare basics of the Cult. Time to get to business.

Sean's stare is inquisitive. "Anything else, Acolyte?"

A. "I need to free Amy. Where do I start?"
B. "So...where do I begin my studies?"
C. "What's with the weird room colors?"
D. "What else do I get by being in this Cult?"
E. "No...that's it."
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Last edited by graybass_20x6 at Oct 5, 2008,
#26
B.
We ain't pushing the boundaries, we're blowing them up.
We ain't trying to expand the scene, we want the scene to erupt.


#30
I kind of like where this story went and I don't in other ways. I was too clingy to the comfortably band-amy-pokemon situation I guess.

Anyway I shall resume my writing duties if thats ok.


Ah shit we forgot mike AGAIN


Sorry...am I reading this.... GRAYBASS


EDIT i didnt mean right now though

EDIT read this and it's excellent
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Last edited by blues_to_thrash at Oct 5, 2008,
#31
D.

Do we get dental?
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#34
B.
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#35
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One thing, and it's not a big deal. But didn't Amy die?
I probably would've said something by now...but she did this:

0_0 ► -_- ► 0_0
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#37
B.
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#38
B WINS!

m0ar story pl0x
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#39
B it is.

-----------------------------------------

With all the information you've absorbed, you feel ready to begin. Amy isn't going to save herself.

"So," you begin, clapping your hands together, "Where do I begin in my studies?"

Sean turns and retrieves a book from one of the tables. A quick dust-off with his hand reveals a leathery tome. A quick inspection, and he hands it to you. "The Acolytes assemble for basics every day after lunch. It's not required of you to attend, but it is recommended if you're looking for a start."

You glance about the room. "What time is it?"

Sean produces a small pocketwatch from his interior cloak pocket. A glance. "Actually...it is almost lunchtime. Come with me...I'll try and show you around the complex."

You nod, and Sean leads you from the darkened chamber back into the glaring white chamber. Your eyes spend time again adjusting to the sharp contrast.

This prompts you to ask, "What's with the white hallway?"

Sean answers while leading you to the right, past other white doors you didn't notice on your first journey. "These are the Acolyte's quarters. This is where the Acolytes who choose to reside in the complex keep quarters. I, as a ranking member, keep my quarters here, so as to serve as a mentor and mediator to Acolytes in need."

You follow Sean to the end of the hallway, towards the door you didn't choose. He suddenly turns right, revealing more hallway. "The color of the hallway also serves as something of a benchmark. As your experience grows, the darker your clothes will become. You'll soon realize your progess when you see the difference between your clothing and the hall," Sean continues.

"Does that mean that I have a room here?"

"Yes," Sean comments, leading you further down the hallway to a white door at the end. "As to where it is, that has yet to be determined. That will probably be decided when you meet with the Acolytes later."

Sean opens the door and allows you to enter first. You step through the door and find yourself in an expansive, gray room. There are tables spread throughout, with several other bookshelves and other amenities spread throughout the room. A TV and couch sit in a corner. Gray-cloaked figures fill the room, seemingly busy amongst themselves.

Sean spreads his arms. "This is the common room for members ranging from Mouths to Voices. Each 'division', so to speak, has their own common room. You can find almost anything you need in these rooms." You follow Sean through the room, noticing cloaks turning to notice the only white being in the room. A light gray figure approaches Sean.

"Sean? Sean the Voice?" the light gray figure inquires.

"Yes. How does it feel to be a Mouth, Jacob?" Sean acknowledges the gray figure with a handshake.

"It's something else, Sean." Jacob replies. His eyes turn to you. "You must be the new Acolyte...Pitt?"

You nod. "Yeah, I'm Pitt. Dee Pitt."

"Ah," Jacob responds. "I've heard things about you. Promising things. Anyway, welcome to the Cult."

"Thanks." you reply. Sean exchanges a few words with Jacob, and after a farewell, you continue following Sean through the room and through another door. This door leads you into a large, neutral light brown room. Long aisles of tables protrude from the walls, cutting a large middle aisle into the room. A glance to the far side of the room makes it apparent that this is the cafeteria. A typical buffet-style apparatus sits at the far end, trays awaiting hungry members. A few members of varying shades are already seated at the bench-like tables, consuming various meals.

"Cafeteria." Sean turns to look at you. "So, would you like to eat, or would you like to tour the facilities a little more?"

A. Let's eat. It'll kill time before the Acolyte's meeting, anyway.
B. I'd like to find out more about this place.
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#40
Damn graybass, you're too good that I'm scared to follow up.

A. They better not turn out to be vegans, lol
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