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Werewolves: The Apocalypse — The Book of Hungry Names
(Now with 98% more ecological guilt and 100% less graphics)

You and your band of traumatized werewolves (read: a group of poorly resolved furry therapists) must save the Living Earth using two infallible ingredients: homicidal rage and questionable spirituality.

In this interactive novel with hundreds of choices (most leading to inevitable doom), you'll have the chance to face a Wyrm Spirit that manifests itself as... a lie you really want to believe. Like that voice that says "I'll start my diet tomorrow." Only with more cosmic destruction.

 Written by Kyle Marquis and set in the wonderful (cough) universe of World of Darkness, this epic without a single image (but with 1.6 million words, in other words, an abusive relationship with reading) is fueled solely by the most powerful thing in the world: your imagination that has already failed three college entrance exams.

You are a werewolf. And like all good werewolf, you are a mix of:

Shaman who thinks meditation cures demonic migraines,

Hero that nobody asked for,

Monster with existential crises,

And sustainability consultant for Mother Gaia (bankrupt, of course).

Created by the goddess of the Earth, you were gifted with the ability to turn into a wolf (in other words, walk around naked with style), and tasked with the noble mission of preventing humanity from turning the planet into a cosmic McTrash.

But guess what? You failed. Congratulations.

 Three years ago, your pack was part of the Sept of Broad Brook, Massachusetts (land of maple syrup and spiritual doom), where werewolves still pretended they had a chance against the Wyrm — the spirit of destruction, chaos, and people who comment “first” on YouTube.

While other Septs fell like dominoes at a satanic rave, yours was there, firm, strong, and deluded. Some said you would prevent the Apocalypse. Others just thought it was funny to watch the circus burn.

Now, all that’s left is for you to pick up the pieces (literally), avoid becoming an evil spirit’s kibble, and, who knows, write your name in the Book of Hungry Names — the one that eats hopes, New Year’s promises, and happy endings.

Do you want me to adapt this to become the introduction to chapter 1 as well?

Of course! Here's a Desciclopédia-style warning, with a touch of acid and humor, that you can put at the beginning of your story on Wattpad to make everything clear:

WARNING BEFORE SOME LITIGIOUS SPIRIT COMES TO BARK

This work is a humorous reinterpretation (read: full of irony, sarcasm, dark humor and some inconvenient truths) based on the style of interactive stories like those from Choice of Games. But, before anyone calls the lawyers or invokes the spirit of copyright, let's make something VERY clear:

This is not plagiarism. It's parody. It's a joke. It's entertainment.

(And, let's be honest, not even Mother Gaia would bother to sue.)

The writing adopted follows the Desciclopédia style, that is:

Nothing is sacred.

Everything can be a joke.

If you get offended, congratulations, the system worked.

 This is a tongue-in-cheek homage to the classics of the genre, using the interactive format to tell stories that are bizarre, tragic, hilarious, and incredibly stupid (sometimes all at the same time). None of the original Choice of Games content was copied directly—only the structure was inspired, because let’s face it, reinventing the wheel is a lot of work.

If you want an epic journey with deep moral dilemmas, go play the original.

If you want to laugh at your own misfortune while turning into a werewolf and punching mystical capitalism with your paws, go ahead. It’s your house.

Zerk World) Zombo Stars

Warden Washburn nods. "I'll keep you in mind. I might have a few special duties for you once you've been integrated into the general population."

One of the wolves further down lurches out of the line and growls in a low rumble. You try to glance over without being noticed. It's Sonoma! The rebellion's packleader had experienced difficulty keeping her feral side in check during her transportation. Her rational mind knew the importance of the mission, but rationality doesn't always win out against the fire of the beast within.

Warden Washburn slinks up to the packleader and looks her up and down. "Some balls on you." He feigns an obvious squint. "Ah, my mistake. Nothing between your legs but a tuft of fur and a bristling tail."

Two things happen then almost in unison. Sonoma growls, and before the rumbling fury so much as exits her throat, Washburn's hand snaps down to his right side like a whip-crack and comes up again with a gleaming revolver. Sonoma's growl turns into a howl of pain as her knee blossoms with a spattering flower of blood. The warden steps forward into melee range, frowning as he holds his weapon to Sonoma's temple and thumbs back the hammer. He looks up and down the line of werewolves as the other soldiers behind him twitch uncomfortably.

"I'm only going to say this once," Washburn announces coldly. "From here on out I am your God. You eat when I tell you to eat. You shit when I tell you to shit. If I tell you to clean the floor with your tongue the only thing I want to hear from you is 'Yes, Sir!'" He looks back at Sonoma. "We understand each other?"

Her only vocal response is a groan of pain, but you can almost hear her unspoken promise of revenge.

The warden lowers his revolver and makes a casual display of de-cocking it by feel, his left hand easing the hammer back into place while his eyes stay locked with Sonoma's. You've only ever seen a weapon like that in old history books that the humans left to rot in Haven; the man must be some kind of eccentric.

You breathe deep. I'm focusing on pointless minutiae to avoid thinking about what he said. What the hell have I gotten myself into?