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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

Title: The Day the Revolution Was Shirtless

It took a while, but everyone finally realized it. The pack, once thirsty for justice and blood, now looks like the cast of a six o'clock soap opera after the soundtrack ends: melancholic, without makeup and full of existential dilemmas. Wolves kneeling, eyes filled with tears, hands (or were they paws?) trembling with the moral weight of having transformed soldiers into patriotic spaghetti.

In the middle of the sad scene, he appears: Haken, the Philosophical Pitbull, standing over the body of the little wolf who was shot, reciting prayers as if he had mixed a spirituality audiobook with a Clint Eastwood movie.

You, in turn, decide that you've had enough of being a wolf of the apocalypse and activate the "transform into a human with gratuitous pain" mode.

Crack, clec, ploc — the bony symphony of someone who forgot to stretch before becoming an animal.

And your shirt? An expensive souvenir from the event: now it's only good for being a stylized dishcloth.

In the background, you see Ahote, the moral leader of the mess, walking like an old man who has lost his temper and faith in humanity — or in wolves, or both. And, like a protagonist lacking a plot, you follow him.

You don't know if it's because of the post-war report or just because company is better than silence and the sound of your own bones breaking.

Ahote throws himself into the chair with the energy of someone who was run over by the revolution itself.

You exchanged the fury of the revolt for the drama of Aftermath. Torn shirts, religious speeches out of nowhere, collective mourning and the classic "I'm alone, but I don't want to seem needy".

If this isn't the final arc of season 1, I don't know what is.

Do you want me to continue the scene in the same style?