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Return to TuFort

Activating Halloween Mode was, looking back on it, a very strange and especially stupid idea. The fact that it wasn't even a full moon, and was also the middle of July, did not give TF2 spy player and steam account name "staricipant" a large amount of confidence when the vote was originally brought up a few moments ago. The vote count then jumped to 99 votes in favor, which was about... participant slides to the side as a blast of appropriately named magic rushes right by their head. 99-24, that's seventy five votes more then were on the server. And of course, Merasmus guffawed as he announced the event.

staricipant, firing and hitting a revolver shot on the damned wizard, regrets having decided that it was simply a unique update, a reward several years lacking in the past. Now they knew it was false, of course, and if they made it out alive they'd have to write up the event and post it onto a creepypasta site. Still, the idea that TF2 was being updated again would be the more unbelievable part of the tale. There's a texan yell as an engineer, (staricipant stopped paying attention to team colors about a minute and a half ago), gets transformed into a chicken and his level two sentry transforms into bird feed.

The soldier begins taking a few steps back and the pyro muffles something that staricipant takes to mean "distract the wannabe wizard". staricipant whips out their watch, a trusty strange dead ringer that doesn't seem like such a waste of cash now with their life on the line, and then charges the wizard. Merasmus says something unintelligible, and then a greenish purplish blueish redish yellowish bolt with a few other colors mixed in that comes out to a shade of grey shoots out of his staff. Closing their eyes, staricipant *really* hopes this is less painful then it looks.

---

There is a computer, with no one nearby. The steam menu is up, and although it says that TF2 is currently running, the application is not up. It's quite fortunate no one was around, at least currently. The computer shorts out, the monitor going dark and the keyboard completely unrelated popping off the two 0 keys. The screen flickers back to life, with a new distinction.

A warping effect makes it hard to read, and a monochromatic filter does not help either, but it almost seems as if the steam library has folded in on itself. If you were there, which you aren't, you could squint, and you might be able to make out some mixed names. "Fist Full of Overlords", "Darkest Mania", "Portal to Monkey Island"...

"Return of the Team Fortress" is currently running, the steam menu says, but the application is not up.

---

staricipant wakes up, face down on hard flooring. A glance around solicits a groan from the beleaguered spy main. This wasn't some bizarre dream coming from too much playing of violent video games? No, this was good old RED spawn room, alright. They quickly check their armory, still not understanding now that they've fallen into the spy's shoes how they holster a revolver without a visible holster. The sapper, the knife, the strange dead ringer...

Opening the Spytron 3000 Disguise Kit raises an alarm, however. The cigarettes removed, in their place, a second screen. In fact, the regular screen does not display the options of disguises, but a team roster in their place. Confused, staricipant taps on the new screen. The player-list is all there, all 24 of the poor sods who decided it was a bright idea to play Tufort today. Unless this sort of thing happened on other servers...

Not a good thought. staricipant scans over the player list. Twelve on each side, all of them greyed out, even their own username. Instead of having the pings of each player, there is simply grey text saying "unknown". How strange. staricipant exits the new screen and returns to the old one. It does not seem like they can disguise, but they test it anyway, tapping on the Heavy Weapons Guy. It zooms in on his face, and a piece of text appears next to the icon. "[?], a Red Heavy, [?]". How helpful. What does any of this do or even just mean?

staricipant gives up, closing the disguise kit and pocketing it. Revolver out, although they're not sure how much good it'd do if Merasmus or any of those other beasts came back. The spy opens up the resupply cabinet, pulling out a few small med-kits and pocketing them, and then leaves the spawn room. Sure, it'd be faster to jump down off the balcony, but staricipant wasn't that confident in game mechanics to risk an injury. Better take the stairs, just in case.

It's still a relatively short walk to the bridge between the forts, and staricipant is glad they didn't pick soldier or heavy when this started, seeing how slow the two walk. staricipant's walking speed itself comes to a halt as they stare down at the charred corpse of a scout. They recognize them, of course, they're... staricipant's virtual eyes widen in worry. What happened? No, they're a scout, obviously, but what was their username?

The spy closes their eyes. They remember... well, their life before a madman wizard who may or may not even be real sucked them into the hit FPS, and they remember getting shot by that wizard and waking up here, but... what happened between those points? They knew they checked the list before, and they were here for the fights... where did they even fight Merasmus? This bridge? The intel room, and if so, which one? Was it outdoors or indoors? They never had memory problems before, and certainly none like this. staricipant feels more like a ghost then a real person right now, and they aren't technically wrong.

As they step around the poor scout, their pocket vibrates. staricipant takes a step away, and it stops.  A step back, and it vibrates. staricipant decides not to stick around and continues on into the BLU fortress- the doorways are barricaded. Resupply cabinets and tables block unwanted access. Counterintuitively, this gives staricipant hope. "Bonjour?" An annoyed cough. That's what they get for possessing a frenchman. "Hello? Anyone in there?"

But it's as silent as a ghost town. Only the wind answers, and it's not a very understandable source of information. staricipant looks at their other options. Not being a soldier, or a demo, or even a pyro, there's no way they could get to the balcony from here. The sewers were an option, and not even an unfeasible one. Just... yes, staricipant realized how stupid it was as they berated themselves, they were a bit scared of water over head height. And the TF2 mercs didn't swim as much as spam the spacebar to quickly hop back out of the water. Jumping in was a no go, at least, and since time did not seem to be of the essence, the spy turned to enter the sewers from RED base.

They don't make it very far, though. In fact, they stop almost immediately, glaring down at the corpse of the scout that dares to make their pocket vibrate. Finally, they pull out whatever it is... it's their watch. A lovely gold, and a bronze shimmer floats over it occasionally. It cost about a dollar and ten cents trading refined for it, but it was worth it. staricipant flicks open their watch and this isn't their watch. It... it shows the time, inside. It has an hour hand and a minute hand. staricipant isn't an expert in watches, or even in non-digital clocks, but they'd hazard a guess and say the time is 1:30, although on day and night they would have no idea.

It is still vibrating. The Dead Ringer, as much as staricipant knows, does not normally... ring, let alone vibrate, but what do they know? Maybe this is a common reaction to corpses that the Spy knows of but isn't important to the player. A unique piece of lore, maybe? Something to update the wiki about. Could it stop shaking, though? It's going to fall out of their hands- and it does. staricipant, still getting used to wearing fine gloves, flubs their chance to catch it, and it falls, rattling, onto the dead scout's ankle. The world goes dark, and video game player staricipant gets a killer headache.

---

"Med down! Oh ey, you want some too?" "Try! You idiot, get back here!" "I can take'm oh god oh I am on FIRE help me hel-"

---

staricipant stares, dumbfounded, at the flaming corpse of the scout. The voices in their head seemed so lifelike, and yet everyone in this scene is as motionless as a statue. The scout, falling over, was attempting to flee a pyro down the bridge, as a sniper in the direction the scout was running pulls an arrow out of the quiver for their bow. A spy stands next to the sniper, whiffing a revolver shot on the pyro. staricipant realizes that something is very off.

They can see, but there's no color anymore. They can't even tell which team the scout is on, or the pyro, or the sniper, although they can guess the pyro isn't on this team's side. A glance behind the pyro shows the dead body of a medic, assumedly the cause of this "Med Down" call from the scout. There's no one else around, really. But the entrance to the BLU base is unblocked, now! A sneaky way around a problem, and staricipant didn't even need to get their shoes wet. They proudly march inside, and stare at a black void. They touch it, and it repels them like a trampoline. How helpful.

It also hurts their head, again. Great. They walk back outside, staring up at a white sun. Something vibrates in their pocket, and they check the watch in their hand. Wait, no, that's not it. This time, the disguise kit is to blame. staricipant flips it open, anger slowly creeping under the ski mask. What now? Both screens are empty, but when it's open, that quickly changes. The right-hand screen begins... typing.

[24 names met their fates here, in these fortresses.] [It is your solemn duty to put name to face, and face to fate.] [Accomplish this, and you shall be set free.] [Fail, and remain stuck.] [Good luck.]

"Good luck?" The spy snarls, anger having been replaced by rage. "I get trapped in some bizzaro TF2, and the message is GOOD LUCK?" The disguise kit is slapped closed and shoved violently in their pocket. staricipant sits down suddenly, grumbling. "Oh, isn't this just magnifique. Magnificent, damn it all to hell. Fine, I'll solve a stupid puzzle. Just so I can stop being french."