His eyes light up when he sees you. "Excellent! I'm short for the morning edition—fancy giving a quick interview? People round here are always keen to hear from outsiders. Plus, there's a fee in it for you."
He frowns. "Thanks for nothing. Now I've got to find something else." He grabs his hat and marches out. He's left todays paper on his desk—but the typeface is a mess, like the ink has blurred. You struggle to make out the headlines.
EXAMINE THE PAPER
Instead of letters, the paper's printed with curved symbols and sharp glyphs. The layout and photos are normal, but the text is wrong. A lap of the room reveals the same—papers, notes, even the desk calendars are gibberish. The journalist returns and stops dead.
WHAT LANGUAGE IS THIS?
He rushes forward and catches you by the wrist, pulling you towards the door. "It's not for you. You need to leave." The centers of his eyes bear two matching glyphs.
He slams the door behind you. THe sign above the door is written in those glyphs—was it English before? Every street sign and business name bears the same incomprehensible symbols. The townsfolk watch you go. Their eyes each carry their own symbol.
First Progression: The town where gibberish symbols poxed people's bodies.
Final Progression: TBA
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