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Feel the need to get in touch with the Balrog, swap chit-chat with the Cat
or simply exchange verbals with the Cockroach - then all you have to do is click on the button and you will be transported
to the place where you can do all that.
THE DRAGON's LAIR
Fancy a quick chat or even a long moan .. then click on the link below and
air your grievances .. ALL are welcome .. even Trolls, Orcs and Goblins.
View the
Message Board
Zen On The 'Ten
Collection 1
All the various titles and a batch of 'extras'
supplied on a 2GB micro-sd memory card - for those of you who already have an 'R4 Supercard'.
Collection 2
All the various titles and a batch of 'extras' supplied
on a 2GB micro-sd memory card and including an 'R4 supercard' on which to run everything.
On each memory card there
will be all the '48', '128' and 'TZX' formats of the games as well as the ZXDS 'emulator' on which to run them.
The
'R4 Supercard' will be a genuine version and comes complete with a FREE 'memory-card reader'. It can also be used to
run various other 'homebrew' software etc.
The ZXDS 'emulator' will handle all formats of the games. However there
are still a few problems with save/load routines in 'Quilled' games and 'Multi-part' titles that use said routines. Hopefully
this will be remedied in the near future. In the meantime use the inbuilt options to save your progress through these games.
Also included with the various games will be a number of little 'extras'
for your perusal - such as 'leaflets' and 'screen-shots' - complete with a 'utility' to display them on your DS.
The SD memory-card comes complete with all the necessary 'files' required
to run an R4 card, so if you already own such a beast all you have to do is insert the memory-card into it and away you go.
If you do not possess an R4 card then use either option 2 or 4 in order to obtain one from us. Then it is a simple case of
placing the memory-card into the R4 card and then inserting the R4 card in the relevant slot on your DS and switching
on.
All enquiries in regards to the two new collections to the usual address .. thanks.
Free Christmas Adventure
Here is a nice little game to keep you occupied over the festive period. Not only
is it 'Christmas orientated' but it comes in three huge parts as well, so there should be more than enough of it to go around
- just like the festive Turkey.
Have fun and I hope you all have a very "Merry Christmas" ......
The Twelve Days Of Christmas - Part 1.tzx
The Twelve Days Of Christmas - Part 2.tzx
The Twelve Days Of Christmas - Part 3.tzx
The Cricket Match
..... as the tabby from number 10 arched her back and raised
her tail high into the air, a large grin spread across the face of the Cat and the message "Tonight's the night! " emblazeoned
itself across his mind. With a shake of his nether regions and an extremely husky "Purrrr!" he advanced towards the waiting
tabby ........ only to be rudely awoken from his lustful meanderings by a prod with a large stubby toe and the cry of ...
"Wake up you lazy sod, today is the day of the annual Orcs v Trolls cricket match and we've got stacks to do if we want to
get there before the first ball is bowled!"
Opening one eye and shaking his head in complete disbelief, the
Cat squinted up at the large dark shape looming over him. To his immense disgust it was only the old Balrog and he quickly
closed his eye again in an attempt to get back to the waiting tabby. But Balrog was not to be denied and another 'gentle'
prod with a toe soon caused the Cat to stir himself ... it was either that or the fact that in his dream the tabby from number
10 had decided that the 'liberated female' of today was not one to wait for anybody and was now intent on arousing the interests
of that young ginger tom from number 23. Either way, Cat's 'Warren Beatty' impersonation had been brought to a sudden halt
and there was nothing he could do about it .... but just let that ginger tom come sniffing around HIS dustbin again and the
local refuse men would find more than left-over prawn balls in the garbage.
"First of all, " mumbled Balrog, "we will have to process all
these orders," pointing in the direction of the pile of letters lying on the kitchen table. With a flick of his tail
the Cat did just that and about half-a-dozen assorted envelopes quickly found their way behind the fridge. "Hmmm," he thought,
"they will keep until tomorrow or whenever Mrs Balrog next sweeps behind that." Just then Balrog turned around to pick
up the morning mail and with a puzzled look on his face said "I am sure there were more than this when the postie dropped
them off this morning." With that, he shuffled off upstairs.
As Balrog worked away upstairs, amidst the clanks and groans
of the duplicating machine, the Cat was hard at work supervising the poor old Cockroach, who had been co-erced into preparing
the picnic lunch the trio would take with them to the cricket match. Such great delicacies as 'pickled Dragon eggs', 'green-cheese
sandwiches' and 'rhubarb strudel' found their way into the hamper (actually a large plastic Safeway's carrier bag) and a steaming
thermos of dandelion coffee was quickly brewed and added to them. The Cat stretched himself and yelled "Come on Boss, I ain't
slaving away over a hot stove all morning for nothing and if we don't leave soon the damn game will be over before we get
there!"
Balrog ambled downstairs, picked up the 'hamper' carefully (for
Safeway's carrier bags are famous for having the handles snap off whenever you pick them up) and headed off in the direction
of the back door. Cat slid off the top of the fridge and with a sly kick in the direction of the Cockroach, strutted off behind
him. "What anybody sees in a poxy game where one player throws what looks like a Dragon's left testicle at his
opponent and the other player does his best to beat the sh*t out of it with a large lump of wood I will never know. Why they
don't take up some more intelligent pursuit like falconery or harvest-mouse baiting?" mumbled the Cockroach as he stopped
rubbing his sore left-leg and, with a sudden darting movement, nipped through the open door. Two large fleas,who had been
sat on the doormat, saw their chance to have a 'free' day out and deftly leapt on to Cat's passing tail. As the Cat absent-mindedly
swished his tail, the fleas snuggled down in comfort and the party of 'cricket-lovers' trudged off in the direction of
the village-green ...........
(Second Over)
With -the occasional 'thwack" of willow on leather resounding in his ears
and a large tankard of foaming 'Dragon's Breath' clutched tightly in his left paw, Balrog felt at peace with himself ....
and at one with his surroundings. Sat here with the warm afternoon sun reflecting off his bald spot and with the contented
smirk that only comes from one who has feasted well on devilled Orc's eyes smeared across his face, Balrog glanced around
him.
The right Reverend Inglis was at the crease, his ruddy complexion made even
redder by his recent exertions and, as Balrog reflected upon the fact that whilst Inglis made a very fine preacher but a damn
poor substitute for an opening bat, he stepped down the wicket and drove the ball in the direction of the extra-cover
boundary .... much to the surprise of the watching Balrog. Just then, young Miss Primbody, who happened to be passing, saw
the approaching ball and, with a shrill 'yelp!', leapt into the air to avoid it. Her lightweight summer dress blew around
her waist as she twisted to avoid the oncoming missile and afforded Balrog a sudden glimpse of pert young flesh, vivid scarlet
panties and the endearing sight of a taut black suspender strap stretched across a firm young thigh ..... instantly
his mind filled with more 'youthful' memories and the warm flush of recollection quickly coloured his cheeks. As Miss Primbody
adjusted her hemline and straightened her seams, Balrog turned his head and tried to concentrate on more mundane matters.
Suddenly there was a loud cry of "Owzat!" and the Reverend Inglis, who had also stopped to admire the view, turned his head
to see that he had been run-out between wickets.
All around the village green various small stalls had been set up and a
number of tents erected. It was these that were now the focus of Balrog's attention and as he gazed in the direction of one
particular tent he could not help but wonder at the 'attraction' contained within. For there was a large orderly queue of
men gathered at its entrance. Balrog leaned forward and peered at the tent, though to be quite honest his attention was more
taken with the small red sign that hung over the doorway. As he adjusted his gaze and the words became clearer, Balrog began
to read out loud to himself ... "Sexy Sue, Spend Sixpence and Subject yourself to Sixty Seconds of Sexual Splendour". Just
beneath this somebody had scrawled ... "No refunds if you cannot last the full sixty seconds".
Supressing the giggle that threatened to erupt from within, Balrog turned
his attention to another of the various stalls that lined the boundary of the green and was most heartened to see that the
ladies of the 'W.I.' had turned out in full force and were doing a roaring trade in such delicacies as 'Pickled Dragon
Wings', 'Sauted Frog Tongue' and 'Devilled Orc Eyes' ... it was nice to see that these fine pillars of the community were
still doing their best to ensure that the good wholesome foods of 'yesteryear' were not forgotten. The new fad of 'fast-food'
was okay, in fact he was quite partial to the odd basket of 'Kentucky Fried Squirrel' but you could not beat the likes of
a good plate of 'Dragon giblets and baby turnips' or even plain old crusty bread and green cheese. The thought of such tasty
morsels caused a thickening of his throat and Balrog took a large swig of 'Dragon's Breath' in an effort to ease the situation.
Beneath the small trestle table that formed the 'W.I.' stall, a small cat
and an even smaller cockroach were hatching a plan to get their hands on the splendid chocolate cake that took pride of place
in the centre of the table and an afternoon's cricket was about to be brought to a sudden and untimely halt ........
(Third Over)
"Here, cop hold of this .... " whispered the Cat, sliding something long
and cylindrical towards the cockroach. "Now get your gob around the narrow end and put your tongue to work." As a cold bead
of sweat trickled down the roach's cheek, he glanced down and was greatly relieved to see that he was only clutching a rolled-up
copy of yesterday's 'GOBLIN GAZZETTE'. "If you widen out one end of it," continued the Cat, "Then you will find yourself with
a very useful megaphone. So nip over to that empty tent next to the pavillion and start shouting this." With that he handed
the roach a small piece of paper.
Some moments later, when the cockroach had made his way to the tent and
done the necessary with one end of the rolled-up copy of the 'GAZZETTE', all and sundry were surprised to hear his dulcet
tones reverberating around the village green. "Roll up, roll up, see the sensation of the nineties. Hot from her tour of the
working-men's clubs of the North-East, 'SCARLET COD' are proud to present ..... 'Magnificent Marion and her Mammoth Mammaries'.
She will swing them left and she will swing them right, throughout the land there is no finer sight!" For the next few moments
the cockroach used his makeshift megaphone to great effect, the sound of his voice echoing out to all but the farthest reaches
of the village green.
Old Bert, who had been busily engaged in looking after the tent in which
the 'Pet Show' was to take place later that afternoon, looked up from his slumbers and upon hearing the word 'mammaries' was
jerked into life by a long-forgotten memory. "This I must see," he mumbled and shuffled off in the direction of the pavillion.
Seeing his opportunity, the Cat quickly slunk into the 'Pet Show' tent and
began to rummage around amongst the numerous baskets, cages and cardboard boxes that had been left there by their various
owners. For the next few moments all hell was let loose in the 'Pet Show' tent as the Cat delved his paw into each and every
receptacle in search of the object of his desire. Hamsters, tortoises and rabbits dived for cover and one small gerbil came
within an inch of losing its life when in a moment of sheer stupidity, brought on by a bout of excessive bravado, it sank
its teeth into Cat's right paw. With a shriek of "Soddin' hell!" the Cat drew back its paw so rapidly that the attached gerbil
found himself unable to hold on any longer and flew towards the jaws of a dog that was tethered to the central tent-pole.
Just as it seemed that death was but an instant away, the dog lunged forward in its eagerness to grab the approaching 'snack'
and with a loud 'crack' snapped the tent-pole in half. As the tent collapsed around all concerned the gerbil landed with a
'plop' and quickly scampered away to the relative safety of a nearby pile of straw. In the ensuing chaos Cat located what
he had been searching for and quickly slid out from under the pile of fallen canvas. Making his way towards the 'W.I.' stall,
Cat looked down at the small white mouse clutched in his paw and thought to himself ... "Do your stuff pal and that chocolate
cake is mine!"
With that he sidled up to the edge of the 'W.I.' stall and surreptiously
dropped the mouse next to a 'stout' Welsh lady who had been looking after the loaves of sea-weed bread. For a second all was
still and quiet - then the mouse ran over her left foot. "Eeeeee, a mouse!!!" she shrieked, before leaping onto the edge of
the trestle-table that formed the major part of the stall, a remarkable feat considering her somewhat 'bulky' appearance.
With her skirt drawn up to her waist and the wind blowing through her red-satin bloomers (neatly embossed with a small green
Dragon), she stood there watching the small mouse dart for cover and for just a moment it seemed as though the crisis had
passed. However such tables are not designed to withstand being jumped upon by stout Welsh ladies and with a loud creak the
legs gave way and the contents of the table slid to one end ... along with the Welsh lady and the large chocolate cake. The
latter was gratefully accepted by the waiting Cat who picked it up and headed in the direction of the small copse of trees
to the north of the village green ..............
(Fourth Over)
Balrog, his attention drawn to the area of the "W.I." stall by the noise
now coming from that direction, glanced up from his copy of 'NAKED GNOMES & ELVES' and was just in time to see Cat's bum
vanishing into the distance. "What has that little sod been up to now?" growled Balrog, rising creakily to his feet and slipping
the now 'folded' copy of 'N.G.S.E' into his hip pocket. "I'll cut off more than his privileges when I get my hands on him!"
With that he set off in pursuit of the fleeing feline, albeit at a slightly more sedate pace than was to be expected from
somebody hoping to catch a cat who was sprinting for all it was worth.
Meanwhile back at the 'disaster-area' that had been the 'W.I.' stall the
stout Welsh lady was tentatively dabbing a wet napkin in the direction of some large blobs of 'sticky brown substance' that
were clinging to the left leg of her red-satin bloomers .... a task she was obviously not enamoured with .... owing to the
fact that she was not quite sure whether the 'blobs 'were remnants of chocolate cake or the result of her recent sudden shock.
A passing tortoise (an escapee from the 'Pet Show' tent) looked up and, astonished to see the state of the Welsh lady's bloomers,
was heard to remark-.... "Gee, it's a real pity, but I guess that incontinence comes to us all in our old age." With her head
averted to one side and her eyes tightly closed, the buxom beauty kept dabbing at the 'blobs'.
To the onlookers Balrog's pursuit seemed pointless, as the cat had by now
almost reached the safety of the small copse of Ash trees and Balrog himself had yet to cross the village-green. However all
was not lost, because at that very instant Squire Horsfield stepped down the wicket and drove a lovely cover-drive in the
direction of the southern boundary. "Just what I could do with," thought Balrog spying the approaching red-leather ball and
reaching up with a podgy right hand he plucked it out of the air in mid-flight. "Jolly well done!" cried Tim who had been
fielding nearby, "Bloody Fine catch old boy!" and Squire Horsfield slunk off dejectedly as the scorer chalked up a large 'duck-egg'
next to his name on the scoreboard. Balrog shook his head in bemused amazement as a ripple of applause echoed around the village
green and then wiping the ball on the seat of his pants, took aim at the fleeing cat and let fly ..... the small red-leather
ball rose into the clear blue sky and, for what seemed like an eternity to all who looked on, travelled in the general direction
of the small copse of trees before plummeting downwards towards its target.
With his breath coming in short pants and the sound of ... "Run you tw*t!
Run!" resounding in his ears, Cat glanced over his shoulder at the cockroach, who was clinging for dear life to his tail whilst
entreating the cat to make all possible haste in the direction of the safety of the trees. It was at that precise moment that
he first spied the incoming missile and the 'pain' it was about to bring down on him. "Oh sh*t!" hissed the Cat, between clenched
teeth, before making one last frantic effort to reach the group of Ash trees and the relative- safety of their overhanging
boughs.
Meanwhile at the tip of his tail a small cockroach clung on for dear life
and prayed that Balrog's aim had NOT been true ........
(Final Over)
With his eyes tightly shut, the cockroach clung on dearly to the outstretched
tail of the cat and waited for the inevitable arrival of the approaching missile. There was a sudden 'Whoosh!' as the ball
sped past him, followed by a dull and ever so-painful "Thud" as it struck its target and the cockroach found himself hurtling
through the air as the cat plunged face first into the soft, loamy earth that surrounded the small copse of trees.
Remembering
all he had learnt at the 'Kung Fu' classes in the local church-hall, the cockroach curled up into a tight ball and made a
comparatively safe landing ... which is more than can be said for the cat, as it ploughed a large furrow in the ground with
its nose, before coming to rest at the base of one of the trees. Brushing the leaves from his fourth and fifth legs, the cockroach
sauntered over towards the cat and as he did so, he could not help but wonder where the two large coconuts that the cat was
now sitting on had come from. After all, he was sure that there were no palm trees around, only Ash and the odd Oak but then
again he could just be mistaken about that.
With a savage pain tearing through his nether regions, the Cat reached down
and extracted the cricket-ball from where it had lodged itself and then proceeded to lick the wounded area. "Hey!", cried
the cockroach, "This is no time to be enjoying yourself, his lordship will be here any moment." The cat glared at the 'roach
and continued to administer some sort of moist 'relief' to his damaged parts, whilst thoughts of just what he would do to
that damn insect, when he got his paws on him, flitted through his fermented mind.
Meanwhile Balrog continued his trek across the village-green, stopping only
to admire a rather fine off-cut by Tartan Tam as he did so ... "Hmmm!" he thought, "Seems to me that the last time I saw a
swing like that was on a bleedin' golf-course." Back in the small copse of trees the Cat had risen gingerly to his feet and
was attempting to make some sort of progress through the trees, albeit hindered by the damage that had been inflicted by the
cricket-ball. "You would make better time if you left those coconuts behind!" cried the cockroach, still wondering just where
they had come from in the first place, before skillfully sidestepping a withering glance from the cat.
The cat dragged himself and his 'coconuts' through the small copse oF Ash
trees and was surprised to find that he seemed to making much better progress than he could ever have imagined in his wildest
dreams .... "Surely old Balrog should have caught up with me by now?" he whispered aloud and the 'roach nodded in silent agreement.
Then they both glanced over their shoulders to assess the approach-rate of the Balrog, only to see his great bulk waddling
off in the opposite direction. Completely bemused by this turn of events, both the cockroach and the Cat stopped in their
tracks and turned to face in the direction of the village-green.
All around the edge of the village-green people were scurrying towards the
lone figure that now stood next to the remnants of the 'W.I.' stall and an excited babble of conversation was beginning to
fill the air. Intrigued by this,our intrepid pair decided to risk life, limb and cat's 'coconuts' and set off in a northerly
direction in an attempt to learn what was going on. Some minutes later, their route across the village-green marked by two
rather deep furrows in the soft, green grass, they arrived in the vicinity of the 'Pet Show' tent - just in time to hear the
lone figure proclaim his news. There was a deathly hush as the words of the stranger fell upon the gathered multitude and
then a gentle sobbing was heard to emanate from the area of the stout Welsh lady, who had by this time ceased dabbing at the
small brown 'blobs' and raised her hankie to her eyes instead. A gruff cough echoed around the village-green and faces turned
towards the Balrog, whose words "That means that 'The Text-Adventure' , and all that it stood for, will be no more...", washed
any thoughts of the recent deeds of the 'roach and the cat from the minds of the assembled crowd.
However if anybody had cared to listen, they might just have heard the words
"Not if I can help it!" (spoken in a broad Scots accent) as a small gnome standing on the edge of the crowd hatched
a plan to bring 'Adventuring' back to life again - albeit in some other 'form' if necessary.
The rest as they say .. "Is History".
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