Fighting Fantasy Comes To iPhone

Here’s some news of the greatest thing that ever happened ever anywhere ever.

On the most recent episode of the world’s greatest videogame podcast OneLifeLeft, Fighting Fantasy co-creator Ian Livingstone confirmed that the Fighting Fantasy series is heading to iPhone THIS YEAR.

The great man, Ian Livingstone

It’ll all kick off with Warlock Of Firetop Mountain, as it should, and you’ll be able to shake your phone to roll the dice.

This is the best thing that ever happened. EVER.

We’ll keep you up to date with any further news of the greatest thing ever to happen as it happens.

Zaa Ooo Zaa!

Fighting Fantasy – My Monolith

Where did it all begin for me? This DowntimeTown thing – where did it all actually start? I’ve been asking myself this question for a while, now. Something must have kicked off my interest in gaming, in all its forms. Why am I not one of those guys who smirk and say “Pff! Games? Yeah, right!”

What made me what I am?

Just like in 2001, there was a monolith. And I touched it.

It wasn’t 2001. It was 1983. I was six years old. I was in a shop called John Menzies, in Glasgow city centre, with my ma. It was a Saturday. There was a robotics dancer in a white boiler suit and white mask dancing outside. There was music and laughter. And inside the shop, there was the bold Zanbar Bone, staring back at me. I can remember exactly how I felt looking at him. Nervous. Maybe even a bit scared. I didn’t know his name at that moment. But I knew I would hate him and fear him (and love him) forever. Since that day, whenever I picture the ultimate bad guy, I see Iain McCaig’s Zanbar Bone. I had a dream with him in it only a month ago. He was at a window, with his scythe, looking in at me. I’m almost 32.

The text above him read “A Thrilling Fantasy Adventure In Which YOU Are The Hero!”

Me – The Hero. How could I be a hero? I was a schoolboy. Terrified of my teachers. Anxious.

It was summer, and I played City of Thieves in my back garden for weeks, rolling dice and filling in my adventure sheet. My head was filled with names – Zanbar Bone, Nicodemus, Jimmy Quicktint. I was lost in the winding, labyrinthian streets of Port Blacksand, searching (usually in vain) for the things I’d need to lay Zanbar Bone to rest.

For those who don’t know – Fighting Fantasy gamebooks were Choose Your Own Adventure stories with a combat and inventory system bolted on. The book was split into paragraphs, often 400 or more, and you would navigate between them, making choices and trying desperately to stay alive.

Terror stalks the night as Zanbar Bone and his bloodthirsty Moon Dogs hold the prosperous town of Silverton to ransom. YOU are an adventurer, and the merchants of Silverton turn to you in their hour of need.

Your mission takes you along dark, twisting streets where thieves, vagabonds and creatures of the night lie in wait to trap the unwary traveller. And beyond lies the most fearsome adventure of them all – the tower stronghold of the infamous Zanbar Bone!

I had never experienced anything quite like it. I’d been a reader from an early age. I started young. By the time I picked up City of Thieves I’d read many a Hardy Boys book. I’d even started on Stephen King novels. But nothing had prepared me for this. It was a story, yes. But it was a story with ME in it. Me! Of all people to have in a book, they chose me! A freckly little Glaswegian boy who was missing his recently-passed Granda.

I was staggered.

I was influencing the world of the story. I could choose where to go, what to do. I had always seen narrative as a conspiracy that I could only see along the surface of – a path navigated by a hooded stranger who would let me see what he wanted me to see, and no more. But in City of Thieves I found that narrative was suddenly a collaboration. A beautiful drunken singalong song. A sea-shanty.

It became my mission in life to get my hands on every Fighting Fantasy book in existence. After all, I was the hero, right? I believed that now. I had a responsibility. And I wanted to sing.

This was next:

The Forest was nightmarish. The Hero (that’s me, by the way) struggled with that long, confusing journey to Stonebridge. My dice seemed to be cursed. YOU ARE DEAD. YOU ARE DEAD.

I was in love. I enjoyed failing. I took death on the chin (which was just as well, because there were a fair few cruel Instant Death moments inside the Forest) and loved rolling up a new character and setting out again. You could not keep me down. I was indefatigable.

Fighting Fantasy started to creep into my real-world play. My childhood pal, Matthew Cook, would come down to my garden and I’d persuade him to take on the role of one of Ian Livingstone or Steve Jackson’s creations. And then I’d attack him. Good thing – I didn’t have to roll a dice before that fight. Bad thing – Matthew was strong as an ox and could fling me about at will. But like I said, I loved to lose. I loved the bittersweet taste of heroic failure.

Glorious defeat. It’s something that has stayed with me. When I play a boardgame with people, I only really care about winning if it’s a “Battle of Wits!” style of thing. If it’s very theme-heavy, with a lot of narrative in there, I quite enjoy being punished. I enjoy playing Arkham Horror and being smashed by the King in Yellow. Heroes do heroic things, yes. And it’s great when they do. But heroes should also fail. And die.

And that’s why I loved this beauty:

Stranded miles from anywhere on a dark and stormy night, your only hope of refuge is the strange, ramshackle mansion you can see in the distance…

But entering the House of Hell hurls you into an adventure of spine-chilling and blood-curdling terror. The dangers of the torrential storm outside are nothing compared to the nightmarish creatures that await you within its gruesome walls.

Be warned! You must try to keep your fear under control – collect too many FEAR points and you will die of fright. Can you make it through the night without being scared – to death?

I played House of Hell differently from how I played the other books. I was a horror film nut, and I wanted to behave inside the House the way I knew a Hero from a horror film would behave. I wanted to adhere to horror convention. I set out to make all the worst possible decisions. I’d walk blindly into danger. I’d take the path that looked the scariest. I’d hope to fail with my dice rolls.

It was a bloodbath.

Fighting Fantasy books were a massive part of my life in those formative years. Ian Livingstone and Steve Jackson (and Joe Dever of Lone Wolf) are up there alongside Stephen King as people who inspired me to write.

But I see now that they also inspired me to game. Those Fighting Fantasy experiences were the blueprint for a life of seeking out ways of making ME the Hero. Why did I play computer and video games? For the very same reasons I read those books. To feel that sense of empowerment you get from taking someone else’s world and changing it into your own, at least for a little while.

And, crucially, why do I play tabletop games? Why is DowntimeTown here?

Because I love to sit at a table and create a shared narrative with people.
Story as singalong.
That Port Blacksand sea shanty again, as loud and wonderful as it ever was.

We’re going to be doing something quite special with Fighting Fantasy gamebooks down the line. We’ll keep you posted.