| Home |
| Play |
| Review |
| Build |
| Hall of Fame |
| Forum |
Levels listed...
TR5 - 31
TR4 - 3141
TR3 - 177
TR2 - 133
TR1 - 61
72381 reviews (20.4/level)
3532 (99.7%) walkthroughs
445 Hall of Fame levels
1221 levels rated >= 8
| Level Information | Download | Walkthrough | Reviews |
 |
Why do you bother by Drobridski |
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
IMPORTANT NOTE: This is actually a pack of two non-connected scenarios; if you wish to access the long-awaited sequel on my award-winning Satan-series before assembling a proper lynch mob in the web as required, please refer to the "How to play"-section in the readme. ~STORY~ (Run of the Mill) And everybody's favourite pseudo-archaeologist mused this would be one of her easy Sunday mornings. She was just strolling in the gardens, minding her own business, when certain Sophia Leigh - a ravishing young lady undergoing a midlife crisis - appeared straight out of the blue with her fancy-shmancy Einstein-Rosenbridge Wormhole Generator. As usual Sophia had an offer no mortal possibly could refuse. Lara should fetch the legendary Eightball before the end of the day from the middle of nowhere for her (to state the obvious, this trinket is your everyday age-old artefact; pumped from head to toe with flamboyant mythical powers which no doubt cause the destruction of the universe in the famous wrong hands, in addition to its impressive bread-slicing capabilities), as Sophia's bathroom lacking the item would surely make the decor there look half-arsed for tomorrow's virgin blood tasting guests. As if this reason wasn't grave enough for Lara to get her butt spelunking already, Sophia doubled up by declaring that she'll never ever solve jigsaw puzzles with Lara again should Sophia end up humiliated by cheeky remarks. Her ultimatum could not have come at a worse time. This nine-piece brain-teaser our heroine has been struggling with the past seven months isn't for the light-hearted, and it pains Lara to admit that cracking the nut without Sophia's superior intellect is as ridiculous a thought as vaccines not having mind-controlling nano-chips in 'em. So Lara prepares herself for another tiresome day at the office... however, embarking on a classic raid riding her gasoline-reeking motorbike and wearing her iconic attire is out of question, since those bloodthirsty climate change-supporting conspiracy theorists infesting the streets wouldn't exactly lay out the welcome mat to a vehicle gobbling some dinosaur-juice. But above all, the laundry containing the turquoise tank top and short-shorts won't be dry until bedtime, and Lara refuses to go anywhere sub-standardly clad. Great Caesar's ghost, what'd the neighbours think? The sun began to set already yet the beloved graverobber was still pondering how in cherished supreme common god Market Economy's name she'll ever get adventuring and look fabulous while doing so, until a bohemian Wolksvagen Kamper parked itself before Lara. Off the driver's seat hopped none other than John Tanner (he is the wheelman y'know) and this undercover detective figured the ultimate video gaming queen could help him out on a case. An environmental NGO had asked Tanner to look into a perplexing phenomenon; livestock is being abducted in the middle of nowhere to who knows what grotesque purposes. There are never any sightings... but before you know it, there's another animal missing. Tanner still managed to narrow down the hijacking suspect (at first he fell into the trap of thinking UFOs are behind it all, but because extraterrestrial beings aren't mentioned in the Holy Bible they cannot exist) to a black sedan sometimes seen near some uninteresting ruins - where also the Eightball supposedly resides. Areas without proper roads give Tanner the jitters and if Lara'd be up for investigating further he'd be very pleased. Hell, he even lets her lend his meticuously customised van which is fueled conveniently as well as eco-friendly with solid faith in the Old Nick thus guaranteeing neither any power shortage nor harm from those sabre-rattling know-all dimwits, let alone slip into Tanner's stylish "cowtfit" he's been lugging along. You wouldn't believe how handy (or spine-tinglingly suitable for Lara's delicate taste) these puffy rags are whilst trailblazing a thug amid a pack of cattle. As for our heroine, this deal is like getting two secrets with one crouch - not that some wimpy police work would take the cake in the destination. Even though Lara naturally knows everything from every civilization which glory days are but a distant memory, some memory refreshment concerning the middle of nowhere wouldn't hurt. That's where Tanner's cornucopia of a dossier comes in. Since the location's ancient inhabitants didn't clearly pay their wireless networks & electrical dues before kicking the bucket, Lara copies the wheelman's intel into her notebook (it's really Werner's but please be nice and don't tell him) instead of a stupidphone. By now you've probably already realised this day and age unexplored tombs, palaces & whatnots paired with superb treasures have gone through massive inflation, and as a result mean jack to virtually everyone. One clever entrepreneur has even went and established a snack bar in this particular temple's vicinity - in somewhat vain hope of attracting those wayward rascals constantly playing in the ruins. On top of that every nook and cranny is mysteriously littered with ammunition, just like any other sanctuary Lara has ever conquered. Leading radio amateurs have studied this fascinating matter from the mid-90s, when time began, and have come to the conclusion that the supplies are provided by War Economy to keep tabs on humans' lucrative, endless and maniacal appetite of vulgarly displaying their power in form of violence entertainment. There are pitiful rumors claiming capitalism has taken an unsustainably crooked course but fret not, our cherished supreme common god - in all His infinite wisdom - has strictly ordered one and all of us to turn a blind eye upon such petty non-profit issues not greasing the wheels of His baby brother. Lara didn't order Tanner a lecture on philosophy, but he was just citing the latest message the tribe had published (dated 27 B.L., Before Lucifer) on their wall @ TweetBook before vanishing for eternity. In any case the gun cartridges there most likely serve no purpose at all as estimated opposition is slim to none. But just you wait for the ricochet. Last but not least the helpful detective gives an insight on his precious automobile's fantastic features. Because of the patented 666-cylinder engine's torque power, it's stressed that Lara is to follow Tanner's instructions to the T. For instance one should steer well clear of the "Esc" and "Space" -lookalike buttons on the dashboard while en route. You see, those ester qwarks on the switches' circuitry added to the negative alleles the motor spews out (not to mention the Autopilot's positronic enzymes) just might rip the space-time continuum apart. Simply put to do so would be suicide. Pumping the "Jump"-pedal is ill-advised too, unless it is definitely needed. You've got to watch the paintwork after all. Heeding this, the tomb raider allows Tanner to have the little rest he asked at her sorry mansion while she's out - knowing full well the kitchen table tempting once again bypassers with delightfully crispy Creamy Raisin Cakes. But Lara is more than just a pretty face by narrow-minded western standards. After the last preposterous burglary of the forementioned delicacies, she now had prepared the raisins tad differently; causing possible hedonists to mouth kitchen pots and cauldrons about new needs to purchase and why to follow them on pointless internet spy-programs until the effect wears off. Thelia would roll in her grave if she was six feet under. However I'm sure she'd bid her blood relative godspeed now as Lara flicks Kamper's Autopilot on, heading out to the highway... *Be the envy of your buddies by grabbing all 21 impossibly hidden secrets. *You can drink your own saliva, but never spit it out. ~STORY~ (O Father O Satan O Sun!) This doppelganger of you-know-what puts your "Lara-control", among other traits, to the premium. Never give up! *Doesn't the sweet emotion of beating this game make up for the absence of secrets for you...? *When you see a chance, take it! |
    |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||