The screen moves up and down; the duration varies according to how many drinks you bought.
Your posts are altered to make it appear as if you are typing drunk.
After five drinks, you will recieve a personal message from High Archmage Thane:
We need to talk, [User Name].
I've been increasingly concerned about your wellbeing as of late. You smell of alcohol, [User Name]. Your clothes are dirty, and I'm fairly sure I heard you cursing at a student this morning. Although it is delicious, Remy's Summer Brew is no way to deal with your problems. If it is emotional pain you feel, don't hesitate to seek help.
Your posts are altered to make it appear as if you are typing drunk.
After five drinks, you will see the following message:
You wake up covered in grey goo, and wonder where your socks went.
You will also recieve a private message from Timothy Waffleton:
Listen, [User Name]. Don't ever bring trolls into my store again. It stopped being funny after the big one ate the chandelier. Oh, and you left your socks here.
Your posts are altered to make it appear as if you are typing drunk.
After five drinks, you will see the following message:
You wake up in a small cave, rolling onto something furry. Sitting up, you are alarmed to discover the bear you have spent the night ajacent to. With the intention of making your way back to the keep, you step outside and fall face-first into a drift of snow. Cursing, you see that you are wearing high heels, and that they are wrapped in red ribbon. Luckily, a bypassing merchant offers you a seat in his chariot and brings you home.
You will also recieve the following private message from Timothy Waffleton:
Greetings, [User Name]. I hope you are well. I know of your exploits last night, and simply wanted to tell you that there are people who can help you. I know a group that meets weekly, a group of magi like you, who have grown too fond of Remy's drinks. You know where to find me if you want to know more. Oh, and I could hear you talking all the way from my home last night. I hope you didn't really take that man up on his bet and try to sleep in a bear cave!
Each of the four different snowflakes was done by a different artist
The snowflakes begin as blue or white, then as they go down the screen, their transparency increases, so their color is affected by whatever is behind it.
Pretty autumn leaves and the occasional farir fall across the screen.
Your posts are altered to make it appear as if you are typing drunk.
Occasionally, you will receive this message:
You awaken to find yourself on a high branch of a large maple tree. There is a piece of parchment tied to your head that reads "Human Sacrifice #12". Head pounding, you slowly descend the tree and make your way back home. On the way you catch your reflection in the stream, and discover that somebody has painted tiny (yet realistic) owls all over your body.
This is a possible allusion to the soul-sucking abilities of Tylluan owls
Pretty autumn leaves and the occasional farir fall across the screen.
Your posts are altered to make it appear as if you are typing drunk.
Occasionally, you would get this message:
You wake up with a pounding headache, finding yourself on a small raft. Your clothes are stained purple, and upon inspection you find your pockets to be full of blackberries. A wild young kraken is playing with your vessel, bouncing you on the waves. After what seems like all morning, the beast finally brings you to the shoreline on the far side of Lake Lakira, and you begin the long walk home.
Occasionally you would get this message in addition to the aformentioned one:
The Kraken follows you the entire way, refusing to leave your side.
This was accompanied by a 0.00% Kraken hatchling appearing your keep.
Your posts are altered to make it appear as if you are typing drunk.
Occasionally, you would get this message:
You wake up in... your bed? You're clothed, remarkably safe, and your headache is unusually mild. Slightly disappointed, and wondering if you're growing old, you open the windows. Looking out, you realize that you are not in your room after all. In fact, you're in the observatory, the tallest tower of the keep. Looking back at your room, you notice small differences. Your books are arranged in a different order, there's a small chip in your bed frame, and a baby Ziraafa is poking it's head out from beneath the bed. You spend the rest of the day moving your posessions back to your room, piece by piece, down the massive spiral staircase.
Occasionally you would get the following message in addition to the aformentioned one:
The Ziraafa follows you the entire way, refusing to leave your side.
This was accompanied by a 0.00% Ziraafa hatchling appearing in your keep.
The screen moves up and down; the duration varies according to how many drinks you bought.
Your posts are altered to make it appear as if you are typing drunk.
Occasionally you would get this message:
You wake up with a dry mouth. Squinting, you see the sun is high overhead, and much to your dismay, you have a vibrant red sunburn. Several things suddenly occur to you: you have a pounding headache, your robes are soaking wet, and there is something incredibly heavy on your chest. It's a dodo. The bird wails in your face as you shove it off, and slowly waddles off. As you make your way to your rooms, nursing your head, you realize you have no idea what happened last night - but someone has written in huge letters on the front of your robes: CATCH ME, I'M AN EGG. Your only memory is of floating down the stream, screaming your head off and holding several Francis-tinis.
Occasionally you would get the following message in addition to the aformentioned one:
The Dodo follows you the entire way, refusing to leave your side.
This as accompanied by the Dodo egg appearing in your Keep.
Autumn leaves are falling from the top of the screen.
Your posts are altered to make it appear as if you are typing drunk.
Occasionally you would get this message:
You awake slowly, shifting unhappily. It's freezing! Your hands search for blankets that are not there, and you irritatedly sit up only to realize you're not in your warm bed. No, you're in the middle of a pumpkin patch. No wonder you were so cold. You look around groggily, trying to remember how you ended up here, but you have no memory of the prior night. You struggle to your feet, and promptly fall over. There's something sticky around your boots, and as you lean down you realize it's spider webbing. Exasperated, you stagger away from the pumpkin patch, rubbing your face in an effort to wake up. Your hands come away orange. When you get to your rooms, a glance in the mirror affirms that, yes, someone has painted your face, and it bears an uncanny resemblance to a pumpkin. Although you try and scrub it off, you are forced to walk around the castle like the buffoon you are.
Occasionally you would get the following message in addition to the aformentioned one:
When you get back to your rooms finally, ready to dive under the covers of your bed, you find a spider hatchling fast asleep on your pillow.
This was accompanied by a 0.00% Xisitak hatchling appearing in your keep.