OpenAI

The year is a blisteringly ancient 1992. I am somewhere around 10 years old, socially awkward, and more or less living in a library, buried in books either at the sacred building, or digging through fractured pieces of its soul at home. Finally graduating from the droll monotony of Garfield (the banal feline-oriented strip, not the 20th president of the United States), I have recently discovered choose your own adventure books.