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CHOMPStation2/code/modules/library/hardcode_library/fiction/PortedBooks.dm
Schnayy 9c6881148e Moves custom books to main repo. (#6576) 
* Moves custom books to main repo.

* Fixes some oopsie woopsies.
2019-12-20 01:04:47 -05:00

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/*
Here is where we're putting any books being ported from our old database. Should only be used for books submitted by an unknown or inactive player to try and keep ckeys tied to their authors.
Try and keep formatting clean. Also, if you add books with ugly font or color mixes, I WILL destroy you. -- Schnayy
Category: Fiction
*/
/// The Tale of the Rainbow Cat by Miyahara Koichiro, translated by Emily Balistrieri.
/obj/item/weapon/book/bundle/custom_library/fiction/taleoftherainbowcat
name = "The Tale of the Rainbow Cat"
desc = "A hardbound book titled \"The Tale of the Rainbow Cat\" by Miyahara Koichiro."
description_info = "This book is titled \"The Tale of the Rainbow Cat\" by Miyahara Koichiro. There is a blurb on the back: <br>\<br>\
A wildly imaginative tale of powerful gods and a mischievous cat. Written originally in Japanese, it has been translated to GalCom."
title = "The Tale of the Rainbow Cat"
icon_state = "book2"
origkey = "Schnayy"
author = "Miyahara Koichiro"
pages = list({"<html>
<head>
<style>
h1 {font-family: Palatino Linotype; color: #E3BE64; border-style: double; border-radius: 10px;}
body {background-color: #792E22}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<br><br><br>
<center>
<h1><font size="5">The Tale of the Rainbow Cat</font>
<br><br>
<font size="2"><i>by Miyahara Koichiro</i></font></h1>
</center>
</body>
</html>
"},
{"<html>
<head>
<style>
body {font-size: 13px; font-family: Trebuchet MS; color: #2E2726; background-color: #EFECE7;}
p {border-style: dotted; border-radius: 5px; border-color: #2E2726; padding: 10px;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<p>
Once upon a time there was a cat, but he wasn’t the kind of cat you’re thinking of. He was from the land of the fairies and his fur was completely unexpected colors. For starters, his nose was <i>violet</i>. His eyes were <i>indigo</i>, his ears were <i>sky blue</i>, his front paws were <i>green</i>, his body was <i>yellow</i>, his back paws were <i>orange</i>, and his tail was <i>red</i>. So he was a mysterious cat of seven colors arranged just like a rainbow.
<br><br>
That rainbow cat went on all sorts of strange adventures. The following story is one of them.
<br><br>
One day while the rainbow cat was sunbathing, he was suddenly vexed by boredom. That is to say, peace reigned in the land of the fairies, so nothing much was going on.
<br><br>
<i>It’s not good for my health to spend all my time idling about as if I haven’t got a care in the world,</i> he thought. <i>Perhaps I should head out and go on an adventure.</i>
<br><br>
So he put a note up on his door: "Dear Mr. Post Man, I will be gone for two or three days, so if any packages or letters come, please throw them down the chimney."
<br><br>
Then he packed a small bag, hung it on his tail, and wobbled off to the border of the land of the fairies. When he arrived, a thick cloud billowed up.
<br><br>
"Well, maybe I’ll drop by the cloud people’s place," he chattered to himself, climbing up the cloud embankment.
<br><br>
The people who lived in cloud country were quite pleasant folks. They didn’t do any work, in particular, but just because they were lazy didn’t mean that they didn’t find the world interesting. They all lived in splendid palaces, of which the ones you couldn’t see from Earth were far more beautiful than the ones you could.
<br><br>
The people of the cloud country sometimes drove pearly gray carriages or went sailing in lightweight boats. They lived in the sky, so the only person they had to fear was Sir Thunder. It’s quite understandable given that he was quick to anger -- he would make the sky rumble with his stomping and go around knocking down their houses.
<br><br>
The people of the cloud country were very happy to have the rainbow cat visit and greeted him politely.
<br><br>
"You’ve come at a great time," they said. "We’re having a big celebration at the Wind God’s house. His eldest son, North Wind is taking the daughter of the King of the Magic Isle as his wife."
<br><br>
The rainbow cat, having thought just such a thing might happen, was prepared with various goods in the bag on his tail.
<br><br>
It was a truly magnificent wedding.
<br><br>
Everyone came. Even Comet showed up. You wouldn’t see Comet unless it was a very fine banquet indeed.
<br><br>
And Aurora came in the most indescribably beautiful garments of light. Of course, the bride’s parents, the King of Magic Isle and his Pearl Oyster Queen, were in attendance.
<br><br>
A feast was served and everyone was in a lively mood, having interesting conversations and drinking, when all of the sudden a swallow flew in. According to him, the giant Sir Thunder was rushing towards them at a tremendous speed. Apparently, when Trade Wind was hurrying by, he had tripped over sleeping Sir Thunder’s toes and Sir Thunder was furious.
<br><br>
"What’ll we do?" everyone wondered at once, their faces pale. "The celebration will be ruined!"
<br><br>
All the guests and the master of the house began to scatter in a panic.
<br><br>
However, the rainbow cat remained calm. He had quite a bit of sense.
<br><br>
The cat crept under the table, opened the small bag he had brought, and gave everything inside renewed consideration.
<br><br>
A moment later, he came back out.
<br><br>
"I’ll find a way to keep Sir Thunder from coming here," said the cat. "So please continue the celebration as you were. I’ll go to him and see what I can do."
<br><br>
Everyone was surprised at how brave and composed the rainbow cat was, but it sounded like their celebration wouldn’t be intruded upon partway through, so they were happy to gather and see off the cat as he raced towards the far-off rumblings of Sir Thunder.
</p>
</body>
</html>
"},
{"<html>
<head>
<style>
body {font-size: 13px; font-family: Trebuchet MS; color: #2E2726; background-color: #EFECE7;}
p {border-style: dotted; border-radius: 5px; border-color: #2E2726; padding: 10px;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<p>
The rainbow cat ran until he caught sight of the giant off in the distance. Then he stopped, opened his bag, and took out a big mantle. He put it on with the hood snuggly over his ears, sat down, and pretended to be deep in thought about something or other.
<br><br>
Sir Thunder came upon this mysterious-looking figure in the middle of the celestial road and stopped.
<br><br>
"Hey, who are you and what are you doing here?" he shouted.
<br><br>
"Me? I’m the famed magician Mewpuu," replied the rainbow cat in a voice made to sound serious and important. "Take a look at my bag, here. There are magic seeds inside. Mr. Thunder, I’ve known about you for a while now. You’re quite famous."
<br><br>
Hearing this Sir Thunder felt a bit proud, but his foot was sore, so he was soon angry again.
<br><br>
"Hrmph! I don’t think too highly of magicians. What can you do, anyways?"
<br><br>
"I can read your mind."
<br><br>
"Oh? Is that so? Then try to guess what I’m thinking right now."
<br><br>
"A simple matter. You’re angry because your foot hurts and you want to catch the fellow who kicked your blister, right?"
<br><br>
The rainbow cat had heard all that from the swallow. Sir Thunder was flabbergasted.
<br><br>
"Wow, that’s right. Will you teach me your magic?"
<br><br>
"Sure I will. But first I must test your potential. Have a seat."
<br><br>
Sir Thunder sat down. The rainbow cat walked in a circle around him three times mumbling gibberish under his breath.
<br><br>
"Now then, try to tell me what I am thinking right now," said the cat.
<br><br>
Sir Thunder the giant looked blankly at the cat’s face. He was not very bright.
<br><br>
"You must be thinking that I look pretty foolish sitting here."
<br><br>
"Excellent. Astonishing! You have more than enough talent to begin the training. You may be my brightest disciple yet."
<br><br>
"Then maybe I’ll try one more time." Sir Thunder now thought himself terribly sharp.
<br><br>
"Very well. Try to guess what I’m thinking."
<br><br>
Sir Thunder tried to look wise and peered at the cat’s face with his small, goofy eyes.
<br><br>
"Beef steak and onions," he announced abruptly.
<br><br>
"Brilliant!" the cat feigned surprise and purposely lost his footing to land on his rump. "You’re exactly right. But how did you know?"
<br><br>
"Oh, how do you say...? I guess it just came to me," replied Sir Thunder.
<br><br>
The cat assumed a serious air. "We must cultivate that fine talent of yours!"
<br><br>
"How do we cultivate it?" asked Sir Thunder. He thought being able to read people’s minds was quite fun.
<br><br>
"It’s a cinch," said the cat, finally telling a blatant lie now that he thought he had the giant where he wanted him. "Go home and sleep for two or three hours. Then have some cake and sleep another two or three hours. Then, when you wake up, drink one cup of hot tea. But you have to be as still as possible or it won’t work. If you do all that, by tomorrow morning you’ll be reading people’s minds like it’s nothing."
<br><br>
Sir Thunder wanted to go running straight home, but of course, he couldn’t forget his manners. "Thanks a lot. But Master Mewpuu, what can I offer you in return for teaching me this?"
<br><br>
The rainbow cat thought a moment and said, "I’d like a tiny bit of lightning. Please give me just a smidge."
<br><br>
Sir Thunder the giant put his hand in his pocket and said, "No problem. If that’s all, I have a bundle of it right here, so please take this. When you need it, just undo the string and the lightning will come out in a most amusing way."
<br><br>
"Thank you very much."
<br><br>
Then the cat accepted the bundle of lightning and the two of them courteously shook hands.
<br><br>
Sir Thunder the giant hurried home and did as he was told. Thereafter, he believed that he could guess whatever anyone was thinking. As such, he was quite content, and never caused any more harm.
<br><br>
The rainbow cat took his bundle of lightning and returned to the castle straight away. Everyone was grateful for all he had done for them and thanked him unanimously. The rainbow cat, immensely satisfied, remained at the cloud palace for one week before returning home to the land of the fairies.
<br><br>
What happened after that... is another story.
</p>
</body>
</html>
"})
/// Woody's Got Wood by Unknown. Literally just a meme entry, a memory of a different time.
/obj/item/weapon/book/custom_library/fiction/woodysgotwood
name = "Woody's Got Wood"
desc = "A barely held together book titled \"Woody's Got Wood\". There doesn't seem to be an author listed."
description_info = "This worn book is titled \"Woody's Got Wood\" and has no author visibly listed. Just holding it gives you a sense this is from a different time."
title = "Woody's Got Wood"
icon_state = "book1"
origkey = "Schnayy"
author = "Unknown"
dat = {"<html>
<head>
<style>
h1 {font-size: 16px; font-family: Trebuchet MS; color: #998666;}
body {font-size: 13px; font-family: Trebuchet MS; background-color: #EFECE7;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<hr>
<center>
<h1>Woody's Got Wood</h1>
</center>
<br><br>
<font color="#998666">One d</font><font color="#ad9e85">ay</font><font color="#b8ab94"> wh</font><font color="#c2b7a3">ile</font><font color="#ccc3b3"> A</font><font color="#d6cfc2">n</font><font color="#e0dbd1">dy wa</font><font color="#ebe7e0">s mas</font>
<br><br><br><br><br><br>
<font color="#998666"><i>It fades out quickly into worn, blank pages. You feel as though you've found a relic of times long past.</i></font>
<hr>
</body>
</html>
"}
///Song from Arcadia: My True Love Hath My Heart by Sir Philip Sidney.
/obj/item/weapon/book/custom_library/fiction/truelovehathmyheart
name = "My True Love Hath My Heart"
desc = "A hardbound book titled \"Song from Arcadia: My True Love Hath My Heart\" by Sir Philip Sidney."
description_info = "This book is titled \"Song from Arcadia: My True Love Hath My Heart\" by Sir Philip Sidney. It appears to be a short poem."
title = "My True Love Hath My Heart"
icon_state = "book6"
origkey = "Schnayy"
author = "Sir Philip Sidney"
dat = {"<html>
<head>
<style>
body {font-size: 15px; font-family: Times New Roman; color: #623A13; background-color: #F5F0EB; text-align: center;}
.border {border-style: dotted; border-width: 2px; border-color: #623A13; padding: 15px 10px;}
h1 {font-size: 18px; font-family: Lucida Console;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1>Song from Arcadia: <br> "My True Love Hath My Heart"</h1>
by Sir Philip Sidney
<hr>
<div class="border">
My true-love hath my heart and I have his,<br>
By just exchange one for the other given:<br>
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss;<br>
There never was a bargain better driven.<br>
His heart in me keeps me and him in one;<br>
My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides:<br>
He loves my heart, for once it was his own;<br>
I cherish his because in me it bides.<br>
His heart his wound received from my sight;<br>
My heart was wounded with his wounded heart;<br>
For as from me on him his hurt did light,<br>
So still, methought, in me his hurt did smart:<br>
Both equal hurt, in this change sought our bliss,<br>
My true love hath my heart and I have his.<br>
</div>
</body>
</html>
"}
/// An Irish Airman Forsees His Death by W.B. Yeats.
/obj/item/weapon/book/custom_library/fiction/irishairmanforseesdeath
name = "An Irish Airman Forsees His Death"
desc = "A hardbound book titled \"An Irish Airman Forsees His Death\" by W.B. Yeats."
description_info = "This book is titled \"An Irish Airman Forsees His Death\" by W.B. Yeats. It is a poem from the point of view of an aircraft pilot in Earth's First World War."
title = "An Irish Airman Forsees His Death"
icon_state = "book2"
origkey = "Schnayy"
author = "W.B. Yeats"
dat = {"<html>
<head>
<style>
body {font-size: 15px; font-family: MS Serif; color: #421A14; background-color: #F5F2EC; text-align: center;}
.border {border-style: double solid; border-width: 4px; border-color: #421A14; padding: 15px 10px;}
h1 {font-size: 18px; font-family: Palatino Linotype;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1>An Irish Airman Forsees His Death</h1>
by W.B. Yeats
<hr>
<div class="border">
I know that I shall meet my fate<br>
Somewhere among the clouds above;<br>
Those that I fight I do not hate<br>
Those that I guard I do not love;<br>
My country is Kiltartan Cross,<br>
My countrymen Kiltartan’s poor,<br>
No likely end could bring them loss<br>
Or leave them happier than before.<br>
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,<br>
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,<br>
A lonely impulse of delight<br>
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;<br>
I balanced all, brought all to mind,<br>
The years to come seemed waste of breath,<br>
A waste of breath the years behind<br>
In balance with this life, this death.
</div>
</body>
</html>
"}
/// Poems by Wilfred Owen, renamed to "Poems for a Rainy Day: A Collection of Poetry by Wilfred Owen".
/obj/item/weapon/book/bundle/custom_library/fiction/poemsforarainyday
name = "Poems for a Rainy Day"
desc = "A hardbound book titled \"Poems for a Rainy Day\" by Wilfred Owen."
description_info = "This book is titled \"Poems for a Rainy Day\" by Wilfred Owen. It's a collection of three poems by an old Earth poet by the name of Wilfred Owen."
title = "Poems for a Rainy Day"
icon_state = "book3"
origkey = "Schnayy"
author = "Wilfred Owen"
pages = list({"<html>
<head>
<style>
h1 {font-style: Palatino Linotype; font-size: 16px; color: #D9CC8D;}
body {font-style: Palatino Linotype; font-size: 14px; color: #D9CC8D; background-color: #3F2A15; text-align: center;}
.border {border-style: double; border-color: #D9CC8D; border-width: 8px; padding: 13px;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<br><br><br>
<div class="border">
<h1>Poems for a Rainy Day</h1><br>
<i>A Collection of Poetry<br>by Wilfred Owen</i><br><br>
</div>
</body>
</html>
"},
{"<html>
<head>
<style>
body {font-size: 13px; font-family: Trebuchet MS; color: #2E2726; background-color: #EFECE7; text-align: center;}
.border {border-style: dotted; border-radius: 5px; border-color: #2E2726; padding: 10px;}
p.indent {text-indent: 15px;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<b>Anthem for Doomed Youth</b>
<hr>
<div class="border">
What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
<p class="indent">-- Only the monstrous anger of the guns.</p>
<p class="indent">Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle</p>
Can patter out their hasty orisons.<br><br>
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
<p class="indent">Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,--</p>
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
<p class="indent">And bugles calling for them from sad shires.</p><br>
What candles may be held to speed them all?
<p class="indent">Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes</p>
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
<p class="indent">The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;</p>
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,<br><br>
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.
</div>
</body>
</html>
"},
{"<html>
<head>
<style>
body {font-size: 13px; font-family: Trebuchet MS; color: #2E2726; background-color: #EFECE7; text-align: center;}
.border {border-style: dotted; border-radius: 5px; border-color: #2E2726; padding: 10px;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<b>The Send-Off</b>
<hr>
<div class="border">
Down the close, darkening lanes they sang their way<br>
To the siding-shed,<br>
And lined the train with faces grimly gay.<br><br>
Their breasts were stuck all white with wreath and spray<br>
As men's are, dead.<br><br>
Dull porters watched them, and a casual tramp<br>
Stood staring hard,<br>
Sorry to miss them from the upland camp.<br>
Then, unmoved, signals nodded, and a lamp<br>
Winked to the guard.<br><br>
So secretly, like wrongs hushed-up, they went.<br>
They were not ours:<br>
We never heard to which front these were sent.<br><br>
Nor there if they yet mock what women meant<br>
Who gave them flowers.<br><br>
Shall they return to beatings of great bells<br>
In wild trainloads?<br>
A few, a few, too few for drums and yells,<br>
May creep back, silent, to still village wells<br>
Up half-known roads.<br>
</div>
</body>
</html>
"},
{"<html>
<head>
<style>
body {font-size: 13px; font-family: Trebuchet MS; color: #2E2726; background-color: #EFECE7; text-align: center;}
.border {border-style: dotted; border-radius: 5px; border-color: #2E2726; padding: 10px;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<b>Dulce et Decorum Est</b>
<hr>
<div class="border">
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,<br>
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,<br>
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,<br>
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.<br>
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,<br>
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;<br>
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots<br>
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.<br><br>
Gas! GAS! Quick, boys! -- An ecstasy of fumbling<br>
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,<br>
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling<br>
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.--<br>
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,<br>
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.<br><br>
In all my dreams before my helpless sight,<br>
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.<br><br>
If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace<br>
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,<br>
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,<br>
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;<br>
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood<br>
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,<br>
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud<br>
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--<br>
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest<br>
To children ardent for some desperate glory,<br>
The old Lie: <i>Dulce et decorum est<br>
Pro patria mori.</i><br>
</div>
</body>
</html>
"})
///Silence by Samara McCollough.
/obj/item/weapon/book/bundle/custom_library/fiction/silence
name = "Silence"
desc = "A hardbound book titled \"Silence\" by Samara McCollough."
description_info = "This book is titled \"Silence\" by Samara McCollough. It appears to be an excerpt from a longer novel."
title = "Silence"
icon_state = "book1"
origkey = "Schnayy"
author = "Samara McCollough"
pages = list({"<html>
<html>
<head>
<style>
h1 {background-color: #111514; color: #9CC1C1; font-size: 20px; border-style: double solid; padding: 10px;}
body {background-color: #9CC1C1; text-align: center; font-family: Palatino Linotype; color: #111514;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<br><br>
<h1><i>Silence</i><br></h1>
<br><br><br><br>
<i>By<br>Samara McCollough</i>
</body>
</html>
"},
{"<html>
<head>
<style>
h1 {font-family: Courier New; color: #2E2B23; font-size: 15px;}
body {font-family: Trebuchet MS; color: #2E2B23; font-size: 14px; background-color: #EFEDE6;}
.border {border-style: solid; border-width: 2px; border-color: #2E2B23; padding: 10px;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<div class="border">
The door gave under Sergei's gloved fist and crashed silently to the floor, twisted around its remaining plastic hinge.<br><br>
"Whoops," Sergei's voice mumbled through the earpiece. Michael didn't need to look at the his partner to know that beneath his helmet, the Texan was cringing.<br><br>
"S'all right." A pristine environment would make their job easier, but salvaging didn't require perfection. Michael softly shouldered past the younger man and moved into the abandoned living quarters, careful not to snag his suit. Other than the ruined door, the room was in mint condition. Depressurization had clearly been a gentle process here; air slowly leaking through seals that had been designed for hours of vacuum exposure, not years. The left side of the room was taken up by a desk, with a bunk bed situated at a comfortable height above. On the right was what appeared to a be a closet set into the wall, as well as a recessed table with some kind of lab equipment on it which Michael's salvaging experience immediately filed away as <i>valuable</i>. <br><br>
The cabin's walls, floors, furniture, and even bed sheets were an almost uniform gray. Any discernible difference in shade was whitewashed out by the harsh light emanating from a large rounded rectangle in the wall opposite to the door. Michael stared at the rectangle, not sure he believed what he was seeing. Behind him, Sergei swore softly.<br><br>
"That's a real window." He murmured. "Like, not a screen. I've never seen one of those on a starship before."<br><br>
"Me neither." Michael wondered what it was made of. Even from the doorway he could see that the material had to be more than half a meter thick, completely penetrating the inner and outer hull of the ship. Suddenly anxious, he checked his Geiger; the rad count was unchanged. He grunted in surprise. "Well, it's shielded, whatever it is. Let's get what we came for."
</div>
</body>
</html>
"})
///My Rock by Roman Pilduski
/obj/item/weapon/book/custom_library/fiction/myrock
name = "My Rock"
desc = "A hardbound book titled \"My Rock\" by Roman Pilduski."
description_info = "This book is titled \"My Rock\" by Roman Pilduski."
title = "My Rock"
icon_state = "book7"
origkey = "Schnayy"
author = "Roman Pilduski"
dat = {"<html>
<head>
<style>
body {font-size: 15px; font-family: Times New Roman; color: #623A13; background-color: #F5F0EB; text-align: center;}
.border {border-style: dashed; border-width: 4px; border-color: #623A13;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<b>My Rock</b><br>
<i>by Roman Pilduski</i><br><br>
<div class="border">
<br>I have a rock. It is with me anywhere I go.<br><br>
I'm accustomed to my rock, its weight is always present.<br><br>
Sometimes, I dream of it not crushing me so.<br><br>
But those are fantasies, my rock will not relent.<br><br>
Other people have rocks too, some different I suppose.<br><br>
Documenting everyone's rocks though is difficult in prose.<br><br>
A few I know have boulders, so heavy it crushes them.<br><br>
Many, their rocks are so small they do not notice they exist.<br><br>
But everyone has a rock, big or small, acute or numb.<br><br>
I chip away at my rock, hoping one day it will be missed.<br><br>
I have a rock, it is with me everywhere I go;<br><br>
and if anyone asks, of this rock I do not know.<br><br>
</div>
</body>
</html>
"}
/// Ghost Ship by Ogawa Mimei
/obj/item/weapon/book/bundle/custom_library/fiction/ghostship
name = "Ghost Ship"
desc = "A hardbound book titled \"Ghost Ship\" by Ogawa Mimei."
description_info = "This book is titled \"Ghost Ship\" by Ogawa Mimei. It seems to be a fictional story about three fishermen."
title = "Ghost Ship"
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author = "Ogawa Mimei"
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<br><br><br>
<div class="border">
<h1>Ghost Ship</h1>
<i>by Ogawa Mimei</i><br><br>
</div>
</body>
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"},
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You can see lights shining far out at sea. In an area like this one, right around the arctic, the blue-black water of the ocean is immense and it's always cold. Once a shining light in the distance was coming closer and closer to the shore. The closer it came, the more clearly it could be seen. It was an iceberg. The iceberg was big, pointed upwards like a mountain and reflected a piercing light, and also had an area flat and wide enough to carry a large number of people. And of course there is no way of telling how far down the iceberg continued below the surface of the water. All icebergs are formed from crystal-like ice and drift with the currents of the sea. It seemed as if a new iceberg came into sight almost every day. Once there was a huge, slow-moving hunk of ice flowing aimlessly, and even from far off, we were afforded a view of its glittering peak. The lonesome setting sun broke through the clouds and the light which shone from the iceberg reflected in the eyes of those who stood on the shore, all gazing upon the mountain of ice as it moved further and further away. Another time an iceberg came towards us with frightening speed, like a frozen steam ship. Up upon this white, shining piece of ice was not a shadow of a living thing to be seen.<br><br>
Once an iceberg came in close to the shore and everyone saw a small black silhouette fall into the ocean.<br><br>
"Some kind of black bird, maybe?"<br><br>
"A bird? More like a sea lion or a seal."<br><br>
So said the people standing on the shore looking out over the sea. However, when it came in even closer, they could see that it was a bear. It was angry and trying its hardest to get to the shore. Most likely the bear had ventured out onto the ice to play, but while the bear was playing the sheet of ice would have become separated and the bear would have found itself lost at sea. Everyone knew nothing good would come from that bear making it onto land. It would probably lash out.<br><br>
"Alright, everyone, just keep your guard up. If that bear makes it to the shore there is no telling what might happen," was what the people had said. And so the people brought with them rifles and spears. But the iceberg never came close enough to the shore, and eventually it floated back out to sea. Everyone was relieved that the bear never made it ashore, but it was actually a little depressing to think about where that bear would have ended up.<br><br>
These are the kinds of things that happen in the north. And that is the kind of story I'll tell you today.
</div><br>
<center><font style="Courier New">I</font></center>
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"There haven't been any icebergs lately and the sea is so calm. Why don't we go on a fishing trip?" said one of three fishermen one day. So they boarded their boat and headed out to sea. The three fishermen eventually came close to an island. No one lived on the island and it had a little inlet where there was often some good fishing to be had. So they decided to stop and try to catch some fish, all the while mindful of the time. When they did catch fish, they normally caught a surprising amount. Just when the three fishermen were wondering if they should move on to the next fishing spot, they could see signs that today's catch would be a good one.<br><br>
"Looks like we're in luck"<br><br>
"Luck indeed!"<br><br>
The three fishermen were in high spirits. They dropped their net into the water and when they pulled it back up, they found themselves with a bigger catch of fish than ever before. It was such a big catch, in fact, that they left the fish on the shore of the island to pick up on the way home, as too much fish in the boat would only slow them down.<br><br>
One of the three fishermen remained on the island. In the evening he would light a fire to let the other two know where he was as they sailed home. So the first fisherman stood on the shore and watched as the second and third fisherman pushed off from the island and into the sea with a heave and a ho.
"Hurry back, alright?!" the first fisherman called out to his two friends.<br><br>
"Miss us already? Don't worry, we'll drag ourselves back your way," the pair called back with a chuckle as they floated further and further away. A quiet evening began to set in as the first fisherman watched the boat drift out to sea until it disappeared into the blue-black of the ocean. When he was a child he thought the surface of the ocean looked flat as a straw mat, but the rippling, violent sea was nothing like that now. The wind picked up as the sun went down. It was sudden and unexpected. Soon the waves grew high and howling. The first fisherman began to worry about his two friends who were still out at sea.<br><br>
"Bring my friends back in one piece, as quickly as you can," he prayed as he set about starting a bonfire to guide his friends through the dark of the night. The weather turned to wind and rain. The fire that the first fisherman had started was eventually blown out. So the first fishermen set about feverishly starting another fire. But the boat he was waiting to arrive never did.
</div><br>
<center><font style="Courier New">II</font></center>
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<div class="border">
"I wonder where they might be taking shelter from the storm. There is no where else to go in this wide, wide ocean. They must have sunk...”<><br><br>
The first fisherman had started to worry as the stormy night turned to complete darkness. Whenever he looked out, the waves of the ocean were winding into the skies above. He could see no sign of a boat. The first fisherman had been abandoned on the small, deserted island. He stood on the rocks of the shore and waited a full day for his friends to return. But perhaps because the winds from yesterday had made the ocean rough, the sun that day went down without any sign of the boat he had been waiting for.<br><br>
Three days passed. The first fisherman had started to grow weak. Finally, after standing on the beach looking intently out over the ocean for three days, the boat carrying his friends cut through the waves and sailed towards the beach. It felt like a thousand years since he had seen them last. He could see that the second fisherman and the third fisherman were fine and moving about on the boat.<br><br>
"Hey!" the first fisherman called out over the water, raising both of his hands high in the air. When he did, it looked like they too had thrown their hands in the air and called back. Only he couldn't hear their voices. Just then as the setting sun illuminated the tips of the waves, the two fishermen on the boat came into sight, red in the face.<br><br>
"Ahh, here's a sight for sore eyes, my two friends! They made it back alive," said the first fisherman, warm tears of joy swelling in his eyes. Before long the boat was nearly on the sand.<br><br>
"Hey!" the first fisherman called out, his hand in the air. He thought the other to fishermen would respond, but just as the pair were about to turn to the side and bring their boat in, they disappeared like a puff of smoke. The first fisherman was shocked.<br><br>
"A ghost ship!”
</div><br>
<center><font style="Courier New">III</font></center>
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The first fisherman lost all hope, threw himself down on the sand and began to cry. His imagination was running wild, and his nightmares ran through the night. When he awoke the next morning his eyes were blood-shot and his heart was pounding. It was just past midday. The first fisherman raised his head and looked out over the sea only to spot the same boat in the distance. But it was the same as yesterday, a ghost ship, that had come to the island. For a moment he was relieved, and happiness danced in his chest, but in the next instant his body shook with fear.<br><br>
"Damn it. Are they trying to kill me?” said the first fisherman, as he started to lose his mind. The boat cut through the waves and came in closer and closer to the island. The first fisherman pulled out his pistol, aimed at the boat and pulled the trigger. But this time the boat wasn't a ghost, and it didn't disappear. Once the boat was docked at the beach, the two other fishermen scrambled up onto land.<br><br>
"Have you gone completely mad?”<> yelled one, which was enough to snap the first fisherman back to reality.<br><br>
The first fisherman had gone completely mad. That night the winds had caused the boat to be pushed back against a nearby island. Once the waves had died down, the two fishermen went back to the island to rescue their friend. The two fishermen got their crazy friend back on the boat and returned to the mainland. The pair cared for their weakened friend, and through their care he was able to lose his madness and returned to how he used to be. And from there the three friends went on to be even better friends for a very long time. This story is still told in the harbors to the north where the head of that deserted island still pokes up from between those blue black waves.
</div><br>
<center><font style="Courier New">IV</font></center>
</body>
</html>
"})
///The Metal Glen by Jawn Mancer
/obj/item/weapon/book/bundle/custom_library/fiction/metalglen
name = "The Metal Glen"
desc = "A hardbound book titled \"The Metal Glen\" by Jawn Mancer."
description_info = "This book is titled \"The Metal Glen\" by Jawn Mancer. It is a poem about a hare and a cat."
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<br><br><br>
<div class="border">
<h1>The Metal Glen</h1><br><br>
Jawn Mancer<br><br>
</div>
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My mother told me once of when<br>
A young hare ventured from her den<br>
And as she danced in field and glen<br>
The world sang joy about her.<br>
But wicked hateful things abound<br>
And that young hare these evils found<br>
Then whisked her up from off the ground<br>
And glen was left without her.<br><br>
The wicked power tore asunder<br>
And with this cruel and fateful blunder<br>
Cast her to a world of wonder<br>
Would she e'er see home again?<br>
And so hare flew that mournful day<br>
Over the sky and far away<br>
And down and down, beneath the sea<br>
To a place unlike the glen.<br><br>
A world of men and man's design<br>
A place where God's light would not shine<br>
A Hell of steel beneath the brine<br>
Where misery's echoes boomed.<br>
And all around her there were others<br>
Beasts like her, all sisters, brothers,<br>
Locked up, all, with one another,<br>
In deep sea-dark, entombed.<br><br>
And in this crypt far from the shore<br>
The hare lay down upon the floor<br>
Imprisoned there forever more<br>
And left to all her sorrow.<br>
Her tender world was lost and gone<br>
So joy and happiness foregone<br>
She slept and cried and prayed for dawn<br>
To wait the coming morrow.<br><br>
The hound was still, the birds said naught,<br>
The fox denied he had been caught,<br>
The bear cried "<i>This is just our lot</i>",<br>
And surrendered to his pain.<br>
But the cat stood up and shook his head<br>
And rising from his metal bed<br>
He said: "<i>For now, I am not dead,<br>
And I will not die in vain!</i>"<br><br>
He cried aloud with much disdain<br>
And tore about his stark domain<br>
And said "<i>These walls cannot contain<br>
A force as strong as I!</i>"<br>
And the fox just laughed, and the birds all cried<br>
And the bear knotted up himself and died<br>
But the hare looked on as the poor cat tried<br>
To break him free and fly.<br><br>
He shook his chain with all his rage<br>
And flew in anger 'round his cage<br>
Decrying this dark mournful stage<br>
And the hare stood up as well.<br>
With passion did she then respond,<br>
She chewed her ropes and broke her bonds,<br>
And freed the cat, they ran beyond,<br>
The ran to flee that Hell.<br><br>
And what became of cat and hare?<br>
Did they break free to purer air?<br>
To guess their fate we shouldn't dare<br>
Perhaps their tale closed well.<br>
But for all the beasts trapped in the Nether<br>
All life from out of loch and heather<br>
The flock that could not work together<br>
Are sure still trapped in Hell.<br><br>
Incense sweet, and cradled warm<br>
Like lovers coddled, arm in arm<br>
Two souls, nomadic, fleeing harm:<br>
That wicked, metal glen.<br>
Now coming morn drives off the curse<br>
Too startled still to dare converse<br>
Both praying they have seen the worst<br>
So ends their tale --
</div>
<hr>
</body>
</html>
"})
/// RA - Issue 142 by Jawn Mancer
/obj/item/weapon/book/bundle/custom_library/fiction/raissue142
name = "RA - Issue 142"
desc = "A hardbound book titled \"RA - Issue 142\" by Jawn Mancer."
description_info = "This book is titled \"RA - Issue 142\" by Jawn Mancer. It appears to be part of an apocalyptic series."
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<br><br><br>
<center>
<h1><font size="5">RA<br>-<br>Issue 142</font>
<br><br>
<font size="2"><i>by Jawn Mancer</i></font></h1>
</center>
</body>
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<center>RA - Issue 142</center><br>
<div class="borders">
<center>"<i>Engie! You must be calm when waking the animals! I hope you are better at ice-skating and making nests!</i>" was the Captain's critique when I explained where and why I had left the "<i>most precious shovel</i>".<br><br>
"<i>Do you how the cost of shovel replacement?! I'd have to take on another business loan and the bank manager is already giving me dirty looks and not talking to me!</i>" Captain had continued to rant. If the Photoshop worm monster ate me instead of the shovel, I think Captain would be slightly less upset.<br><br>***<br><br>
Was that even Photoshop? It seemed slightly bigger and longer. Can't be sure of anything these days. I'm afraid that someday I'll finally succumb to botulism or some sort of other poisoning and that will be the end.</center><br><br>
I'll see something that's not there and fall off a cliff. Or slip into a snow crevice and slowly sink deeper and deeper... and nobody will find me or help me.<br><br>
Brrr.<br><br><center>***</center><br><br>
I find myself developing a severe paranoia of snow in addition to my severe hypochondria.<br><br>
After my encounter with the shovel-eating monster, I started to throw rocks ahead of me and then walk only onto the spots where the rocks didn't sink into the snow.<br><br>
You can never be sure that there isn't something horrible under there.<br><br>
<b>EVER.</b>
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Thank god my Chionophobia isn't anywhere like Snippy's. He seems calm on the surface, except some times.... Eeesh.<br><br>
I recollect that one time he went completely bonkers when a large snowflake fell onto his lens. Freaking out, flailing and screaming, total full psychotic breakdown. Thank god Captain poured tea onto his mask as a distraction of sorts.<br><br>
He even ranted afterwards about living snowflakes and how they planned to shatter his lenses, cut him up and drill into his head to sample his organic juices.<br><br>
"<i>Watch out for the snowflakes,</i>" he later told me. "<i>They cannot be trusted!</i>"<br><br>
"<i>What are they gonna do? Pick me up and carry me away to the North Pole?</i>" I jokingly commented.<br><br>
"<i>I am serious!! I'm not crazy! I know it sounds crazy, but the snowflakes were planning to kill us all!</i>" He shouted, flapping his arms psychotically.<br><br><center>***</center><br><br>
Snippy's mental condition worries me. I think Captain is only aggravating it with nonsensical demands.<br><br>
I hope that Snippy doesn't stab me with a trowel, while my back is turned. What if he's extremely jealous of my shovel's size and if it only takes a little snowflake to push him over the edge...<br><br>
What if he discovers, remembers who I am?<br><br>
What if he suspects things? What if he already knows my real name and is waiting for the right moment to strike, to take revenge on his old boss for all the things I've done to him?<br><br>
</div>
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<div class="borders">
I'm afraid of Charles Snippy. So very afraid.<br><br>
He always keeps glancing at that little Captain's heart cup like that thing is about to grow legs and walk off or something.<br><br>
"<i>Jeez. It's just a cup man, relax,</i>" I told him.<br><br>
"<i>No</i>" he answered, "<i>It is something abhorrent! It's motives are unclear! I know whether not to trust it!</i>" He began to postulate.<br><br><center>***</center><br><br>
I think that Snippy's mental state is slowly sliding towards Captain's. Talking to inanimate objects, inventing strange stories, shouting at nothing.<br><br>
Recently I overheard Snippy yelling:<br><br>
<center>"<i>I'm ALIVE! WHAT? No! You did WHAT?! I'm alive, I don't care what it is you did!</i>" </center><br><br>
I looked through a crack in the wall at him. He was definitely having another episode. From the one sided conversation and his hand poses I deduced that he was talking to his scarf.<br><br><center>***</center><br>
"<i>I am human! I just want to be normal!</i>"<br><br>
Snippy shouted;<br><br>
<center><i>"STOP ASKING!"<br>
"TOO LATE?!"<br>
"WOULD YOU PLEASE LEAVE MY SPINE ALONE!"<br>
"PUT MY LIVER BACK!"<br>
"STOP SLIDING MY ORGANS AROUND!"<br>
"WHAT?!"<br>
"DON'T DO THAT!"<br>
"NO, I DON'T WANT TO EAT METAL!"<br>
"I DON'T CARE HOW CONVENIENT IT IS TO HAVE SEVENTEEN APPENDAGES!"</i></center><br>
I figured Snippy imagined that the scarf kept offering him some kind of super-powers, including immortality and he was rejecting them.
</div>
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When I was young, I often wished somebody offered me superpowers.<br><br>
Sigh.<br><br>
I'd be like "<i>Hells yeah, I'd like to be immortal and have the strength of 10</i>". I always hated the novels in which characters chose to be human instead of accepting greatness. This was one of the reasons I've created Project Seven- to find someone who is truly great... even if lacking the human condition. I really should have known that a super with powers of luck would turn out to be a highly confused, carefree imbecile.<br><br><center>***</center><br><br>
Was I wrong? Maybe.<br><br>
Did I doom humanity by launching that search query?<br>
<center>Perhaps.</center><br><center>***</center><br>
Now that the city is dead and my hopes and dreams lay shattered and radioactive, I've nothing to hang onto, except my own life. I must survive. I am afraid of death. Terribly afraid.<br><br>
I must not give up. I must choke down another decade-old tuna can, no matter how foul it tastes.<br><br>
...I'll still have a chance to survive, to avoid death's dark embrace as long as I stick close to Captain. As long as I am in Captain's general vicinity or on Captain's missions, as long as I am needed by Captain, everything will probably be fine.
</div>
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/// RA - Issue 147 by Jawn Mancer
/obj/item/weapon/book/bundle/custom_library/fiction/raissue147
name = "RA - Issue 147"
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<br><br><br>
<center>
<h1><font size="5">RA<br>-<br>Issue 147</font>
<br><br>
<font size="2"><i>by Jawn Mancer</i></font></h1>
</center>
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<h1>RA - ISSUE 147</h1>
<div class="borders">
<h1>ENTRY 57893__3342 : PRIORITY 1 ADMIN : DR ALEXANDER GROMOV :</h1>
"<i>I am immune to the broadcasting signal.</i>" Snippy said and it suddenly dawned on me.<br><br>
The weak broadcasting signal that was coming from the Undead... it reactivated my own neural receivers!<br><br>
It meant that I could potentially access some sort of useful information via the G-Directorate subnet drive in my backpack.<br><br>
Information that I presumed lost. Information about ANNET's new army of spam-bots, their positions, their weaknesses.<br><br>
Anything that could help me survive this mess.<br><br>
"<i>R:/login admin control... launch grid browser protocol... private browsing, full control,</i>" I whispered.<br><br>
The broadcasting signal responded! A little G appeared in my right eye, with signal strength signage.<br><br>
It showed one and a half signal bars. Good enough!<br><br>
Glowing letters formed in my right eye.<br><br>
</div>
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<center>***<br>
YOUR NEURAL GRID BROWSER IS NOW LOADING.<br>
PLEASE ATTEMPT RIGHT CLICKING A RANDOM OBJECT FOR INTERFACE SYNCHRONIZATION<br>
***</center><br><br>
I blinked with my right eye on Snippy.<br><br>
Terrifyingly enough, it actually worked! A little menu popped up in my right eye, highlighting Snippy.<br><br>
<center>***<br>
ATTEMPTING NEURAL CONNECTION WITH SUBJECT.<br><br>
NO NEURAL RESPONSE RECEIVED FROM SUBJECT'S MIND.<br><br>
WARNING! FAILURE TO DETECT NEURAL WAVE ON ALL KNOWN BANDS.<br>
SUBJECT'S MENTAL NEURAL PATTERN DEEMED... UNSCANNABLE.<br>
SUBJECT IS CONFIRMED TO BE BRAIN-DEAD.<br>
***</center><br><br>
"<i>Wait... you are... UNSCANNABLE?!</i>" I cried out in surprise.<br><br>
What did Snippy just ramble back? He's the last one? What?<br><br>
Does he not even realize that he's theoretically brain dead?<br><br>
Has nobody ever told him that?<br><br>
Perfect un-scannability while still breathing is biologically impossible!<br><br>
The menu in my right eye was expanding:<br><br>
<center>***<br>
VISUAL SCAN OF SUBJECT COMPLETED.<br>
PERSONAL ID 04477645 HOLOGRAPHIC TAG LOCATED ON JACKET.<br><br>
HUMAN SUBJECT -- CHARLES SNIPPY --<br>
DEAD ZONE TOUR GUIDE EMPLOYEE<br>
TRANSFERRED FROM EUREKA, G-CUBE 15.<br>
IF FOUND DECEASED, PLEASE CONTACT D.Z.R.&T. OFFICE 24-12.<br><br>
WARNING: TRACKER-IMPLANT NOT FOUND/DEACTIVATED!<br>
WARNING: MASSIVE VIOLATION OF AUTHORIZED TOURIST ROUTE!<br>
NOTICE: IF THIS IS YOUR TOUR GUIDE, YOU ARE NOW CONSIDERED LOST.<br><br>
WARNING: DO NOT HIRE. CREDIT SCORE IS MINUS INFINITY.<br>
***</center>
</div>
</body>
</html>
"},
{"<html>
<head>
<style>
body {font-family: Palatino Linotype; font-size: 14px; color: #2E2726; background-color: #EFECE7;}
.borders {border-style: double solid; border-color: #2E2726; padding: 10px;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<div class="borders">
I quickly began to digest this information.<br><br>
Cube 15... Dead Zone Research and Tourism Department? ... Charles... is Unscannable?<br><br>
What does that even mean? How can someone's mind be completely unscannable? That would mean what... That he has no readable brain-wave?!<br><br>
I've never met my employees face to face, and I simply assumed that he was simply a bothersome fellow on disability status that kept filing complaints and then got transferred to DZRT.<br><br>
I assumed he perished with the others when the Dead Zone "Godcatchers" experiment went horribly wrong.<br><br>
When Captain introduced me to him, I was shocked, but my current shock doesn't even compare to this.<br><br>
I didn't realize he was "unscannable", such is simply improbable!<br><br>
I mean come on! I saw him eating beans this morning!. He's not brain-dead!<br><br>
Is he?!<br><br>
There were those who could not use the Neural Interface, but fully Unscannable? What the hell?!<br><br>
I have to calm myself. Unscannability is impossible. The Grid must be broken.<br><br>
It is giving me illogical answers.<br><br>
Oh.. and... Minus infinity credits? How is that even mathematically possible? I've heard of bad credit scores, but this is ridiculous!<br><br>
This scan and information is simply full of errors. That's it. Stupid errors. Ha ha Har.<br><br>
As I speculated wildly, the neural signal had decided to respond to my rabidly circular thought patterns:<br><br>
</div>
</body>
</html>
"},
{"<html>
<head>
<style>
body {font-family: Palatino Linotype; font-size: 14px; color: #2E2726; background-color: #EFECE7;}
.borders {border-style: double solid; border-color: #2E2726; padding: 10px;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<div class="borders">
<center>***<br>
CUBE 15. EMPLOYMENT RECORDS OF DECEASED CHARLES SNIPPY:<br>
FORMER CLERK, LEVEL 24.<br><br>
ERROR CORRECTION:<br>
SCAN CONFIRMS HEAT SIGNATURE/HEARTBEAT.<br>
"DECEASED" STATUS HAS BEEN TEMPORARILY UPDATED TO "LIVING".<br><br>
NOTICE:<br>
GREETINGS ANNET USER!<br>
PLEASE CONSIDER THE FOLLOWING IF YOU ARE TO ATTEMPT COMMUNICATION WITH THIS PARTICULAR INDIVIDUAL.<br>
INDIVIDUAL KNOWN AS CHARLES SNIPPY IS IN FACT NOT BRAIN-DEAD,<br>
AS IT MIGHT SEEM AT FIRST, BUT HAS THE STATUS OF A MENTALLY DISABLED USER.<br>
THIS MEANS THAT HE CANNOT INSTANTLY READ YOUR MIND-TEXTS, NOR TEXT BACK TO YOU!<br><br><br>
IF YOU WISH TO COMMUNICATE WITH CHARLES, PLEASE FORWARD YOUR TEXTS TO WATCHER DRONE 17-94-15, HOVERING ABOVE SNIPPY.<br>
THE DRONE WILL AUDIBLY TELL CHARLES WHAT IT IS YOU WANT FROM HIM.<br><br>
ERROR: WE ARE SORRY. ASSIGNED DRONE # 17-94-15 IS CURRENTLY UNAVAILABLE.<br>
A REPORT HAS BEEN FILED TO ANNET.<br>
PLEASE REMAIN CALM!<br><br>
CONSIDER USING YOUR MOUTH MUSCLES OR DRAWING SOMETHING ON PAPER TO COMMUNICATE WITH THE DISABLED INDIVIDUAL.<br>
BE AWARE THAT BY AGREEMENT OF USAGE OF SUCH COPYRIGHTED FORMS OF DIRECT COMMUNICATION, YOU WILL BE CHARGED 173 CREDITS PER LETTER.<br><br><br>
MAINTAIN A RELAXED STATE OF POSTERIOR!<br>
BE AWARE THAT WHEN CONFUSED OR THREATENED BY YOUR SUPERIOR METHODS OF NEURAL PROXY COMMUNICATION,<br>
THIS INDIVIDUAL MAY VIOLENTLY VIOLATE YOUR PERSONAL SPACE.<br>
***</center><br><br>
There was much more informative gibberish to read in my right eye about Charles Snippy, but Snippy suddenly smacked me right in the head, breaking my concentration.<br><br>
Ouch!<br><br>
He told me to go downstairs (obviously) and when I begged him to join me, he simply forcibly shoved me down the stairs and ran off into the smoke.<br><br>
Argh!<br><br>
I descended into the building's basement, tripping on rubbish and quickly left the burning skyscraper, avoiding the Zombie-bots by constantly looking at the neural signal bars.<br><br>
If I had more time I'd put together a program that would track their movements in a 3D space, but alas, I was far too busy escaping and gasping for air.
As I jogged across the ruined street I pondered about Snippy's fate...
</div>
</body>
</html>
"})
///Serenity by Hold Hill (Cold Mountain). Renamed and reauthored to match original writer.
/obj/item/weapon/book/bundle/custom_library/fiction/coldmountain
name = "Cold Mountain"
desc = "A hardbound book titled \"Cold Mountain\" by Han Shan."
description_info = "This book is titled \"Cold Mountain\" by Han Shan. It is a collection of three poems."
title = "Cold Mountain"
icon_state = "book5"
origkey = "Schnayy"
author = "Han Shan"
pages = list({"<html>
<head>
<style>
h1 {font-size: 25px; font-family: Trebuchet MS; color: #28392D; margin: 15px 0px 5px;}
body {font-size: 15px; font-family: Times New Roman; color: #28392D; background-color: #84AB8F; text-align: center;}
.border {border-color: #28392D; border-style: double solid; border-width: 7px; background-color: #EAF6F0;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<br><br><br>
<div class="border">
<h1>Cold Mountain</h1><br><br>
by Han Shan<br><br>
</div>
</body>
</html>
"},
{"<html>
<head>
<style>
body {font-family: Georgia; font-size: 14px; color: #6A4716; background-color: #F9F8F1; text-align: center;}
.bordersout {border-style: double; border-color: #6A4716; border-width: 5px; padding: 3px;}
.bordersin {border-style: solid; border-color: #6A4716; border-width: 3px; padding: 10px;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
I
<div class="bordersout">
<div class="bordersin">
My father and mother left me a good living;<br>
I need not envy the fields of other men.<br>
Clack-dack: my wife works her loom,<br>
Jabber, jabber: goes my son at play.<br>
I clap hands, urging on the swirling petals,<br>
Chin in hand, I listen to singing birds.<br>
Who comes to commend me on my way of life?<br>
Well, the woodcutter sometimes passes by.
</div>
</div>
</body>
</html>
"},
{"<html>
<head>
<style>
body {font-family: Georgia; font-size: 14px; color: #6A4716; background-color: #F9F8F1; text-align: center;}
.bordersout {border-style: double; border-color: #6A4716; border-width: 5px; padding: 3px;}
.bordersin {border-style: solid; border-color: #6A4716; border-width: 3px; padding: 10px;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
II
<div class="bordersout">
<div class="bordersin">
A thatched hut is home for a country man;<br>
Horse or carriage seldom pass my gate:<br>
Forests so still all the birds come to roost,<br>
Broad valley streams always full of fish.<br>
I pick wild fruit in hand with my child,<br>
Till the hillside fields with my wife.<br>
And in my house what do I have?<br>
Only a bed piled high with books. <br>
</div>
</div>
</body>
</html>
"},
{"<html>
<head>
<style>
body {font-family: Georgia; font-size: 14px; color: #6A4716; background-color: #F9F8F1; text-align: center;}
.bordersout {border-style: double; border-color: #6A4716; border-width: 5px; padding: 3px;}
.bordersin {border-style: solid; border-color: #6A4716; border-width: 3px; padding: 10px;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
III
<div class="bordersout">
<div class="bordersin">
You have seen the blossoms among the leaves;<br>
Tell me, how long will they stay?<br>
Today they tremble before the hand that<br>
picks them;<br>
Tomorrow they wait someone's garden broom.<br>
Wonderful is the bright heart of youth,<br>
But with the years it grows old.<br>
Is the world not like these flowers?<br>
Ruddy faces, how can they last?<br>
</div>
</div>
</body>
</html>
"})
/// Tha' Story o' tha' Blacksmith an' tha' Kingly Bloke by Haggis MacDougall
/obj/item/weapon/book/custom_library/fiction/blacksmithandkinglybloke
name = "Tha' Story o' tha' Blacksmith an' tha' Kingly Bloke"
desc = "A hardbound book titled \"Tha' Story o' tha' Blacksmith an' tha' Kingly Bloke\" by Haggis MacDougall."
description_info = "This book is titled \"Tha' Story o' tha' Blacksmith an' tha' Kingly Bloke\" by Haggis MacDougall. It seems to be some ancient, unknown dialect detailing the dangers of a different era."
title = "Tha' Story o' tha' Blacksmith an' tha' Kingly Bloke"
icon_state = "book3"
origkey = "Schnayy"
author = "Haggis MacDougall"
dat = {"<html>
<head>
<style>
h1 {font-family: Courier New; font-size: 18px; text-align: center; color: #513927; line-height: 16px;}
body {font-size: 15px; font-family: Georgia; color: #513927; background-color: #9C6448;}
.border {border-style: double double solid solid; border-width: 4px; border-color: #513927; padding: 10px; background-color: #F9F7F4;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<div class="border">
<h1>Tha' Story o'<br>tha' Blacksmith an'<br>tha' Kingly Bloke</h1>
<center>~~~~~~~~~</center><br>
It's about a man in an age undreamed o', a man who came frae tha' savage lands o' tha' north. Let me tell ye o' tha' days o' high adventure!<br><br>
Now, there once wos a man 'ho really, really liked swords. E' hated people, but loved swords. Loved stabbin' people wif 'em too, but mostly e' liked makin' them.<br><br>
So, one day, outside 'is smithin' hut, a man came ter 'im. E' wos a big man, wif a big crown atop 'is head. One of tha' kingly sorts, tha' smith figured, so e' decided not ter stab 'im an' instead asked 'im wot e' wanted.<br><br>
Tha' big man replied that e' wanted a sword. Not jus' any sword tha' any arseclown could make, but one o' tha' blacksmith's. 'Ad ter be perfect, wif' engravin's o' tha' king's deeds an' such.<br><br>
Tha' smith nodded politely, wonderin' 'ow tha' hell e' wos s'posed ter know anythin' about this sod.<br><br>
Tha' sod soon left on 'is white steed, an' the smith began 'is finest labor yet.<br><br>
After many moons, tha' smith finally finished tha' sword. A thing o' beauty it wos, majestic in its sheen an' ever keen o' blade. Balance coulda used some work, but ye do wot ye can.<br><br>
Tha' sod came back on 'is white horse an' demanded tha' sword. Tha' smith decided tha' e' wos done playin' second fiddle ter kingly types an' stabbed 'is horse, then stabbed tha' sod an' then stabbed tha' sod's wife, child, butler, goat, other horse, wagon, an' castle, in tha' precise order.<br><br>
So, tha' moral of the story is ne'er trust a blacksmith and fuck tha' nobiliteh.<br><br>
</div>
</body>
</html>
"}
///Stars and Sometimes Falling Ones by Henry Clement Fandango
/obj/item/weapon/book/custom_library/fiction/starsandsometimesfallingones
name = "Stars and Sometimes Falling Ones"
desc = "A hardbound book titled \"Stars and Sometimes Falling Ones\" by Henry Clement Fandango."
description_info = "This book is titled \"Stars and Sometimes Falling Ones\" by Henry Clement Fandango. It is a poem on the life of a spaceman."
title = "Stars and Sometimes Falling Ones"
icon_state = "stasis"
origkey = "Schnayy"
author = "Henry Clement Fandango"
dat = {"<html>
<head>
<style>
h1 {font-family: Courier New; font-size: 18px; color: #EEEEEE; line-height: 16px;}
h2 {font-family: Courier New; font-size: 15px; color: #EEEEEE; line-height: 16px;}
body {font-size: 15px; font-family: Georgia; color: #EEEEEE; background-color: #F1EDF5; text-align: center;}
.border {border-style: double double solid solid; border-width: 4px; border-color: #EEEEEE; padding: 10px 15px; background-color: #272529;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<div class="border">
<h1>Stars and Sometimes Falling Ones</h1>
<h2>by Henry Clement Fandango</h2>
<hr>
Behind my desk,<br>
this morning,<br>
someone else<br><br>
New shift,<br>
hungover still<br>
from our drinks last night.<br><br>
On the holodeck-<br>
spring then winter<br>
autumn then summer.<br><br>
Over station chatter,<br>
No cry<br>
of shuttle departing.<br><br>
"Yield, Assistant,"<br>
bowing -<br>
at gun point.<br><br>
Not even mice<br>
dare to brave<br>
maintenance this morning.<br><br>
Storming meteors<br>
over Mars, whirlwinds<br>
of sparkling debris.
</div>
</body>
</html>
"}
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