Restore, Reflect, Retry

Story

None of you remembers who first found the game: the black rectangular box with the small screen on which instructions appear. Of course it piqued your interest: this is the 1990s, after all, and there isn’t much for teenagers to do in your small town. Your friends were intrigued, and so were you. So you started to play. And play. And play. What does it matter if no one remembers exactly how you discovered the game, or if the story changes ever so slightly each time you tell it? Or if you change ever so slightly too, every time you emerge into the real world once more? All that matters is tha...