You give us a pretty awesome story.

橡樹(oak tree)~黃絲帶(yellow ribbons)~生(Live)~時間(Time)~一起(Together)

Going Home（老橡樹上的黃絲帶）--Pete Hamill

I first heard this story a few years ago from a girl I had met in New York's Greenwich Village. Probably the story is one of those mysterious bits of folk-lore that reappear every few years, to be told a new in one form or another. However, I still like to think that it really did happen, somewhere, sometime.

They were going to Fort Lauderdale, Florida. There were six of them, three boys and three girls, and they got on the bus at 34th Street, carrying sandwiches and wine in paper bags. They were dreaming of golden beaches and sea tides as the grey, cold spring of New York vanished behind them. Vingo was on the bus from the beginning.

As the bus passed through New Jersey, they began to notice that Vingo never moved. He sat in front of the young people, his dusty face masking his age, dressed in a plain brown suit that did not fit him. His fingers were stained from cigarettes and he chewed the inside of his lip a lot. He sat in complete silence and seemed completely unaware of the existence of the others.

Deep into the night, the bus pulled into a Howard Johnson's restaurant and everybody got off the bus except Vingo. The young people began to wonder about him, trying to imagine his life: perhaps he was a sea captain; maybe he had run away from his wife; he could be an old soldier going home. When they went back to the bus, one of the girls became so curious that she decided to engage him in a conversation. She sat down beside him and introduced herself.

"We're going to Florida," the girl said brightly. "You going that far?"
"I don't know," Vingo said.
"I've never been there," she said. " I hear it's beautiful."
"It is," he said quietly, as if remembering something he had tried to forget.
"You live there?"
"I was there in the Navy, at the base in Jacksonville".
"Want some wine?" she said. He smiled and took a swig from the bottle. He thanked her and retreated again into his silence. After a while, she went back to the others as Vingo nodded in sleep.

In the morning they awoke outside another Howard Johnson's and this time Vingo went in. The girl insisted that he join them. He seemed very shy and ordered black coffee and smoked nervously, as the young people chattered about sleeping on beaches. When they got back on the bus, the girl sat with Vingo again. After a while, slowly and painfully, he began to tell his story. He had been in jail in New York for the last four years, and now he was going home.

"Are you married?"
"I don' t know."
"You don't know?" she said.
"Well, when I was in jail I wrote to my wife. I said, 'Martha, I understand if you can't stay married to me.' I said I was going to be away a long time, and that if she couldn't stand it, if the kids kept asking questions, if it hurt her too much, well, she could just forget me. Get a new guy—she's a wonderful woman, really something—and forget about me. I told her she didn't have to write to me or anything, and she didn't. Not for three-and-a-half years."
"And you're going home now, not knowing?"
"Yeah," he said shyly. "Well, last week, when I was sure the parole was coming through I wrote her again. I told her that if she had a new guy, I understood. But, if she didn't, if she would take me back she should let me know. We used to live in Brunswick, and there' s a great oak tree just as you come into town. I told her if she would take me back, she should tie a yellow ribbon to the tree, and I would get off and come home. If she didn't want me, forget it, no ribbon and I'd understand and keep going on through."
"Wow," the girl said. "Wow."

She told the others, and soon all of them were caught up in the approach of Brunswick, looking at the pictures Vingo showed them of his wife and three children. Now they were 20 miles from Brunswick, and the young people took the window seats on the right side, waiting for the approach of the great oak tree. Vingo stopped looking, tightening his face into the ex-con's mask, as if fortifying himself against still another disappointment. Then it was 10 miles, and then five, and the bus became very quiet.

Then suddenly all of the young people were up out of their seats, screaming and shouting and crying, doing small dances, shaking clenched fists in triumph and exaltation. All except Vingo.

Vingo sat there stunned, looking at the oak tree through his misty eyes. The tree was covered with yellow ribbons, 30 of them, 50 of them, maybe hundreds, a tree that stood like a banner of welcome, blowing and billowing in the wind. As the young people shouted, the old con slowly rose from his seat, holding himself tightly, and made his way to the front of the bus to go home.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
@熊的选民
“Ib的故事背景是一个无逻辑的幻想世界，因此着重于人物性格的刻画，而不是世界观的设定。
本作却反过来了，人物刻画不足，却花了很多力气设定世界观（recorder,keeper什么的）。”

@歌詠無涯
“每一個故事都很感人，且寓意深遠，看得出你們到底有多認真。總而言之，它大概是我現在一直到將來最喜歡恐怖RPG了。”
“然後我哭了好多次！！可以說是哭著玩完的……從中間某些部份(尤其是黛爾菲恩姊姊那段！巴瑞的獨白好凶殘QAQ)，還有結尾！！！淚點低的人桑不起啊…… ”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From my point of view:
用了很多西方的典故，雕刻的是友情/親情/師徒之情，再由之射映到故事主角的情感經歷。
如果對這些不很瞭解的話，很容易產生熊的选民那樣的困惑，如同讓西方人讀《滕王閣序》。

@changyuchung
  

个人认为这个游戏是有夺冠实力的，不过在这种快餐式的评审方式下，不知道有哪个评委会不嫌麻烦开上AppLocale把这个游戏真正打开玩一下。繁体是致命伤吧，在台湾也很少有人玩大陆做的简体rm游戏。

一直覺得你好有個性好棒呢。當時的努力都有結果咯好好~~我試玩之後剛開始覺得有點點怕哈哈，後來專注于解謎就沒那麼害怕咯~在大陸也給你加油哦~~

很认真把20楼给出的实况看完，只能说一句，楼主好厉害！！！{:2_275:}
感觉真的真的非常好哦！一玩上就真的让人着迷的好游戏{:2_275:}
这么好的游戏关注度这么低真的让人心疼{:2_253:}

确实很好没错，但是我想说这种像素你是怎么做出来的 == 是图片么还是软件什么的

更新1.03版本

攻略待補,最近太忙還沒整理,很抱歉QAQ

changyuchung 发表于 2013-8-23 00:29
試試看在繁體中文的環境下執行遊戲

那个 我是在巴哈上看到的游戏0-0但是没有VPN所以没法在那留言啦...有实况来着，所以和作者说一下=-=这里是地址www.bilibili.tv/video/av725051/

风格和Ib很像啊，感觉很棒，先顶再说

有没有攻略呀，玩不到好结局。{:2_264:}

从恐怖美术馆空降来支持一个