You are in a maze of twisty little galleries, all alike, except for the ones that aren't. In your pocket is a guidebook. You have skipped lunch to avoid the crowds of gawking hipsters, Norwegian students with huge rucksacks and art critics.
Ahead of you is a plinth. The plinth is tastefully lit in a manner that suggests little expense has been spared to give the impression that no expense has been spared.
On the plinth is a salami.
>TAKE SALAMI
A hollow voice says "PLUGH"
>TURN AROUND
On the wall hangs a framed picture. It looks like something your dog has sicked up.
>CONSULT GUIDE
The Guide tells you that the picture is a powerful juxtaposition of the quotidian and the sublime.
>EAT SALAMI
Alarm bells start ringing. The noise is like being trapped in a lift with three separate music systems each playing a different Laibach album.
>RUN THE FUCK AWAY
You are now at a T-junction, and hopelessly lost. To your left is a long corridor lined with display cases. Each case appears to contain a shrunken head.
To your right is a long corridor. It is poorly lit but there appears to be a door at the end. Of it.
>TURN RIGHT
>WALK FORWARD
All the lights go out. There is a scuffling noise. You are eaten by Waldemar Januszczak.
GAME OVER