A database of question-asking mechanisms found in interactive fiction—parser-based, choice-based, and hybrid. Each entry describes what the mechanism is and how it works, with examples. Answers to examples appear in invisible ink (highlight to reveal).
How the player communicates intent to the system. Every IF work must solve this problem: the player has a mind full of plans and the machine has a slot for input. The shape of that slot—its width, its constraints, its implied invitation—determines what kind of thinking the player does before acting.
The blinking cursor after the > character. It asks nothing specific. It simply says: What do you do? The player must generate a response from nothing—no list, no menu, no hints. The prompt implies infinite possibility, but the parser's actual vocabulary is finite and often small. The gap between the apparent question ("try anything") and the real question ("which of my recognized verbs do you want to use on which tracked object?") is the format's central tension.
EXAMPLE: You are in a dim cellar. A wooden crate sits in the corner. Water drips from above. ACCEPTS FREE-FORM TEXT: "OPEN CRATE," "EXAMINE WATER," "GO UP," ETC.
> _
In choice-based IF (Twine, ChoiceScript, Ink), the open-ended prompt is replaced by a curated list of options: numbered items or clickable links embedded in prose. The question shifts from "What do you do?" to "Which of these do you choose?" The designer's craft lies in what options are offered, what is withheld, and how each is phrased. A list offering "Fight / Flee / Negotiate" asks a tactical question. A list offering "Remember / Forget / Lie to yourself" asks an emotional one. Same mechanism, different register.
EXAMPLE: The stranger extends a hand. EACH LINK LEADS TO A DIFFERENT PASSAGE
> Shake it.
> Step back.
> Ask their name first.
The simplest closed-ended question: "Are you sure? (Y/N)." Appears at moments of consequence—quitting, overwriting saves, doing something irreversible. It tests intention, not knowledge. It forces re-commitment to a decision already made. In classic parser IF these prompts are rare, which gives them weight. When the game suddenly switches from its open-ended > to a constrained binary, the tonal shift signals that something important is about to happen.
EXAMPLE: > ATTACK TROLL Y PROCEEDS; N CANCELS AND RETURNS TO NORMAL PROMPT
With your bare hands? Are you sure? (Y/N)
> _
When a command matches more than one object in scope, the parser asks: "Which do you mean, the red key or the brass key?" This is a multiple-choice question generated dynamically by the world model rather than scripted. It arises because the simulation produced ambiguity the parser cannot resolve alone. Some designers deliberately engineer disambiguation by placing similarly named objects together, turning the clarification into part of the puzzle.
EXAMPLE: > TAKE COIN PLAYER SPECIFIES; COMMAND THEN PROCEEDS
Which do you mean, the gold coin or the copper coin?
> _
A hybrid between parser and choice: the text presents a word or phrase highlighted, underlined, or otherwise marked, and the player types that specific word to proceed. Common in browser-based IF and certain Twine formats. The input field looks open-ended but only one or a few keywords will advance the story. The player reads for cues rather than inventing commands. The mechanism foregrounds attention to text over spatial or tactical reasoning.
EXAMPLE: The inscription reads: "Speak the name of the mountain and pass." TYPING "MOUNTAIN" (OR THE SPECIFIC NAME) ADVANCES; OTHER INPUT GETS A REFUSAL
What do you say? _
A prompt that expires. The player must respond within a countdown or the system chooses for them—usually the worst option. Rare in traditional parser IF but common in graphical hybrids and some Twine works. The mechanism converts a leisurely decision into an urgent one. The same set of choices feels entirely different under time pressure. Some implementations hide the timer; the player only discovers the constraint when the deadline passes.
EXAMPLE: The fuse is burning. You have seconds. IF THE TIMER EXPIRES WITHOUT INPUT, THE BOMB DETONATES AND THE SCENE RESOLVES ACCORDINGLY
> Cut the red wire
> Cut the blue wire
> Run
[8... 7... 6...]
The act of typing itself becomes expressive, independent of what the parser does with the input. When a game asks "What do you whisper to the dying man?" and accepts any text, the player's answer may never be checked or branched on—but the act of composing it produces genuine feeling. The mechanism exploits the gap between input as command and input as expression. The system may respond identically regardless of what was typed, but the player's experience differs because they had to articulate something.
EXAMPLE: She asks: "What should I tell them about you, after you're gone?" THE GAME ACCEPTS ANY INPUT AND CONTINUES; THE PLAYER'S ANSWER IS NEVER REFERENCED AGAIN, BUT THE MOMENT OF COMPOSITION IS THE POINT
> _
Answers to examples are in invisible ink after each question (highlight to reveal)
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