Twine, why can't I quit you?

Twine, why can't I quit you?

A short story in which I anthropomorphise my experiences writing interactive fiction for pleasure, with specific focus on Twine

Twine.
A tool that I have run into, fallen in love with, subsequently learned to hate, come back to after a couple of months apart, and learned to hate again.

Surprisingly enough, the above paragraph isn't a paragraph from an amateur writer's first attempt at a dating sim using Ren'Py. Twine, and the aforementioned Ren'Py, are both tools designed to write interactive fiction, shortened to IntFics in the community, which is comprised of people that fit in between the line that divides writers that want to add a layer of interactivity to their work, and programmers that want to tell amazing stories with little to no effort. But this one post, this one's all about you and me, Twine. Don't say I never write you love prose.

Just like a real relationship, when I met Twine, we just clicked. Everything was effortless, easy, smooth. We bonded over paragraphs as I admired the simplicity of her hooks, and realised I loved her when she showed me how easy it was to move from one passage to [[another]]. She was simple and straightforward and perfect. I knew it was a dream that could not last but I cling to the memories of our first days of innocence. They are one of my most cherished memories.

But then, as the weeks turned into months, the cracks in our effortless relationship begin to show. She never communicates efficiently. Getting audio out of her is an incredibly daunting and painful process. She's got a jealous streak, and refused to hang out with my best pal JQuery. My creativity was outrunning her ability to cope and it was stressing us both out.

It was then that I started to cheat. I'm not proud of it, but I refuse to make any excuses. I dabbled in other areas. Had a brief but passionate affair with Ren'Py, then pretended to be something that I wasn't in order to flirt with Inform 7. I left my love at home to find comfort in the arms of others, and this was the last straw. We took a break, and Twine left me for the first time. Dejectedly, I deleted the scraps of projects we had worked on together, the last memories of our time together, and tried to pick myself up.

Months down the line, I found Twine again. I was at the time at a loose end - a wreck. I had broken it off with Inform after we just failed to click on any level, and Ren'Py left me by the wayside when she discovered that I just offered too little for her to take me seriously (apparently she only dates serious creatives, that are, like, also artists.) I had also dabbled in polyamory - HTML, Javascript and PHP. All of them were about a decade older than me, but don't be fooled - they're still perky enough to keep you up all night. Despite JQuery's warning, I gave them a try. Six months into our relationship, they cut me out, but we decided to stay friends. We still share awkward smiles when we meet around town.

When I met Twine for the second time, she'd grown a few versions, changed her looks a little. We met up for coffee, and talked about what was going on in our lives. We laughed about my messups in love. She opened up again, just as easygoing and friendly as before, and in a matter of minutes I was hooked again. We ended up going back to her apartment that very evening and doing something we has never done before: we had some hot, steaming CSS, and that was when I knew she was the one for me, that however difficult she became, she was worth it.

Over the next few weeks, we had a casual relationship, meeting almost every evening. I came to learn every part of her body, from <header> to <footer> to <tw-passage>. We became comfortable with each other, but not so comfortable that our relationship became boring. We kept each other on our toes; there was always a spark keeping things interesting.

Then things got serious again. We moved in together, started up a project. I used all my knowledge from a year of screwups to keep us together, and this time, we did.