JT1 comp

Boulevard between Ecosciences Precinct & Boggo Road Gaol 

The dull day you expected investigating for a news deadline inside the Ecosciences Precinct has been delayed by an emergency evacuation. You now find yourself lingering amongst confused and restless research employees on the boulevard between the government building and old prison. Men in dark grey suits and black ties with the physique of rugby players hustle about the property. Perhaps security but you’re investigative instinct suspects they’re a part of something greater.

You hear whispers of panic amongst the group and ask the bearded scientist beside you, “What’s going on? A lab fire? Chemical outbreak?!”

He fumbles out the words. “N-no… It’s just best we get out of here quickly. If it’s true, he’s not going to be pleasant.”


Looking both ways first, he finally makes eye contact and whispers, “Bloggo.”

You stare back. “The creature of the Maiwar? The man-eating swamp monster born in the floods of ’74? That tears out your eyes and slurps your brain like an oyster? You know that’s just a myth, right?”

You wish a story like that would be true; what a break that would be for your career!

You turn away with a smug smile to be distracted by a strange noise in the gardens that inhabit the centre of the Precinct. You look around to see if anyone else noticed; nobody did. It sounded like a large branch tearing from a tree and plummeting into mud followed by a muffled and agonised gargle from a lion’s throat. You move towards the noise and lean over the railing that looks into the greenery.

You make out a moving form amongst the rustling leaves with the anatomy of a man, only much larger and not so human. Its bones and tendons made from branches and thick intertwining vines hoard muck from the river. Its heart peered through its rib cage, shackled in place by delicate green vines.

Was this real? You look behind but find no one near to confirm. You turn back and this… thing, senses you. It snarls, the sound sending a wave of goosebumps along your skin. It’s him: Bloggo.

It’s as terrifying and accurate as the bedtime stories, though, you didn’t imagine him to look so sick and desiccated, like a dying tree. You’re too afraid to move. He holds your gaze then takes a breath, relaxing his bulk, as if he knows you’re not an immediate threat.

You relax in turn.

“Help me,” he pleads.

You think it’s trust but maybe he’s just desperate. The stories say he’s manipulative, coaxing victims into a trap of agony and death.

“How?” you ask.

“A friend… is waiting for me… at Outlook Park. She has… something very important. You must get it and… meet me by the river under the bridge. I have no time… I must get back to… the river… to survive. Can I trust you?” He pants.

“You don’t look so good.”

“I… can take care of myself. But, please, hurry.”

Your gut tells you to trust him but your mind is listing the possible horrifying consequences of being too trusting. And imagine the potential headlines and rewards if you managed to literally nab the Boogie Man.

Do you:


Outlook Park: Trust your gut instinct? This creature needs help. Head to Outlook Park to help Bloggo. Walk east on Boggo Road to the roundabout with the tree.


Boggo Road Jail: Approach the men in suits by the Boggo Road prison gates and craft your plan to help them detain this deadly creature and obtain the headline of the century?