Turbo Pudding

FernevaleLevel secrets

Five small answers that come back later in Fernevale

· The Turbo Pudding team · 5 min read

On the deck of a steamer under a pale gray sky, with the gray-green sea behind a white railing: Daina, a girl with two long dark braids, a navy toque with a little red bow, a long navy ulster coat and a brown satchel, a yellow pencil tucked behind her ear, sits at the corner of the hatch facing right with one hand held out; Teo, a young fitter in a backwards navy cap, a brown leather jacket and a mustard scarf, sits on the edge of the hatch facing her with his hand out too; between them lies a green tarpaulin and, to the right, the dark open hold; two cushions sit on a mat at the left, a white ventilator cowl rises behind Daina, and ropes and a wooden boom cross the sky above

It’s Tuesday, so here’s a level secret. Now and then in Fernevale, right after Daina answers someone, a short note at the top of the screen says who “will remember that.” Only a handful of answers get one. The game keeps far more. Here are five small answers that come back chapters later, and only one of them gets a note.

Candid or evasive

In chapter 1, once the glass tube in Dr. Fell’s consulting room glows steady, Daina sees trees inside it. Dr. Fell asks what she sees and reminds her to be honest, since it’s for science. Tell him about the forest, and he writes down “Patient candid.” Call it a nice restful glow, or make a joke of it, and he writes “Patient evasive.”

He doesn’t forget. The next morning, he looks over her chart. If she was honest: “You were candid with me, Miss Ozola. I’ve written so to your father.” If not: “Six months is a long time to be evasive, Miss Ozola. Rest.”

A note on the night table

Before Daina can slip out in chapter 2, she has to leave Dr. Fell a note on the night table, in one of two versions. The honest one says, “I’m not running from you. I’m running to him.” The other says she has gone to her aunt’s, and Daina calls it “A lie with good manners.” This is the answer that gets a note at the top of the screen.

At the gate, Sister answers according to the note. After the honest one: “I read notes too, lass. ‘Running to him.’ Aye.” After the other: “No. You’re running to something.”

The note comes back once more in chapter 8. On Christmas Eve in Brazil, Daina sits down at the porch table to write another one, and if the first was honest, she thinks, “Second note this year. Same truth, nearly.”

A napkin on the hatch cover

On the steamer in chapter 3, Daina and Teo sit on the hatch cover. Teo draws the winch on a paper napkin, and Daina draws on the other half: tall trees with their arms up and a round window high in one of them. Teo asks what that is. She can say, “Something you can’t draw to scale,” fib with “Just trees. Surrey. Very dull,” or tell the truth: “A forest I dream about. Every full moon.” After the truth, Teo tucks the napkin into his breast pocket. “I’ll keep that. For scale.”

No note pops up, but Teo remembers in four more places. At Riga customs, his goodbye depends on the napkin, from “Good luck with your mood, Miss Ozola” to “Give my regards to the trees of Surrey!” In chapter 4, when he brings a motor car to Daina’s father, he asks after the mood, jokes about Surrey or, after the truth, says he showed her drawing of the net to the foreman, who asked who the engineer was. What did Teo tell him? “Practically her.”

Later, the motor car asleep in its garage reminds her: “Machines don’t dream. Teo said so.” And when she wakes Teo there in chapter 6, his first words depend on the napkin: “You were rude to me in Hull. I’m helping out of spite,” “You were polite to me once. It was unsettling. Get in,” or, after the truth, “The forest business? Two minutes. Gloves.”

Up or in braids

In chapter 4, with Father home for supper, Daina stops at Mother’s mirror in the hall: “Do something with your hair, she says. As if he’ll shout at the hair.” She can put it up or keep her two braids, and whichever she picks stays that way to the end of the game.

People notice. At supper, if it’s up, Father begins, “Your hair. You look like—”, then clicks his watch and says, “Eat.” If she kept the braids, he notices that too, and she answers, “Some things I keep.” In chapter 6, Father’s clerk in Libau mentions it first thing. In Brazil, Made takes one look. With her hair up: “Hair up like a Riga lady. It’ll come down.” With the braids, she says her own girls wore them just the same.

Rio Novo on Christmas Eve, at night: on a small wooden porch lit warm gold from the windows behind it, Daina, her dark hair pinned up in a bun with a yellow pencil stuck in it, in a long white linen dress with a short cape and a dark belt, stands at the porch table with her eyes on a sheet of paper, writing with the pencil; just behind her stands Made, an old woman in a wide straw hat over a white kerchief, a long tan dress and a blue apron, with a small smile; a pale round hatbox with a red stripe sits on the porch floor beside them; at the left, a long-eared mule looks over a rail fence next to a big fan of green leaves, dark pines with upturned branches rise against the night sky, and at the right stand the dark wall of the mill and the rim of its big water wheel
Search history: “what to write on Christmas Eve.” The truth, nearly.

A cup of chimarrão

On Christmas Eve in Rio Novo, Daina goes to the corral to ask Seu Bento, a tropeiro, or mule driver, to take her up into the mountains. Seu is a friendly way to say Mister. Before she can ask, he offers her chimarrão, the bitter maté tea drunk from a gourd: “Bitter, like the road.” Drink it, and she makes a face, and Bento is delighted: “Moça drinks like a tropeiro.” Moça means “young woman.” Say no, and he shrugs: “More for me.”

Up on the pass in chapter 9, Bento has wrapped Daina in his poncho, and he hasn’t forgotten. If she drank, he holds out the gourd, “Another, tropeiro?”, and she makes the very same face. If she didn’t: “Still no maté? The mountain will teach you.”

A high mountain meadow at night, lit only by a small campfire: on the left, Seu Bento, a broad man with a black mustache, a wide brown hat and a brown coat, without his poncho now, holds a round gray gourd out at arm’s length, its thin metal straw pointing back toward him, his eyes half closed; on the right, across the fire, Daina stands wrapped in his red poncho with pale stripes, which hangs down past her knees over the white hem of her linen dress, her dark hair pinned up with a yellow pencil in it, looking over at him; stacked stone cairns stand in the tall golden grass on both sides, and a few fireflies glow in the dark
Typed “is maté supposed to be bitter?” Bento says like the road.

The prologue and the first two chapters, the glass tube and the note included, are free to play in your browser at fernevale.com. The full game is $9.99, paid once. More about the game is on its Fernevale page.

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