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I guessed today's (May 12, 2025) Monkey Island tune 🎵 in 1 try. 🟦⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ https://legendofmi.com/webgames/guessthattune/ The best

I guessed today's (May 12, 2025) Monkey Island tune 🎵 in 1 try. 🟦⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ https://legendofmi.com/webgames/guessthattune/

I figured out Monkey Island Frantic #133 in 13 seconds after 1 attempt. 😍 https://funzone.mixnmojo.com/Frantic/

I figured out Monkey Island Frantic #133 in 22 seconds after 2 tries. 💖 https://funzone.mixnmojo.com/Frantic/

I guessed today's (May 12, 2025) Monkey Island tune 🎵 in 1 try. 🟦⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ https://legendofmi.com/webgames/guessthattune/

I – the loser I am – chose to quit Monkey Island Frantic #133 in 65 seconds after 11 tries. 😞 https://funzone.mixnmojo.com/Frantic/

I figured out Monkey Island Frantic #133 in 10 seconds after 1 attempt. 😍 https://funzone.mixnmojo.com/Frantic/

I guessed today's (May 12, 2025) Monkey Island tune 🎵 in 2 tries. 🟥🟦⬜⬜⬜⬜ https://legendofmi.com/webgames/guessthattune/ In summary

👕 I beat #MojoleXtremiest #1147 and all I got was this stupid t-shirt. 1/6 💚💚💚💚💚💚💚 https://funzone.mixnmojo.com/Mojole/

👕 I beat #MojoleXtremiest #1147 and all I got was this stupid t-shirt. 2/6 🖤🖤🖤💛🖤🖤💛 💚💚💚💚💚💚💚 https://funzone.mixnmojo.com/Mojole/

I guessed today's (May 12, 2025) Monkey Island tune 🎵 in 1 try. 🟦⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ https://legendofmi.com/webgames/guessthattune/

👕 I beat #MojoleXtremiest #1146 and all I got was this stupid t-shirt. 4/6 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤 🖤💛🖤🖤🖤🖤💛 💛💛💛💛💛💚💚 💚💚💚💚💚💚💚 https://funzone.mixnmojo.com/Mojole/ Took me a while!

I figured out Monkey Island Frantic #132 in 7 seconds after 1 attempt. 😍 https://funzone.mixnmojo.com/Frantic/

👕 I haven’t yet beaten #MojoleXtremiest #1146 as I am out of ideas at 2/6 with 5 💚 update: finally! 👕 I beat #MojoleXtremiest #1146 and all I got was this stupid t-shirt. 3/6 💚💛🖤🖤🖤💚💚 🖤🖤💚💚🖤💚💚 💚💚💚💚💚💚💚 https://funzone.mixnmojo.com/Mojole/

I figured out Monkey Island Frantic #132 in 2 seconds after 1 attempt. And! I’m a Speedrunner Champ, as the challenge was completed in fewer than 7 seconds! 🏃 😍 https://funzone.mixnmojo.com/Frantic/ just like yesterday, it helps if when typing the island, the correct answer shows up as middle suggestion for the autocomplete

I guessed today's (May 11, 2025) Monkey Island tune 🎵 in 1 try. 🟦⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ https://legendofmi.com/webgames/guessthattune/

I guessed today's (May 11, 2025) Monkey Island tune 🎵 in 1 try. 🟦⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ https://legendofmi.com/webgames/guessthattune/

I figured out Monkey Island Frantic #131 in 14 seconds after 1 attempt. 😍 https://funzone.mixnmojo.com/Frantic/ Part of this was typos and missing the submit button

Shamefully skipped and immediately realised I didn't need to - honest. I guessed today's (May 10, 2025) Monkey Island tune 🎵 in 2 tries. ⬜🟦⬜⬜⬜⬜ https://legendofmi.com/webgames/guessthattune/

Just watching Asterix & Cleopatra! At 5:37 is a nice banana pan! https://dai.ly/x9ifawi

I: Introduction Warning: This article—though extremely difficult to follow unless you know all the details and theories surrounding Monkey Island 1, 2, and Return—will lead you to the final and definitive revelation of The Secret of Monkey Island, carefully buried in the game by Ron Gilbert and Dave Grossman like a hidden treasure. I obviously can't claim that all the clues we’ll examine are the result of deliberate design (though I believe they are), but it doesn’t really matter: even if they were purely the product of unconscious design choices, these narrative correspondences are objectively present, and they allow for an interpretation as rich and coherent as the one I’m about to present. Even if your first reaction when reading this article will likely be “That can’t be! I don’t buy it! No way!”—the evidence I’ll lay out will steadily work its way into your mind, and you’ll never be able to look at the game the same way again. So, you’ve been warned: "I'd turn back if I were ye"! (Note: some quotes and lines may differ from the original English version, as they are translated from the Italian localization.) II: Context Like many of you, I waited thirty years for Return to Monkey Island. There were so many unresolved mysteries left by the second game that deserved answers. Personally, the thing I wanted most was to understand the relationship between Guybrush and Chucky, to find out who their parents really were, and how all of it connected to the “Big Whoop” amusement park. That’s why, when I finished Return, although moved by its poetic and melancholic ending, I felt that something was... missing. Or rather, let me rephrase that: on one hand, it seemed like a narrative shortcoming to avoid digging into Guybrush’s past—but on the other hand, I also had a distinct, unformed feeling that the answers I had long been searching for were actually there... I just didn’t know how to find them yet. That underlying sensation—which I’ve since discovered is shared by others—was that the game had deliberately scattered a multitude of puzzle pieces in a fragmented way, requiring players to actively engage beyond the surface of the narrative. I believe this is what Gilbert was referring to in the Cressup interview when he said, “There are still things people haven’t found…” It took three years and over a hundred hours of replaying, but finally, all the questions built up over decades have found their answers. An answer that first astonished me, then unsettled me, and finally... completely won me over. An answer so wonderful that it made me view Return not just as a game, but as a meta-narrative, the videogame equivalent of what literary theory calls ergodic fiction. Return to Monkey Island is the culmination of a narrative stratification thirty years in the making, built less as a linear chronicle and more like a mental theater—a rich, symbolic interior world, full of past icons that spring to life when invoked. Every secondary detail—every signpost, every line of dialogue, every interaction—is part of a dual (or rather, triple… or even quadruple) reality. Like House of Leaves or S. by J.J. Abrams and Doug Dorst, Return constructs a multilayered text, full of parallel stories and, above all, a hidden narrative thread to be actively reconstructed. This is, unfortunately, a very difficult thing to lay out clearly—so many clues overlap, so many connections must be made. I’ll proceed step by step, piece by piece, attempting to reveal to you, as it was revealed to me, an increasingly large and coherent picture. Bear with me a little longer—and everything will become clear. III: Which Reality? To truly grasp the narrative structure of Return to Monkey Island, we need to start from the beginning—or rather, from the end of Monkey Island 2. Guybrush and Chucky find themselves in a modern-day amusement park, standing before what appear to be their parents. Return seemingly contradicts this ending in three ways: 1 The amusement park changes as soon as we leave our "parents," transforming into one more in line with the pirate-era setting; 2 Those we believed to be our parents are actually strangers; 3 The person we thought was Guybrush turns out to be his son. I don’t want to call the common interpretation—that the “true” reality is the pirate-themed one rather than the Big Whoop park—wrong, especially in a meta-text like this, where interpretive freedom is its greatest strength. But that interpretation certainly remains on the surface, avoiding the deeper layers where, as David Lynch puts it, “the big fish” are. For instance: Why are the Big Whoop signs illegible, like in dreams? (The words don’t look like actual words...) Why does a banner for the “race contest” simultaneously display both the word spit and run, as if the two realities—Monkey 2 and Return—exist at the same time? Why does this reality include a working wishing well? Then, there’s the story’s actual frame: an older Guybrush narrating his adventure to a child. But even this premise is suspect—who is the child? Is he really Guybrush’s son? Or just a memory-projection of his younger self? And what really happened inside Big Whoop park that could justify those famous words: “This place is full of murderers”? Let’s try to unravel this tangled web, starting from a detail that—surprisingly—seems to have escaped everyone’s attention. The book "At the End of the Plank". III.1: At the End of the Plank Throughout the game, we come across a curious purple book titled "At the End of the Plank". When examining the copy found in Elaine’s home (remember this detail—it will come up again), Guybrush remarks: “It’s the romantic and somewhat predictable story of an impossible love affair between a roguish pirate and a woman of high status.” In the cave on Terror Island, if you show the torn book pages you collected in the maze to Herman, he will reveal the author’s name: Anne Anson. If you ask him about the book, he quotes several lines that help piece together the general plot. Here it is: “Reginald and Cornelia leaned closer together, hidden among the begonias. ‘It’s a mistake!’ she whispered. ‘It’s a shame,’ he agreed. ‘It’s madness!’ they shouted in unison. All day long she sighed at her desk, stamping city hall envelopes to the rhythm of her lovesick heart. ‘But why must you go to a place where you know I cannot follow?’ she pleaded. He replied, ‘You know I swore to my father I’d capture the great turquoise narwhal!’ At that, she cried, ‘Oh, damn that narwhal!’ ‘My sweetest water lily,’ Reginald said, ‘won’t you join me aboard my brigantine?’ Bringing a hand to her brow, Cornelia replied, ‘Alas, I cannot abandon my post.’ ‘You know I can’t abandon my office,’ she chided him. ‘You know full well I’m the highest-ranking diplomat in the Three Counties district!’ Reginald covered his face with his hands: ‘Woe is me! Why did I have to fall in love with the Grand Mistress of Ceremonies?’ Their weekend was a whirlwind of tender words, sighs, cuddles, and carriage rides blessed by fair weather. Reginald had told her many times why he had to pursue the turquoise narwhal—of the promise he made at his father’s deathbed and how his family’s honor was at stake. ‘But what if you didn’t?’ she countered. ‘If you can’t stand him, why did you agree to marry him?’ Reginald pressed. Camilla answered, ‘Engagements are a complicated social construct these days—it would take far too long to explain.’ Cornelia’s fiancé was a vile, loathsome aristocrat named Lazlo Smerk. He sneered, saying, ‘Don’t forget whose vote you need to keep your title and position!’ There was a pause. ‘Mine,’ he finally said. Spring came suddenly—flowers yawned and bees hurled themselves at them. Knowing he would soon sail off on his great voyage, she tried to keep things casual—and failed. Their last summer night together was sultry, messy, and… Dawn was slow to arrive—but not slow enough. The morning he had to leave came too soon. Those cool autumn nights at sea, the ship’s damp, swaying motion. And yet, below deck, in the sleeping quarters, all was still. ‘Every time the sun or moon rises over the ocean, it reminds me of you—two orbs dancing across the winter sky,’ he reflected, pen in hand. His crew danced with joy, but Reginald was despondent. Every accordion note reminded him of his faraway beloved. As his journey neared its end, Reginald began to sense the spring breeze returning in the ocean wind. Oh, how he longed to see land again! Day and night at sea, Reginald sent carrier pigeons, hoping one might return with a letter from her, or a lace handkerchief, or a lock of hair… But alas, they weren’t sea birds, after all. Seeing her lover’s ship on the horizon, Cornelia burst into both laughter and tears. She had no way of knowing that Lazlo and his thugs had already set their trap at the harbor. ‘You’ll pay for your crimes, cursed turquoise narwhal!’ Reginald shouted as he trapped the beast in a specially crafted cage, built just for this voyage. Lazlo’s goons drew their sabers against the woman and the tusked mammal. ‘Now you must choose,’ he roared, ‘your precious narwhal… or true love! Which, by the way, is also my fiancée.’” Let’s sum it up for clarity: At the End of the Plank is a story of impossible love set in a pirate-era world. The main characters are Cornelia (a “woman of high rank,” a diplomat in the Three Counties region), Reginald (a “roguish pirate,” young and idealistic), and Lazlo Smerk (the antagonist—powerful, manipulative, wicked, and despicable). The key element in this story is the turquoise narwhal, the object of a mysterious journey that Reginald must complete “as a promise to his father.” A passionate romance blossoms between Reginald and Cornelia, only to be thwarted by Lazlo, who sets out to capture and punish Reginald upon his return. “Three counties,” “roguish pirate,” “despicable nobleman”… am I the only one who thinks these three characters are thinly veiled stand-ins for Elaine, Guybrush, and LeChuck? And isn’t the narwhal—with its obsessive pursuit—essentially the Secret? We’ll come back to this, but even these basic narrative parallels make it pretty clear to me: this book isn’t just a random joke. It’s a narratively important object. The developers treat it with unusual care and attention, giving it multiple interactions. Even more intriguing is the fact that every known copy of the book (except Elaine’s…) is associated with someone who holds one of the Golden Keys. Stella has one. So does Odina. Bella Fisher had one (later retrieved by the pirate leaders), and Herman has one too. The subtext here isn’t even that subtle. It’s as if the game is whispering directly to the player: “If you want to possess the Secret… you must possess At the End of the Plank.” This is our most crucial puzzle piece so far—it offers us a faint “ghost image” of a buried truth that we’re meant to reconstruct. Still foggy and contradictory, yes, but an image is starting to form, barely visible between the lines of the main story. Let’s go deeper. III.2: Widey Bones Widey Bones is introduced to us by Stella (the blacksmith) as “the island’s undertaker.” In the first part of the game, Widey is seen leaning out her window above the Melee shop, muttering seemingly disconnected phrases. In hindsight, though, these fragments reveal an intimate knowledge of the world she inhabits. Here are all her lines: • Everybody thinks they know more than the others • Once you have the key, you must open the door • Things are not what they seem • All keys are golden by nature • Nobody ever works together. Everyone wants a reward • When someone gets close to finding them, they suddenly disappear • You can find a golden key, but you’ll never truly own it • A lock is a beautiful thing. And a key, even more so • If you listen closely, you can hear the gears creaking • They’re all gone now, and no one’s left to pick up the pieces • The queen always makes room for a new queen • She vanished with the ship. I told her not to go • The Secret smells like popcorn! • You’re not supposed to go to certain islands, but what can you do? • I have my golden key, but it’s not enough • The curtain always falls sooner than you think • He’s doomed, but that’s what you get when you mess with a woman of high rank • Everyone thinks they deserve it. Well, yes and no! • Not a bad story. I wonder if there’ll be a sequel! Some of these lines reference Bella Fisher’s disappearance; others allude to the pre-ending, when Guybrush steps out into Melee’s alleyway, revealed as part of an amusement park. Widey speaks as if she’s already lived through this story—or seen it repeat. It’s as if she’s hinting at a narrative loop or fractured memories between overlapping realities. But one line, in particular, stands out to anyone who’s read At the End of the Plank: “He’s doomed, but that’s what you get when you mess with a woman of high rank.” This is a direct callback to a line from the book: “…the impossible love between a roguish pirate and a woman of high rank.” With this line, Widey not only shows she knows the book’s contents—she might be offering its conclusion. A tragic one. “He’s doomed.” But who exactly is she referring to? We’ll get to that. For now, it’s enough to say that this line (and the character of Widey overall) is a fracture in the game’s narrative world. She’s like a forgotten key—one that connects the secret book, the past of an unidentified character, and the fictitious (but consistent) nature of Monkey Island’s entire world. So let’s float a hypothesis and see where it leads: "At the End of the Plank" is a disguised biography, recounting real events that happened before the Monkey Island story began—told through allegory. The author, known to us as Anne Anson, might be a real figure from Guybrush’s past. But who is Annie Anson? For now, let’s say this: Anne Anson is the hidden voice of Return to Monkey Island. We can go even further. Based on the clues we’ve gathered, Anne Anson seems to be the author of the narrative universe. Not metaphysically (she’s not Ron Gilbert), but in-universe: she is the forgotten narrator. The one who created Guybrush’s story, the legend of the Secret, the keys, the overlapping worlds. Let’s continue with this hypothesis in mind. I promise everything will start tying together soon. III.3: Locke Smith The blacksmith owns a copy of the book, which she says “belonged to her mother.” She also seems to have a connection to Widey Bones, telling us the old woman “follows her everywhere.” We learn that Locke’s mother spent her life searching for the Five Golden Keys, telling Locke: “The Secret is a kind of key that opens all locks.” In Locke’s shop, there’s a painting showing her as a child with two women—one is clearly her mother, and the other… possibly her grandmother? Could it be Widey Bones? We can’t say for sure yet, but it’s clear that this detail isn’t random. Especially considering that, in the pre-ending scene where Guybrush is in the amusement park, Locke's is the one who holds the key that opens the chest containing the Secret. This strongly implies that she plays a part in the deeper narrative layer we’re slowly uncovering. It also subtly introduces the idea that possession of the Secret might be passed matrilineally, and may be tied to a woman… Annie? Let’s try to clarify Annie Anson’s identity and see if the rest of the puzzle pieces start falling into place. Here’s my second major hypothesis, which I’ll now walk you through: Annie Anson, the author of At the End of the Plank, is… Elaine. IV: Elaine / Annie Anson Let’s think this through. In Monkey Island 2, when examining the library in Phatt, under the “romance” section, we discover a substantial number of pirate love stories. The author in that case is Melanie Leary—but intriguingly, among those books is one by Elaine, titled "Near to Nothing". So, in the Monkey Island universe, it’s established that Elaine writes novels. It’s not a stretch to imagine that Melanie Leary is one of her pen names—just like Annie Anson. Let’s look for more supporting clues. Back to the book in question: Elaine’s copy is the only one held by someone who doesn’t possess a golden key. This makes Guybrush’s line to Carla especially meaningful—when he says: “These books are Elaine’s.” On the surface, he means ownership—but maybe, he’s also hinting that she’s the author. Consider this too: in the ending, when Melee Island is revealed to be part of an amusement park, the entrance to the governor’s mansion is blocked by a green screen. Symbolically, Elaine’s house is not part of the amusement park—it might be her actual home or office, the real place where she keeps her books. And then comes the main clue: in the ending, when Elaine leaves with Boybrush, she’s still wearing the Chums's Pin. This pin symbolizes membership in a narrative fellowship, those who safeguard and pass down stories. The fact that Elaine wears it at the end subtly implies that she is the primary narrator. That’s a decisive detail. Elaine is the writer—not Guybrush. She is the one who created the original narrative framework that became the world of Monkey Island—"At the End of the Plank". If we accept this theory, the fog begins to clear. The original story may have been written to process some profound emotional trauma. So now we begin to build our third hypothesis, attempting to reconstruct (in broad strokes, for now) that mysterious first layer—the deepest one, the one where it all began. The so-called “reality.” Annie Anson is Elaine Marley. She’s the one who imagined the entire “pirate story.” In the real world, she was likely the manager of the park, in love with a shy young employee (a flooring inspector, perhaps?), but already engaged to a rich, powerful, unpleasant man. Powerful and unpleasant… Sound familiar? Exactly. Him. V. LeChuck In Return to Monkey Island, for the first time, we have the opportunity to read LeChuck’s personal diary. Surprisingly, his personality comes across as rather flat and childish. However, there’s one line in his journal that stands out, especially in light of the theories we’ve developed so far: on February 2nd, he writes that “Guybrush is a stupid name. Who would name their kid Guybrush?” That line only makes sense if we assume that LeChuck has some connection to Guybrush’s parentage. Could he be Guybrush’s father—at least within the fictional framework of the Monkey Island story? Or did he perhaps know his father, and despise him as much, if not more, than the son? Let’s search for more clues. Throughout the game, several hints suggest a past relationship between LeChuck and Elaine. There’s a wedding veil mysteriously located on LeChuck’s ship, the initials “L & E” romantically carved into the mast, and some of LeChuck’s diary entries (like the one from December 20th) describe Elaine as his “true beloved” and reference a broken wedding. And let’s not forget that in Monkey Island 1, Elaine and LeChuck (as Sheriff Shinetop) are shown living under the same roof. Here’s another puzzle piece falling into place. We now know there was some kind of relationship between Elaine and LeChuck. What remains to be determined is which narrative level that relationship belongs to, and how to correctly position these characters and their mirrored versions. But with this new information, we can further flesh out our reconstruction of the “first level.” Based on fragments from "At the End of the Plank" and Widey Bones’ cryptic remarks, we can suggest that: In the real world, Elaine (whose true name is likely Anne Anson) is the administrator of a pirate-themed amusement park called Big Whoop. While working at the park, she falls in love with a young employee, and they begin a passionate, secret affair. This unnamed young man perhaps dreamed of becoming a “pirate”—that is, a performer or role-player within the park. For reasons unknown, Elaine/Anne is already engaged to a rich and ruthless businessman who discovers the affair and devises a plan to get revenge on the young man, whose fate is, tragically, to be “doomed.” What exactly happened to him remains unclear—perhaps he was simply fired, or perhaps his punishment was more severe. We can suppose that Elaine became pregnant and that the child, named Guybrush, grew up around the park’s attractions, alongside his mother and stepfather. His imagination was fueled by her stories—many taken from At the End of the Plank, a book in which she transformed her own life into a pirate fairytale to shield him from the truth. “Elaine must never marry Guybrush… she always has to be two steps ahead,” said Ron Gilbert in multiple interviews. See how all the pieces begin to fit together? However, we’re not done yet. Now that we’ve outlined a thread linking these characters across different narrative layers, we need to figure out who LeChuck really is in the “real world.” Because the “ghost-zombie pirate” is just a lower-level fictional reflection—he’s based on someone real. By the way, are you starting to notice how this structure—one world nested inside another, and then another—feels very reminiscent of Thimbleweed Park? Let’s now try to outline more clearly the narrative structure of Return to Monkey Island, starting from the first two games. V.1: The Four Narrative Levels In Monkey Island 1, we follow the story of Guybrush, a wannabe pirate who falls in love with the governor of the Tri-Island Area, Elaine Marley. His rival is the ghost pirate LeChuck, the only one who knows the Secret of Monkey Island. After being rejected by Elaine during his lifetime, LeChuck went in search of the Secret and returned as a ghost pirate, kidnapping Elaine and taking her to Monkey Island. Guybrush foils his plans and saves Elaine (although she was already saving herself, to be fair). In Monkey Island 2, Guybrush, having split from Elaine, searches for Big Whoop—the greatest pirate treasure of all time. After assembling the four map pieces, he reaches Dinky Island and is close to discovering the Secret. But things begin to feel strange. Anachronisms pile up, culminating in the ending where Guybrush appears as a child, along with his “brother” Chucky and their parents, inside a modern-day amusement park called Big Whoop. In Return, we find out that this ending was imagined by two children—but now it seems to be Guybrush’s son and a friend named Chucky. Right from the start, things are ambiguous: the background shows Big Whoop as a contemporary amusement park, but it slowly fades into a more era-appropriate pirate setting—though strange anachronisms persist. By the end, Guybrush emerges from the same alleyway seen in Monkey Island 2, into a mechanized version of Melee Island—clearly part of a modern amusement park. Afterward, Guybrush has a conversation with his son—who is then taken away by Elaine, leaving him alone on the same bench where the game began, lost in thought. Something feels off in Return. The inconsistencies are too numerous. We’ve already seen some: the transforming amusement park, the functioning wishing well, characters who are “not themselves,” illegible signs—almost like we’re in a dream. These anomalies only make sense if we admit that Return’s narrative reality is not the same as Monkey Island 1 and 2. Back then, we were inside young Guybrush’s imagination, experiencing the fantasy in real time. In Return, we’re inside a memory of a fantasy, and the protagonist is no longer a child—it’s an adult Guybrush. The Guybrush on the bench isn’t speaking to his son—he’s speaking to a mnemonic reflection of his younger self. Let’s clarify this again—it’s crucial: In Monkey Island 1 and 2, we’re living the adventure with Guybrush as he imagines it. His imagination is fresh, pure, and free from external filters. The ending of MI2—the amusement park—is the rupture that wakes us from the fantasy. All the anachronisms (elevators, vending machines, canned grog…) are signs of the real world seeping into a child’s game. In Return, the protagonist is no longer young Guybrush or Boybrush. It’s adult Guybrush, sitting on a bench. He’s speaking to himself. Boybrush is not his son—he is a memory of his childhood self. We’re experiencing a memory of an imagination. We’re no longer inside the fantasy—we’re inside the layered, reinterpreted memory of it. This is the mental stage of recollection. One key detail proves it: during the prologue and every time the story returns to the bench frame, we control Boybrush. The dialogue choices are his. But in the ending, this shifts—the dialogue becomes Guybrush’s. He’s speaking to himself. Even Dominic Armato acknowledged this theory shortly after the game’s release in this forum! This distinction is crucial: it shows that Return operates on a deeper metanarrative level than the earlier games. It’s no longer just a pirate adventure—it’s the emotional recollection of a time when fiction (the world of Monkey Island) served to protect more complicated truths. Let’s reiterate the core concept to make it crystal clear: In Return, we are “playing” inside Guybrush’s mind. The entire game takes place in the blink of an eye—like in Once Upon a Time in America, or Lynch’s Inland Empire. In this liminal space—between dream, imagination, and memory—it’s possible for characters to overlap, appearing outwardly different but actually being the same. It’s no secret that Ron Gilbert’s favorite film is Mulholland Drive, where this kind of layered, symbolic storytelling is used explicitly. And so, the structure of Return begins to resemble something more like this: • Level 1: The “real” past. • Level 2: The narrative of At the End of the Plank. • Level 3: The imaginative adventures of Monkey Island 1 and 2. • Level 4: The “present” reality—adult Guybrush’s recollection, blending the previous layers with personal reflections, dreams, and re-imaginings. Emotionally, it all works. But rationally, it’s tough to untangle—because the narrative structure isn’t just circular; it’s spiral-shaped. Each story wraps around the others, like a set of nested rings that sometimes intertwine—a three-dimensional spiral. VI. Who Is LeChuck, Really? So, we left off with a question: now that we’ve established LeChuck as “in some way” Guybrush’s father, and also as a phantom reflection of Lazlo Smerk from "At the End of the Plank", we need to uncover the original figure behind both of them. To decode this, let’s consider one decisive clue. At the end of Return, when Guybrush exits the final door and finds himself in the amusement park, he’s greeted not just by Elaine… but by Stan. Stan—the park’s owner. The same Stan described by his accountant as “utterly immoral” and “willing to do anything.” Exactly like Lazlo Smerk. Another strange, perhaps revealing, detail: in LeChuck’s journal, dated December 4th, we read: “Attacked and scuttled a mail ship today. Good fun! The sea was covered with tatters of holiday gift wrapping and it looked like an exploded clown. Brought back fond memories, but I seem to have forgotten the name of the clown. Note to self: do more memory exercises.” This has always struck me as odd… the fixation on the clown feels creepy rather than funny. It’s almost like the name is important—but can’t be remembered… because the clown is LeChuck himself? Let me remind you: in the alley behind the church, Stan appears as a clown. Here’s another strong symbolic connection between two characters from different layers of reality. Now it all fits: Stan is Lazlo Smerk in the fictional world of "At the End of the Plank". Stan is LeChuck in the imaginary world of Monkey Island, constructed by Guybrush’s mind. Stan—who, throughout Guybrush’s “game,” is portrayed as an ambiguous figure, oddly aware of the fiction he’s trapped in. “They say the real prison is in your mind…” “I see you’re having fun, that’s great…” He says these things while imprisoned on Melee. With this final piece, we can expand the surface narrative—what we’ll call the first level, before it gets reshaped by layers of fiction and memory. Level One: The “Real World” Elaine, an aspiring writer with limited success, is seduced by Stan, a wealthy owner of a chain of theme parks. He seems charming and brilliant, but in truth he’s ruthless and morally void. During their relationship, Stan names Elaine director of his parks, and the two have a son: Chucky. At some point, Stan pushes Elaine to marry him, but she resists—perhaps already suspicious of his true nature. Then Elaine meets a nameless young man—a shy flooring inspector perhaps—who dreams of having a more exciting role at the park (maybe playing a pirate in the attractions). Despite their difference in age and status, the two fall madly in love. Stan discovers the affair and takes revenge. We don’t know exactly what he did—maybe he fired the young man… or maybe worse. But from this forbidden love, a child is born: Guybrush, raised by Elaine and his stepfather Stan. Later, when the children are old enough to attend the wedding (that wedding pen in Monkey Island 2, which shows up again in Return...), Stan and Elaine finally marry. But they keep a secret buried within their family: Guybrush’s true origin. Perhaps Chucky—older than Guybrush—knew this secret and used it to torment him. “Only LeChuck knows,” they said in Monkey Island 1... Level Two: The Book, At the End of the Plank Written by Anne Anson (likely a pseudonym for Elaine), the book recounts these events in romanticized form, shifting the setting to a pirate-era world. Elaine becomes Cornelia, the nameless man becomes Reginald, and Stan becomes Lazlo Smerk. It makes sense to place the writing of this book before the third narrative layer—Guybrush’s adventures. Why? Because Herman tells us the golden keys are something “I read about in a novel.” Level Three: The Adventures of Young Guybrush Inspired by the stories Elaine told him (themselves drawn from her own book), Guybrush creates his own fantasy world—a reimagining of his past, turned into a pirate saga. In this imagined world, built partly from Elaine’s stories and partly from his own mind, we experience the child’s perspective from inside the theme park administered by Stan. In this story, his half-brother Chucky becomes LeChuck—a symbol of something vast and threatening that returns to haunt him. (This explains the old Ron’s cryptic statement: “In a way, they’re brothers. In another, they’re not.”) Level Four: The Present Moment This level is a fusion of the three previous ones, filtered through the uncertain memory of adult Guybrush, who’s trying to remember what the “Secret of Monkey Island” really was. In truth, it’s not about treasure. It’s the secret of his origins. Who his parents were. Why his father disappeared. Why his whole life was a fiction… created to protect him. Think about it: the game tells us this is our real quest from the start. After finding the scurvydog in the prologue, one of the checklist items reads: “Let’s find our real parents.” If you speak to the couple in the park, the woman says: “Go find your real parents!” That’s the real journey Return is about: a search for family roots, disguised as a lighthearted pirate tale. VII. The Devil Is in the Details • In the prologue, when Chucky and Boybrush are trading insult-combat lines, Chucky says: “You fight like a doofus!” Boybrush replies: “So your old man.” Odd, right? It’s as if awareness of Chucky’s real father is starting to surface… • A little later, Dee says she’s watching a couple and finds them “suspicious.” “He keeps tapping his foot—maybe it’s a code?” It’s a joke, sure. But it hints at a hidden code. Later, in the prison, Stan says: “This music really makes you want to tap your foot, huh?” Another subliminal link between Stan and the idea of a “false father.” And remember: in Monkey Island 2, Guybrush uses his father’s head to make the voodoo doll of Chucky. • Widey Bones says: “The Secret smells like popcorn.” Meaning: the true reality is the theme park—and that’s where the Secret lies. • When Guybrush reaches Monkey Island, a major earthquake shakes the narrative reality. It’s tied to discovering more about LeChuck (his favorite food, his music, etc.) As if the Secret will only reveal itself when we understand who LeChuck really is. • If you show the stolen photo from the Scumm Bar to the cook, he seriously says: “That’s a picture of my father.” Another strange father reference—like a glitch in the matrix. • In the ending, Stan treats Guybrush with extreme familiarity, even telling him: “Kid, grab the keys and turn off the lights before you leave.” As if passing down the legacy… like a father figure. • Elaine behaves “oddly” toward Guybrush throughout the game. She protects, guides, encourages, and precedes him to Monkey Island (so she probably already knows the Secret). She acts like a teacher. Or a nurse. Or a… mother. • When Guybrush opens the chest containing “the Secret” (using the blacksmith’s key), he suspiciously says: “That was way too easy… I wonder what’s really going on.” He’s hinting that this isn’t the real secret—the one about his origins, which would take far more effort to uncover. VIII. Conclusion Thank you for sticking with me this far. I know this was a dense and demanding read—but I hope it was just as exciting and enlightening for you as it was for me to dive into these hermeneutic depths. I hope I’ve done justice to the complexity of Return to Monkey Island, and that this analysis may lead some to re-evaluate the game, especially those who were disappointed by the lack of clear answers, or thought it was “too simple” or “just a kids’ game.” Well… “it is, and it isn’t.” In the end, the Secret is not the amusement park. Remember the line from LeChuck that was cut from Monkey Island 2? “It’s not the treasure that matters. It’s what’s buried underneath it that haunts me.” That is what we were supposed to look for.

Well, it doesn't match my criteria as it's horizontal rather than vertical, but I'd say this isn't even a banana shot - to my eye, it only has the single perspective, a little exaggerated as it may be. If you scrolled across this, it would feel like a dolly rather than a pan.

I figured out Monkey Island Frantic #131 in 6 seconds after 1 attempt. And! I’m a Speedrunner Champ, as the challenge was completed in fewer than 7 seconds! 🏃 😍 https://funzone.mixnmojo.com/Frantic/

I figured out Monkey Island Frantic #131 in 14 seconds after 1 attempt. 😍 https://funzone.mixnmojo.com/Frantic/

I figured out Monkey Island Frantic #131 in 2 seconds after 1 attempt. And! I’m a Speedrunner Champ, as the challenge was completed in fewer than 7 seconds! 🏃 😍 https://funzone.mixnmojo.com/Frantic/